Hi everyone, apologies for not posting last week, it was the national day in France and it turned out to be very busy, but here you go with chapter six, I hope you all enjoy!

As always I own nothing,

290 A.C

Starfall

"Aemon! Aemon!" his cousin called from outside his room and before Arthur could let him in, he carefully dropped the books he had been levitating in a spiral and quickly fell to the ground in a stack as if they had been there the whole time.

"Yes," he called, and immediately seven namedays Edric Dayne barged in.

The exercise was one to increase his focus, slowly he added more and more books, he was up to six at the same time and had been trying for a week to make them fly in opposite directions. With two, it was easy, but the more he added, the faster his focus slipped, and the books fell.

"What is it, Ned?" he asked the younger boy, using the moniker he preferred.

His cousin knew him as Aemon Sand, the bastard of Ashara Dayne, his aunt, as all but a few did.

Only a few knew who he was, Lady Alysanne, and Wylla, who had come back from Winterfell after a year to look after Edric. Along with Arthur, Oswell, and his mother of course.

He knew they talked, from the cooks to the guards, it was accepted that he was Ashara's son and but it left them speculating on his father, betting on some lord or another, who had either chosen to marry someone else, though given his mother's beauty, he doubted many believed that or that he had died in the rebellion, probably fighting for the loyalists.

But keeping the secret of his presence justified it, or so his mother had told him. If Aemon was truthful with himself, it felt like it had when the Weasleys had to adapt their routines every time he stayed at their place.

He might have not noticed back then, or at least for his second-year and fourth-year summers. But hosting the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't just about preparing a bed and cooking a bit more, though this last point could be argued when considering the Weasley matriarch and her children. No, wards had to be applied, questions were asked, and procedures implemented.

It was a major bother in everyone's life, not that they would have said anything.

But it only made him feel more guilty as he knew his mother had had friends before but raising him meant that contact had to be avoided at all costs.

His cousin was prevented from such things as he believed Aemon truly was his cousin and Ashara's son.

Asking a child to keep a secret like this one was too dangerous to consider it.

"Did you get the answer?"

Edric nodded excitedly.

"Don't keep me waiting, Ned," Aemon chuckled.

"He said yes!" the blue-eyed Dayne exclaimed.

Aemon rose his hand and his cousin gave him a high-five.

The Dayne household had been much reduced from just a few years ago if he understood it well. His mother's parents had both passed from a winter fever a year before his birth, her eldest brother had been taken by the rebellion and Alysanne's husband had been lost at sea a short while after learning his wife waited for their first child.

Now only Alysanne, Arthur, Ashara, and Edric remained.

Ned was a much better cousin than Dudley ever was, not that it was hard to compete with, but despite their larger-than-life age gap, his cousin and he had always been close. While he was not capable of the meaningful conversations Aemon had become used to, he was a perfectly willing and eager companion to explore the secrets of Starfall.

Even if had been burned down by Visenya and Vhagar some three hundred years ago, the castle had been rebuilt, the same could be said for the Palestone sword tower.

It was this place that was the most interesting to the boys. Mostly because it was the only place inaccessible to them.

It was used to house the most precious possession of House Dayne.

Dawn. The fabled sword, forged from the heart of a fallen star.

At least when it was there, currently, his kingsguard had it, though he hardly ever unsheathed it in Aemon's sight.

"Aren't you mad?" his cousin questioned, pulling Aemon from his thoughts.

"Why would I be?" he frowned.

"Because you won't be a page, or a squire, or a knight…" his cousin lowered his eyes to the ground.

Aemon almost wanted to slap himself, he had almost forgotten the excuse they had had to give his cousin to explain why he would not become a page as Ned would.

"No, it's okay," he looked down, trying to appear somewhat sad, even if he was glad for not having to. Aemon pulled his cousin in a hug, "I'm happy for you, I swear," he pushed his cousin away and looked at him in the eyes, "I'll keep the castle safe for you, don't worry,"

Ned gave him a strained smile.

