Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, plot, or anything else of the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF series.
Wow, you guys seem to really like Aemon, So it seems he gets to live. Now I have to figure out how this will play out in the long run, but I think I have a general idea.
The Rebels had been surprised by the Prince's charge, the Royalists had driven through the enemy line like a hot knife through butter. They were still outnumbered, but they fought like demons, Aemon especially. Robert Baratheon had slipped through his fingers once, and he would not let it happen again. His horse had been killed by some knight from the Vale, whose head was now nearly split in two. Aemon was slashing to and fro, screaming like a demon from the seven hells. Ser Jaime had long been separated from him, but Aemon felt as though no blade could touch him. A man with the red stallion of house Bracken on his surcoat ran towards him, but was slashed across the belly, his innards spilling onto the dirt. Aemon moved to finish him off, but a blue clad figure slammed into him. The duel began, the two warriors circling one another, one clad in black with red dragons, the other in blue with a falcon and moon. Denys Arryn, thought Aemon, the Young Falcon. With a cry of "Fire and Blood!" Aemon launched himself at the falcon knight, his sword like a whirlwind.
Sparks flew as the two swords clashed against one another, Denys met every blow Aemon threw at him, and it seemed that they were at a standstill, until Aemon slowed on one strike, and Denys punched his shield into Aemon's winged helmet, knocking him back. Denys leaped forward, aiming to stab Aemon in the stomach, but Aemon knocked the incoming sword aside, and slashed Denys across the chest. Denys sunk to one knee, Aemon wound back for the killing blow, and a word escaped the Young Falcon's helmet; "Rowena" before Aemon's sword flashed down his torso.
Aemon crouched next to the dead knight, lifting open Denys' visor. The face staring toward the heavens was handsome, with pale blue eyes and blond hair. It seemed as though he were just peacefully gazing up at the clouds. Aemon noticed a small edge of green cloth poking from his vambrace, he pulled on it, and it was revealed to be a Lady's favor, stitched with a broken wheel. Rowena Waynwood, of course, they have a son, most likely at Ironoaks or the Eyrie, who now has no father, because of me. He thoughts were permeated by all the faces of the men he had killed in the previous hours, from knights to common levies. Damn you and your lust, Rhaegar, why couldn't you forget the Stark girl? Aemon took off his greathelm, and placed Denys' hands on his chest, one grasping his sword, and the other now holding his wife's favor. Aemon felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I am so sorry, forgive me, please, know that I did not want to do this to you, to your family, forgive me."
It was then that he felt the presence of another man approach. Aemon stood as he turned to face the new comer. "Lord Stark"
"Prince Aemon" came the quiet response. "Where is my sister?"
Aemon put on his helmet, and sighed. "Even if I knew, I would not betray my brother, fool though he may be."
They had begun to slowly circle one another, Denys' body laying in between them. Eddard jerked his head toward the knight. "You were honorable with him."
Aemon glanced toward Ice, the valyrian steel glinting in the sunlight, "I pray you treat me the same way."
"I will." Nearly a whisper, then the Quiet Wolf leapt on the wounded dragon.
They hacked at each other for what seemed like ages, Aemon had long since lost the last of the ornamental wings on his helmet, leaving only a stump on the right side. Eddard wore only a plain bascinet, overall being more lightly armored than Aemon. Ice gave him the advantage though, with it's longer reach than Aemon's plain arming sword. The valyrian steel gave the Northern lord an advantage, as Aemon's blade was already showing chips in the edge.
Suddenly, they're blades locked, and Aemon shoved Eddard backwards, he would have kept his footing, but he tripped on Denys' discarded shield. Eddard tumbled to the ground, and Aemon knocked Ice from his hand. The Prince stood over him, poised to end his life. "I am truly sorry for your Father and Brother, I would have done the same in your place."
Eddard closed his eyes and thought to himself; Too many widows are being made in this war, and prepared himself for death.
But Aemon's sword did not pierce him, and Eddard opened his eyes.
Standing above him, shock in his eyes was Aemon, with a crossbow bolt piercing his abdomen. The Prince took a stumbling step back, and men began to surround him. Evidently, the Royalist cavalry had been routed or destroyed, and now the Rebels were closing in on the Prince. Aemon looked around, he withdrew a red cloth from around his sword arm, kissed it, and leaped at the nearest man. "Fire and Blo-"
Three more bolts pierced his body.
Aemon collapsed into the dirt, his sword leaving his grasp. Eddard limped over to him, and crouched at his side. He removed the red helmet, and saw not a fearless warrior, but a scared boy, just shy of his eighteenth name day. "My sword." He gasped.
Eddard placed onto his chest, like the Prince had done with Denys Arryn. A trembling hand clutched the hilt. "Promise me, no harm will come to my wife, Cersei, and our child. Promise me, Lord Eddard."
"I promise" The Lord of Winterfell stood and raised Ice, meaning to end the Prince's suffering.
Aemon nodded, resignment in his eyes."It is good that I should die at pea-"
Aemon's words were drowned out by a shout, Robert had forced his way through the crowd. "Well done Ned! You killed the little dragonspawn!"
"It was not I that killed him, but the crossbowmen."
"Hah! The little shit is dead nonetheless! A dead Targaryen is a good Targaryen!"
