Sunspear 1 BC.
Visenya Targaryen.
Visenya had no fear that Aemon wouldn't return, or no more than she should have. If anything, she'd feared more for him during the fight with the Sword of the Morning. Only for Aemon's words and skills to be proved true once more. It didn't stop her from looking to the sky more than once over the three days that it had been since last she'd seen her husband. Nor looking to Vhagar to try and see if her dragon felt something through her own growing bond with Rhaegal.
When she was not standing on the deck of the ship, Visenya spent the rest of her time working on plans for the future. She'd sit in her cabin, write down notes, and organize lists of things that would need to be done to Harrenhal and the lands surrounding it. Or she'd lay in her bed, her fingers rubbing softly over her stomach as she thought about the babe that was growing inside of her. A soft smile on her face as she pictured her and Aemon's child and fretted over what kind of a mother she would be.
At night when she ate her meal, it would be with the guards that Aemon had handpicked, Martyn Rivers, and Ghost. The white wolf was by her side constantly like the most diligent of protectors. Visenya would smile as Martyn asked about where they went from here and watch him grow excited when she told him that it would be to Harrenhal and that once there he'd then begin his training for true. Aemon's young squire's enthusiasm was more than enough to at least temporarily keep her longing for her husband's return at bay. As too was the feel of Ghost's soft white fur and the knowing look in the wolf's red eyes.
Eventually, sleep would call to her and she'd dream of the future. One without war or a need to be parted from her husband for more than a few hours during the day. When she'd wake, Visenya would chide herself for being so needy. Before then smiling and telling herself that she cared not and was just as needed by her husband as he was by her. Then she'd rise, dress, break her fast, and the day would begin anew. For three days she followed this routine and then as she stood on the deck and looked to the sky, Visenya caught sight of Rhaegal and atop the green dragon seemingly unharmed, Aemon.
"Ready the boat, we row to shore," Visenya ordered as Rhaegal flew over her head low enough for her's and Aemon's eyes to meet. A soft smile the prize that her husband gifted her before the green dragon headed first to Aegon's ship and then to shore.
With Martyn, two guards, and two men to row the boat, Visenya was soon on her way to join her husband. Keen to make sure that he was truly unharmed and to hear what had happened with House Qorgyle. Though given Aemon had returned and was unhurt, mayhap she already knew what had occurred. Regardless, she wished to hear it from Aemon's own lips and so she cursed the slowness of the boat and almost jumped out and swam the last hundred feet, so eager was she to feel her husband's arms around her once more.
"Senya," Aemon said happily, her husband showing his own keenness to be with her again, by wading into the sea and helping her from the boat.
"Aemon."
They shared a deep and passionate kiss and when they broke from it, Visenya looked her husband up and down, happy to find that he was truly unharmed. Before she could ask him what had happened, however, Aemon bid the boat to turn back around and moved from her to take a bloodied sack from Rhaegal's back. Then, after placing it at the back of the boat, Visenya felt herself being lifted and carried back into the sea. Aemon making sure that she got not a drop of water on her as he laid her down gently on her seat before joining her.
"There is much we must speak on, but that can wait until we're alone," Aemon said and Visenya looked at him and nodded, biting back the many questions she had only for Aemon to answer at least one of them. "House Qorgyle is no more, Senya. Dorne will kneel for true now, I've no doubt of it."
Again, it was a nod of her head and then the feel of Aemon taking her hand in his while they were rowed back to the ship. Despite the smile her husband wore, Visenya could tell there was something bothering him and so she resolved to find out exactly what that was. For now, she simply welcomed the fact that he was back, safe and unharmed, and they were together once more.
After being helped back onto the ship by her husband, Visenya watched as Aemon spoke to Martyn and the Captain before then handing the bloodied sack to the latter. Once he'd done so, he again reached out for her hand and together they walked down to their cabin, Ghost greeting Aemon long before they reached it. No sooner had they closed the door behind them, than Visenya found herself enveloped in her husband's arms and felt his lips on her own. Somehow, she was able to fight down her desire to let things lead to where they invariably would, for now at least.
"We must talk, Aemon," she said firmly and while at first, he pouted, adorable as it was, he then nodded and moved to the bed, Visenya joining him there though only to sit. "What happened with the Qorgyles?"
As he'd promised, House Qorgyle was no more. The bloodied sack he brought back with him contained the evidence that proved that so. A father and his three sons had met their ends at Aemon's hands, a House and line had ended. Yet Visenya cared not for the Qorgyles, their history, or their lack of a future. Instead, it was what Aemon wasn't saying that she focussed her attention on.
"What bothers you so?" she asked to a shake of Aemon's head. "Aemon?" she asked more demandingly.
"I killed a boy, Senya," Aemon whispered. "A boy who'd committed no crime other than being born into a House that defied my will. What kind of a man does that make me?"
"A man of his word," she replied to a look of incredulity from her husband. "Did you not believe the words you spoke to Aegon, Rhaenys, and to me? What you had said regarding Dorne and any House that refused to kneel? Were those the words of a liar? Words that you'd made up?"
"No...I meant them."
"And does the end of House Qorgyle save those lives that you were so fearful to lose?"
"I believe so," Aemon said more firmly.
"The many or the few, Aemon," Visenya said as she placed her hands on his face and turned her to face him. "If you could go back to your own time…"
"I…" Aemon interrupted, only for Visenya to not allow him to continue.
"If you could, would you take the life of someone you'd not? Are there those there that you'd see dead so that others live?"
"Yes," Aemon said, a dark look coming over his face. "Yes, there are those I'd kill without hesitation."
"Had he lived to be a man, would the boy you killed have caused us issue? Been a threat to what we seek done?"
"Yes."
"Then mourn not his life and think only on those you saved by ending it." Visenya almost demanded. Aemon nodding before then kissing her and helping her further up the bed.
Their coupling was frenzied at first, but then it turned more gentle and even more rewarding. When they both finally found their release, Visenya almost collapsed back against the bed. She welcomed the wine, as she'd found that, unlike the water, it held some of its taste under the warmth of a Dornish day. So after she'd drank down the first swallow thirstily, she sipped the rest and lay further back on the bed, Aemon leaning over her and brushing his hand softly over her face and through her hair.
"I'm happy here, you know this, don't you?" Aemon asked and she nodded as he kissed her again. "I seek not to go anywhere, Senya, not to know any other time than that we share together."
"Mar…." she began only for Aemon to interrupt her before she could speak the name of his first wife.
"This is my life, Senya. This, us, nothing else." Aemon said and she smiled at him as he kissed her before rubbing her stomach gently "Our babe."
Visenya drifted off to sleep and found herself dreaming not of her husband or their babe, as she'd been most wont to do since finding out she was with child, but of dragons of a different sort. A red dragon that glided through the sky and fought against another in a battle to the death. Dragons fighting dragons and Targaryens fighting Targaryens only for all of them to eventually be brought to their senses by a dark-haired faceless warrior. She swore that she heard a sad lament being sung by the same faceless man. One that almost brought tears to her eyes simply because of the beauty and tragedy of it.
"Aemon." she cried out when she woke from her dream and the relief she felt when he spoke to her, held her, and kissed her, was more than enough to force the memory of those dreams away for now.
Later as they ate their meal and Aemon japed with Martyn about something or other, however, Visenya felt a shudder run down her spine and it was not until they returned to Harrenhal that she felt truly at peace again.
Beyond the Wall 1 BC.
Jojen Reed.
The Three-Eyed Raven was a strange man, to say the least. He seemed almost attached to the tree at certain points. As if it seemed to dig into his skin. Yet, with very little effort, the branches fell away and the man stood in front of him and Brandon.