"And I'll bring back lots of stories to tell you,"

The purple-eyed boy smiled, it was the deal they had made a few weeks ago when his cousin had penned his request to Lord Beric Dondarrion, the lord of Blackhaven.

"When are you leaving?"

"In two days, at dawn," Ned said, conflict written across his face.

While his cousin was happy to become a page, he was also sad to leave his home and his family behind.

"I got you something," Aemon said as he went around his bed and lifted his mattress, taking the gold dragon coin he had hidden.

If one took a closer look, one would see runes inscribed on it.

It was the most complicated thing he had tried with his magic since he had finally managed to make it work, the golden coin was imbued with a protean charm, as had been the coins of the D.A only this one could do transmit messages, it served merely as a warning charm that would let him know if Ned was ever in need of help.

Hopefully, it could also guide his apparition, but that was not for right now, apparition without knowing exactly where you were going was dangerous enough not do to it without a wand.

"If you're in trouble, take it in your hand and squeeze it." He said as he handed the gold dragon with the Mad King's head on the other side of the array.

"What is it?" Ned said as he took it carefully on his palm and examined it.

He gasped and looked around, "is it magic?" he whispered.

Aemon nodded, "don't tell anyone,"

Edric widened his eyes, "I swear,"

"Hide it, and come on, it's time for supper,"

The other boy gave him a smirk and before Aemon could say anything, "Race you!" his cousin screamed as he turned around and ran away with his cousin hot in pursuit.


291 A.C

Highgarden

"Paxter," Olenna greeted her brother with a rare smile.

"Sister," he greeted her back with a warm smile of his own as he joined her in one of the many gardens within the Tyrell castle.

Her brother was no warm man, but war always elicited emotions within him, ones he felt the need to share. Thank the Gods he had more sense than her son and avoided doing it in public.

She gestured towards the plate of cheese, and he happily served himself as a servant came to pour him a cup of Arbor Gold.

"I take it you want to hear what happened?" he asked, and she raised an eyebrow, which made him chuckle. "My fleet joined Stannis' and we laid a trap in the Arbor strait; the squids were easy picking…"

"Do you think I care about that?" She snapped with narrowed eyes, knowing her brother was baiting her, but she found she cared not, for over a moon she had been torturing her mind with questions she could find no answer for.

Once more he chuckled, "Alright," and at once he grew more serious, like the man she was used to. "The King took part of his army and combined with Stark to siege Pyke, while the Kingslayer was given command of the Harlaw siege. Until he disappeared one night,"

So, it was as she heard, not that she doubted her thorns, but first-hand account was always best. Especially from one she knew would not seek to deceive her.

"How did Tywin react?"

"How you expect he would," he snorted, neither she nor her brother carried any sort of love for the Lion of the Rock, unlike her stupid son that is. "Men say he almost tore the messenger a part, I, naturally, offered my assistance to search the seas given their recent loss…"

Both smirked at this, there had perhaps been no better news for at least a few years. The entire western coast was theirs for the foreseeable future, especially with the Iron Islands freshly sacked.

"But it's what he did on Harlaw, sister…" he grew somber at once, "I did not see but my men did, nothing was left…" he said and she could feel a chill go down her spine, Tywin Lannister was as brilliant as he was a monster. "After he had his men destroy the Ten Towers, stone by stone,"

She closed her eyes for a second, while she was far from adverse to killing, there were some lines she was not ready to cross, ones that the Old Lion was only too happy to.

"And there has been no ransom?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Not that I know of, sister,"

She had heard nothing on that front either. It meant only one thing if Jaime Lannister had indeed been kidnapped, then it was someone who had a very different goal in mind than gold.

Someone extremely skilled as well, the Kingslayer was no easy target, even if he had been taken into the night, they would have had to hold on to him, for a significant amount of time if they had managed to escape the search. Probably someone who was well acquainted as well.