He turned to the assembled army; "Let this be a lesson to that bastard Rhaegar! And his mad father too! My horse! Ser Willem, tie that rope around the bastard's feet."
Realization dawned on Eddard. "No Robert, you can not do that to him, enemy or no, he was a Prince of the Blood."
"Blood from parents who were siblings, the same blood of the man who had your Father and Brother killed, the same blood of the man who kidnapped your sister!"
"No enemy should be treated in such a way Robert, regardless of who they are."
A man approached leading Robert's horse, Robert growled. "Careful now Ned, I may love you like a brother, but I will treat this dragonspawn the way he deserves."
With that, the Rebel lord mounted his horse, took the end of the robe from the knight holding it, and began to ride toward Stoney Sept. Eddard followed him, unable to believe what he saw. It was here that Jon Arryn pushed his way through the crowd to him. "Eddard, what is Robert doing?"
"Making an example."
"What do you me-" The older man had caught a glimpse of Aemon, his arms splayed out behind him. "No, he cannot be serious, he would lower himself below King Aerys!"
"So it would seem."
"You must stop him Eddard, he will only listen to you!"
"I tried Jon, I tried, he will not listen to reason."
"By all the Gods, he cannot do this!"
But Robert did, and once he approached within one hundred yards of the city's walls, he began to gallop back and forth, the Prince dragging along behind him. Robert was shouting things such as; "Come out and fight Connington! You traitor!" and "Rhaegar can expect worse!"
Roughly twenty thousand men were still inside the city, including one bloody and dusty Jaime Lannister, who had been carried away on horseback, still screaming "Stand and fight!" even when he, and the barely three hundred survivors of Aemon's charge, had passed the gates.
The young Lion now stood on the walls with Jon Connington, listening to Robert's jeers. "I swear by the Warrior, I will see him dead."
The Hand of the King nodded, and turned to his captains. "Have the men told that if the Rebels attack the walls, then we will fight to the last, for Prince Aemon. But we should still prepare to evacuate through the south gate, if we march through the night, we can get a head start down the Gold Road, we are not beaten, and if Aemon could do that much damage to them, then Rhaegar will be able to finish them off."
The captains scattered, shouting out orders to their men. Robert Baratheon had provoked no actions from the Royalists, so he tossed aside the rope attached to Aemon, and galloped back toward his men, who greeted him with cheers. Jaime then turned to Connington; "Let me retrieve his body."
The Lord of Griffin's Roost raised an eyebrow. "No, you would be within bowshot, and I cannot risk you."
"We cannot leave him out there."
"I like it no more than you, but we cannot risk ourselves over one dead man."
"You would let me go if it were his older brother."
"Watch your tongue Ser, I command here, and we leave at nightfall."
Jaime stormed off, as the soldiers, who had only just arrived from King's Landing, prepared to march straight back.
"This rain was a godsend." He muttered to himself. Jaime could see the lanterns shining from the walls, but he knew that there would be no soldiers inside the city. Connington and his men had seized their chance with the torrential rainstorm, and had marched east about three hours ago, hoping to get a good enough head start away from the Rebels. Jaime, however, did not leave with them, waiting instead in the loft of a stable until the Royalists had departed.
He wore a dark cloak, with the hood pulled up so that the cowl was level with his eyes. He scrambled along in the dark, searching desperately for his sister's husband. He has to be here somewhere, this was where Robert left him. Jaime looked scrambled around in the mud, looking for some sign of the Prince. He was here, I know it.
Jaime was preparing to give up the search when he heard the slightest noise, not a far away thunder clap, but not the fall of rain drops. A cough, it was a cough, he's here, Aemon lives. The lightning flashed, and Jaime could barely make out his pale, silvery blonde hair. He slipped through the mud over to him. In the bursts of lightning, he was able to make out the dragon on his surcoat. The Prince's face was half spattered with mud, and deathly pale. Taking one of his arms, Jaime threw Aemon over his shoulder, which received a groan of pain from the wounded man.
Jaime had to carry him through the mud for half an hour before they reached a copse of trees, where the young boy was waiting where Jaime had payed him too. "Who's he?" the boy asked, as Jaime threw the prince over the back of the mule he had stolen.
"The bloody Prince of Summerhall, that's who." Jaime spat back, checking to make sure his armor was still in the sack tied to the saddle. He started to lead the mule away, then tossed a single gold coin to the boy. "For your help." By the time Jaime and Aegon had disappeared into the darkness, the boy was still looking at the coin with astonishment, he had never even seen a dragon, Royal or Gold, in his life.
They had been walking for at least an hour, or rather, Jaime and the mule had. But finally, he could see a house in the distance, a farm, with a surrounding barn and tilled fields. Jaime nearly had to drag the mule across the field, eventually reaching the house. He trudged up to the door and hammered on the locked door. "Open the door, in the name of King Aerys, open the door!"
There was silence, then a scrambling as the door was opened and an older man appeared bearing a lantern. With a gruff voice he barked; "What do you want at this hour!?"
"It's my friend, he's injured, he needs help or he'll die, please, help him."
The man looked over at the mule, bit his lip in thought, then looked at Jaime. "Very well, bring him in."
