The song of ice and fire

Death of the Heir

Aemon

I wanted to hate my brother for leaving me, for catching the bloody flux, for dying. For going on a stupid expedition East to reclaim some territories in his miscalculated folly he thought were his right to claim. But I can’t hate him. I can’t. I am very angry though. I am furious, with the gods and mostly with myself for not stopping Daeron. I should have done something. Keep him under house arrest in Dragonstone even. I knew that going to the Bay of Dragons was a bad idea. I knew it in my gut but I let my brother lead the way. He was the elder one afterall. 

“What’s the worst that can happen Brother?” He had said with that easy smile as we sailed with a fifth of the Royal Fleet and Drogon flying above.

Five months and we did manage to bring the Bay and its cities to heel. We did not count on the bloody flux though. Even having a mighty black dragon won’t stop an infection. I sailed home with my brother’s corpse, wrapped properly sealed in a stoned sarcophagus. The Meerenese had told me to burn the body immediately but I could not. I had to bring Daeron home and I did. 

My mother cries all day while Father sits in his solar, staring into nothing not wanting to hold court, not speaking to anyone except for Mama, not to his children, not even his Lyanna. I know Father is angry with me. I saw the look on his face during Daeron’s funeral rites. He feels betrayed. I am his son and he is my King and yet I never told him about what my brother had planned till it was too late. This counts as a treasonous act even.

Lyanna tries to comfort my mother but it is of no use. For the pain of losing her beloved son is just too much. Rhaelle has been too quiet as well. She has always been quiet but lately all she does is to stare into the waters of Blackwater Rush. The Hand keeps trying to talk to me. There are many things I need to do. I will now be the heir. I would have laughed. I remember he used to dub me The Spare and now I am to be Prince of Dragonstone, except I do not want it.

I do not want to be King. I never have. I was supposed to be Hand. That was what Daeron had promised me and now he reneges on that promise and I wish I could hate him for it but I can’t. I can never hate my brother, for he is one half of me. And now that he is gone, I will no longer be whole. We have done everything together. Ever since we were babies. There was never any envy or sibling rivalry between us. Daeron never treated me as an inferior just because he was the heir. I am his younger brother and that was all he knew and he loved me and trusted me with his life.

“It will get better your Highness…” The Hand says. I only keep quiet hearing it.

How would he know? His own brother, Jaime Lannister is still alive and well. The same man who slew my grandfather and who almost killed my mother with a spear still lives in Casterly Rock, an old man while my good brother’s diseased body lies cold in a stone sarcophagus, killed too soon and far too young.

Aemon

I go to the Queen’s chambers to see my mother like I always do in the afternoons after meeting the Hand. My mother sits there, her eyes puffy from all the tears she cried. She is just staring away. Lyanna is sitting next to her, embroidering while Rhaelle leans against the chair making crowned daisies. My sisters barely left my mother’s side since the funeral. 

“He’s always such a happy baby…” Mama says in a wistful tone. “Laughs all the time…” 

She looks at me and smiles through her tears and I smile back. “Oh Aemon…” She says and I bend down to hug her, squeezing her tight. “My sweet Aemon.”

“Do you remember chasing butterflies with your brother by the river bank?” She asks me and I shake my head. Daeron and I had done too many things together. Far too many silly things for me to remember.