Taller than he expected and built like a warrior, though one that had not fought in some time, it was hard to judge the man's age. Dark of hair, blue of eye, and speaking with a voice that was both tinged with the North and yet with something else, he looked at both Brandon and at him with a look of knowing. Bidding them then to follow him and one of the Children of the Forest, the Raven led them down some passageways and into a large open chamber.
"Food for our guests, Little Nut, no doubt they are hungry."
While both he and Brandon tried to deny that they were, they both ate heartily when the food was brought to them. Then they took their seats on what seemed to be spaces cut out into the hard and cold earth of the chamber they were in. While the Three-Eyed Raven sat down on what appeared to be a Weirwood Throne of sorts.
"You've met him?" the Raven asked.
"Who?"
"The Dragon who is a Wolf."
"Aye, we've met him," Jojen replied.
"What think you of him?" the Raven asked curiously.
"That he should not be here," Brandon answered. Which earned him a chuckle that lacked any mirth whatsoever.
"Neither should you or you." the Raven pointed at them both. "Yet here you both be."
"Why?" he asked and the Raven laughed a truer laugh now.
"Because the Old Gods have willed it so." the Raven said and then asked Brandon if he had seen what the Old Gods wished him to.
"I have."
"And you believe he is your Kinsman? That he is the White Wolf?"
"I do."
"Good, that makes things easier." the Raven said before he then called out in a voice and language that they could not understand.
Once he'd done so, things went silent. The Three-Eyed Raven simply looked at them both and at him in particular. Just as Jojen was about to speak, a group of Children came into the chamber carrying a large chest which they placed at the Raven's feet and what looked to be rough parchment and ink made from what Jojen could only name as berries.
He and Brandon looked on as the Three-Eyed Raven began to draw or write something on the rough parchment and then once he was finished, he opened the chest and bid Brandon to come forward. Something he only did after he'd looked at Jojen and received a nod from him in response.
"Tasked with mayhaps the most important task a son of Stark was tasked with since the Builder himself, you are. To unite the clans and ready them for what's to come. Long though we hope the coming may be." the Raven said.
"The Wildlings, you speak of the Wildlings."
"Free Folk, Brandon Stark, did not your kinsman tell you such?"
"Aye, Aemon did."
"Remember that and remember that well when you meet them. For they'll not let you forget it should you not." the Raven said. "A map to the largest settlement. Hardhome. In time should you prove your worth, a city to rival any in the North, a port and a gateway to the South when the time comes for all to travel there."
"When the time comes?" Brandon asked.
"A hundred years, two. Three if things go well. Less if they do not. Not even I can tell for true. But come it will and when it does, what you do now may save all or none."
Brandon looked to him and then back to the Raven, his eyes showing that had Aemon not bid him to do this and had he not seen what he had on the Isle of Faces, then he'd have left here by now. Instead, he simply looked at the map, worked it out in his head where he was to go, and then nodded his head.
"To help you on your path." the Raven said as he opened the chest and handed out five small Weirwood bows, three black short swords, two small spears tipped with blackened metal, and a large horn covered in runes. All but the last of those were handed to the five children who stepped forward. While the horn was handed to Brandon.
"What's this?"
"The Horn of Joramun." the Raven said and both Jojen and Brandon gasped loudly. "To wake the sleepers."
Brandon somehow held back from asking whatever question was on the tip of his tongue, instead, he took the horn and slung it over his back. Tying it then to his shoulder with the leather strap that had been attached to it.
"The Children will go with you and prove you to be sent from me. Though not all will believe and some will test you still. Seek out, Myrny, and blow the horn when she tells you, and not before. Find Joralaf of the Thenns and his daughter Valrine." the Raven said, the last name bringing a small smirk to the man's face as he spoke it.
Jojen heard one of the Children ask the Raven something, or he believed he did, the Raven then looking at Brandon curiously.
"Cé chomh maith is atá do Sheantheanga?" (How good is your Old Tongue?)
"Maith go leor chun tú a thuiscint." (Good enough to understand you.)
"They'll like you, and so too will she." the Raven said before looking to where Jojen stood. "You may say your farewells now, for it'll be many moons until you see each other again."
"I'm not leaving without…"
"All is well, Brandon. I expected no less." Jojen said rising to his feet and walking over to where his liege lord's brother stood. "Our paths were never the same ones once we reached here. Be safe and well, Brandon, may we both be hale and hearty when next we meet."
"You're sure about this, Jojen?" Brandon asked unsurely.
"Aye."
They said their goodbyes and Jojen was sad to see Brandon leave. Though not as much as he had thought he might be. When he'd see him again or even if, he knew not, but he hadn't lied to him, their paths only led them both to the Three-Eyed Raven. Where they led from there he knew not.
"There is much work to be done." the Raven said once Brandon had left. "Some of it is painful work indeed and yet that stops not the need for it to be done or for you to see."
"See?"
"What it is that the Old Gods' request of you."
Jojen looked at the Raven with suspicion, remembering what Aemon had said about them and while he'd not shared his concerns with Brandon, or not truly, he hid them not now.
"Why should I believe that you and I serve the same gods?"
"You should not." the Raven replied. "His path is one he could walk without my help." the Raven pointed to the entrance to the chamber that Brandon had just left through. "Yet, he'll now walk that path easier. Yours is not one you can walk without me. I can set you on it, but whether you walk it is up to you."
"And if I do not?"
"Then more will die than is needed."
"And if I do?"
"Then the Prince that was Promised will Bring the Dawn as he was always meant to do."
"How long must I stay here for?"
"Until you are ready." the Raven answered cryptically.
Jojen looked at the Three-Eyed Raven, still unsure if he could or even should believe him. Yet, he'd traveled this far to see him, and to now just turn around without doing anything, seemed pointless.
"Show me," he said after a few moments of silence and the Raven bid him come closer.
One of the Children offered him some sort of red mush to eat and though he wished it not, Jojen took it and slowly ate it down. It tasted horrible at first, but then was quite pleasant. A voice that seemed far away bid him to follow and he soon found himself back at the Weirwood's roots and looking on as the Three-Eyed Raven took his place back amongst them.
A small hand took his own and guided it towards one of the roots. Jojen finding that the Child had to actually help him grasp one of them as his fingers wouldn't do his bidding when he willed them to. Then, almost instantly, the visions came and each of them was seemingly seared into his mind.
Days later he awoke and knew what it was he was to do. He and his descendants were to serve as watchers. As counters to the Three-Eyed Ravens to come. Some of those Ravens they'd find as allies, while others for reasons unknown to Jojen and mayhap even the gods, would seek to undo all the work that Aemon Targaryen sought to do. It would fall to him and his House to see that didn't happen. Though mainly it would fall to Aemon Targaryen.
"We shall not meet again, Jojen Reed, yet, like you, I too will be watchful until my time in this world comes to an end." the Raven said. Those were the last words that Jojen would ever hear him utter other than in his dreams.
The Children guided him back to the Wall, taking him there in less than half the time that it had taken him, Brandon, and the others to reach the cave. It would be more than a year until he next saw Aemon Targaryen, three until he next saw Brandon Snow, and during that time, Jojen did as the Old Gods bid. He waited and he watched.
Dorne 1 BC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.
Rhaenys and Aegon had coupled more than once the previous night. Their lust for each other having been enflamed by Visenya being with child. As they'd awaited Aemon's return from dealing with House Qorgyle, they'd had the conversation about heirs that Rhaenys knew they needed. For it could no longer be put off until some random point in the future or simply be something they discussed at a later time.
While any child of Visenya's and Aemon's could serve as their heir until they had one of their own, it didn't stop the need for them to bring their own children into the world. So they'd spoken, found to each of their surprises that they actually wished for children, or more accurately, wished for them sooner rather than later. Then, they'd set about seeing to putting a babe in her belly. It had meant no more moon tea and that Aegon's seed was spent inside of her rather than elsewhere. Yet, as she woke each morning, Rhaenys offered a small prayer to the gods that her womb would quicken.
