The King’s Landing
Gaemon closed his eyes and looked at the four people present in the chamber.
Three of them were quite different from the fourth, he noticed.
With his new eyes, Gaemon could now see past flesh and bone, and what he saw there were dark red veins of some energy flowing through their bodies; it was the color of blood.
The Kingsguard did not possess the same energy, though that did not mean he was bereft of it.
The color and… smell of his energy were different.
The knight’s energy was green in color and tasted like the sweet wine that his lordly cousin had hidden in his personal stash.
The Targaryens’ energy smelled intensely metallic, with an undertone of something reptilian.
Gaemon could also see the same energy, though without any taste or smell, permeating the air around them.
It almost escaped his sight entirely, meaning it was present only in very small quantities, his mind provided.
Oh, Gaemon knew what his eyes were; he already had preloaded information about what they could do sitting inside his mind.
And to his childish delight, his eyes were almost—or one could even say—a replica of the Six Eyes of the Gojo bloodline.
But instead of seeing cursed energy like Gojo’s Six Eyes did, Gaemon’s eyes perceived magic.
Or whatever remained of it in this world.
Gaemon desperately wanted to leap from the bed and perform a victory dance of the North, but restrained himself due to the varying looks he was receiving from the audience present in the room.
All of them were still staring at him with awe, wonder, and a look that Gaemon thought a maiden might give to a knight she was smitten with.
Rhaenyra was also coming far too close for Gaemon’s comfort, and her father was yet to look at him again.
His uncle’s reaction made Gaemon curious.
Why had Uncle Viserys turned his gaze away when he looked into Gaemon’s eyes?
Wasn’t he the one who had requested to see them in the first place?
“Why did you close them?” Rhaenyra whined.
The princess looked downtrodden and eager to see Gaemon’s eyes again.
She even appeared ready to pry them open with her own hands if that was what it took.
Gaemon smiled—a smile that did not quite reach his eyes—and scooted closer to Daemon, his father, to place some distance between himself and the older princess, who looked ready to get handsy with him.
“They are beautiful and look like the purple sky of the night.
Open them, Gaemon.
I want to see them again.” Rhaenyra pleaded, her voice growing softer while her feet moved with feline urgency toward him.
“Please.”
“It hurts my mind, Princess.
Please let it have some respite before I open them again,” Gaemon said, now almost leaning into Daemon for protection from the man’s niece.
Gaemon was not lying either.
During the few moments he had opened them, the sheer flood of information had nearly overwhelmed his mind.
It had taken all of his willpower not to wince before everyone before he shut his eyes again.
If he had to guess, it would take some time before he could use these eyes anywhere near their full potential.
“Rhaenyra, control yourself.
Have you not heard what your cousin said moments ago?” Queen Aemma, kind as ever, came to Gaemon’s rescue as she pulled Rhaenyra back by the waist.
We do not want that, do we?”
Rhaenyra looked torn between her desires before finally relenting to her mother’s words.
“But I want to be there whenever he is ready to open them again.
You, Gaemon, promise me you will tell me whenever you open your eyes.” The princess demanded, looking at him with a tilt of her head as though she expected compliance without protest.
“Aye.
Aye, Princess,” Gaemon replied offhandedly, waving his hand dismissively through the air.
Rhaenyra looked offended by both his tone and gesture.
A retort was already forming on her lips, but Daemon beat her to it.
“How did your eyes change in such a short time, Gaemon?
And this setback of keeping them closed all the time—is it temporary or permanent?” Gaemon’s father asked with a serious expression.
“I do not know how I came to possess them, nor how they changed so drastically in such a short time.
And to answer your second question, I think until my mind adapts to the strain and information my eyes provide, I will need to keep them closed.
I am even considering wrapping them with cloth.” Gaemon replied, looking back at him through his closed eyes.
He could now perceive every change upon a person’s face, down to the microscopic level.
And right now, Daemon was confused, disappointed, and thinking very hard.
