Oldtown 2 BC.
Lord Manfred Hightower.
He dreamt of dragons once again. Of their flames laying the city to waste. His wife, children, and the Hightower itself burning before his eyes. Waking, he stumbled from his bed and was relieved that his wife had slept in her own chambers. It had been something she'd been doing more and more since the nightmares had started. Manfred made his way to the privy and relieved himself. He then threw some water on his face and poured himself a mug of it to drink, before he moved to the window and looked down on his city below.
For many years, each time he had done this self-same thing, and each time it had made him feel powerful. Lately, it had very much not. For as high from the ground as he was, the dragons could fly even higher and as he once again had that thought, he now shivered a little. From the moment that he'd received the raven from Aegon Targaryen, it had been thoughts such as these that filled his head. Even more so since the High Septon had made his declaration. After his seven days of fasting and praying, The Ugly One, as he was known by one and all, had emerged from the Starry Sept and declared that the faith would not oppose Aegon Targaryen and his sister wives in their Conquest. He'd called for all true and faithful men to do the same and Manfred had complied.
Later when he'd met the man privately, The Ugly One had revealed what it was he'd been shown. Manfred had listened as he'd been told that the Crone herself had shown him Oldtown in flames. It had so truly mirrored his own fears that he now felt them to be a sign from the gods too. It had made it easy to ignore the ravens, letters, and finally the direct summons that had come from Highgarden. King Mern may think that allying himself with King Loren Lannister somewhat evened or tilted the odds in his favor, Manfred most certainly did not. For if a dragon could destroy a city as old and storied as Oldtown, then what chance did men have of stopping it with arrow, spear, and sword?
Moving from the window, he dressed and readied for the day ahead. He knew that there would be many petitions and pleas for him to face. Some of his Bannermen had asked for and been given leave to march and join King Mern's army, though few had actually done so. Others had simply wished to be seen to be arguing the point and as annoying and frustrating as that was, it fell to him to listen to those arguments. Today though he had other things on his mind too and he looked forward to his meeting with The Ugly One, as apparently there was some news that he wished to share.
"As good as I'll ever look." he chuckled as he looked at himself in the looking glass.
His white beard was neatly trimmed, his hair was swept back from his head, and the last of its original coloring was now gone. He was still fit and hale in his fourth and fortieth year and had he been forced to fight then he'd have been more than able to do so. Yet his gods had bid him not to and he was ever a true and faithful servant of theirs. Placing his sword on his hip, he turned from the looking glass and made his way to break his fast. Manfred nodded to the two guards who stood outside his door before he and they moved down the corridor to where he hoped his family was already up and ready for the day.
He smiled when he entered the room to see Garmon, Martyn, and Morgan, three of his four sons, who along with Ceryse and Alerie, his two daughters, had begun without him. His wife was nowhere in sight and as he entered the room, he caught sight of his son and heir, Addam, making his way to join them. Taking his seat, he asked after their mother. Alerie, his youngest daughter and most favored child, was quick to tell him that her mother was feeling a little unwell and so had decided to sleep for a little while longer.
"It's just an ache of the head, papa, mother wished not for Maester Bronwen to see to her," Alerie informed him.
"You asked her, sweetling?" he asked already knowing the answer.
"I did, papa."
His daughter's smile was one he returned happily. Alerie could brighten up even the darkest of days and though she was soon to reach her eighth and tenth Nameday, she was still his special little girl in his eyes. After speaking to his sons, eating his food, and finding out his daughters' plans for the day, Manfred then made his way to his wife's chambers to make sure that it truly was simply an ache of the head that bothered her. Patrice was asleep and so after placing a small kiss on her forehead and deciding it was for the best to leave her undisturbed, he turned and left her and the room behind.
The first part of the day was spent answering petitions and just as he'd expected, more than one of his Bannermen came before him and almost demanded that he march to war. He quietened them down with the words that The Ugly One had said and then bid them bring up their issues with him to the Faith and the High Septon. His words were enough to give them pause and the final words that he spoke before bringing the petitions to an end would certainly stop any of them from marching alone.
"The High Septon received a vision from the Crone herself. A vision that bid the Faith not to make enemies of the dragons lest they wished to see Oldtown in flames. Am I not Defender of Oldtown above any and all duties? Do I not speak with the Voice of Oldtown? I am tasked with defending this city and those who call it home. In serving my gods as a true and good man and my gods have bid me stay my hand. Feel free to go against their will if you wish, but ask me not to join you in doing so."
His words resounded around the Great Hall and yet as firmly and as truly as they had been spoken, on the morrow, the day after, and the day after that, they'd need to be spoken once more. Leaving the Great Hall and the petitioners behind, he made his way to his wife's chambers and found Patrice sitting with their daughters. He asked after her health and was told she felt much better and after kissing her cheek and the cheeks of each of their girls, he then made ready to travel to the Starry Sept for his luncheon and meeting with The Ugly One.
Addam, his son and heir, would be joining him and when he reached the courtyard, he found him already prepared and waiting with their escort. It would be a walk and not a ride to the Starry Sept. The warmth of the day and the journey itself decided that for him. Traveling by horse or carriage was not an easy thing through the streets of Oldtown and not something he did often. Instead leaving that to his good lady wife and his daughters, or to his sons when they wished to make an impression and show off as the knights and warriors they were or one day hoped to be. Manfred's own need for showing off was long a thing of the past.
As they walked, he waved and greeted one and all and saw no sign of any that weren't happy to see him. It had been something he'd worried about, though more so as he had waited for the High Septon to make his proclamation than after he'd done so. The thoughts of his people looking at him and seeing a coward or craven were not ones he had since then, however. For Oldtown was the home of the Faith and while his House ruled, they ruled in concert with the Faith and not in opposition to it. As he saw the Starry Sept come into view, he felt eager to find out just what news The Ugly One wished to impart, as it seemed so was his son.
"Did he say what this meeting is about, father? The Ugly One, did he make any mention of his reasons for calling for it?" Addam asked as they walked up the steps that led to the great doors of the Starry Sept.
"Not as of yet, Addam."
"It must be about the war, the dragons, it can be for naught else can it?"
"I would wager not."
They were welcomed warmly and led through the large open hall where the seven statues loomed above all and the great altar lay bare. Then down a long corridor and into what he knew was the chambers of the High Septon. The Ugly One was alone, and as always, seeing him in the flesh showed the truth of why he'd been named so. Dark of hair and eye, he bore a large crooked and bent nose as well as a misshapen mouth. And those are his best features, Manfred thought wryly.
"Lord Hightower, Ser Addam."
"High Septon."
"I hope you are both hungry, my friends. I've laid on a most delicious luncheon and we've much we need to speak on.
"Indeed we are, High Septon." he lied.