Today, her prayers were much different. Rhaenys prayed that all went as well as Aegon and Aemon believed it would. Dorne would kneel, they would swear their fealty and the Conquest would be over. While she felt somewhat nervous about what came next, Rhaenys was excited too. They'd rule from the Aegonfort and from Dragonstone too on occasion. While Aemon and Visenya would offer their aid from the Riverlands. As she rose from the bed and readied to dress, Rhaenys offered one other small prayer.
"Let House Qorgyle be the last of them," she whispered under her breath.
It was something Rhaenys truly hoped for. That what Aemon had done to House Qorgyle was the last blood they'd need to spill to secure their rule. Aemon believed it, as too did Aegon and Orys, while Rhaenys knew that Visenya hoped for it as did she. Yet, they could not be certain and it was up to the gods themselves to see it so. For if they did not, then Rhaenys was certain that Aemon would once again take it upon himself to shed whatever blood needed to be spilled.
"Rhae…."
A smile came to her face as she looked back at her husband who now rose from the bed. She'd let him sleep on as he'd looked far too peaceful to wake and she now relished the confused early morning look on her Aegon's face.
"Come back to bed, my love. It's far too early to be up." Aegon said wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"Not today it's not."
For a moment, Aegon looked at her confused until he realized what day this was. Then, reluctantly, he rose from the bed and moved to where his clothing was kept. Today both of them would be dressed as the true king and queen they were. Their crowns would be worn and the show they'd put on for the Dornish would be one full of pomp and ceremony. One of power too. As they wished to send a simple but unequivocal message to their new Dornish subjects.
Aemon and Orys were dealing with their security issues and almost a thousand men at arms would bear witness to House Martell, and all the other Great Houses of Dorne, kneeling and naming Aegon and her as their king and queen. All four dragons would stand as sentinels and Ghost would be by Visenya's side, as no chance was being taken with any of their safety. At any other time, Rhaenys would think it was too much, unneeded, or mayhap even overkill, yet, she deferred to Aemon's judgment on this rather than her own. As she had in regard to House Qorgyle and the words that Aemon had spoken to her and Aegon about them a few days after his return.
"The Household, Aemon, those who served House Qorgyle, you worry about them not?" Aegon asked.
"No, my king. In time they'll serve a new lord and be so keen to prove themselves to whoever that may be, that they'll forget what I forced them to do. If not, then they may seek me out, but I'm well used to knives in the dark and men who wish me dead."
"Yet you fear no assassin's blade for the king or queen?" Orys asked.
"Other than whichever may have come their way regardless, no I don't," Aemon said, both relieving Rhaenys' worries and yet not at the same time.
"Aemon?" she asked confused.
"As king and queen, there could be someone who sought to take either of you from this world, my queen. Be that because of anything we've done here in Dorne or simply by the fact that you and Aegon now rule over the entire realm." Aemon began and Rhaenys listened keenly. "Yet, there is a reason I placed myself front and center in certain actions. Why I chose to paint a large target on my back or wished for them to fear me or what lengths I may go to."
"So they'd come after you before they'd ever come after Aegon or I," Rhaenys said and Aemon nodded.
"Or after my wife," he said then looking to Visenya. "An attack on either one of you would bring down my wrath upon them with great vengeance and furious anger. Something they know by now and so they'll need to come at me first and foremost."
"You fear not for yourself?" she asked and Aemon chuckled. Something that Visenya didn't much like given her expression.
"I've been sent back in time by the gods, my queen. So it's not that I don't fear for myself, nor that I believe myself immune from danger. It's simply that my fate is not in my own hands, it's not been so from the moment the gods took me from my time and placed me here." Aemon said before chuckling again. "Valar Morghullis."
"All men must die?" she asked confused.
"Aye, you know the reply to such words, my queen?"
"Valar Dohaeris," she replied.
"All men must serve," Aemon said for Orys and Argella's benefit. "I'll serve until I die, that's all I can do and this is the very best way I know to serve my House, my king, and my queen."
Rhaenys still understood it not. Yet, she accepted the words Aemon had said all the same. As she did his words on what he was to do with the heads of the Qorgyles. Aemon had given her fair warning and so as she finished dressing, and then she and Aegon made their way to break this fast, she did so ready for the day ahead.
After they'd finished eating, it was to the docks that their ship took them. They'd not be rowing in today and so, with armor hidden under her clothing, or some armor at least, Rhaenys sat with Aegon in their cabin and waited to be told that they'd arrived. It seemed an incredibly long time until Corlys knocked at the door, and the young man too was fully armored and armed as he then led her and Aegon to the deck of the ship.
Close to a hundred men at arms lined the way to the docks. Even standing on the gangplank to provide them with cover as they disembarked from the ship. Atop the roofs, archers stood with men at arms, and the streets too were lined with their men. Aegon took her arm and they walked to the awaiting horses. Rhaenys soon noticed that there were men looking at windows and the side streets were blocked off. As the army they'd brought to Dorne, now all acted as guards and nothing else.
In the sky above them, Meraxes and Balerion flew and some distance away she could see Vhagar and Rhaegal as well. They'd no sooner mounted their horses and begun to ride when Aemon, Visenya, Ghost, Orys, and Argella joined them on their own mounts. Protected by a guard of thirty horsemen, they rode through the streets of the Shadow City and to the open square where Aemon had faced off against the Sword of the Morning. The entire nobility of Dorne waited there for them and as they rode, Rhaenys felt like what she was for mayhap the first time.
The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Sunspear 1 BC.
Princess Deria Martell.
It was a rare thing when she and her family argued. Deria had always deferred to her father, and more often, her grandmother's wishes and orders. Upon arriving back at the Old Palace and hearing what her grandmother and father planned to do, however, had placed her and them at odds. So much so that she'd stormed from her grandmother's room and vowed never to return. Though it was a vow that deep down she knew she'd never live up to.
Later, when her anger had subsided, she'd apologized before then offering a thousand other solutions other than knelling and naming Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen as their king and queen. She'd barely listened to her father tell her of what they'd faced in the Prince's Pass and the losses they'd suffered there. Or her grandmother when she spoke of Aemon Targaryen as being the Stranger's Shadow.
When she'd then heard about what Quentyn Qorgyle had done and said, Deria had named him a true man of Dorne, only to be roundly chastised by both her father and grandmother for doing so. Her grandmother's words that Quentyn was a fool who'd doomed his House were ones that Deria barely listened to and accepted not. It was not until the day they were to kneel and swear fealty came, that Deria really began to see the truth of things.
'And what a dangerous truth it is' she thought to herself as they awaited the Targaryens' arrival.
Though she'd seen the dragons in the sky before then, it was not until that day that she saw them for true. Four of them flew over all their heads and though they did so silently, other than for the sound of their wings, it was no less an awe-inspiring and fear-inducing sight. At no point did the dragons let loose their flames and yet, it mattered not. By then, Deria had seen men who had felt those flames' soft kisses upon their skin or had been lucky enough to avoid their kiss. None of them ever wished to face such again and she blamed them not for that.
As if that was not enough to show the folly of refusing to kneel, then the way the Targaryen army protected their king and queen certainly was. Deria had heard some idle talk about assassinations and one or two men who said that the Smallfolk of Sunspear and Dorne may seek to end these dragons for themselves, even despite their own inaction. Whether or not any had ideas of such, it mattered not. As not even a Faceless Man would find a way to bring a sword, dagger, or arrow to bear.
Roofs were filled with Targaryen archers, each of whom had a protective swordsman or two by their side. The streets were lined with so many men wearing black and red that you'd think Dorne had always been ruled by the Dragons. From the docks to the square, not one single gap was noticeable in the Targaryen line, and loathed though she was to admit it, it was a most impressive sight. As too were the Targaryens themselves when they arrived.
