Author's Notes: A new chapter! I forgot to say when it was going to be posted, so in this one, I wanted everyone to know that the next chapter will be posted on 11/19. Thank you all so much for reading and for your support! You are important to keeping this train chugging. Thanks again. =)
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Chapter 123
Aemon XLVI
He paced his solar. The Old Gods had apparently not heeded his prayers. It had been weeks since he'd prayed. Whether it was Jaime or not, someone would surely have sent the news if his uncle had risen anew. But there was nothing; his uncle remained cold and dead entombed with his ancestors. Though it was not a pressing question, it loomed over him in the quiet parts of his day. Why did they not save his life? Were he and Jaime alone favored by the Gods? Why would that be? Jaime was a kingslayer who had lain with his sister. His sins were many. Aemon had less egregious sins, but he still betrayed his oath to the Night's Watch by taking a lover, a free folk lover at that. He'd lied, whether his intentions were good or not.
So why us? he mused, turning the question over in his head. He was the hidden son of Rhaegar Targaryen; that was apparently enough for the Gods. Jaime had originally fathered Joffrey. The illegitimacy of Joffrey as king had been his uncle's motivation to pry in the time before. Ned's subsequent death had been the spark that lit the world aflame with war. But Cersei had still managed to lie with another man and try to pass her children off as trueborn heirs. That had not changed. It was apparently enough to the Gods that Jaime simply not be the father of them. In the end, they had prevented his father from going to King's Landing altogether. The world had in fact taken a sharp turn, and instead of merely marching to war to defend his father's honor, he'd been crowned king instead. Had the Gods known the outcome before they had even enacted it? It seemed impossible, but the Gods were meant to know everything, weren't they? Did that include the history to come?
Aemon had thought the Gods had merely been on his side, favoring him, though at the time he hadn't given a thought as to what that might entail. The Gods had also deemed it important to wrest hold of him and defeat Greatjon Umber in single combat. That had won him the support of the entire North. A moment so small yet so significant. Were there any others?
He racked his brain. Where were the Gods when he had been trying to hatch his dragon? He'd been made to follow the ritual that he'd heard from Daenerys from the lifetime before. At any point the dragon could have simply hatched like it had with their ancestors generations before. So why hadn't it?
Aemon pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache blossoming behind his eyes. If the Gods were so intent on seeing him rule, why had they not simply struck his enemies dead? Why had he been made to fight for his life in the Battle of Salt Moss Cove when Tywin had tried to have him killed. King's Landing had been a hair's breadth from falling into Tywin's hands, but Jaime had just managed to prevent it. Had the Gods then known that would be the outcome? Did they only deign to help when they needed a nudge? Or was everything he did already predetermined?
He ground his teeth together in irritation. His will was his own. I am the only one who governs myself, he thought. Yet these thoughts continued to circulate around and around in his head. They only served as a distraction but he couldn't seem to push them aside.
A knock broke through.
"Your Grace, you have a small council meeting starting soon," Ser Barristan said from the doorway.
"Yes, yes, I'm on my way," Aemon replied, fumbling for a roll of parchment he took to make his notes. He hurried out the door and his kingsguard fell into step behind him. When he walked anywhere, sycophants often would speak up to catch his attention. It wasn't often that he indulged them, but something in his expression made them wilt before his eyes and they let him pass uninterrupted.
He was the last to arrive at the small council meeting. Everyone stood at his presence, to which he waved them all to sit back down. He surveyed them all for a moment, looking carefully at them. Daenerys smiled good naturedly at him and placed her hand in his, squeezing it gently in comfort. He tried to not show much outward grief, but he noticed that Daenerys liked to greet him with hugs and they felt a bit tighter than usual of late. He could never resist relaxing into them.
Tyrion looked chipper and gave him an acknowledging nod. Aemon would swear his work load had been lighter than normal and he had his suspicions Tyrion was behind that. It had been a few weeks since they last shared a meal and he decided he should extend another invitation.