Both he and his son ate enough so that the man in front of them would not feel put out and yet they drank little, much to his delight. The conversation they held as they ate the meal was light and never once even came close to making mention of the Targaryens, Dragons, or the war that was soon to be fought. Instead, it was generalities, mentions of his daughter's Nameday celebrations, and of course donations for the Faith. Once the meal was finished, however, then things became much more interesting.
"A fourth Dragonrider?" he asked stunned by the news.
"Indeed. Apparently, this new dragon and its rider dealt most severely with the fleet of the Vale, before he and Queen Visenya then accepted Lord Grafton's surrender."
"That Vale has fallen?" Addam asked shocked.
"Not as of yet, Gulltown however belongs to the dragons as does Harrenhal and Storm's End."
Manfred shook his head, as even after the dreams he'd had and the vision the High Septon said he'd received, he'd not have imagined that things would go this way so easily and certainly not so quickly. In one way, it brought him a true sense of relief that he'd made the right choice, for if Harrenhal and Storm's End couldn't withstand the dragons, then what chance did Oldtown have? In another, it made him fear for men he'd named as friends once.
"So the vision was as true as we both believed it to be, High Septon," he said, noticing how pleased the man was that he phrased it that way.
"Indeed, Lord Hightower. However it's not simply that which I've asked to speak to you on, but an odd tale that came to me from a Septa in the Stoney Sept, a tale which offers up a possibility that I'd not considered and one that may serve the Faith and House Hightower's interest well."
Later that night he stood outside his daughter's room and almost knocked at the door more than once. Alerie would not yet be sleeping, he knew that. Yet he couldn't bring himself to disturb her and so he moved away and reconsidered the thoughts that he'd been having ever since the meeting with the High Septon. A man with two brides may well be a man who took another, a man with two brides who gave up one of them, he certainly would be, or so Manfred believed. Loathed though he was to think of Alerie wed to any man at all, to the man who'd be king of all seven of the kingdoms, well that was a man he'd find worthy of her.
The Reach 2 BC.
Visenya Targaryen.
They flew together, Vhagar leading the way while Rhaegal followed closely behind. Her dragon loved the chase it seemed and Rhaegal like a true suitor for her hand was only too happy to comply. Vhagar dropping lower almost in an instant sent a thrill through her belly and forced a chuckle from her lips turning her head back, she watched as the Green Dragon matched the Bronze's movements exactly. Holding on tightly, she felt her hair threaten to break from the braids she'd secured it in and when the first braid did break, she laughed loudly.
It was not the only sound that she heard as they climbed high in the sky. Behind her, she swore she could hear Rhaegal's trill and she could certainly hear Vhagar's own, as once again the Green Dragon matched the Bronze's movements. For more than an hour or more they'd been playing this game and had they not seen the army marching below them, then she doubted it would have stopped at any time soon. The sight of that army, however, quickly brought their fun to an end and she was amazed by the lack of annoyance that either her or Aemon's dragon showed because of it. Instead, they simply leveled off in the sky and flew side by side once more.
As the two dragons looked at each other, she and Aemon both took note of the men below them. The army was as large as she had feared and it quite simply dwarfed their own. She'd wager it was three or even four times their number, while Aemon had told them that in truth it would turn out to be closer to five or even more. They had them outnumbered in every single facet of warfare too, well every single one bar one. For they had no dragons while she, her brother, her sister, and her betrothed had four to call upon.
Turning to Aemon, she saw him point to some hills far in the distance and with a nod of her head, she bid Vhagar to make sure she was out of the sight of the men below and to fly to those hills. Climbing a little higher, her dragon soon increased her speed and in what seemed to be no time at all, she and Rhaegal were both descending so they could land. Once they did so, she waited until Aemon gave her the all-clear to dismount, and only then did she do so. As Rhaegal and Vhagar moved closer to each other, she and Aemon almost mirrored their movements, and then a moment or two after climbing down off Vhagar's back, she again stood face to face with the man she loved.
"You were right." she declared.
"I'm always right, even when I'm wrong." he japed and she glared at him until he rolled his eyes and made her shake her head in frustration, not that she didn't appreciate his attempts to lighten the load she bore.
Ever since they'd spoken to Aegon, she had noticed this more and more with Aemon. In the few moons that she'd known him, it seemed as if he'd undergone an almost complete change of character. He could still brood and at times he'd get a dark look on his face, one that was usually when enemies of their House were being discussed, but more and more he'd had this lightness to him. He'd jape, make fun, and at all times he'd try and make her just forget any worries or doubts she may have. In the week or so since it had been decided they were to wed, he'd made her laugh more than anyone had in all the years up to that point.
Was that love?
Was that how you knew?
Was it the ability to satisfy every one of your needs, both inside and outside the bed-chamber?
Was it sharing your concerns, worries, and doubts?
Was it removing them?
More and more she was coming to the belief that it was and when Aemon told her that she helped him greatly in that regard, she had almost been certain of it. Yet a part of her held a small fear that when they wed things would change. That they were still courting, still in the first blooms of their feelings, and over time those feelings would fade or worse, disappear. It was a fear that no jape or words of Aemon's would remove from her heart and one that only time would chase away.
"You still think it'll be where we flew over earlier?" she asked and Aemon nodded "How long?"
"Three days, four if they slow their march."
"And you fear it not, the battle to come, you truly fear it not?" she asked.
Aemon moved to her, his fingers touching her cheek and he tilted her head so she was staring into his grey eyes. Her own purple ones soon closed as he kissed her softly and though she wished the kiss to go on for much longer, she found she needed the words to be spoken first.
"I've long since forgotten what true fear feels like. For so long I've not had anything I feared losing and a man with nothing to lose very soon becomes a man with naught to fear. I no longer am that man and yet I fear it not either." he said and she felt her heart still as the full truth of his words became clear to her, "I fear not this battle either because there is nothing in this world that will harm those I care about. Never again will I not be there to protect the woman I love. Not that she needs my protection." he said and she smirked at him.
"It bodes well that you know that, Aemon Targaryen," she said and heard him laugh a little before he kissed her far more deeply and truly than he already had.
There was much she wished to say to him after they'd moved apart again. She feared for his safety as much as she now knew he feared for hers and while she may not have understood what love truly was for so many years, she knew that was as true a sign of it as any.
"Come we had better fly back to the march. Aegon and your sister will be worried and wish to know what we've found."
"Aemon I…"
"We will be victorious and unharmed, I have no doubts," he said and she nodded her head.
It took them almost two hours to fly back to where their army marched. They had close to 11,000 men in all, less than half of that mounted, and yet it would be the dragons that won the day. As it had been in Gulltown, it would be a pre-emptive strike. Though this time it would be four and not two dragons that were brought to bear. Flying over their army, she looked for and found no sign of Balerion or Meraxes and wondered if her sister and brother too had taken to the sky. Looking at Aemon, she saw him point to the ground and though it took her some time to find them, eventually she did. Riding at the front of the army with Ghost by their sides were Aegon and Rhaenys and though she couldn't be certain, she'd wager they were looking at the dragons who flew in the sky above them.
