Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, plot, or anything else of the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF series.

Damn. This took me FOREVER. I'm glad I finally finished this chapter, but I still have yet to finish the story. For anyone wondering about Silver Stag, I dug myself a hole, but I'm working to get out of it. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, please leave a review!

King's Landing

The streets were crowded as the Prince of Summerhall stopped outside of Chataya's brothel. Three knights were behind him, covered in white enamel plate. One had hair as black as night, another as white as snow, and the last had the mane of a lion. The Prince led them into the building, emerging into the common room.

"Welcome my Lords, to what do I owe this...pleasure?" Chataya, the owner of the brothel said as she approached them.

The Prince turned toward the Summer Islander. "You know why I am here, where are they?" He demanded.

Chataya's smile melted away. She pointed out three distinct rooms. "They are just behind those doors, I shall unlock them for you."

The Prince motioned for the knights to wait in the common area as he went through the door on the right.

It was a small room, and in the center was a single bed, where both a young man and a young whore were reading.

He had brown hair down to his shoulders and a long face, with a lean and muscular build, while she had pale white skin and long white-gold hair.

Upon noticing the Prince, the young man's eyes widened in surprise. "Uncle Aemon! What are you doing here?" He asked.

Prince Aemon remained stoic. "I thought better of you Jon, you disappoint me."

The whore spoke up then. "We did nothing your Grace, we were just reading!"

Aemon's eyes shone like bright amethysts as he glared at the whore. "I never knew a whore that could read."

The girl cocked her head to one side. "Have you met many whores my Lord?"

"I'm a soldier, girl, I have seen plenty of camp followers in my day. Leave us."

She rushed out of the room, stopping at the door to look back at them.

Jon spoke up. "I'm sorry Uncle, I only came along to watch over the-"

Aemon held up a hand, silencing him. "You will be silent, I will have words with you later."

He strode from the room, moving through the next door. Inside, he found a second young man in bed. He had pale gold hair, and had his arm wrapped around a girl with long red hair. Both were asleep. Aemon shook his head before leaving the room.

"Ser Jaime, if you would be so kind as to fetch a bucket of water." He said to one of the Kingsguard knights before going through the third door. The Knight smiled, before leaving to find a well.

On this bed, there was a whore lying down on her back as a young man thrust repeatedly into her. The young man in question had silvery hair that hung down below his shoulders, usually braided, it now hung freely down his back.

Aemon strode slowly, making no noise, as the two drew to the end of their love making. He stopped right over them looking down, only to meet the eyes of the whore, who let out a squeal. The young man quickly turned around, collapsing down onto the bed. "Uncle!?" He cried.

"Dress yourself and wait outside." Came the cold answer.

He swept away, and seeing that his good brother had returned with the bucket of water, led him into the second room.

The two on the bed were still asleep, and at a nod from Aemon, Jaime emptied the bucket onto them.

The effect was instantaneous, Aemon's son and his whore sputtered, before Daeron reached for the sword he had placed beside the bed, only to discover it was gone. He turned around to see it in his Father's hands. It was at this moment that Daeron knew he was doomed.

His father had a look of great distaste on his face as he looked upon his first son, but he said nothing as he turned and left the room. Daeron looked to his Uncle Jaime, but found no mercy.

"Clothe yourself, meet us outside" he said as he too left.

The three boys rode in silence back to the Red Keep. They maintained their silence as they were brought to Aemon's solar. It was the very one used by Jaehaerys the Conciliator and Daeron the Good, making it ideal for his reign as Protector of the Realm.

Aemon sat down in his chair and held his head in his hands as Ser Jaime closed the door.

The three boys had reacted very differently at their situation, Jon too had his head in his hands as he stared at the floor, Aegon was staring off into space as he rested his chin on his fist, but Daeron was staring straight at his Father. His wet pale gold hair still clung to his face, but the same strong face he had inherited from his Father remained fixed in a look of defiance.