Lord Velaryon was hale and hearty. Judging by the way he was fiddling with his hands, he had news to share. He hadn't shared a meal with him in some time either, but they were preparing to travel and would likely share every meal henceforth.
Lady Olenna seemed cheerful judging by her manner; she took on a demeanor Aemon liked to call practiced boredom. She always acted like she had little patience for anything beyond her duties as Mistress of Coin, but could likely recall every word of their meetings better than he could. Since Sansa was betrothed to Willas, the Starks and the Tyrells remaining in King's Landing feasted together once a month. While Willas didn't practice this same manner as his grandmother, he did have a tendency to appear far more serious in small council meetings than his usual nature. At dinner, Willas was remarkably carefree but considerate. Aemon would swear that Sansa was falling just a little bit more in love with him with every meal they had; he hoped it was a good sign for their future.
Grand Maester Brunal and Healer David continued to sit opposite of each other and rarely make eye contact. He had often wondered if that was a relationship he ought to insist be conducted in a more cordial manner, but they never come to blows like young knights in the yard over perceived slights. His sights narrowed on David. It had been months since he'd ordered him to look into Varys, and still the Healer had not come to him with information. It was time for another meeting.
Ser Stevron Frey sat at the back next to the grand maester, always the odd man out. Where everyone else was genial, he was pompous. While managing their winter resources was important, he had an outsized ego about it. Every time Aemon looked at him, he would puff out his chest and straighten up, casting withering glares at anyone who didn't show the same amount of deference. He was managing his position, but Aemon was considering assigning Tyrion to work with him and ensure the numbers Ser Stevron gave them matched the stores. Still, his family continued to toe the line and had not been a part of the coup efforts.
Prince Oberyn had apparently decided to skip the meeting, but he'd already heard assurances that he'd march to war against the Ironborn.
All that was left was Varys. As far as he could tell, Varys' demeanor never changed. He was just as calm and even-tempered as he always had been, much like a rock weathering the crashing waves of the sea. He reported on little things. A lord speaking ill of one of the king's laws, another daring to skimp on his taxes. Mere pebbles in a pond that otherwise barely disturbed the water. Much like Baelish, he kept his cards close to his chest.
Aemon shook his thoughts and focused his attention on Lord Velaryon. "You have news?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The fleet is on track to arrive in Lannisport in six weeks. I recommend we make our departure by week's end. We'll have the Ironborn sorted in two months," he replied, with a confident smile.
Aemon returned it. "That is welcome to hear. The kingdom will be whole once more and then we can begin preparing in earnest for the Long Night."
"Ahem," Olenna interjected. "That's all well and good, Your Grace, but we have pressing matters that must be addressed now rather than later. While the people love you and the healer has done wonders in boosting your reputation among the people, they are still suffering. A drowning sickness is starting to spring up in Flea Bottom and the wharfs."
"A 'drowning' sickness?" Aemon asked.
"Thank you, Lady Olenna, but would you mind if I took it from here?" David asked. She waved him on. "Your Grace, I'm sure you've had the sniffles at some point in your life?"
"Of course."
"This sickness is similar to that but much more severe. What is happening is children, the elderly, and even fit adults are effectively 'drowning' in their own spittle. They are forced to cough and spit, which further spreads the sickness, but without adequate water, most eventually die from hacking up all of the fluid in their body."
The entire table shuddered. "Yes, this needs to be addressed. Where are we lacking in water?"
David hesitated and then said, "Well, while it seems that water is in abundance, much of it isn't any good. Would you drink what may have touched someone's piss or shit? Or that someone has bathed in? Or that rats have frolicked in?"
"Hmm … I can see your point. What is there to do about it?"
"Well, wine isn't water, but we use it to clean our wounds and are happy to drink it. Those who indulge in wine, I've noticed, tend to suffer from various ailments and ills less. I've noticed that in the creation of wine, there is a point where it's boiled. I think it would be beneficial to boil water to combat much of this."
"Boil water? Where in the Seven do you expect the kingdom to get that?" Lord Stevron asked.