One did not take that particular Kingsguard on his own, those that had been capable of it had been dead for years.

Someone did not go this far for gold anyway, not when everyone knew of Tywin's reputation. No, this was personal.

The gods knew Jaime Lannister did not lack those that wished him ill, but to pull off a kidnapping in the middle of a siege was no mean feat.

There was only one man she could think of that had the skill, the possibility, and the motivation needed.

The red viper of Dorne. But as far as Olenna knew Oberyn Martell was still exiled in Essos.

She would need to have it verified as soon as possible for if it was not him, then there was something she was missing, something she felt was essential.


291 A.C

Winterfell

"Winterfell is yours lord-father," the nine-namedays old Robb Stark offered a somewhat correct bow as he greeted him and Ned soon found hugging his eldest and then all of his children, Sansa, and Arya.

They had grown so much, even if it had not even been a year since he had left, it seemed like they had grown several.

"My lord-husband," his wife greeted him with a smile and his eyes zeroed in on the bundle inside her arms, "May I present you your son, Brandon Stark,"

If it could, his smile got even wider and he gently greeted the few moons old babe, Luwin had just declared her pregnant when he had had to leave. He gently took her in his arms, making sure not to crush the babe, and kissed her fiercely, trying to pour all the love he felt into it.

How good it was to be home.

"Uncle," Darian welcomed him and he ruffled the boy's dark hair once they were done. Once more being amazed at how much he had grown. Like Robb, he would soon reach his tenth nameday but where his firstborn had inherited his mother's looks, Darian was all Stark, from his grey eyes to dark hair, his face was not as long as his or Benjen's, but he was Lyanna's and she had been far prettier than them.

"How was it, father?" Robb asked excitedly, "Did you win? Of course, you did, did you see Krakens?"

"This is Theon Greyjoy," Ned introduced the young man that had been waiting behind, the boy was only a few namedays older than Robb and Darian, the former widened his eyes as he realized how uncouth his questions had been. "He will stay with us from now on,"

"I'll have a room readied for him," His wife was the only one to react and gestured for the Septa to lead their hostage away. For it was what Theon was, a hostage, and should his father be foolish enough to rebel again, then he would have no other choice than to take his heir's head. "Robb Stark, let your father arrive and get settled," his mother chastised him and the boy reluctantly nodded.

"If you do not mind…" he began but she immediately nodded.

"Of course," she said with an understanding look in her eyes, she knew what he needed to do after spilling blood, "you will be joining us for supper,"

He nodded, chuckling, "Very well, my lady,"

"Come on children, you too Darian, it's time for your lessons, you will ask your questions at supper and I'm sure presents can be given then," she smiled snidely at him as she spoke.

"You brought us presents?" Sansa asked, her blue eyes wide, with the look she very well knew he could not resist.

"I did, but you must do as your mother say,"

Both she and her sister whooped in joy and had no trouble following their mother as did their brother and cousin.

He quickly but surely found his way to the godswood, he took a large breath in as he entered the sacred woods, he only needed to walk further to find his way to the largest tree of all, a weirwood tree.

He unsheathed Ice as he had done many times before, knelt beside the pool of dark water, and began cleaning the moon-old blood that still coated the valyrian blade.

To be truthful, he was glad Robb had Darian, hopefully, the Greyjoy heir would learn to enjoy the opportunity he was given and join their duo.

Tywin Lannister had tried to use his son's disappearance as leverage to get the boy but Robert heard none of it. No doubt he guessed what would happen to the boy given the Old Lion's precedent with children.

Besides, he had already claimed Nightfall, the valyrian steel sword of House Harlaw, taken from the still-warm corpse of Ser Harras.

The fact that the Kingslayer of all people had disappeared had left him baffled.

It had made him wonder if a certain Sword of the Morning was not responsible, but he had quickly dismissed the thought. It was unlikely they were even still in Westeros, the plan at the time had been for them to leave for Essos as soon as possible.