Prince Aemon had yet to have grey appear in his silver hair and beard, both of which he kept short. He wore the black and red of his House, and his badge of office, a steel pin in the likeness of a shield kept his cloak together.

Aemon broke the silence first. "Why do the Gods punish me so?"

No response came.

"One more turn of the moon, and I will be free, no more ruling, save for Summerhall. Yet I feel like I am abandoning the throne I fought to protect so a fool could sit on it. A Kingdom of fools it will be, a fool on the Iron Throne, a fool in Summerhall, and a fool on Dragonstone."

Daeron spoke then. "We made Jon come, he did not want to. We thought it would be go-"

"SILENCE!" His Father roared. Aemon was not considered a tall man, but after ruling the realm for nigh on seventeen years and fighting in two wars had given him an aura that made him seem to radiate power. He walked to face the bay windows looking over Blackwater Bay, deep in thought, within seconds he had thought of their punishment.

Turning back to them he said to them in a voice that left nothing open to argument. "We leave for Summerhall in two days, you will have your hair cut short and shave, I will not have you looking the way you do when you entertain so many Lords and Ladies of the Realm. You will also beg forgiveness from your Mothers, Jon, you will go with Daeron to Cersei. This will happen. Out with you, and remember, if you do not follow my commands, you will wish I died at Stoney Sept."

The boys left, and Jaime came into the room as Aemon sank once more into his chair.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Aemon asked his oldest friend.

"They are young men, barely out of boyhood, they want to live a little before duty calls them."

"My duty called me at their age! So did yours! They are lucky, they have had no wars to fight! The man sitting the Iron Throne is not mad! I envy their youth, with their lives of peace."

Several moments passed before Jaime spoke to him again. "Whose idea do you think it was to leave Theon and the Hound behind to cover their tracks?"

Aemon scoffed. "Daeron. He has his Grandfather's brains that one, but not so clever as to take a lesser known brothel though."

Jaime laughed as he poured Aemon and himself a goblet of wine.

"Tomorrow in the yard, I want the Hound to beat them bloody."

Sandor Clegane had been a name day gift from Daeron's grandfather Tywin, who had wanted his legacy protected by such a fierce warrior. The massive man respected his charge, but would still take orders only from the Lord Protector.

"I'll see it done." Jaime said with his signature smirk.

Summerhall

"A little higher there...a little more...that's it. Fine work, all of you." The workers descended from their ladders as Jaehaerys' Father came into the entrance hall. Looking up at the arrayed banners of the great houses attending the tourney, the Prince shook his head.

"That will not do, place Tyrell across from Tully, and Martell across from Arryn. I will not have Lord Tyrell deafening me with his complaints all throughout his stay." Aemon said.

Jaehaerys nodded. "Very well, you heard him, back up the ladders!"

All of Summerhall had been decorated in the colors of House Targaryen, with Prince Aemon sparing no expense to herald in the new age of the Targaryen dynasty.

Aemon's children would play principal parts in the weddings and tournament that would follow. Daeron marriage would begin the festivities, then the Tournament, which would feature his sons Daeron and Jaehaerys. Rhaella and Baelor were not yet of age to marry or compete in combat, but they would still be involved in hosting the many guests.

"Why do we have to wait out here again?" Daeron asked.

Jon sighed. His cousin hated to sit still for too long, and longed to ride out into the surrounding countryside instead of waiting along the road. "You heard your Father, the Starks are coming today with the Tullys, the Baratheons, the Tyrells, and the Martells tomorrow."

"But why us? Why must two Princes wait out here for so long?" Daeron asked.

"Three!" Baelor gave his input. "Three Princes!"

Jon laughed, and Daeron turned to his youngest brother. "Keep your eyes on the road, and hold the banner straight, that's Father's war banner, make it look proud. "

Baelor smiled and did as Daeron bid.

"So what are the Starks like?" Daeron asked.