Three of them bore the tell-tale signs of their Valyrian heritage. While the other was more dark and dangerous than silver and ethereal. Deria had seen but glimpses of them up until then, mere sights of three of them and the dark shadow of one. Looking at them now as they rode into the square like conquering heroes and heroines, both allowed her to see them more clearly, and to somewhat relish that sight.
'Or one of those sights more than the others' she thought, wickedly.
Watching them dismount, she felt jealous of the silver-haired Visenya Targaryen when her husband, the Strangers Shadow as her grandmother had named him, helped her down from the saddle. Deria felt it even more keenly when she looked closer and could see just how Aemon Targaryen looked at his wife. Surrounded by guards, the Targaryens then moved to the raised dais, and Aegon and Rhaenys took their places on the two larger seats that served almost as thrones. While beside them, Visenya and Aemon Targaryen sat in two slightly smaller ones as too did Orys and Argella Baratheon.
So focused was she on the man who her grandmother said was the reason they'd knelt, that she missed the giant white wolf that took its place at Visenya's feet. Though she didn't miss it when Aemon Targaryen stood up and pointed to the four covered stakes in the middle of the square, before dropping his hand and those covers then being removed. Deria, her father and grandmother, the Lords and Ladies of Dorne, all of them quickly found their eyes drawn to the four heads that rested on top of those stakes.
Her own gasp may not have been the loudest, but it certainly felt that way as she looked at what had once been Quentyn Qorgyle and his three sons. Even young Arron had not been spared. Then all eyes and ears were turned to the man who was no doubt responsible for the end of House Qorgyle and her grandmother's words came rushing back to her head.
"Numbers, that's how he beat us. Not of men or even dragons, granddaughter. Aemon Targaryen deals in numbers and knows just what numbers matter most. Three members of House Martell, Four of House Qorgyle, and so forth. He knew exactly how many of us there are in each House and he swore that it would be those lives he took to bring us to our knees. Yours, Mine, and your father's most of all."
Shaking the thought from her head and forcing the shudder that ran down her spine away, Deria listened as Aemon Targaryen spoke.
"Four," Aemon said allowing the single word to resonate around the square. "Four lives and House Qorgyle exist no more. My King, My Queen, My Wife, and I, we promised that this would be so and as you can see, we keep our promises. I bid you to listen to the one my King now makes to you all and to listen well. For should you not." Aemon pointed to the stakes once more. "Then when it is bid of me, this too will be your fate. On that, you have my promise."
Aemon sat back down and Deria felt herself shiver at both the words and the look in those dark grey eyes as he'd spoken them. Dark and dangerous had always been her type and rarely if ever had she seen a man as dark and dangerous as Aemon Targaryen clearly was. Another time, in a different place and under better circumstances, then Deria had no doubt that she'd have sought to share the man's bed. One look at him, however, how she saw him look to his wife, and it was clear to her that dragons do not share and any interest that she had in him was best forgotten.
"As Prince Aemon rightly says, we made a promise that should our rule be defied, this would be the fate of those who dared to do so. We made another promise too, should Dorne kneel and pledge their fealty to House Targaryen. Should they name my wife and I as their King and Queen, then Princess Meria would rule in our name, and House Martell would retain its position as overlords of Dorne. Each of you shall keep your holdings, lands, and rights, and in time, all shall benefit from being a part of the newly formed Seven Kingdoms." Aegon said, sounding very much like a king, and one it seemed that wished his wife to rule too, given the look he gave Rhaenys a moment later.
"We bid you come forth and pledge your fealty and be welcomed under our protection. Or you may seek to deny us and think you'll find more good fortune than House Qorgyle. Men and women of Dorne, my Lords, and Ladies, Princess, what is it to be?" Rhaenys spoke her words just as firmly and just as truly as her husband had.
Deria looked to her grandmother and then her father, both of whom nodded their heads. Rising to her feet along with them, she moved to the dais and as she and her grandmother curtsied, her father bowed.
"I Princess Meria, the Princess of Dorne and Head of House Martell do hereby pledge my fealty to their graces King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys of the House Targaryen. I swear my oath to you both and to your House in perpetuity."
Beside her, Deria's father did the same as too did she. Far more unreservedly than Deria had expected to do so. For the next hour, Lords and Ladies moved forward and once it was done, Aemon Targaryen then walked forward bearing a sheet of parchment in one hand and a quill dipped into an inkpot in the other.
"As agreed," he said simply. His words sounded almost husky to Deria's ear as he handed her father the parchment.
For a moment, or two, Deria stared at the prince who never once looked her way for more than a blink of an eye. Instead, Aemon watched the crowd, he looked to windows and rooftops, to the dragons that flew overhead and most of all to where his wife, king, and queen all sat. Deria felt another stab of jealousy that Visenya Targaryen had found such a man and then found herself noticing that the white wolf was looked at just as keenly by Aemon Targaryen. Before she had a chance to even consider what that meant, her father's words forced her attention to both him and her grandmother.
"It's worded exactly as their graces said it would be, Mother." her father said.
"The quill?" her grandmother asked and Deria moved from her seat to take the quill from the inkpot, and to get an even closer look at Aemon Targaryen in the process.
Her grandmother signed the accord and almost the moment she did, Aemon Targaryen walked away, nodding to the king and queen as he did so.
"We welcome Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. May we all prosper from our newly forged alliance and may we know naught but peace from here on." Rhaenys Targaryen said.
There was no feast to celebrate the accord. No Dornishman or woman wanted to feast such a thing and the Targaryens it seemed trusted them not enough to feast with them. By the time night had fallen, the fleet, the dragons, and the Targaryens were gone. If someone was to have told her but two moons ago that the war would end in such a way, then Deria would have named them a fool. The war was ended though. Dorne had been bowed and bent. Thanks to her grandmother, however, it had not been broken.
For the more she'd seen of him, the more certain Deria had become that if there was ever a man who could break them, then she'd met him that day.
Storm's End 1 AC.
Aegon Targaryen.
He'd been slightly skeptical about Aemon's plans for Dorne. Not that he doubted their intent, but he hadn't been as confident as Aemon was that it would be enough to bring Dorne to heel. Yet Aegon had gone with them anyway because of Aemon's own confidence and the words he'd spoken about how Aegon's attempt to subdue Dorne had failed. It was why, even when Rhaenys thought Aemon may go too far, Aegon hadn't wavered and why Dorne had then knelt and named him king.
One House and line ended. Showing that you had the will to do such a thing and were not afraid to stop there, Aegon took note of that lesson and stored it away in case it would ever be needed in the future. As he did the looks on the faces of the Dornish Princesses, Prince, and their Lords and Ladies at the sight that Aemon had prepared for them. With four heads on spikes, House Qorgyle's fall was shown to one and all, and the message was sent loudly and clearly. Kneel or it would be your head and the heads of those you love who'd find themselves atop a stake next.
That, along with the sheer number of guards and display of power that Aemon and Orys arranged to accompany Dorne's kneeling, had more than likely forced away even the last remaining thoughts of not doing so. Whatever small part of the Dornish that believed they could perform a mummery or kneel and not truly accept their rule, had been forced away once and for all. Or for a generation at least, Aegon believed. Though should they ever decide to rise and press their luck against his House, Aegon, and his descendants would know exactly how to keep them in line.
With Dorne conquered it was done. The Conquest was over. Aegon and Rhaenys were the undisputed King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. While Orys and Argella ruled over the Stormlands, and Visenya and Aemon, the Riverlands. In barely a year, three kings had fallen and the others had given up their crowns. All it had taken was a handful of battles and the will to do what needed to be done.
"To keep doing what needs to be done," Aegon said softly as he walked through Orys' keep.