They landed a little distance in front of them and by the time the army had reached them, the dragons had taken back to the sky. Vhagar and Rhaegal flew off to who knew where and she wondered just what dragons did when they were alone. Visenya envied them a little if they were doing what she believed they may be as it had been some time since she and Aemon had the chance to do so. The promise they had made Aegon had been one that thus far they'd lived up to and with the battle now on the horizon, it was not one they'd need to for much longer.
"It's good to see you both unharmed," Rhaenys called out as she and Aegon reached them, and soon horses were brought to them so that they could join the ride.
"You found what you sought?" Aegon asked.
"Three days, your grace, four at most," Aemon said and Aegon nodded as first she and then Aemon climbed onto their horses, Aemon delaying a little as he brushed his hand over Ghost's white fur before doing so.
They spoke little as they rode and it was not until after they camped and they had eaten their meal that all four of them stood over the table with the map laid out upon it.
"You're sure it'll be here, Aemon?"
"I am your grace. Given their march and our own, we'll reach the ground before them so we can choose it and once you see it yourself, you'll see why it's for the best."
"You'll show me on the morrow?" Aegon asked and Aemon nodded.
"And you're certain they'll not treat?" Rhaenys asked.
"They won't. The Lions even in my time are far too prideful for such and though I know naught about the Gardeners, once they see our numbers for true, then they'll think that victory is a foregone conclusion."
"It is, just not for them," she said to a wink from Aemon that made her blush a little.
"We'll offer terms regardless, but this won't be a fight of any sort they've known before. What you and Visenya did at Gulltown, Aemon. I can find no fault in using that same tactic again."
"Nor I, your grace."
"Fire and Blood," Aegon said and each of them repeated it before going their separate ways for the night. Once again she found herself envying her brother and sister for being able to share a bed with the person they loved while she could not.
The Parley 2 BC.
King Mern Gardener.
He, King Loren, their heirs, and their most Leal men all rode out to listen to the terms that were to be offered by the so-called Dragonking and his sister-wives. They were confident, calm, and collected, and he felt they truly had the upper hand here given the numbers that were gathered against them. Both he and Loren had put the odds at three to one in their favor. They'd somewhat dismissed the reports they had received earlier of it being more than that, worried that it was some sort of feint or subterfuge.
As they'd marched, they'd heard more reports and some had even suggested that the odds were even better than four to one, again though they'd dismissed them and so had prepared their plans to beat a much larger army. In one way they had been right to do so as they did not outnumber their foes four to one, nor three to one either. To their surprise and great joy, the advantage they had was five to one and even slightly more.
Every single facet of their army outnumbered the Targaryen one. Foot, horse, armor, and weapons, they had more men, were better equipped, and could if they wish send wave after wave of attacks to multiple points in their enemy's ranks. If one ignored the dragons, which was easy to do as none had seen them thus far, then the outcome of this battle was a foregone conclusion. So as they rode to the parley, they did so half expecting to either hear a surrender or for Aegon Targaryen to seek to come to some set of terms that kept his pride intact.
"You see any of them?" he asked his son who shook his head and Mern wondered just where exactly Aegon and his sister-wives were.
"I like this not, father."
"Parley will not be broken, son. Not even the dragons are fool enough to do so."
He looked to King Loren who it seemed was growing just as perplexed as he was the closer they got to the mounted men ahead of them. Both of them were wondering what game Aegon Targaryen was playing and liking it not. Mern schooled his features and turned his attention fully to the men who were waiting to parley with them. They looked unremarkable to him, though the closer he got to them, one at least did stand out. The man wore black armor and a red cloak, he had dark hair almost raven black hair and he wore no helm.
By the time they were but a few feet from the other group, Mern had taken in all of the man's features and had begun to wonder who he was. The way he sat on his horse and the three-headed dragon that was embossed on his armor named him as someone important, he'd even thought of him being Aegon himself but briefly only for his coloring to name him differently. A commander of some sort, mayhap? It mattered not in the end and he felt himself bristle once more at the lack of respect that he and King Loren were being shown by the dragons.
"Where is your king?" Loren asked annoyed.
"Their graces will be here presently. King Loren Lannister, I presume?" the same dark-haired man that Mern had been looking at so intently asked, in what to Mern seemed like no accent he'd heard in Westeros and yet was clearly Westerosi.
"I am."
"And so you must be King Mern Gardener."
"And who dares address my father so?"
"Forgive me, my Northern manners are not well suited to the customs of the South." the man said while hiding a smirk, his tone anything but apologetic, "I am Prince Aemon Targaryen, kinsman to their graces."
"We heard of no Prince Aemon." his son said scornfully.
"The world is a strange and perplexing place, there are many things in it that we've not heard of and yet it makes them no less true."
"We came not to bandy words with some Up jumped…" Prince Larson began only for the sound of the roars above them to turn all eyes up to the sky.
There had been but few times in his life that he'd known true fear, this was now one of them. The sheer novelty of seeing someone travel in the sky as easily as if they were on land or sea was soon overtaken by the sheer size of the things they traveled upon. In his mind, the dragons were not much larger than horses or mayhap even aurochs, they certainly were not the monstrosities he looked at now. Though compared to how they looked when they landed a short distance from them, then when they were in the sky they may as well have been horses or aurochs.
The black one from snout to tail was more than one hundred and fifty feet long he'd wager. While the silver and the bronze were smaller, it was not by much. He, King Loren, their sons, and their men all had to tilt their heads almost fully back to look at the figures that sat near the giant heads of these majestic beasts. They were not disappointed in what they found there either. King Aegon wore a crown and pitch-black armor and to his everlasting shame, Mern thought he looked far more a king than he. His sister-wives were like the sun and the moon. Both were equal and yet different in their beauty and were it not for the fact they were sitting on the backs of monstrous beasts, then they alone would have taken all his attention.
He looked on, as did those with him when each of the dragons lowered their heads to the ground and stretched out a wing. Then they all watched as each of the three Targaryens made their way off their dragons' backs gracefully. Both the queens were armored. Yet only one wore a sword which would have named her to his mind as Visenya if his mind was actually able to do such a simple thing as name anyone or anything right now. Mern didn't see the man they'd been speaking to dismount from his horse, nor notice it as he moved to three Targaryens. Had he done so then he'd certainly have named him as their guard or protector.
"May I present, his grace, King Aegon Targaryen the First of his Name and their graces Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya." Prince Aemon said and had Mern been able to pay any true attention, then he'd have noticed how the last name was said more fondly than the other two.
Had his son not touched his hand, then he'd have stayed lost in whatever malaise he had found himself in. Instead, he did his best to compose himself and when King Loren and his sons dismounted, so did Mern and his. They now stood no more than ten feet from each other, King Aegon and his queens seeming far calmer and composed than he or King Loren felt. Prince Aemon stood and stared at them all intently as if he at any moment feared they'd break parley and as Mern glanced to the sword that his hand remained close to at all times. As he did so, he wagered the prince knew full well how to wield it.