David flicked his eyes over to Stevron with a dull expression. "It's long term. It would hardly be reasonable for the king to have water transported daily or weekly."
"But who would boil it? You?" Lord Stevron laughed.
"There is ample enough that I do for this city," David snapped.
"Perhaps you should oversee it, Lord Frey," Daenerys said. All eyes turned to her. She smiled charmingly. "You're the Master of Food, are you not? The people need food as much as water. I would think this would fall under your purview."
"Uh … well, I suppose I could …" Lord Stevron's voice trailed.
"That sounds reasonable to me," Aemon declared. "Why don't you search for ways to bring clean water to the smallfolk and save them from their suffering?"
Lord Stevron pursed his lips, but he bowed his head. "I will do that, Your Graces."
"We thank you, my lord," Daenerys smiled at him and gave him a nod of her head. Aemon had to hide a smirk at the color that crept up into his cheeks.
"Aemon, when do you think it likely that we will leave to confront the Ironborn?" Daenerys asked.
He felt his heart plummet, but he swallowed and opened his mouth to answer.
"We? With all do respect, Your Grace," Lady Olenna began with a chastising expression, "as queen, your first priority is to carry the king's heirs. Whether you are expecting or not is of little consequence. The king would be made highly vulnerable were anything to happen to you. We have forged a peace, for now, but the kingdom needs stability. The beginnings of a new dynasty have a tendency to be fraught. Best that you stay safe here."
Daenerys frowned tersely at her, but the older woman returned her gaze calmly.
"Lady Olenna, while I appreciate your concern, that is a decision for the queen and me to make together," Aemon said, hoping his own thoughts didn't show.
"Lady Olenna does raise a good point, Your Grace," Tyrion said. "Historically, queens don't take an active part in governing the kingdom."
"My reign shall be different," Aemon shot back.
"Which is your right, but a good king takes into consideration the concerns of his people. I think it's safe to say this table is concerned that you might take your queen into battle," Tyrion said.
Aemon bristled. "Do you think us both so foolish that she would be on the front lines?"
"What I think, Your Grace, is that she would want to be where her dragons are. Your ancestors, whether woman or man, rode their dragons into battle. It's been some time since I've seen Drogon on the ground, but he is quickly reaching a size where riding him would be possible," Tyrion replied.
Aemon opened his mouth to return the argument but couldn't find anything to say. It was as if Tyrion had peered straight into his mind and dug up his own concerns. After all, Daenerys had been riding Drogon when he was felled in the other life. He felt ill just thinking about that memory.
"We will talk about this," Aemon said. "It will be our decision together, not merely the will of the council."
"Very well. I've said what I needed to," Tyrion replied.
"Perhaps it's not a decision the council should be party to, but I agree with Lady Olenna and Lord Tyrion," David chimed in.
Grand Maester Brunal nodded along. "It's just not done, Your Grace. 'Tis safer for her grace to remain here."
"Tradition has a time and a place, grand maester. I would prefer not to rely on it as a pillar of our reign," Aemon said.
The rest of the meeting continued as planned. Varys gave his report that all was quiet. Aemon could hardly decide if that was suspicious or not. He figured it would be prudent to ask David if he'd heard anything suspicious. Did his ancestors always take their Master of Whisperers at their word or did they have another clandestine source they could consult?
Aemon stopped David at the door. "I wish to speak to you. Would you join me in my solar?"
David regarded him for a moment with a flash of irritation, but the healer smoothed it over with a nod and said, "Of course, Your Grace." He followed a few steps behind.
Daenerys fell into step beside him. He could feel the fury coming off her and did not look forward to the conversation. He was certain that they could figure something out. She was not such a fool that she would risk their child's life over a petty conflict with the Ironborn.
Once at the solar, Aemon opened the door and Daenerys determinedly strolled in. He turned to ask David to wait, but the healer was already several feet back with a knowing look on his face.
With some trepidation, Aemon closed the door and turned to face her.
Daenerys had her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "A fine defense you made for my continued presence at your side."
"Dany, I wouldn't have worded it like that, but I can't deny that I think it would also be better if you remained here."