What came next, where they went for here, and whatever plans they had now they were king and queen, were all things yet to be decided. They'd sailed from Dorne and had stopped off in Storm's End before readying to go their separate ways. Not knowing when they'd see each other again once they did so. Though Visenya, mayhap at Aemon's suggestion or mayhap her own, had suggested they form a Small Council and through that, they'd at least meet intermittingly.
Orys had then been named the Hand of the King and Aegon had seen how proud his brother by choice was that he had been his choice and not Aemon. Orys was happy too when Aegon told him that while he'd be much needed in the Aegonfort and King's Landing, he could split his time between there and Storm's End. Something that Argella was just as happy about as well, given the look on her face. He'd named Daemon Velaryon as his Master of Ships and Lord Admiral of the Fleet. His cousin would look after Dragonstone too when Aegon or Rhaenys were residing in King's Landing.
There were other appointments to be made and yet, this morning, it was a simple walk around the keep and mayhap a spar that Aegon sought to clear his head. The previous night's feast had been loud and boisterous and he was not alone in drinking far too much. Hence why Rhaenys was still abed and resting and thus far he'd seen little sight of Orys, Aemon, or Visenya on his walk.
"Feel up to testing your blade against mine own, Ser Coryls?" Aegon asked as they walked out of the keep.
"I'd be honored, your grace," Corlys replied.
Aegon wondered what the knight truly thought of the Conquest. He knew that Corlys had sought glory and wished to prove himself as true a warrior as he believed himself to be, and yet he'd found little chance to do so other than briefly. Dragons rather than men had won the wars for them and it had proved even more something that Aemon had said when he'd talked about the future that they were trying to prevent from ever being realized.
"When we lost the dragons we lost the realm. Even though it took another century and a half to see that so. The moment people looked at us and saw us as no different from them, the seed took root. For as mad as my grandfather may have been, had my father had but one dragon to call upon then there would have been no rebellion."
As he entered the sparring yard, Aegon felt eager for the spar. Putting Blackfyre to one side, he walked to the weapons rack and took out a tourney sword before moving to where the shield was kept. Ser Coryls too favored sword and shield and had proved himself a match for Orys more than once. Though Aemon had at times made the knight look like a green boy whenever the two had sparred together. Something his Goodbrother did to most warriors, as his fight against the Sword of the Morning had shown.
"To five or a yield, your grace." Ser Corlys said and Aegon nodded.
He won, but barely. Taking the match five to four and then simply going through forms and a more leisurely sparring session. After about an hour, Aegon called a halt to their spars and felt ready to break his fast. So they put away the tourney swords and shields, he tied Blackfyre back to his hip, and they walked back into the keep. Upon reaching his room, it was to find Rhaenys up and finishing getting dressed and so he kissed his wife's cheek and together they made their way to break their fast. They were the first to arrive, though weren't alone for long. Daemon, followed by Orys and Argella, and finally Aemon and Visenya, who looked the worse for wear.
"Are you well, Senya?" Rhaenys asked worriedly.
"Sickness of the morning, it's better now." his sister replied and Aegon needed not to look at Aemon to see that he believed Visenya not.
He'd still not truly come to terms with his sister being with child. Nor that the child she'd bear would be hers and Aemon's and not one with him. While he was happy that Visenya had found in Aemon what he and Rhaenys had, it still took time to get used to seeing her with another man, and he worried that he may dislike his niece and nephew because of it. Aegon prayed he did not and even resolved himself not to. He'd heard enough from his Goodbrother about splits in their House and what it led to. Looking to Aemon say something to one of the servants who hurried away to do what he'd bid, Aegon fought down his jealousy and turned to look to his own love instead.
"Ginger, my queen," Aemon said to Rhaenys who looked at him curiously after the servant had come back with a cup of warmed milk and ginger that Visenya now drank eagerly.
"How many times, Aemon." Rhaenys sighed, her frustration clear.
"And how many times must I answer, my queen," Aemon said, a smirk on his face as he and his sister had the self-same conversation they'd had many times. "Your grace." Aemon then said looking at Aegon. Visenya and Rhaenys both rolled their eyes in unison. "Senya and I will be leaving today, so I'd suggest we firm up the Small Council appointments."
"Must we." he sighed, more for Rhaenys benefit than because of what he was being asked to do.
"We must," Visenya said and Aegon nodded.
They finished their meals, Visenya looked much better after her drink and even ate some little food too. All six of them and Ser Coryls then made their way to Orys' solar and once there, they sat down around the large table. Aegon was surprised, and yet not, when Aemon took out some pieces of parchment and laid them out on the desk. It was clear that his Goodbrother had come prepared and Aegon knew that could be both a good or a bad thing.
"In my time, the Small Council and the Kingsguard were both made up of seven positions. I believe, though can't be certain, it was a nod to the Faith and their seven gods." Aemon said and Aegon looked to see that none disagreed with him. "Mayhap we can start there, but in time I'd suggest that you add more to both, your grace."
"Why Aemon?" Rhaenys asked.
"To show we're not beholden to anyone, my queen. Especially not the Faith."
"You have suggestions for the seven, Aemon?" Aegon asked. Aemon then handed him a piece of parchment with names on it, with his own name written with a question mark beside it.
"Why these names?" he asked curiously as he handed Rhaenys the list so she too could take a look at the names.
"The vanquished will seek to find a place, your grace. Their defeats will not sit well with them and yet, finding they've not been forgotten or ignored, they'll welcome the chance to prove their worth." Aemon said. "As for the others, we reward those loyal most of all."
"House Lannister, House Massey, House Celtigar, House Baratheon, House Velaryon, and House Targaryen of the Riverlands, not very diverse is it Aemon?" Rhaenys asked.
"Not as of yet, my queen. While I'd suggest bringing in more of those who were defeated. I can think not of roles for them and where best they may be suited, but in time, I'd suggest a House from the North, Vale, Reach, and Dorne, mayhap even one from the Iron Islands too."
"Your own name comes with a question mark, Aemon, why?" Aegon asked.
"I know not which role suits me best, your grace. Laws or Whisperers."
"What does each role entail?" Orys asked and Aemon seemed to consider it for a moment. Before explaining it and then seemingly deciding at the same time.
"Whisperers, your grace." Aemon said a moment later, "My recommendations for the other roles." he added, picking up another piece of parchment and handing it to Aegon.
Aegon looked down on it, the names making some sense to him in terms of who they were. Less so with why it was these roles that were the ones Aemon suggested for each of them.
Master of Laws Triston Massey.
Master of Coin Crispin Celtigar.
Master of Trade Loren Lannister.
Master of Whisperers Aemon Targaryen.
Grand Maester Olidar (All future Grand Maesters to be appointed directly by the crown from a list provided by the Master of Whisperers).
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Corlys Velaryon.
Aegon looked at the list, handed it to Rhaenys, and then asked a pointless question that he already knew the answer to.
"Why are Orys and Daemon not on your list, Aemon?"
"There were no other choices for their roles, your grace. No question that they were the best men for the task you set them to or of their fealty." Aemon said simply.
"And these men, you know few if any of them if I'm not mistaken, Aemon. How can you be certain of their fealty?" Rhaenys asked.
"Those names come from my wife, my queen," Aemon said and Rhaenys nodded.
"I can foresee no issue with these names, Aemon," Aegon said looking first to his Goodbrother and then to his wife. "Rhaenys?" he asked to a nod that showed her approval and a look to Orys who read the list now, was enough to show him that Orys was happy enough with the list too.
"Is this sooner, Aemon? The Conquest ended sooner did it not, is this too happening sooner?" he asked.
"I can't be certain, your grace. I know some of the histories. Yet dates, and years, I can't be completely certain. I know that Orys was named as your Hand directly after the Conquest, and yet it could have been a few years later that some of the other positions were filled."
"Yet you seek them filled now?" Rhaenys asked.
"I can see no benefit in waiting, my queen. No reason for it. I can only wager that it had something to do with Dorne not being conquered. That the campaign there was where attention was focussed."