"I've come to offer you my terms, King Mern, King Loren. To stop this foolishness from descending into something many men will not live through." Aegon said commandingly.
"The only terms we'll accept from you is your surrender." King Loren replied and Mern finally found something other than fear to be his most prevalent emotion, as he was angered now too by the smile and smug look on Aegon Targaryen's face.
"I won't be the king who kneels today, King Loren, on that you can be certain. So here are my terms. Offer me your fealty, take a knee and name me as your king and my queens as yours. Do so and I'll place you high in the new Seven Kingdoms that I intend to forge. Both of you can keep your holdings and your rule over those you name as your Bannermen. There will be none held higher than you and…."
"Other than you." he spat.
"And my queens, King Mern," Aegon said firmly.
Loren spat and he joined him. Edmund moved a step forward angrily and Prince Aemon who had seemed further back than he was, was now suddenly in his son's way almost willing him to test him. Mern held his breath, but his son had the good sense to take a step backward.
"Here are our terms. Kneel, name us both as the kings we are, and then you, the whores you name as your wives, and those fucking lizards that you flew here on can all go and fuck off back to your pile of rocks." his words surprising even he with their vitriol.
It wasn't Aegon or his sister-wives that answered those words either, but Prince Aemon whose dark grey eyes now almost burned a hole in him where he stood.
"Those words have just cost you your life. There will be no quarter given and no surrender of yours accepted, King Mern. Make your peace with your gods, for before the day ends you'll be meeting them." Prince Aemon said and Mern had finally found something that scared him even more than the three dragons that rested no more than twenty feet away.
"Prince Aemon speaks true, I'll accept no such words directed at my queens. Remember that I offered you terms and your own actions brought your fate down upon you." Aegon said before turning to walk away.
The ride back to their camp was one filled with anger and some regret on his part. He should have held his tongue better and knew not why he hadn't.
Was it fear?
Had he been so afraid that he'd needed to show anything but that?
Was it anger?
In the end, it mattered not and as he lined up in the center and looked to his son who led the vanguard, he truly believed that dragons or not, they would be victorious this day and his words would then be looked at in a much different light.
Or mayhap he just hoped they would be.
The Field of Fire 2 BC.
Visenya.
Aemon's rage was a thing to behold. There was no ranting or raving and no angered shouts or kicking of inanimate objects. Other than his eyes and how his hand would flex as it opened and closed, you'd not know that he was feeling much at all. Her betrothed could be most expressive when he wished to be and yet never had she met someone who could hide their true feelings as well as he did either. Her own were at times very easy to discern. Aegon was all fire and blood when angered and Rhaenys was and had always been an open book to her.
So she had reluctantly climbed back upon Vhagar's back and with Aegon and Rhaenys on their own dragons, all three of them had flown back to the camp. It meant she had to wait some time for Aemon to ride back and yet as soon as she saw him, she saw his mood had improved not. Had it not been for Ghost moving to him and Aemon rubbing his hand through the white wolf's fur, then the fire she'd seen in his eyes as he spoke to King Mern, would not have been dimmed by the ice she knew he had in his veins.
"You are well?" she asked when he and Ghost walked her way.
"Aye. Well and resolved."
"Resolved for what, Aemon?"
"To kill a king," he said simply and despite worrying about him taking some risk in the battle to come, she would be a liar if she said that it didn't excite her that he was so angered on her behalf. For she knew that it was the insult to her more so than to Rhaenys that had enflamed him so.
"You still think your plan is best?" she asked and then smirked when he chuckled.
"Aye, and not just because I came up with it."
"No?"
"Not even a little," he said and she was happy to see he was smiling now.
Things had gone how they'd expected with the parley which meant they would be facing a battle here today. Aemon had suggested that Rhaegal was still somewhat unknown to the Lannister and Gardener kings and so they should use that to their advantage. So when the two armies lined up to face each other and as she, Rhaenys, and Aegon brought their dragons to bear from the front, Aemon and Rhaegal would come in behind their enemies and sow even more chaos and discord in their ranks. Now, however, she knew that Aemon would have another target and task in mind too and so she bid him be careful.
"I'll not risk myself more than is needed, Visenya." he said softly "I have a wedding to prepare for once this battle is done and it's one I most look forward to."
"You swear you won't be foolish," she said and he smiled as he shook his head.
"I said I'll be careful." he said as he moved from her "But, I'm a man in love, we're always foolish."
She was still laughing when she entered the tent where Aegon and Rhaenys were offering each other their own words of love and concern. As soon as they noticed her, they both did the same to her and she to them, and then all too soon, the battle was upon them for true.
Visenya sat on Vhagar's back and looked to her sister on Meraxes and then to Aegon on Balerion, with a nod of her head, she, then Rhaenys, and finally Aegon bid their dragons take them to the sky and to their enemies. It would be the fire that won this day, the fire that won this battle and any blood that was to be shed would be done far more on one side than the other.
"Be safe, my love," she said softly as she willed Aemon to come through the battle unscathed, and then she put him and Rhaegal out of her mind to ensure that so did she.
King Loren Lannister.
As furious as he was about the parley, it was actually more practical thoughts that caused him concern when they'd ridden back to their lines. The dragons may be impressive-looking beasts, but beasts were all they were and without the Targaryens upon their backs giving them orders, they would be little more use than riderless horses. So his archers would train their arrows not on the dragons themselves, but on those who rode upon them. What truly bothered him now however was the crescent formation that Aegon Targaryen had lined his men up in.
It was their army that had the numbers and Loren had come up with many plans to bring those numbers to bear. He'd hoped to flank the Targaryen forces and then smash through the center with a charge by their knights. The former of those was now not truly a possibility and the latter would be much more difficult. They'd still manage to do so, but it would cost them far more knights than he was ready to give up.
Nodding to King Mern and his sons, Loren split off from the party that rode back and rode hard to his own forces on the right. While at first he'd bristled over not commanding the center or leading the Vanguard, now he very much did not. This battle was not going to be the one he'd hoped it would be and better it was Mern and his heir that lost their true strength than he. Beside him, Lawson could barely contain his anger and eagerness to teach the dragons a lesson and Loren was more than proud of his son. Seeing his other son Lyman mounted at the front of their lines, Loren somehow withheld his smile. To fight in a battle that you won was something all men wished for, to do so with your sons by your side, was the dream of fathers everywhere.
"Your grace." Lyman greeted him when they reached their lines, his son knowing that today he must be seen to be a king first and foremost.
"Our men are ready, Prince Lyman?"
"They are, your grace, they await your orders."
"Good, we ride and ride hard once Prince Edmund and King Mern launch their attack.
"The plan is still the same, your grace?" Lawson asked him.
"I've seen naught that makes me consider changing it," he replied confidently, even if he wasn't feeling truly confident.