"You'll like Robb, he likes a good laugh, but like Uncle Ned, he tries to do what is right. Sansa has dreamed of coming south for years, she's beautiful and the perfect Lady, like her mother, and I think Aegon will love her at once. Arya is wild, she'll probably end up challenging you to a duel by the end of this. She's the only one with hair like Uncle Ned, all the rest have Aunt Cat's Tully red. Bran too has dreams of coming south, he wants to be one of the King's Guard. Rickon is young, but he too is wild. All of them have direwolves of course, but I don't know if they will have brought them."

Daeron chuckled at the thought of being challenged to a duel by a little girl. "I look forward to meeting them."

They chatted like they had been doing for near on half an hour before Baelor once more called to them. "I see banners!"

The other boys perked at this. "What sigils do you see?" Daeron called as he and Jon remounted their horses.

"White banners, with something grey, that would be Stark? Also, blue and red, that must be Lord Tully,and a black banner with what looks like a sun!" Said Baelor.

"House Karstark" Responded Jon. "Lord Eddard has brought along his bannermen."

And so he had. The great column was massive, for it seemed that all the North and Riverlands had travelled south to witness the tournament to celebrate Daeron's marriage, as well as Aegon's formal coronation, which would follow. Karstarks, Glovers, Umbers, Freys, Blackwoods, and Brackens had all come to Summerhall. Accompanying them was the Prince of Pennytree, Viserys Targaryen, with his banners bearing the three dragons.

Soon Jon's family was approaching, led by his Uncle Ned and the young Lord Tully.

Jon and Daeron spurred their horses forward and hailed them.

"Welcome, Lord Stark and Lord Tully, Prince Aemon hopes your journey was swift and without difficulty." Jon said.

Eddard Stark smiled at his nephew. "Our journey was worth it, if all that I hear about the tourney is true."

"It is, my Lord." Daeron inputted. "My Father has taken much from his own coffers to make sure it is one for the ages. The camp is already the size of Summerhall itself, and we have yet to receive all of our guests."

Lord Stark nodded along, and Lord Tully smiled. "You look just like your Father when we were young." Lord Eddard said to Daeron, who seemed to stand taller at the praise. "No doubt you will be as great a warrior as he was. Allow me to introduce you to my family. My wife, Lady Catelyn, my sons, Robb, Bran, and Rickon, as well as my daughters, Sansa and Arya."

The respective Starks were introduced to Daeron, who used all the manners, poise, and grace he had learned from his Mother. When he shook Robb's hand, he grinned and said "I expect a great challenge from you." and to Sansa, he said "We shall have had no finer Queen in all my House's history my Lady." to which she blushed.

Lord Edmure came forth at this point. "Allow me to introduce myself, my Lady wife, Arriane, and my Uncle, Ser Brynden."

After meeting the Tullys, Daeron said to Ser Brynden, "Expect a barrage of questions from my Brother, he has dreams of Knighthood, and he has pressured our Grandfather and Ser Barristan for stories of the War of the Ninepenny Kings, you are no doubt next."

Turning to all of them, he said "You know my cousin Jon, and now you know me, but my youngest Brother, Baelor, is the one bearing our banner."

Their, introductions made, they made the rest of the journey to Summerhall, where Lord Eddard and Lord Edmure immediately went to meet with Prince Aemon in his solar.

All of the Lords and their bannermen had arrived. So had half the hedge knights in the realms it had seemed.

Lord Stannis Baratheon had arrived with his Stormlords the morning after the Starks arrived. He was accompanied by his sons Edric, Ormund, and Tommard, as well as his wife Janna Tyrell, his daughter Shireen, and his brother Renly. He had been courteous enough to the Princes, but upon Baelor seeing Mace Tyrell's banners approaching, he had spurred ahead.

"There is only one Tyrell I will abide by." He said to them before riding off.

Lord Tyrell had been very amiable toward the Princes, especially his future good-son. Willas, Garlan, and Loras they met, but then the door to the massive wheelhouse opened. Out came Lady Alerie, Lady Leonette, and Lady Margaery.