"Something we have no need to do now," Rhaenys said happily.
"Indeed."
"Is there anything else, Aemon? Any more suggestions you would like to make?" Aegon asked, happy he kept any bite out of his words.
"Just one," Visenya said. Her first words since she'd greeted them this morning. "Succession, Aegon. The right of succession must be firmly established and it must come directly from your own lips and in your own words."
"Firstborn instead of First Son," Rhaenys said, his wife, him, Visenya, and Aemon all having had this conversation before.
"You truly believe it that important?" he asked his sister.
"Aemon does and we've seen enough to know what happens should we not do what is needed."
"Rhaenys?"
"Do you believe women to be lesser than men, Aegon? That had it fallen to Visenya or to me, we'd be any less capable than you or Aemon? Does anyone here believe that to be true?" Rhaenys asked to silence, her eyes looking only at him.
"You know I don't believe such, my love. Even had I ever had such a foolish notion, am I not surrounded by women who'd prove it untrue?" he said, looking to Visenya, Argella, and then back to his wife. "First Born not First Son," he said loudly. "Signed by all of us in this room and done so now. Then sent to the rest of Westeros this very night."
Each of them signed it, and the law of succession was now changed for their House and for any who wished it for their own. The ravens were sent that very night and by then they'd said their goodbyes to Aemon and to Visenya. He and Rhaenys set sail for King's Landing four days later. A storm had forced them to delay their travel and it allowed them to do something they'd been doing ever since Visenya shared her news. A child of their own, an heir, a son or daughter. Aegon found he cared not what the gods granted him, and instead just hoped they grant him and Rhaenys one soon.
Harrenhal 1 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
Each morning that Aemon woke up was another one that he could barely believe things had gone so well. Other than the dreams he still had about the youngest Qorgyle boy, it was almost as if they'd not even taken part in a war at all. At times, he'd find himself thinking that he'd only just arrived back in this time and think it was all still ahead of him. Only to then look at the slight swelling of Visenya's belly or out through one of the windows and remember that he was indeed at Harrenhal and that the war was truly over.
Aemon would find then that there was little for him to actually do. Visenya ran the keep and did so far better than he could. There had been no overt moves from the Citadel or by the Faith and thus far, all the kingdoms that they'd brought together seemed to have accepted their fates. If it was not for his spars with Martyn, the training of their guards, and the flights and rides that he and Visenya took together, then he'd do nothing of note each day. Though he did occasionally take himself to the Godswood and kneel in front of the Weirwood tree. Looking to all as if he was praying while instead, he'd warged into one of his familiars.
As Aegon and Rhaenys' Master of Whisperers, it was a good skill to have and one that the solitude of the Godswood gave him the peace to practice. Aemon had now gathered more than one familiar around the realm with whom his bonds were strong enough to come and go as he pleased. A hawk in Highgarden, a mouse in Casterly Rock. Ravens in Oldtown, both at the Citadel and the Starry Sept, and an eagle in Dorne. He'd yet to take any familiar in the Vale, North, Stormlands, Crownland, Riverlands, or Iron Islands, and wasn't even sure if he had the strength in him to do so. Though if but a few weeks earlier anyone had told him that he could have taken as many familiars for himself as he now had, then he'd have named them as liars or fools.
Eyes closed, he looked once again and once again found nothing of note. All seemed well, at least on the surface and while he doubted that Dorne, the Westerlands, or the Reach would seek to revolt so soon, if ever, it was for the best to be wary. More so with the Faith and the Maesters, who Aemon still may have to send an even truer message to before they accepted Aegon, Rhaenys, and House Targaryen for true. His morning ritual now somewhat complete, Aemon opened his eyes and turned to see both Martyn and Ghost waiting for him.
"You said your own prayers this morn?" Aemon asked his squire as he rose to his feet.
I did, my prince."
"Good lad, now come, we'll see to your training before breaking our fast with my wife. No doubt by now, she's seeking her second meal of the morning." Aemon chuckled.
Visenya's appetite had been one of the first things that had changed upon their return to Harrenhal a little over a moon ago. His wife had gone from not wishing for a morning meal to now needing more than one. The first of those she'd eat without him, while Aemon and Martyn along with some of their household would join her for the second. Entering the sparring yard, Aemon looked to see the men being put through their paces by the Captain of their Guard, Roderick Storm, a Stormlands bastard that had been recommended by Orys.
Dark of hair and blue of eye, were it not for the sheer size of the man, Aemon would have named him Orys' brother, but Roderick was nigh on seven feet tall and he was no kin of the Lord of Storm's End. He was one of the many bastards that Aemon had sought to bring back to Harrenhal with him. Men he'd picked out from Aegon's army and with his king's agreement, he had then offered them a place in his service. Aemon's Bastard Boys now nearing two and thirty men and ever-growing.
"No. 'Tis to be spears today, Martyn," Aemon said as he nodded to Roderick and corrected his squire when Martyn moved to grab two blunted blades. "Half shields too," he shouted a moment later.
For the next hour or more, Aemon put his squire through a rigorous practice. While they mainly would focus on swords and shields, he wished for Martyn to understand and be proficient in as many weapons as he could teach him. Though at times it was hard for him to do, as Aemon would almost lose himself in memories of some of those who wielded those weapons far better than him. Grey Worm and his spear, the She-Bears and their maces, or Yohn Royce and his Morningstar.
At times like that, a smack to his arm or chest would quickly force Aemon back into the present and after waving off an apology from Martyn, they'd spar some more. Today, he was happy to find no other thoughts apart from his training of his squire came to mind. Happy to be at peace and to allow the ebb and flow of their sparring session to be all he focused on. Seeing Martyn breathe heavily, Aemon brought their morning to an end and took his seat on the wall while Martyn put away their weapons and grabbed them both something to drink.
"You're getting better at predicting and anticipating the attacks, Martyn. Yet your own are still too careful and obvious," he said as they drank the cool crisp water, Martyn hanging onto his every word.
"I still feel more comfortable with a sword, or even a mace, my prince."
"Aye, I'm still the same myself lad," he smiled. "Now come, if you're half as hungry as I am then it's twice as hungry as you should be." he japed, earning a chuckle from the young man.
Visenya sat at the table reading papers when he and Martyn entered the hall they mainly broke their fast in. Many years earlier, or far off in the future, his uncle had always taken his meals amongst the household of Winterfell. Eddard Stark would invite a guard, one of the key servants, or even a merchant from Wintertown, to sit with him and eat their meals. He'd listen to them, take note of their words, and make them feel as if they always had the ear of the Lord of Winterfell.
While they'd not quite done the same and still preferred some privacy when they broke their fast at least, they always did so here in this far too large hall. Grabbing a plate and making sure that Martyn filled his own, Aemon nodded to some of the men as he moved to where his wife, steward, Maester, and two ladies in waiting that came from House Mooton and House Mallister all sat. A nod to each, a smile to the ladies who'd finally stopped rising to curtsy when they saw him, and a kiss to Visenya's cheek when he took his seat, was almost becoming another part of his daily routine.
"One day I'll have taught you to wash before you join us, Aemon Targaryen." Visenya chided with a half smirk on his face.
"Martyn's belly was rumbling, my love," Aemon said winking at the young man who hid his chuckle well. "I'd not deny my squire his food, even if I must forgo bathing to do so. Besides, I'm an uncouth Northern savage at heart," he said looking to the two ladies who giggled behind their hands.
"Oh that you very much are," Visenya said as she leaned in closer to him, kissing his ear before whispering into it. "My Northern Savage."
They ate, and his wife chided him for wearing Martyn out. Rennifer Crabb, their steward, passed him some lists at Visenya's behest and Aemon looked them over before nodding and handing them back to the wizened older man. Eventually, the meal came to a slow and unhurried end, as most of their meals tended to and Visenya, her ladies, and Rennifer departed leaving Aemon and Martyn as the only ones left sitting at the table.