But if not them then who? He found he had no idea, nor did he care much for it.

But he still felt grateful that Darian's Targaryen traits were only noticeable to those who knew what to look for, there was no need to have some doubt cast upon the North. Still, his nose was directly from them, as was his chin. And with every year that passed, his Targaryen traits became more prominent.

He could also never be too thankful to Ashara for her suggestion to name him as Brandon's.

Catelyn had not taken well to him at first, and though it took time, he finally understood why.

She feared his bannermen would be able to choose whom to follow.

Had he added to it by shaming her, Ned knew it would have been harder to resolve the issue. He had assured her that Darian would be given a keep of his own once he was of age and be allowed to start a parent line, as many in the past had. He could tell she would have never gone for it had it not been for the fact that he was supposed to be Brandon's, but she had thought about it and in the end, agreed with the condition that he would sign away all perceived rights to Winterfell and the North.

She would not love him, he knew that and while he wished it was different, he understood where Catelyn was coming from. It was one among the many reasons he would never forsake the true gods for the faith, how could anyone preach a child was evil because of its parents' failures while at the same time saying all children were sacred was beyond him. But at least she did not hate him.

All that was left to do was to find the keep but they still had time, there were options, though part of him feared that would also never happen.

Darian did not need legitimization, nor did he have one to start a parent line.

Had it only been for Darian, maybe that would have sufficed, maybe the secret was better left buried, and the boy could have perhaps joined the Night's Watch to make sure his claim would never start another war.

But Darian was not alone, he had a brother, a twin brother, one that was raised by a legendary knight, and Ashara Dayne. Two fierce loyalists, people that would do anything to see a Dragon back on the Throne.

Aemon had undoubtedly been raised for it, for the Crown.

He could not help but feel for the child, none so young should be faced with such a burden. He could only trust that Ser Arthur Dayne would do a fine job of raising his sister's firstborn, though it assuaged his worries only by so much.

Would he fight if his nephew called on him? Could he ask his bannermen who had already given so much for a lie to give once more? Would they even answer the call? And finally, could he break his oath to the King, to his King, the one he had fought and bled to put on the Iron Throne?

Robert was not perfect, there were plenty of reasons why he never answered his invitations after all. But he was better than Aerys. Still is.

Though he could not help but be reminded of what he had seen on Pyke. The king was a long way from what he had once been, gone was the fierce warrior. He was replaced by a man who had fallen to the trappings of a lordly life, a kingly life even. In other words, Robert was fat.

He was also reminded of what he had heard on the way back, what the Lannisters had done on Harlaw.

Usually, Ned would have given little attention to rumors and hearsay, but when a similar version was told by so many. He could only be forced to listen. And he had.

It was said that the bards would soon have a new song similar to the Rains of Castamere, only for the Iron Isle. Like Castamere, none had been left alive, and as years ago, he had been rewarded for it.

But on the other side, if he did not fight for his nephew, could he fight against him? As his oath required him to?

As he finished cleaning the sword which gleamed under the rare rays of sunlight that showed through the thick cover of red leaves, Ned moved to take a knee in front of the carved face.

Only the Old Gods could show him the path to follow for he had the answer to none of his questions.


291 A.C

Starfall

Sword steel clashed against one another, had the swords not been blunted, sparks would have flown as Aemon and Ser Oswell trained.

Ashara could not help the small smile that tugged at her lips every time she watched them.

She simply loved watching from above, both to make sure Aemon was safe and, if she was honest with herself, to admire his training.

She remembered watching Arthur in much the same way when they had been children until he left to squire of course. But where he and Aemon shared their dedication to the art, there was just something more with her son.

The young boy had simply taken to it as a fish did to water, as if he knew how to fight instinctively. And while at first, she had protested and fought her brother, she could see how wrong she had been.

Aemon was very much an old soul in a child's body, his intellect being far more developed than those of many adults she had met, but it was through his maturity that he outshined everyone else.