Taking his place in the lines, he looked out to the field in front of him. They were just far enough for the charge to reach full speed before it crashed into the Targaryen lines. The spearmen and any archers they had would find their effectiveness limited as Loren had ensured the distance between them was enough and not too much. Some commanders were so keen to make sure their knights' horses reached the required speed to break through the lines that they put too big a distance between their lines and their enemies. Loren had always considered such men fools and was relieved that King Mern it seemed was not as they were.
The further apart you were, the more ground you needed to cover before reaching your enemy. Which then provided more chances that your enemy's archers had for taking your horses from beneath the knights that rode upon them. While few of their arrows would pierce through the heavy mail that the knights themselves wore, their horses would not be so well protected. Loren well knew that a charge could be broken before it ever truly bore fruit, simply by that alone.
Too far apart was just as detrimental to a heavy charge as too close and a good commander would always manage to set his own lines to reflect that. As Loren once again looked out and judged the distance between their lines and the Targaryen ones, the horns rang out and he placed his helm on his head. Turning to look left, he saw Prince Edmund begin his charge, and then King Mern join him.
"Order the charge," he called out loudly and Lyman gave his own hornsmen the signal.
Once, twice, and then thrice the horn rang out and Loren led his cavalry forward in the trot that would lead to the full charge soon enough. He felt it, the excitement of battle and this time it was fuller than it had ever been before. Skirmishes, incursions, an attempt to take more land here or there. He'd fought many times over his life, yet never in something as true as this. Their army was more than 50,000 strong and they fought the largest force that had ever been gathered against him. They had the ground, the numbers, the heavy horse and it was they who were in the right of things. Even the gods above were on their side, Loren felt. For they could not be on the side of faithless dragon lovers, could they?
As the trot became a run and then finally a charge, he glanced to his left to see that they were behind the Reachmen. To some, this may feel shameful, but this had been part of his tactics too. A man's actions in battle could be predicted if you understood both the nature of men and the truth about warcraft. Instinctively, the men lined up against his charge would turn to offer aid to those lined up against King Mern's and Prince Edmund's, if their charge hit first. It would weaken the lines against them just a little and a little was often the difference between a line holding or breaking.
'I will break these lines today' he thought as they were now in full charge.
Lance down and pointed at those in front of him, his horse moving as it had been bred and trained to do, Loren felt alive, invincible, and even though he'd yet to bloody his weapon, victory to him was inevitable. Then he heard them in the sky above. Their roars sounded like thunder and beneath him, his horse began to tremble. Her hooves didn't hit the ground as firmly and he had to take a tighter hold of the reins and even dig his spurs into her sides a little more firmly.
Not daring to look to see if others in his charge were facing the same difficulty as he was, Loren willed his mare onward and then felt the ground begin to shake for some unknown reason.
'What fell magic is this?' he thought as once again the sound of dragons roaring in the sky reverberated around him.
Not wishing to, but knowing he must, he turned his eyes away from the line of men in front of him and to the sky above. The sight that then greeted him was one from the seven hells themselves. To his left, the giant black dragon was laying down flames all over King Mern's charging knights. Further off in the distance, the silver dragon was doing likewise to Prince Edmund's and Lord Oakheart's men. Though he worried about his allies, the single most prevalent thought that ran through his mind at the sight he was presented with, was 'Thank the seven it's them and not me', it was not a thought he would have for long.
A wave of heat seemed to engulf him and turning to his right, he saw horses and men aflame. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bronze dragon as it flew overhead and he knew then that the last thing he would earn this day was a victory.
Prince Edmund Gardener.
He was given the honor of leading his father's vanguard. Of being the first into battle and though he wished not to, he couldn't but help get lost in the thoughts of the tales and songs that would come from today's battle. While his father would take most of the glory, as was a king's right, there would be enough to go around and he'd earn more than his fair share of it before this day was done. In the years to come, people would know his name and speak of it as they did some of the greatest men of their House.
King Garth the Great who had expanded the borders of the Reach, or his namesake who had been feted as the Hammer of the Dornish. Even Garth Goldenhand would not be a name that he or his father would be spoken of and unfavorably compared to. It was why he'd agreed to the marriage, even though he had wished never to wed again. As to write his name in the history books and to serve his House as best he could, that was all he'd ever wished for, and now because of this alliance and his betrothal he had his chance.
When the horns blew, he rode and rode hard and tried not to think that all the members of his family would be risking their lives here today. His two sons were too young to be squires and yet both too would serve their House and their knights in the battle to come. Edmund now offered a swift prayer to the Warrior to give them the strength and courage to do their duty this day and to the Mother to see that both Garland and Garland took naught from this battle but enhanced reputations. He offered a prayer to Desmera and bid her watch over their boys from her place in the seven heavens. Then another to the Father, Maiden, Crone, Smith, and finally to the Stranger to protect his brother, cousin, and uncle who too would be risking their lives here today. Once he was done, it was the battle itself that he concentrated on.
He rode as if he was in a tilt and not in a battle. His feathered plume flowed from the top of his gilded silver helm and his lance was held almost casually. Beneath him, his horse ate up the firm and dry ground as easily as he did the tiltyard in Highgarden and though it was men with spears and not another man with a lance that Edmund would soon be facing, he worried not. No man was as good as he with a lance in his hand. Never had he been unhorsed and today would not be that day.
"For King Mern and the Reach!" he shouted out loudly only for his words to be lost to a much louder sound.
The dragon's roar was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. It almost seemed to make his very bones shake so loud and deep was it and for the first time ever, his fingers almost lost the reins that they held between them. Had he looked behind him, he'd have seen that some of his men weren't as quick to tighten their grips on the reins as he was and had lost their seats on their horses' backs because of it. Yet looking behind was hardly an option given what sight looking forward presented.
He'd be a liar if he said that the sight of the dragons had not sent a shiver down his spine. Firstly in the sky and then even more so when they landed and their true size had been revealed. Yet compared to this, that sight was as sweet as a sun rising of a morn or the first blooming of the roses when the year turned.
Balerion the Black Dread he'd heard some name it after the tales of Harrenhal had been whispered around their camp. Not that he, his father, or King Loren had believed those tales. Looking at the black dragon as it flew towards him with its great mouth open wide, he found he was starting too. Edmund saw the fire build deep within the dragon's throat, it fascinated him and he found he couldn't look away. For a brief moment, he wondered why it flew so low to the ground and then the fire came and the time for wondering was no more.
That it was not aimed at him was the only reason he breathed still, as around him, men burned and horses panicked. The charge that he'd once expected to be sung or spoken of gloriously, was no more and it was now a much different battle that he found himself in. The black dragon had thankfully risen high into the sky and yet the respite this offered him was brief. Less than a moment later, Edmund found that he wished it had stayed low as its flames now came from above rather than in front of him.
"My prince, My prince."