Aemon sent Martyn to his lessons and made his way to his solar. Ghost now with his wife rather than by his side. Once he reached it, he took a seat and began to write out the letter. On the morrow, he'd travel to King's Landing and hand it personally to one of Daemon's most trusted men. For now, he held a quill in his hand and wondered exactly what it was that he needed to say and what he should not. In the end, he decided to be more direct than he had at first intended to be.
To the High Priest,
I write with you to ask for R'hllor's blessing and for a representative to be sent to serve and advise on matters of faith and healing. Yet I have specific traits I wish this representative to possess. She and it must be a woman, must be skilled in healing, and have helped with the birthing of more than one child. She must too be aware of the prophecy of the Prince that was Promised and the tale of Azor Ahai.
Under no circumstances must she seek to seduce or convert those she meets, nor seek to practice some of your darkest rituals. For I'm well aware of much of what you seek to do in order to gain influence and to do so with me would be a way to certainly lose it. She must possess the gift of reading the flames and it would be for the best if she at least knew of the Last Kiss. Better yet if she has actually performed the ritual herself.
Comply with my request and earn my true favor and in me, you'll find no truer ally to see that R'hllor and his servants earn at least a foothold in the newly formed Seven Kingdoms. Play me false or seek to do more than I request of you and you will find that not even your god's chosen will be safe from the wrath and ruin I inflict upon you and those who serve R'hllor's will.
Prince Aemon Targaryen,
Lord of Harrenhal,
Warden of the Trident.
As he blew on the ink, he stopped to consider what he was doing and then did so anyway. Sealing the letter with his and Visenya's personal seal, Aemon placed it in his pack along with other letters he had for Aegon and Rhaenys to read. For the rest of the day, he did little of note, and other than another spar with Martyn once the lad had finished his lessons, and a quick stroll around the grounds, his day was quite dull.
That night they ate their meal and their table was full. Roderick Storm and others from their guards and his Bastard Boys having joined them in their nightly meal. Martyn spoke to two of the newest recruits to their guard who seemed to barely believe they were eating with their lord and lady. While Visenya spoke to the two ladies and Aemon listened as her words carried when she spoke of the large ball they'd be hosting in a moon or more. One where all the Houses that were now their vassals would be invited and he and his wife would raise some of them up even more than they already were.
By the time they reached their rooms to turn in for the night, Aemon was more than ready for his bed. Helping Visenya to undress and then allowing their hunger for each other to be sated, they were soon lying down together and speaking of almost inconsequential things. Later as he watched her sleep, he did so with a true smile on his face. This was his life for now, boring, dull, without much to do and with little to worry about. Soon enough they'd be welcoming a child into this world and in time he may need to send a message or two. Or mayhap the gods would be good and he'd not.
"A boring and dull life." he chuckled as he closed his eyes. "Aye, I could live with that," he said softly as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Sorry for the delay. My work has been a complete and total nightmare leaving me with no time to proof or even write. I also had no internet for a few days and I swear it was like being back in the stone age.
Up Next: As the Targaryens settle into their new roles, Brandon travels to Hardhome where he fights a Wildling Chieftain, meets two very different women, and blows the Horn of Joramun. This brings Aemon and Rhaegal back Beyond the Wall and stirs up memories best forgotten for the King without a Crown.
Revenge is a Dish will be up next for those following my other fics.
A/N2: In regards to the change of year from BC to AC, BC refers to before conquest and AC, after conquest. Dorne kneeling brings the Conquest to an end and since there is no year zero, we jump to year one AC. Even though no time has truly elapsed.
Missed Review.
Iconchase Chapter 1:: Every single Targ would hold Aegon up and place him and his sisters on a pedestal. That's only logical. I mean, would you expect if he'd gone back to Brandon the Builder's time, he'd not do the same for him? Aegon may not have been the founder of their House, but he's the key starting point for their rule.
I get some people may want Jon to arrive and go "I'm the Daddy now" but that's just completely illogical and again, I doubt people would think that were it to be the starting point of House Stark that he arrived at and them not being placed on a pedestal.
Even without that. Aemon arrives believing himself a failure, in a time that's not his own. To expect him to then usurp the rightful ruler of that time, his own kin, completely misses who Aemon is both as a person and at this point in his life. Again, had I started this story with Aemon arriving just after Robb was crowned king and going, "I'm in charge" people would be like, How can he do that to Robb, but yet think he should do that to Aegon, just mystifies me.
Aegon conquered with three dragons and the smallest army, yes, almost anyone else could do it, but there are stories out there that have Jon or Dany actually facing more difficulty conquering canon Westeros than what Aegon faced which sort of shows that he had something going for him.
More than anything though, to expect Jon to arrive and not put Aegon and his sisters on a pedestal is really showing a complete lack of understanding as to just what Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya mean and I'd really love to see if you felt the same were it Bran the Builder or some other Stark king of old that Jon arrived to stand beside. Then, more than likely, it would be, Why is he treating the Starks so disrespectfully.
Chapter 14 Reviews.
Xan Merrick: Not just by House Targaryen, my friend.
DaAR: Or stop him from allowing the murder of children, we'll see if it could go either way.
Princess of Greenwood: Hope you liked it.
Isles: We'll not be seeing Dorne for a little bit from here, but it will be discussed when next we do see them.
Dabrakadbra: It's the one life vs. many lives thing, the old moral conundrum. Added to the idea of doing something in battle is accepted and understood, doing it technically outside of battle it's harder to accept.
The simple truth is that morally, especially in Westeros where honor, etc. plays a part, the distinction is made. Tywin Lannister justified the Red Wedding as taking those lives stopped even more and most importantly, those on his side, being lost in a prolonged war. As well as it being a quick way to victory. The Starks could or would not, accept that as a necessary thing. Jon may, he's less bound by honor and more practical, but Robb or Ned never could. Same with the murder of the Targ children, Robert, and Jon Arryn, accepted it without complaint, but Ned could not.
Here, Rhaenys understands the need for what they did in battle, and it was done in battle. What Aemon proposes is to end a House that technically hasn't done anything, and more than that, he specifically proposes to end that House, I.E., to kill every last one of them. Again, not a thing that was normally done unless your name was Tywin Lannister.
As for the fight against the Sword of the Morning, yes, obviously they don't need to accept it. But that misses the entire point of it. Firstly, Dorne makes a challenge, which in turn needs to be answered and secondly, almost everything Aemon is doing is to send a message. So he accepts it not because he must, but because he knows what message it will send when he beats the Sword of the Morning. That's literally the point of it, the very same point that Dany makes in accepting the challenge in Meeren.
Yes, Jon hoped to create the same circumstances as he grew up with. And yes, we know that's not possible. But, then again we've had countless books, movies, and scientific theory to explain how Time Travel works or doesn't work. Jon, has not. No one has ever faced this other than him and so while his thoughts are simplistic and unrealistic, it's logical for those to be his thoughts. So he goes into this and looks at things, sees them, and tries to arrange them to line up with what he wishes for the future. He takes steps to make that future come about, yet has no idea if he's taking the right steps and so he has two goals. The first is to ensure that House Targaryen and the Dragons are as strong when they're needed as they were when they were not. Second to try and bring about certain things that will help when needed and to ensure certain people exist.
Hence, House Tyrell is still being raised up, or arranging it within the Pact of Ice and Fire that Cat/Ned still wed at some point. Etc, etc.
How much of what he sets up comes to pass, we'll see, but there is a reason this story is broken up into a number of books and Jon will be traveling through time to various different points. I mean, I have thought it out and planned it out, based on my knowledge of how time travel works, not Jon's.