Upon seeing his betrothed, Daeron bowed deeply and made to kiss her hand, but barely brushed her with his lips.

"You seem to have missed your Grace." She said. "I hope your aim with a lance is better."

Daeron flashed a smile, and Jon, knowing what was coming, rolled his eyes. "I pray that at the lists, I will not be blinded by your radiance as I was today."

Lady Margaery blushed as Daeron bowed again.

"The Martells!" Cried Baelor, not noticing the anger on Lord Mace's face. "Uncle Oberyn is coming!"

The Targaryens of Summerhall had a great relationship with their Dornish cousins, but their Aunt Elia had always treated Jon with scorn. She had been furious when Aemon had first brought home Jon and named him Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the throne should Aegon die. The Red Viper evidently felt the same, as he glared at the Prince. Jon returned the glare with eyes as cold as ice. Once Daeron finished exchanging pleasantries, the Dornish galloped off, leaving only the arrival of the Westermen and the Lords of the Vale.

The first day of the tournament had begun, with the champions taking their places in front of their respective pavilions. Prince Daeron and Prince Jaehaerys, their banners bearing the double Dragons, and the King's Guard Knights, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Ser Richard Horpe, all of them clad in white. Prince Viserys Targaryen made six, his triple dragon looking as proud as any of them. Prince Viserys was sixth in line to the Iron Throne, and had been dubbed with the moniker "Lackland" in his youth, until his brother Aemon heard it said too many times, and granted him a large tract of land in the Riverlands centered around the village of Pennytree, along with the rights, and some funds, to raise a castle there. Now the popular Prince had come to fight in honor of his King and Nephew.

Each High Lord was given a place high above the salt, but all of them were below the Dragons.

In the center sat Aegon, who was still angry that his Uncle and Mother had forbidden him to enter into the competition. To his left sat the Queen Regent, Elia Martell, and beside her was Princess Rhaenys. They were chatting with Lady Sansa, who sat at the King's immediate left.

Directly behind him stood the knights Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann.

At his right were his Kin from Summerhall, with Prince Aemon sitting next to him, followed by Princess Cersei and the Dowager Queen Rhaella, who was watching over Jaena, Margaery, and sweet Rhaella as they gossiped about all the dashing knights.

"Your brother is truly handsome, isn't he, Margaery?" Jaena said as the first contenders came forth to challenge the champions. The Knight of Flowers had challenged her brother Daeron.

Daeron's wife smiled wide, and they were soon joined by Rhaenys, and they chattered over Robb Stark, who had challenged Jaehaerys.

Next to take the field was Ser Edric Baratheon, Margaery's cousin, and heir to Storm's End. He seemed to slow at Prince Viserys' banner, but moved along, to strike his lance against the white shield of Ser Arthur Dayne. "There is glory in besting a Prince, aye, but more for besting the Sword of the Morning" He called.

Lord Edmure Tully came next, smiling as he struck the shield of his dear friend, the Prince of Pennys.

The Red Viper assessed the remaining two champions, and obviously thought Ser Richard of the Kingsguard the weaker, for it was to him the challenge was delivered. In a haste to take their place as the last challenger, many noblemen, young and old, jostled forward, and leapt out of the way as a ghost galloped forward.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree had come to Summerhall.

The destrier was blood red, the rider snowy white. On his shield was a weirwood tree, and red paint was on his greathelm, in the shape of a red smile. He bowed before the King, and then struck the shield of the White Lion.

The champions formed against their challengers. Ser Arthur Dayne faced Ser Edric Baratheon in the lane closest to them, while furthest away, Ser Richard Horpe faced Prince Oberyn Martell. A trumpet sounded, and the fourteen thundered down the field at each other to the roar of the crowd. The crash of lances cracking raised another roar, but every man remained ahorse.

The second pass proved to be more fruitful, as first Robb Stark, then Ser Richard Horpe lost their seats, and the Knight of the Laughing Tree seemed to taking the worst from Ser Jaime.