The sound of the voice shook him and it took him some time to realize that he'd been unhorsed, that he hurt terribly, and that around him it was complete and utter carnage. He was helped to his feet and the true extent of his predicament and the threat to their army hit home. His armor had been melted somewhat and he had suffered some burns, though he'd been one of the lucky ones. Looking around as he stood in the middle of a field that was on fire, it soon became clear that far too many of their men had known no such look.
"My father, brother, my sons?" he cried.
"I know not, my prince. We must move…we must…."
The sound of the dragon roaring was enough to let him know that the time for moving was long since past and turning his head, he swore he saw its dark eyes staring right into his very soul. He knew exactly what it would find there. A broken man who'd sought glory in battle and had found instead what so many men before him had, only death.
As the flames enveloped him, he didn't even have the time for a final thought and he felt no pain as he was taken from this world.
Aegon.
They launched their attack as soon as the cavalry charged. He, Rhaenys, and Visenya all flew to different parts of the battle to deal with their own targets while Aemon flew in from he rear and dealt with any who escaped and the largest part of their army lined up against them. It felt different to him. At first, he thought it dishonorable although Aemon, Visenya, and Rhaenys were all quick to dissuade him of that.
They could wait, bring their dragons to bear while the fighting was taking place, or so he'd considered. Yet to do so would be to put their men at risk and cost them many of their lives. Better the blood spilled here today was the blood of their enemies rather than that of their allies. Not that it would truly be blood that he and Balerion or any of the dragons would spill. Fire and Blood may be their words but it would be only fire that he brought to bear on the Lannister and Gardener armies today.
"Let them hear the dragon's roar, your graces. Let them hear them loud and clear. For even more than flames that they know little about as of yet, it'll be that which breaks them." Aemon said.
"How can you know it's so?" Rhaenys asked curiously.
"All men are the same, your grace. They may fear the unknown but what truly terrifies them is the thing they know some truth of. Most men hunt, they know the sound of a wolf's howl or a bear's roar and know to be wary of it. For they know full well what it means."
"Here there be danger." Visenya said.
"Shouldn't that be dragons?" Rhaenys japed "Here there be dragons. It has a nicer ring to it does it not?" his love asked as around him they each wore smiles at the thoughts of it.
"Aye, your grace, you have the truth of it," Aemon said.
Looking to his right, he saw and heard that Meraxes and Rhaenys had taken Aemon's words to heart. Turning to his left, Vhagar and Visenya too had begun to follow their kinsman's words and so he bid Balerion do likewise.
The Black Dread did not let him down and the sound that came from his throat was a fearful and frightening thing. He would not wish to be on the other side of it or to be fool enough to be facing something that could make that sound and it brought a smile to his face that again Aemon's words had again been proved true. He may have some unresolved issues with his kinsman over him and Visenya, but other than in that regard, he'd shown his loyalty and concern for their House above all others each and every time.
For what reason he decided the first attack needed to be done from almost the ground rather than the sky, he knew not. Aegon bid Balerion to fly low and to face the oncoming charge and his dragon never wavered or fought against him, he simply did what he wished him to.
"Dracarys," he said when he felt their charge was close enough and Balerion unleashed a wave of fire upon them.
Men, horses, Balerion's flames were indiscriminate and between them and flesh there was only one winner.
"Dracarys," he called out again, and again Balerion replied by letting loose his flames.
After the third time, he bid the Black Dread fly higher in the sky so that he could take a truer view of the battle below him and make certain that his love and sister were both unharmed. In the far-off distance, he saw flames let loose and he knew that Aemon and Rhaegal had joined the fray. The battle they'd come here to win today was now truly in full flow and as he looked to see Meraxes and Vhagar, he was stunned to see it was practically won already.
To his left, Rhaenys had broken the Lannister lines and though he couldn't see King Loren or his sons, he had no need to. Instead, he focussed his eyes on Meraxes and on the silver-haired figure on the silver dragon's back, and to see her unharmed and being just as fierce as he, was a welcome sight. As he turned his head to seek out Vhagar and Visenya, he caught a truer sight of Aemon and Rhaegal and it was both terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time.
Whether it was that his kinsman was even more experienced than he, or simply that Aemon and Rhaegal were in the first flushes of battle, Aegon finally saw the true devastation that the dragons could wring. Turning to look to his right, he saw that Visenya as Rhaenys before her was having Vhagar lay down her flames in much shorter bursts. With the knowledge that his family and love were safe, he bid Balerion to do one more sweep of the field and to let loose his flames one more time.
Who the unlucky men were who got caught up in the Black Dread's flames, he knew not, though they were to be the last flames that Balerion, Meraxes, or Vhagar were to let loose that day. The battle below them was done, the largest army ever assembled was broken and it was time to offer terms that this time he knew would be accepted. With a last glance in Visenya's direction and another in Aemon's, he bid Balerion fly to Meraxes and Rhaenys, and then once he'd joined his love, together they flew to bid their army to stand down.
The two dragons flew behind the camps and landed near the stream. It was not only they who were thirsty and after he had climbed down off Balerion's back and thanked him for all he'd done here today, Aegon then took out his water pouch and moved to refill it. He heard the riders come and saw they bore his colors. Once his pouch was filled, he moved to Rhaenys who had been thanking Meraxes for all she'd done and his eyes never left his love as he made sure that she was truly unharmed.
"You are well?" he asked as he took her into his arms.
"I am well. You?" he nodded his answer before kissing her deeply "Visenya, Aemon?"
"Were busy making sure that this day is as over as I know it is, no doubt they seek to do as we are," he said as he held his love in his arms.
"I'd worried that it would not be as simple as it was. Yet she never tired, never wavered, and men truly are no match for dragons." Rhaenys said and he chuckled which brought a frown to her face.
"Not just the ones who fly, my love. For I saw how fierce you were today. A true warrior queen." he spoke proudly and truly.
They kissed again, too little for either of their likings but their men had arrived and it was time to take stock of any losses they had suffered and the true extent of the losses they'd inflicted. It was not yet even mid-afternoon and by sunset, he expected to greet King Mern and King Loren to accept their surrenders and offers of fealty. A voice in the back of his head told him that Aemon sought it not to be the Gardeners who ruled the Reach and yet another voice told him that it may need to be. For now, he wasn't certain which of those two voices would win out.
"Come, my love, let's enjoy this victory and bring this day to an end."
Prince Gawen Gardner.
Around him it was chaos. The charge hadn't even reached their enemy's lines before the dragons had come to intercept them. Unlike his father and brother, Gawen was not fool enough to be brave in the face of such monsters. Had he been in a position of power, then it would have been negotiation and an acceptance of the terms that Aegon Targaryen offered that he'd have sought. Oh, like Edmund, he'd been brave and true when the thoughts of facing dragons were simply that. Unlike his older brother, however, he'd not put on a mummery once the reality was shown to them.