As for Jaehaerys coming about without Maegor, well technically without Maegor being well Maegor, the only difference in regard to Jaehaerys reign would be the conflict with the Faith, something that's been dealt with here in this book. In regard to who makes it to the throne, how they make it there, what happens to Jon's plans, or how they may go awry or not, well, those have all been plotted out. But, Maegor killing Aegon leading to Jaehaerys being king doesn't have to happen for it to be so, and won't happen here, I'll say no more than that for fear of spoilers. Other than when the next book is realized, the Dance, it'll explain a lot.
Jon is naïve about how things he's doing will affect the future, almost wishfully thinking all will work out well and doing so with the limited knowledge that he should have about how Time Travel actually works at the same time. That's sort of a key point of the story. Expecting him to understand the complexities of how his going back has changed things, more than simply understanding the changes he himself makes, is too much at this point. Again, it's a character with no concept of time travel sent back in time, so he has to react accordingly, naïve if need be.
It's then up to me to make it all work in story form.
Anon: I'm really not sure what it is you're asking of me. If it's a younger Jon story where he's shown to grow into who he becomes, then Last Wolf may be more up your street. If it's more canon based, then I have a Jon and Alys Karstark story coming up soon. So unless you can tell me exactly what it is you're looking for, I'm not sure how to respond. Dragon Cub and Different Song, were both more canon-based, younger Jon fics, but then so is Honor so High, so is it simply the more Au ones, or is it something specific to my writing style?
Jaeson Belaerys: As you see, Jon needed the lad's head for the effect of showing them all to those in Sunspear, so he had to die, sad though it was. I did actually consider having Jon be reborn each time, but I really wanted it to be pretty much the same Jon in terms of physical traits, age, etc, rather than a series of 15/16-year-old Jons who were really 24.
Dorodrigo: Thanks so much, hope you like it.
Warking Dead: The boy's death will be something he carries with him for a while.
Syrius: Yes it was very harsh, I went back and forth over which of the Dornish Houses to end and had to look through all the lineages to see who wed who, when, etc, and House Qorgyle worked out the best. Plus the fact that they killed a future Tyrell sealed their fate.
Tytos: Well Jon will be on Rhaenyra's side, so if it goes full-on Dance, he'll be against the Greens, he would hope to stop the dance if he could though.
Guest: Exactly and it's a moral quandary that we sort of see a couple of times in ASOIAF. Basically, it's practicality and ruthlessness versus honor in a lot of ways. Tywin is the epitome of the first of those, and Ned/Robb the second. I always feel that Jon leans as much toward Tywin as he does toward Ned, less bloodthirsty, but there's no doubt that he's prepared to do whatever is needed to achieve his goals. We see that with Gilly and the babe in the books.
But the do you kill baby Hitler question, for lack of a better way of putting it, is always a fun thing to explore.
Celexys: Thanks so much, the big thing with Aemon here is he knows what failure leads to so is prepared to be far more ruthless because of it.
Dunk: So glad you liked it. I went back and forth over the duel but felt that at least one person would suggest something like that, and well since we always have a Sword of the Morning, or more likely, usually have one, then it made sense that they'd try it. For Aemon, had it been Arthur Dayne, he'd have refused the fight, but as he put it, he'd only ever heard of two SOTM's and this wasn't one of them. Yes, had it been up to House Qorgyle's youngest son, he'd have knelt, but I sort of had a bit of Smalljon/Ned Umber from the show in mind, with the clear difference between this Jon and that one, in sort of blaming children for their father's sins. You're probably right too with Dorne, which Aegon is aware of, but more than likely a generation of them has been cowed, and Aemon has given them the blueprint to victory should the Targs need to deal with them again.
So as you see here in Jojen's pov, Aemon has at least 3 more years in this timeline, so he will certainly have some time to spend with his child. While the war is over, there are still a couple of fights to come and a lot of setting up in terms of world-building before he is sent spiraling forward in time.
Rhatch: So glad you liked it.
Wearylegends: Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed it.
Harry Fan Got: That's the big question, I can't spoil it so much yet, as the first-time jump pretty much will clear everything up in regards to how effective Aemon has been in setting things in place for the future. All I can say is that when he jumps to the Dance timeline, he'll arrive about a year or so before Viserys would die and he'll be pro-Rhaenyra.
Lord of Everyone; It's far from destroyed. I mean by the time we see it in canon it's run down a lot, but other than a few towers that are badly damaged, it's still the largest keep in Westeros. It probably suffers more damage during the fire in the Dance than it does from Balerion, actually. But, its biggest problem is it takes so many to garrison it, and it costs a lot to run it, which is why ass LP/Warden's, Aemon/Visenya are in a far better position than the Strongs, Whents, who live there in canon.
So, I won't say much about the birth other than the child will be born and healthy. And while there won't be a Maegor, it doesn't necessarily mean there won't be a Jaehaerys.
Guest: Gee thanks for telling me how I should update my stories, I must have forgotten to cash all those cheques you've been paying me to write them to suit your schedule and not my own. But since I don't ever remember you paying me to do so, then perhaps you may be able to understand that I update the stories I can, when I can. I'm more regular than most authors on this or any other site and have written far more words than even GRRM has at this point. There are stories that go months without updates, stories I follow, and other than one of mine, none of them fall into that category. Six or seven weeks is the max between chapters, usually less unless real-life affects my schedule. And since I work for a living and do this for free in my spare time, I'll keep to my own timeframe, not anyone else's, thank you.
Lady Octarina; Very much so. Aemon certainly channeled a little of both of them. Jon can be ruthlessly pragmatic in the books, we see that on a few occasions, most noticeably with Gilly and her baby. Here, the simple fact of seeing everything you love and know taken from you by a force you can't stop, then being given another chance, I think it would bring that side out of him even more.
So with House Qorgyle, I did as much research as I could and couldn't really find any links between them and other major Houses, not saying there aren't any, but I couldn't see any. This was partly why I picked them, though a larger part is that they kill a future Tyrell lord by putting scorpions in his bed. Which I felt that Jon would be aware of since he was married to Margaery. So that sort of influenced him a little too, just as Wyl being how he was influenced him. Now, had it needed to be House Martell, he'd have still done it but agonized over it more.
In regard to what Jon knows about lines and genealogies of the Houses, this is a key thing with how I'm trying to use him here. That line between what you or I, or someone else may know to what is logical for Jon to know. So, because he's accepted his Targ ancestry here, he knows a decent bit about them, obviously House Stark too, some about House Tyrell, and little bits about other Houses. Same with the history, he knows a lot about some parts, less about others, and some of it he can't truly remember. For example, he knew about the Field of Fire or the Conquest of Dorne, and Torrhen's kneeling, yet not completely about the formation of the Small Council, or things like that.
So in some cases, he's playing it by ear, and in others, he's trying to do things to the best of what he believes will occur, but well, he's going to make mistakes, which is partly why this story is about jumping to certain points in time.
So with Ned/Cat, it's sort of part of the Pact of Ice and Fire. One of the things that are contained in it is that Ned/Cat will marry when their time comes. So instead of a Prince/Princess of House Targaryen and a son/daughter of House Stark. (Though there is a little in it too about Rhaegar/Lyanna) it has something about a second son of House Stark and the first daughter of House Tully. See, Cat and Ned even with how the Tullys are right here, is a more than acceptable match, Cat/Brandon is very much not. Now, again, things are not going to work out how they're planned, but Jon has taken some steps to try and bring those things about.
But for me that's the beauty of the concept, to be flung about in time, showing how the changes have or haven't taken effect, and for Jon to sort of be fighting the battle of time forever LOL.
Scarilla: Thanks so much, I feel well now, I'm happy to say.
Bran: I think he still would, given it was his siblings. But, this Aemon has in some way taken note of lessons that Tywin imparted to Jaime.
Lannister: So glad you liked it.
Orthankg: So very happy you enjoyed it.