"I recognize the mystery rider." Declared the King. "He's playing with Ser Jaime."

"He is." Agreed Aemon. "I fear the Lion is about to be trounced."

While Jaehaerys and Robb Stark hacked at each other with swords, The Red Viper danced around Ser Richard. Even faced with such a prestigious foe, the knight was undaunted, laughing whenever a blow was dealt to him, or, more rarely, when he landed one on his challenger.

"Uncle Oberyn has underestimated Ser Richard, I fear." Aegon commented to the Prince. "He loves to fight, our Ser Richard."

Meanwhile, Daeron and Viserys still clashed with their opponents, but Ser Arthur had lost his seat to Baratheon, and now crashed against each other, sword on sword.

Ser Jaime fared worst however, for as he prepared to end the farce of the mystery knight, he was shocked to find a lance crashing into his helmet, bending it into his face.

The not-so-Young Lion crashed into the dirt, and his opponent dismounted in order to help him to his feet. Ser Jaime evidently said something, for the Weirwood Knight called out to the King. "He says it was well struck!"

Ser Richard Horpe had been finally defeated by Prince Oberyn, the Sword of the Morning by Ser Edric, and the smallfolk cheered him off to the chant of "Mad Moth! Mad Moth! Mad Moth!"

By the time Ser Arthur fell to the young Stag, Jaehaerys had also fallen to Robb Stark, but Viserys and Lord Edmure still rode tilt after tilt. Breaking six lances, they eventually decided to break the stalemate with swords, but after ten minutes the conflict was yet to be resolved.

No one rode half as well as the Knight of Flowers and Prince Daeron. They made quite a show, breaking a total of nine lances, before Ser Loras was finally unseated. Daeron leapt from the saddle, and waited for his foe on foot, a hand on his sword hilt. Ser Loras regained his senses, and lunged at the Prince, long axe in hand. Daeron calmly deflected all of the blows, before finally lightly deflecting the axe with his sword, causing the blade to sink into the ground.

Before Ser Loras could remove it, Daeron delivered a decisive blow to his brother-in-laws head, knocking him senseless to the ground.

All eyes were now on the long duel taking place, but once both Prince and Lord tired, they called out to the King. "Let chance decide it!" They agreed.

With a nod from his Uncle, King Aegon moved to stand at the edge of the box. He removed a golden dragon, stamped with his likeness. "The Dragon to my Uncle! The King to my Lord Tully!"

He flipped it, and all the crowd followed it's flight. It landed close to Ser Richard Horpe, who cried out the result. "A dragon!"

So the new champions began to take their places, and the defeated had their pavilions taken down. The King was not finished with one of them, however. "Liontamer! I bid you to remove your helm. Own your glory!"

The Knight of the Laughing Tree turned back, and all the crowd was silent.

"Would you refuse your King?" Aegon smiled coyly.

The Knight reached for his helm, and slowly removed it. Those who recognized him gasped, those who didn't asked their neighbors. "A Prince!" Cried Daeron.

For indeed it was Jon, and all the crowd seemed to suddenly remember the quiet Prince of Dragonstone.

"Forgive me, your Grace." He said. "I did not wish to trick you."

The King laughed. "There is nothing to apologize for, brother."

The tournament continued with all its splendor, and many foes fell before Daeron's lance. Harrold Arryn, who took the name after Lord Jon's death, followed by Lancel Lannister, as well as his Uncle Tyland, who had the blue eyes of his mother Lysa but the gold hair of his Father Tywin. So too fell all three Karstarks, Daryn Hornwood, Patrek Mallister, Donnel Swann, Daemon Sand, and Renly Baratheon, to name but a few. Daeron had soon won the love of the commons, and he was happy to have it.

