Prince Aemon Targaryen
Dragons roared in the sky, and it sent his blood to singing. They were calling him, calling home. Aemon felt more alive than he had done throughout his entire life in that one moment. Dressed in black armour and with a dragon helm atop his head, he knew he looked like a King, he was a King, and the power was within him. They moved toward King's Landing, the ships were moving slowly, and it was not enough, nodding to Daenerys, they move their dragons toward the city, the Red Keep. Home, the sound of it was all encompassing, all powerful, everything was going right now, soon enough they would be sitting where they needed to sit.
The red keep comes closer into view, and his heart begins to soar, home, home is so near, he can nearly touch it. They bring their dragons down into the courtyard, the thrump of the dragons landing causes the ground to shake, Aemon smiles. They move off their saddles and onto the ground, men start filing out to greet them, Aemon looks at them and says simply. "Bend or die, we are here to claim our rightful throne." There is a moment of silence, and then someone says they cannot bend. "Very well, then you shall die." The words are said and fire is unleashed, men die screaming as they are reduced to ash. He steps over the ash when the fire stops and smirks. "You should have just bent." He and his sister walk through the doors and into the keep.
As they walked through the keep, Aemon was acutely aware of the fact that there were men walking toward them, yet none of them were trying to stop them. He wondered at that briefly, but decided it did not matter. They kept walking, side by side, as they were meant to be, pointing out various things of the Red Keep, the walls which slanted toward them, pointing to them as if indicating their right to be walking there. There were no skulls on the walls, not like Viserys had said there would be, and he knew that was the work of the usurper and his kin. It made him feel angry for a moment, but then that disappeared, when the doors to the throne room appeared. He knew they were the doors to the throne room due to the presence of the Kingsguard at the door. "Stand aside." He commands.
"We cannot do that." One of the knight's replies.
"We swore a vow." The other knight states.
"You swore a vow to a false King, bend the knee to your rightful King or die." Aemon growls.
The first knight that spoke snorts. "You are no King. You are a pretender."
Aemon clenches his hand into a fist, and before he knows what he has done he has smashed it into the knight's face, which considering he has no helmet on leaves him with a bloody face. Aemon smashes the other man's face in as well, before pulling back and drawing his sword. "Move or die." He snarls. Both men draw their swords and move toward him. Aemon laughs, stepping in front of Daenerys, and then moves as quickly as he can. These men are slow, either that or they are shit. He moves and the knights fall to the floor. He looks at them, then spits, then sheathes his sword. "You are unfit to wear the white cloak." He moves past them and pushes open the doors to the throne room.
He walks into the throne room, Daenerys at his side. There sat on the throne is one of the usurper's kin. He stares at him and states. "You are sat on my throne usurper."
The man laughs, a grating sound. "I do not know you boy! But this is my throne, by right of might and conquest."
Aemon snorts. "You owe your entire family's life to that of mine, and you would dare question me? Do you even know who I am?"
"I just said I do not boy. Now either bend the knee or explain why you have killed my men." The man responds.
Aemon looks at the man, staring at him, anger flying through him. "I will give you one last chance, get off my throne, and I might yet let you live Baratheon. If you do not I will kill you myself."
A knight standing at the foot of the throne moves towards him then. "You will have to get through me first." The knight snarls.
Aemon looks at the knight. "So you are Loras Tyrell. I have heard much about you. Tell me, do you want to die?"
The knight laughs. "You are no match for me Targaryen."
Aemon takes out his sword, still bloody from the confrontation outside, he can feel Belgabad moving in, flitting in and out, as he is wont to do. "Explain that to your brothers Ser." Aemon replies.
The knight draws his own sword and moves towards him. "Be careful Loras." The usurper's brother says cautiously.
Aemon makes the first move, swinging his sword to the right, Tyrell blocks him, and then pushes back and swings at him, Aemon allows it to cut him, then pushes forward, swinging and hacking away. Cutting at the defence of the Tyrell boy, seeing where his weaknesses are, pushing, throwing his weight at the blows he swings. Tyrell gives as good as he gets, and soon they are both panting and heaving, sweat was dropping down his face into his armour. Their armour was dented, he moved and danced, swinging and slanting through, their blades singing, he notices a gap and pursues it. Tyrell falters, then falls, the usurper screams and Aemon moves past the knight and onto the throne. He looks at the usurper's brother and in a quick slash, cuts the man down, allowing him to fall down the steps. Aemon sheathes his sword, holds his hand out for his sister, and as she walks up the steps, taking his hand he smiles and whispers. "We are home now my love, we are home." He sits on the throne and feels like singing.