He looked out from under the tent into the vast desert. This pass is where Daeron, the Young Dragon had marched his army into Dorne. The same path that brought his father to this country during that war.
He felt lucky to have been born in Dorne rather than in the North, given the stigma in the rest of the seven kingdoms surrounding bastards. Even though his grandfather, Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North acknowledged him, he knew he would never see the North when he was still small. Those wounds were still fresh. Every time a man of the Nights Watch stopped by Castle Wyl to recruit the poor or the desperate, or as of late, the criminals from the dungeon, they asked if they could meet the Red Wolf. They brought tales of Winterfell and its high walls and noble people. But all he thought of was the cold and harshness of the North and how he preferred the comforts of the South.
They often told him of the crypt, where only members of the Stark family were allowed, where his father's bones were buried after they brought him back from Sunspear. He wished he could see the statue, to see if the stories his mother told him were true. She often told him that he looked just like his father, slightly darker in complexion owing to her Dornish blood, but that made him all the more striking. His mother had named him Aemon, the name of a Targaryen, not a Stark or a Wyl, to honor the bravest man she had ever met. Of course, he knew the stories of the Dragonknight, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, everyone did. But his mother was one of the few to actually meet the legend. Even while he was being held hostage by her father, he was nothing but courteous and chivalrous to her. She had named her son after him as a protest to how her father treated the Dragonknight.
He had hated the name growing up. It further separated him from his mother's family. But of course, as the grandson of Lord Wyl, few dared use the name to his face. He remembered the first time he heard it. One of his older cousins had used it during arms training with the castellan, Ser Robert. "The wolf shouldn't be here," he said "he's not a true member of the family. They should have left him in the desert to die." That was where his legend was born. He pulled his dagger and with a speed and ferocity not seen in generations was on his cousin before he had a chance to react.
"I may not be solely Dornish, but never forget that wolves are the most dangerous of animals, and direwolves are even more deadly." He said calmly as the dagger was a hair from the older boy's throat. "Aemon!" Ser Robert yelled "let the boy go!" he flashed a cold smile and put the dagger away before using his hand to push himself off his cousin's chest. He made a show of an overdramatic sniff and said "dear cousin I think you may need new pants; you seem to have made a mess in yours."
He smiled remembering how his cousin ran crying to their grandfather and demanded punishment. Especially when his uncles dragged him to their father and all demanded he be taught a lesson. His grandfather looked them over and said "if your sons were half as fierce as this boy, I would have no need of an army, I would rule all of Dorne." His uncles left him alone from that day forward as did his cousins. They were all scared of his ferocity.
He clutched his dagger as he watched a horse coming up the Boneway. He looked for a sigil, and seeing none he signaled to his men on either side of the road. Stepping into the road, he called out to the rider to stop.
"I am on urgent business from Lord Baratheon that must get to Sunspear." The rider called hesitantly as he approached the narrow pass.
"And why do you fly no sigil then?" Aemon asked coldly as he took a step toward the horse
"It's none of your business you filthy bandit. If this message is not passed along, Lord Baratheon will send an army looking for me."
Aemon chuckled, and sensing the fear from the rider, patted his horse on the nose and pulled a carrot from his pack and fed the animal. "Now if your message is so important, why not send it by ship? That journey is much safer."
"Fuck off!" the rider yelled "Lord Wyl will have your head for this!"
"I doubt very much that my uncle will kill me" Aemon said calmly. Only then did the rider notice the medallion he wore. The blood red wolf with a black adder tucked underneath it. "Ser Aemon" the rider sputtered "I apologize, I had no idea it was you. I would not expect to see you in such plain garb out here in the hot sun.
"No, you wouldn't. But that's the point." Aemon whispered as he inched closer to the saddle. "Because we're here to make sure that there's no bandits hanging around, and they would run in fear of me just like the cowards they are."
Before the rider knew what happened, Aemon had pulled him off his horse and had his dagger to the man's groin. "Now what was that about a message from Lord Baratheon?"
"Cousin," his lieutenant Doran said cautiously "if this man has a message for Lord Martell, we cannot stop him."
"If he wasn't a thief, we wouldn't stop him." Aemon hissed as he pulled a pouch off the mans belt and tossed it to his cousin. Doran opened the pouch only to find a huge handful of sapphires. "Send a message to Tarth that we've found their lost gems." Aemon said coldly as he sheathed his dagger and pulled the thief to his feet.
Four of his men seized the thief and bound him while a runner was sent to Castle Wyl to tell the maester of their find.
"How did you know?" Doran asked in bewilderment.
"How many messengers do you know that carry silk pouches cousin?" Aemon responded.
"Father will be so proud of you cousin, this will bring great honor to our house."
"Your house" Aemon reminded him. "Remember that your father had to send me out here in the first place because that ass Moran demanded I be punished for bedding his wife?"
"Come now cousin, father always loved you. And Moran has hated you since you made him shit himself. And it was his wife after all."
"You're too young to remember that. And she's too lively for him. He barely leaves the castle these days let alone trains himself"
Doran smile from ear to ear "it's father's favorite story to tell when he gets drunk. I've heard it hundreds of times."
"We may as well head back as well. All of the jewels are here and I'm sure your father will have a feast to celebrate this windfall."
Aemon took the horse and tied its reins to his own saddle, then he and Doran climbed on their horses. "Alright boys, break down this camp and return to the castle. When you get back, we will celebrate with a trip to the pleasure houses." His men cheered as he and Doran turned for the castle.
"Your men would die for you, you know that right cousin?"
"Only because I'm the only commander that allows them to drink and whore all they want."
"No," Doran said quietly "it's because they know that you would risk your life before theirs. Like with that bandit, he could have killed you in a second."
"Ah, but if he had, then I wouldn't be the Red Wolf." Aemon said while cracking a smile. "Besides, they hate how hard I work them."
"They know that you demand perfection from them. But they also know that they will be the best soldiers in Dorne under your command if they listen."
"That and the ones who don't have a bad habit of being injured during training." Aemon chuckled. "Come let's not keep your father waiting." They spurred their horses towards the castle.