The grandeur of the tourney was evident over the next few days, with the place of champions being so hard fought for. Ser Baelor Hightower took the place of Robb Stark, but was defeated by Theon Greyjoy on foot. The Red Viper defeated Ser Lyn Corbray, Andar and Robar Royce, but fell to Ser Garlan Tyrell. Prince Viserys held his own, but eventually defeated a mystery knight, who was revealed to be Brienne of Tarth when she was felled by the Strongboar. Strongboar fell by chance to Ser Perwyn Frey when Frey's lance deflected off Crakehall's shield into his helmet.

At the tourney's end, the King had the champions come forward. They had been given time to converse among themselves as to which of the assembled ladies deserved the title of Queen of Love and Beauty.

"Cousin Daeron! You have been the finest lance through all of the competition, give us the name of the Queen!"

Daeron strode forward. "Forgive me, your Grace, but I cannot. Mine own Lady wife was not chosen, for that I feel remorse, allow your own brother to announce it!"

The King turned to Jon, who stepped up to stand beside Daeron. "Your Grace, we have chosen your own sister, the Princess Rhaenys."

The crown of roses, blood red, was given to the Princess, while the Queen Mother gave a look of distaste to Jon. Then the King called each of the Champions forward individually, to grant them whatever boon they would ask of him.

Daeron and Ser Garlan asked only that the King be as noble as his Father, Prince Rhaegar, which made Lord Tyrell appear as though he had just sucked on a lemon. Ser Perwyn Frey was granted the Castle Rosby, which he claimed through his Mother. Theon Greyjoy requested that he be allowed to return to his home on the Iron Islands, which King Aegon granted, despite the reluctant look from Prince Aemon. Ormund Baratheon was named squire to the King, in accordance to Ser Edric's wish. Lastly, Jon came forward.

"Your Grace." He began. "I ask that you grant me the hand of your Sister Rhaenys in marriage."

The Royal box was an assortment of expressions. The Queen Mother looked as though she would spit venom, the Dowager Queen looked worried, Prince Aemon only slightly concerned, and King Aegon had a nervous look in his eyes as he looked to his Uncle for support.

"You said you would grant them any boon." Aemon pointed out. "There were no restrictions put in place."

"You cannot seriously think to marry Rhaenys to that bastard!?" Elia said.

The King had found confidence, and sternly turned to his Mother. "I am the King, and a King must keep his word. Rhaenys!" He called to his sister. "Will you accept this match?"

Rhaenys had been smiling at Jon, but now she answered her Brother. "Yes, I will wed him."

The King turned back to his brother. "Very well! You shall be wed!"

Oldtown

The festive spirits might have been dampened by the controversy of Jon and Rhaenys betrothal, but great crowd that had gathered at Summerhall now found it easy to raise their spirits again as King Aegon was formally coronated.

The gifts had been lavish, though none as grand as the three Dragon eggs that a Pentoshi Magister bestowed upon. Black and scarlet, green and bronze, cream and gold, the eggs were a wonder to even the Targaryens.

The High Septon had travelled from King's Landing, the whole Royal Family was in attendance, as well as the Great Houses. Lords High and Low jockied for the best look as the crown that had once been borne by King Aenys I was lowered onto King Aegon VI's head.

The day was the three-hundredth anniversary of the Conqueror's coronation, the place the same as three centuries before, the Starry Sept of Oldtown. It was five Aegons since the Seven Kingdoms had been truly Seven Kingdoms, and three Aegons since Dragons still had flown over Westeros.

The Seven Blessings bestowed upon him, anointed with the Seven Holy Oils, and a crown upon his head, Aegon rose and was hailed by every person in attendance, but none as loudly, nor as proudly, as his Uncle Aemon, Prince of Summerhall.

"Long may he reign!"

So the Greyjoy Rebellion remained the same, seeing as though Balon Greyjoy would still be a fool, but now Theon's going home, a renowned warrior. Mance Rayder will appear in the coming chapter, I only delayed the happenings North of the Wall. The dragons will make an appearance as well, though under different names. We'll see how well the three young Dragons fare with the turning of the century.