Men could not win as such things as those. For upon seeing them in all their horrific glory, Gawen had quickly realized that the tales were more than likely true. Harrenhal had fallen to one dragon while the Stormlands and Gulltown had each fallen to another. They had all three of them here to face and despite the size of their army, they were the ones outmatched. Yet he was a second son and not an heir and so he'd not allow himself to be named craven by his father, brother, or anyone else. Now he believed that he should have accepted such insults rather than worried about them.
The smell of men and horses burning was even worse than the sight of them doing so. Seeing the dragons fly overheard and let loose their flames on all those below, was far more terrifying than the thoughts of such a thing ever were. Finding that you'd nowhere to run, no place to hide, and were running out of time, was mayhap singularly the most unpleasant experience of his life. While having to deal with all of that and worry about the fates of your family members that were here on this field of fire, that had threatened to steal what little resolve he had left to him.
"Retreat"
"Fall Back!"
"The Day is Lost!"
He shouted to each and every one of the few men he came across. The time to worry about how they may see him or how anyone may speak of him was long since passed. For if things continued how they were now, then there would be no one left to speak of him, and even should they, he'd not be around to hear it.
His father's banner had been discarded. To his right, there was no sign of his uncle, nephews, or cousin and he'd lost sight of his brother long ago. The last he'd seen of Edmund was as he'd rode into what looked to be a wave of fire that the black dragon had unleashed. As for his father, he was here somewhere, but where exactly that was and whether he breathed still, Gawen knew not. The day was lost, their army was broken, and the only thing they could take from this day would be their lives.
As he rode back towards their own lines rather than towards their enemies, he saw it and he almost collapsed and fell from his horse's back.
There was another.
They had four not three.
Who rode this one? Prince Aemon?
Why had they hidden it from them?
His thoughts were jumbled as he watched the green dragon let loose its own flames upon their infantry and spearmen. Archers fired in vain only to be met with a fiery response. Stopping his horse, he actually sat still and idle for some time as he sought a way out of the burning inferno that raged around, in front, and behind him. He found none, though he did see a man that he believed was his father and so it was to him that he rode to.
To his great relief, it was his father that he saw and he was welcomed to his side warmly. He was asked about Edmund and his nephews, about his uncle and cousin, and he shook his head. When he told his father about the green dragon, he saw first the almost breaking of him and then the angered look appearing on his face. Before he could say anything, he was running after his father as he raced across the ground. When he finally caught up with him, he found him now standing among a group of archers who all took aim at the bronze dragon that now flew to join the green one.
"No!"
"Do Not!"
"Stop you fools!"
His words went unacknowledged and his warnings were ignored as at his father's command, the archers let loose their arrows into the sky. Gawen watched the arrows as they bounced harmlessly off the bronze scales and then he heard his father's loud cheer and a pained sound coming from above. With his eyes torn between the dragon and his father, he barely saw the silver-haired figure slumped over on the dragon's back. He did however hear the call the bronze dragon roared out and the even louder one that answered it.
Turning his head, he saw the green dragon had stopped loosing its flames and was now flying towards them. Not one of the other three dragons that he'd seen this day moved as quickly as this one now did. When he then saw it fly in a circle around the bronze dragon before roaring out loudly in what seemed to be a mix of anger and rage, he knew full well where it would be flying next. He took no comfort in being proved right, far from it, and he glared at his father as the green dragon now headed their way.
"Father, you have doomed us all," he said as he resigned himself to his fate.
Aemon.
He had bid Rhaegal fly fast and true. Had looked over the battlefield through the eyes of an eagle and Ghost's own eyes as well as Rhaegal's, each offering him different views of the field below. By the time he reached the edge of the lines, the battle was in full flow. So he had played his part and broken the lines beneath him. Aemon had offered no quarter and had done mayhap more than he'd needed to ensure that the spirits of those below had been broken. Yet he felt no sympathy or empathy towards these men. For they had been led into a battle that had they won, would help bring about the end of his House.
As he was taking one last pass over them, some fools tried to take him, Ghost, or Rhaegal from the sky with arrows and he'd not needed to bid Rhaegal show them the error of that choice. The green dragon had flown towards them at speed and then readied to loose his flames most furiously. All he had waited for was for Aemon to give him the command and he'd not be waiting long for such.
"Dracarys," he said and without even looking to the men below, he knew that not one of those who'd dared fire upon him or those he cared about would see the morrow.
When he heard the pained cry, he felt his heart still. His eyes sought the bronze dragon out and even from the distance he was from Vhagar, he knew that something had befallen her rider. Rhaegal answered Vhagar's call long before he did his own and as the green dragon flew to the bronze one, Aemon sought answers through an eagle's eyes.
She was leaning forward in the saddle, the arrow protruding from what seemed to be her shoulder. Though he worried and feared for her greatly, it was quickly to his memories of history that he allowed his mind to turn. He tried to remember if she had been injured during this battle before. Had she taken this injury in the Field of Fire in his time or had his presence here caused it to happen this time around? Aemon found to his horror that he couldn't be certain one way or another.
Had it been so. If it had been something that originally happened and he'd simply forgotten, then he could have taken comfort in the fact that it happening again meant little. True, Visenya being hurt at all pained him greatly, but her getting an injury that he knew she'd recovered from would at least still the trembling of his heart. The pained and angered roar that Vhagar cried out as they neared him was answered with the angriest roar that Rhaegal had ever let out in all the time they'd been bonded. Not even at the loss of his brothers had the green dragon sounded so angered. Though that may have been because of the sadness he'd felt at their loss too.
Regardless, it was pure anger and rage that the green dragon felt now and in this, he was not alone. Aemon had the eagle land next to Visenya on Vhagar's back and he was relieved when it afforded him a better view of the wound. More so, when she bid the bronze dragon take her behind their lines so the wound could be seen to. It allowed him to concentrate on what it was he both needed and wished to do. These fools had dared to hurt a dragon. Had dared to make a member of his House bleed. They had dared to hurt the woman he loved.
"Dracarys," he called out and Rhaegal took out the archers who'd fired the accursed arrow.
"Dracarys!" he shouted loudly and those closest to the archers now paid the ultimate price too.
Again and again, he called for and Rhaegal answered with his flames. He knew not at the time but in the process, he had ended House Gardener and the reign of the Gardener kings had finally come to an end, and he cared not about either. These men had hurt her. They'd hurt the woman he loved and while he'd not been able to make the monsters who'd taken Margaery and his children his life pay, these men would not be as lucky as they.
Eventually, his rage and anger as well as Rhaegal's had dissipated and he felt Ghost lick his gloved hand and saw his red eyes look into his own grey ones.
"Aye, you're right. She needs us both."
