AEMON

He could hear the dead men coming up the steps. The slow, measured sounds of their footsteps and clanging of chains went before him, echoing amongst the pillars of the Dragon pit. Aemon Targaryen stood waiting for them beside the chair which his father currently sat. His eyes were chips of purple ice, his silver-gold hair hanging about his shoulders.

"Aemon," said Ser Gerold Hightower, newly appointed member of the Kingsguard, "you don't have to be here for this."

"He was amongst the men who attacked my father's realm." Aemon balled his hands into fists at his side. Anger swelling inside his chest so fiercely that he thought he was going to choke on it. The Band of Nine had done too much for him to not come.

Slowly but surely the five men stumbled out in single file, all bound hand to foot in heavy chained manacles. Each of them men seemed gaunt and malnourished, with only the thinnest rags to cover their emaciated bodies. Aemon could faintly smell what he assumed was excrement. The Ninepenny Kings, he thought bitterly. All I see are cowards and murderers.

King Aegon watched the prisoners with his large purple eyes slitted in suspicion, cold fury boiling just beneath their surface. His face was deeply lined with age and his silver-gold hair had lost some of its lustre yet there was a power in his stare, like that of an ancient beast which had stirred itself from a century of slumber.

Aemon kept his eyes on the blood-stained wooden block that the prisoners were soon to become familiar with. None of the men made a sound as they marched over to the spot where they would die though the prince could see the fight had been beaten out of them. Only the shells of men will die here today.

Once the men were in place the king rose from his seat. "You men have conspired with the Blackfyre pretender Maelys to usurp my family's throne and have made the realm bleed," he declared in iron tones. "For this crime, you shall die." He gave the men a cold angry look and nodded at the headsman.

The first of the men was pushed down onto the block and the executioner's blade rose and fell. Aemon watched with cold indifference as the last of the rebellious lords were sent off to meet the Stranger. He wanted to feel something, anything but instead all he had was a numbness that swelled from his heart. Beside him he could tell Gerold felt the same.

Once it was done the prince and his father returned to Maegor's Holdfast where his siblings and their children were waiting. Ever since they had returned from the Stepstones it seemed as if the entire city was alive with activity and excitement and this extended to the royal family as well. And why should it not, he asked himself. The Blackfyre line is finally at its end. While Aemon could not find it in himself to feel happy, he was at least grateful that his niece and nephews would grow up free from the turmoil and constant misery that the Blackfyres wrought.

He didn't linger long in the city for too long after he had seen that the rogues who tried to destroy the realm were forever silenced and announced the following day that he planned on returning to Summerhall. "As lovely as the company is, the Red Keep is not my home." He told his father and brothers.

"I would prefer you stay," said the king. "For a little while longer at least."

Aemon smiled at his father's worry. "I'll be fine father, besides Summerhall is not so far from Storm's End that I can't pay a visit to Rhaelle every now and then."

Duncan laughed softly to himself. "Surely you don't mean to inflict that on her? I for one would rather face down an army of screaming sellswords than try and get both you and Steffon to behave together."

"Well you and Jenny are always welcome to come and lend a helping hand to our poor sister whenever you want." Replied Aemon with a slight grin.

"Are you sure that you wish to go back there?" Jaehaerys asked. "After everything that's happened I'd understand if you didn't."

He didn't respond with any words but merely pulled his big brother into an embrace, careful not to squeeze too tightly. After a time he parted and smiled at his father and brothers, silently thanking them for putting up with all of his mad ways for as long as they did.

On the third day Aemon Targaryen bid his goodbyes to everyone at King's Landing and made the journey south. Despite travelling with thirty armed guards, Ser Gerold requested to personally escort him back to Summerhall and as the two men rode down the Kingsroad Aemon couldn't help but feel a swell of nostalgia flow through his being. It wasn't so long ago that we were leaving King's Landing to plan for Ser Duncan's nameday…

"So you'll be staying in that great castle all by yourself," said Gerold from beside him as they rode down towards the Dornish marches. "Won't you get lonely?"

Aemon remembered Alerie, smiling. "No, that place might be big and imposing but it was where Alerie and I made our home. She slept beside me in our bed, and read in our library and danced in our hall." He turned to Gerold with a content smile. "The people we love all have their own ways Gerold, they leave their mark on the world around us and in doing so keep a part of themselves with us. Alerie is gone but her warmth, her love, is still around us. There's no other place I'd rather be than home."

"Just so," said the White Bull as a genuine smile crossed his broad features. "I think she'd like that idea, she would want us to be happy."

"What about you?" the prince asked. "Are you happy Gerold?"

That warranted a snort from the big knight. "All my life folks have been telling me that I needed to stop getting into trouble and aspire to something, here I am a member of the Kingsguard." he chuckled. "Aye my friend, I'm happy."

The servants greeted their long absent prince with great warmth and Aemon was happy to see that the household had been running smoothly since he was last inside the castle walls. He found himself walking through the hallways and kitchens, the solar and gardens feeling a swell of joy as the memories came flooding back to him as though it had been yesterday when he last lived them.

As he lay down to sleep in his bed once more he thought of all the times when he had held Alerie in his arms and listened to sound of her breathing. It almost felt as if she was with him now and as he closed his eyes and let himself fall into the realm of dreams he knew that for tonight at least, he would be free of fire and blood.

The End.

A/N: So here we are, at the end of it all and my thanks go to those who have stuck with this story so far, it has kept me going. I'm already working on a sequel which will take place after the Events of Summerhall and deal with the few loose ends I left dangling. Until then!