Daemon looked around, his eyes landing on the Kingsguard.
Gaemon watched the Rogue Prince scrutinize the knight before opening his mouth, his gaze turning to King Viserys Targaryen.
“We should go and get ready for the funeral of our grandfather.
After that, we will talk more about my son’s eyes.”
King Viserys saw where his brother’s gaze had gone before making the request.
He nodded after a few moments and made his way out after glancing at Gaemon, the Kingsguard following behind the King like a white shadow.
Queen Aemma and a reluctant Rhaenyra followed in the King’s footsteps, leaving behind father and son, Daemon and Gaemon.
Gaemon’s head turned toward his father.
“Both Viserys and I can feel there is more to these eyes of yours than you let on, so we shall talk about it in a private audience after the cremation of Grandfather,” Daemon said, making his way out as well.
Gaemon’s eyes remained on his back when his father turned ever so slightly.
“You might not have been raised among us, or even known much about us, but you are one of us.
You’re a Targaryen.
The blood of dragons runs thick in your veins; you cannot change it, cannot run from it.
Like it or not, we’re as much family to you as the Starks are to you right now.
So don’t try to hide things and remain secluded from the family of dragons, your family.”
With that, he turned and walked out the door.
Gaemon’s eyes widened by only a fraction before the shock wore off.
He smiled and lay back on the bed.
He might have mulled over the words of his father, but he was too excited and curious like the child who had gotten a new toy.
His eyes still gave him the perfect atomic view of the energy he now knew was magic.
He had that energy too; he could feel it. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
The color of his energy was the same as the eyes he now bore, purple.
And the taste was sulfur with an earthy smell to it; there was also an animal musk that he could distinguish clearly.
Gaemon tried to manipulate the energy.
He tried to bring it out.
And it did.
It obeyed him like a loyal servant ready to do its master’s bidding.
But the next moment, the sheer pain he felt as the energy moved toward his hand, where he wanted it to go, was immense, almost on the same scale as what he had felt when the eyes were given to him.
So Gaemon stopped.
For today, he had had enough pain.
Maybe tomorrow he would give it another try.
Gaemon slowly turned toward the bell that was placed on the table beside his bed and rang it.
A few moments later, a female servant entered, making her way to him and asking in a soft voice, “What do you require, my prince?”
“A black doublet with trousers of the same color.
You will find them in my luggage.
Bring them over.
And also see if you can somehow send word to my father that I wish to attend the funeral of King Jaehaerys,” Gaemon said, standing up with his eyes closed.
The servant nodded, but before she could make her way to the exit, Gaemon spoke again.
“Also, bring a black cloth, preferably made of silk, to wrap around my eyes.
Nothing more than that.”
“Of course, my prince.
All the things you requested will be here shortly.”
With that, the lady took her leave, and Gaemon stood before the only mirror in his room.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at them himself for the first time.
Three hours later,
Gaemon was standing with Rhaenyra and Daemon, a little behind King Viserys and Queen Aemma, as the body of the Old King lay before them.
Silent Sisters and septons fussed over the block of wood placed underneath.
King Viserys was the only one who spoke the eulogy.
Now it was time to say farewell to the Old King.
Gaemon looked at his father.
By look, he meant gazing at him with his eyes to see whether the magic energy inside him shifted or even stirred if Daemon tried to call Caraxes from a distance, where the Dragonkeepers were handling the Blood Wyrm.
And to Gaemon’s surprise, it did.
Though the energy did not make its way out of Daemon’s body, it was instead absorbed into his soul.
Not even a few moments later, the Blood Wyrm was among them in all its feral glory.
Gaemon’s gaze turned from his father to his dragon, and his jaw nearly dropped to the ground.
The sheer magic rolling off Caraxes made it feel as though someone had painted the entire world around them the color of blood, which was the color of Caraxes’s magic.
Gaemon watched as a vast amount of it swirled like a vortex inside Caraxes’s chest while the dragon reared its long, sinuous neck back.