They landed behind the lines and he found Vhagar nudging her head into the prone body of Visenya who it seemed had fallen as she'd climbed down off the dragon's back. Hurrying to her, he breathed relieved when she moaned and opened her eyes. As he told her all would be well, Aemon looked more closely at her wound. The arrow had hit the flesh of her shoulder and while there had been some blood loss, it was not as bad as he feared. Leaning forward, she looked at him confused when he sniffed the wound and that bit of worry he still had for her was soon fading away when he smelt no poison.
"Aemon…"
"Sleep, rest. The battle is won and this is but a flesh wound."
"I…"
"Will now have a scar just like me, it'll only make you even more beautiful than you already are," he said as he kissed her briefly before lifting her gently into his arms.
"I'm not dying?" she asked and he shook his head vigorously.
"Nothing will take you from me, nothing," he said and he felt her relax.
He offered no prayers to the gods. For they'd helped him not when he'd bid them do so with Margaery and his children. On this he was alone and it would be his own determination and will that would ensure that the words he'd spoken to her would be proved true.
"Nothing." he resolved as he carried her to the camp and the healer.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Aemon worries as Visenya is treated for her injury. Aegon comes face to face with a defeated King and sends Aemon to the treat with House Tyrell and to bring Highgarden to heel. The Lords of the Reach and West bend the knee. Before the Targaryens then fly to meet with the King in the North and a pact is revealed and enacted.
For those following my other fics, Revenge is a Dish is up next followed by Aemon the Dragonknight. With Winter King and Live as a Wolf to follow next week sometime.
Missed reviews.
Lilhaowii: Thanks so much for saying so. I had this idea and just couldn't shake it, and so we'll be seeing Jon in all the big key time periods before it all ties in together at the end. I intend for it to work as separate stories, and as one giant big collection that ties together too, hopefully.
I'm with you about the telling people, here it sort of has to be because to Jon it's new and he sees no reason to lie, where for example as he jumps again, it'll be different and he won't feel the same way, so really this and maybe one other time jump will be the only times he tells the truth of himself. Jon has to have Ghost with him, it's just wrong to see him without him IMO. And while he essentially wants to raise House Targ, he has others like the Starks and Tyrells that he wants to see rise to.
I hope to expand on the characters from the North especially as we go one, but some others too. Ghost scaring the Umber is almost becoming my calling card lol. Yes the Visenya/Aemon was very quick, I wanted it to be an almost giving into passion thing and then to deal with the consequences later, which I hope works.
I sort of wanted the prophecy to be a bit Meh TBH, for reasons that will be explained later, and hopefully will make sense when they're shown in total. I agree about having a character explain things, sometimes it's nice to have it glossed over when it's being recapped, but when it's been explained to another character, you need the character's voice to do so. Jon's warg abilities will be a big part of things later, especially in Dorne. Glad you liked the Jealousy Aegon showed.
I truly spent a lot of time thinking about how to use Jon's foreknowledge of events. As you say it can be a bit boring if they literally know each thing before it happens and just need to react and it makes sense that he knows some but not all. He learned a lot, he didn't study it extensively. Tyrion or Sam would remember more for example than Jon would, that's just logic.
So with him telling the Starks, my thinking on it was twofold. 1. Some people would have been pissed that he'd told the Targs and not the Starks, saying he was picking one side of his blood over the other, and 2. He really needed them to stop their foolish plan and the vision he'd seen of them. So he took no chances and offered them the truth, hoping that it worked which it did. We'll see more of Jon's family links when it comes to the Tyrells too, as he sort of considers them family as well. I've been hoping that I've portrayed the issues between Jon/Visenya/Aegon believably and not forced drama with them. At the end of the day, Visenya is not Rhaenys which allows for Aegon to be more understanding, but he should still be pissed.
That line about Jon not just accepting everything Aegon says, that is one of the hardest to walk as some people think he should just force himself to be king and by not doing so he's being weak, which to me is just ridiculous. He still feels he failed as a king, it'll take him time not to, but the last thing Jon Snow would ever be is a usurper. So he'll defer, but only to a point.
Again this is something that when he moves on is going to be more fun to see as he respects Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys completely. He may not do so with those in charge when it comes to the Dance or the Blackfyre rebellion timelines.
The Conquest took two years, yes, but the key events all happened in the same one and over a couple of months. Harrenhal, the North kneeling and the Field of Fire as well as Gulltown, The Last Storm, all happened in 2 BC which is why things seem to be rushing here. We will be taking a big breath after the next chapter. A sort of settling in once Torrhen has officially knelt which will include Aemon/Visenya's wedding amongst other things and some further revelations. But I've been trying to match the pace that the first year of the Conquest moved in and it really was this fast. When it comes to the Stark/Targaryen alliance, that's Aemon's plan yes and we'll see that with the Pact's details revealed in the next chapter.
Bhuvan: Seriously, she's a second wife whose husband never loved her and was clearly showing that each and every day with how he behaved with her and with Rhaenys. This wasn't some love-filled marriage where Aegon was a saintly husband and was done wrong. She slapped him because he insulted her loyalty to their House, not because she was called out on her infidelity. If you can't see that in this specific case that Visenya would have reason to cheat when she's in a loveless marriage and forced to play the third wheel, then I can say no more. Yes, she was wrong to cheat on him, had he simply called her out for that and then slapped him, then she'd be in the wrong, he did not and she did not.
Chapter 8 Reviews.
YMGRF: Probably Harrenhal as it's just central enough to work and needs a new Lord.
Celexys: I considered it, but since it was Visenya and he'd already had it out with her and time to dwell on it before seeing Aemon, he felt it lesser. Had it been Rhaenys, then he'd probably have tried to kill him. Another aspect is that as angered as he was, he truly didn't wish to get involved in a proper fight, as it's one he'd not win. Again though had it been Rhaenys that Aemon had been with and not Visenya, then he'd really have lost it. There is some more Stark stuff up next.
Shieltor: It was yes, plus I'm using a Lannister/Tyrell alliance in another of my fics at the same time so my brain just melted lol.
Dunk: There may well be, we'll see. The full extent of the Pact and what it entails will be shown next. It does strike me as odd that it was his entire family that Mern brought, it's another Georgism I think, a means to an end as it makes no logical sense for it to be done. An heir, maybe, maybe even a second or third son, but few Houses let alone kings would place their full line in jeopardy. Yep, it'll be Aemon treating with House Tyrell. I think the big thing with the Visenya/Aemon thing for Aegon is that it sort of helps him in a way, as I don't think he actually liked spending even the one night with her and it was purely duty that made him do so. So while he was annoyed and his ego was bruised, at the end of the day, he's relieved. Oh, Aemon has a couple of things to show in regards to the Faith. Hope you're happy with this quick update.
Keb: To Aemon it's an event that happened and so one that yes he is seeking to make sure does not, but we're yet to see how the ripples play out. All I can really say is that once we make the jump to the next story (which is set during the Dance's timeline) we'll see exactly what effect Aemon's traveling in time is having. Maegor won't exist no, Aemon/Visenya has changed that somewhat.
The Lord of the East: So very glad to hear that.