"I am not a delicate flower that you must keep to yourself in secret," she snapped.
"No delicate flower would have been able to cross the Dothraki Sea without wilting," he said softly, reaching out to take her hand. "You're a mother dragon. And you need to protect our growing hatchling."
Daenerys' anger had eased ever so slightly, but she remained firm. "Yes, I am. And I have two dragonlings that also need their mother. You intend on taking them with you, don't you?"
He nodded even as a tension was building in his shoulders. Would Drogon and Rhaellon be receptive to my commands without their mother present? He couldn't see the dragons as often as Daenerys did. When they went together, they all seemed to connect, though Drogon was still distant with him. Aemon had a feeling he would only ever have kind regard for his mother.
Would Drogon even leave King's Landing? Perhaps it would be enough with just Rhaellon and Rhaegal, but his dragon was only starting to reach the size of a pony. Rhaellon was larger, easily the size of a quarter horse, but Drogon had somehow outstripped his sister and was the size of a draft horse. With his black coloring and orange eyes, he was far more intimidating. Those who survived the ship burnings would remember him.
Was anyone else fearful of Meraxes when Balerion wasn't there? Aemon thought to himself with a quiet scoff.
"Yes, I will be taking the dragons … if I can."
"How do you intend to command Drogon? He only listens to me."
"Perhaps we've made enough strides in the last few weeks that he'll be more receptive?"
Daenerys' eyebrows twitched and there was the slightest upturn of a smile. "And I thought I was optimistic," she said, her face turning to stone once more.
"I can't pretend it will be easy." Aemon smiled sheepishly. "I will be gone for months. Someone needs to be here to rule. I said that we would rule together; this is your chance to shine."
"I thought it was the job of the Hand to rule in the king's stead," Daenerys commented.
"Not this king," he growled playfully, placing a hand on her shoulder to swoop in for a kiss. He felt her shoulders relax a little. "I trust you and I know you will rule with wisdom."
"Very well," Daenerys said, though she remained unhappy about the circumstances. "As queen, I command you to return in time for the birth of our child."
"The Old and the New Gods help the Ironborn should they dare delay me," he said. "I will return."
"I suppose that will do." She was still unhappy as she turned away to go. He would have to make it up to her. After all, he would need her help mollifying the dragons enough to follow him to the Iron Islands. He followed her to the door and waved David on through.
David stood in front of the desk as per usual, but Aemon did not take his place there. Instead, he walked up so that he and David were face to face. Aemon openly studied him. In previous months, his eyes had been bruised from lack of sleep and his skin had been wan. The bruises were not so deep anymore and his cheeks were a little fuller with more color. Despite the close quarters, David remained steadfast, his face calm and neutral much like Varys'.
When the minutes dragged, David finally said with a slight bite, "Yes, Your Grace?"
"It's been several months. What news?" Aemon asked, keeping his voice low.
"Your Grace, these things take time. I am not ready to tell you what I've discovered." The healer didn't hide his annoyance and his eyes were like burning coals.
"I'm starting to be concerned that you're not holding up your end of the deal as promised," Aemon said, matching the tone shift.
"Would you rather I report inaccurate information?" David snapped. "You know what you asked. This is a rabbit doe who checks her buns and devours them when spooked. If I'm not to arouse suspicion, I have to tread very carefully. Have patience."
Aemon turned away, clenching his fists. It was proving to be more difficult than he expected to find out what influence Varys had on his father's fate. It was almost twenty years ago. If I must continue to wait, then I will. But the thought left him uneasy. When they'd left Baelish to his own devices, he'd slipped through their fingers. It was fortuitous that Baelish found himself entangled in Varys' web. Or was it?
It mattered little. He could hardly accuse Varys or arrest him for treason without the knowledge he required, but until then, he had to contend with a spider who was prepared to ensnare friend and foe.
"You're dismissed. I expect something when I return," Aemon cautioned.
"As you command, Your Grace," David replied with a bow of his head and walked out with the demeanor of a crown prince.