As with his training, she had tried her best to delay the day he would have to learn who he was, and just as much, she had been proven wrong. So wrong in fact that Aemon already knew who he was. And like everything else that had been thrown at him in the past years, he took it in his stride and moved on, only becoming more determined.

And try as she might deny it, there was no doubt in her mind that this capacity of his to persevere in the face of extreme adversity would be what made him stand out from others, something that even made him stand out from what his father should have been, what he had needed to be.

Sadly, it also meant that Aemon would hurt throughout his life, if only because of the exceptional fate that was bestowed upon him at the moment of his birth.

Like Aegon the First, Aemon would have to be a conqueror.

As such, she felt relieved when finding the egg in the chest Lyanna and Rhaegar had left behind.

Though she had trouble accepting the fact that Aemon had to cut himself regularly, Maester Aemon's words had assuaged her worries. It did not mean she wasn't making sure each cut was cleaned and healed properly.

Still, she had been unable to hide her worry each time he cut himself to feed the egg. As it happened, Aemon was sure that the egg was only waiting for Arthur's return to hatch.

And just like that, her worry from seeing her son cut himself had been transferred to that of her brother not returning.

Thankfully, neither Aemon nor Oswell let theirs show, perhaps in an attempt to make her feel better, and she could not help but feel a warmth spread throughout her chest at the thought. Her son, her king, was perhaps the gentlest boy she had ever seen, from his time as a babe to this day, his concerns were never for himself but for others.

With his mind, skill, and character, his compassion was amongst his greatest strength, ones she hoped would see him unite the Seven Kingdoms under one banner once more.

For as much as Jon Arryn and the Usurper might like to pretend, the realm was far from united. Perhaps not as divided as it had been during the Dance of the Dragons or the Rebellion, but only a spark could cause a civil war to ignite once more.

The Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands were completely acquired to the King's cause but those were only four out of seven.

While it had been a long time since she had last seen Oberyn, Ashara knew for a fact that the Dornish prince would not let go of what happened to his sister, nephew, and niece. No matter the peace Doran had agreed to, Dorne would seek its vengeance and sooner rather than later. But would they agree to support the child of Rhaegar that did not come from Elia's loins? In truth, she knew not.

The Reach and the Tyrells were a wild card as far as she was concerned, it was because of their disloyalty that the rebellion was lost, had they but marched instead of feasting at Storm's End, they would have crushed Robert's forces before he could even join with the North. But the fact that the King ignored them, took every opportunity to raise their taxes and humiliated them, probably made it all the likelier for them to turn and become allies. That was without counting the fact that they had the largest army and many daughters that were of Aemon's age group.

There were also the crownlands, while technically not a kingdom of their own, there were many lords there, lords who knew to whom their fealty was owed. And amongst all of them, the Velaryons, though far from the great House they had once been, they were the truest and the bravest, the most ardent supporters of a Targaryen restoration. She knew there were also many men in the Company that Ser Oswell had formed that came from the region.

The Iron Islands were not even worth considering, they were rapists and murderers, and nothing could change that. If they even tried to ally with them, it could turn out to be a terrible mistake, one that would both ensure that they lost support from many that would have supported them otherwise and that one day, they would wake up with a knife between their shoulder blades. No, the Ironborns were better left ignored, though one should take care not to give them too much freedom to exact their ways on the shores of the Realm.

And last, but definitely not least was the North. She had difficulties trying to decide what they would do. Ned was friends with the Usurper, he had called him his brother by choice numerous times, but would he choose his friend over his family? Over his nephews? She knew him to be honor bound, more so than most men. Would he forsake the oath he had given his king?

She hoped so, if he did not, then maybe he could be convinced to seat the conflict out.

While Aemon's identity was perhaps the best-kept secret of the Realm, she could not simply hide the fact that Arthur was alive to the servants. Her brother was simply far too recognizable for this and for the umpteenth time, she thanked the gods that Aemon had inherited his mother's hair rather than his father's. The mummery would have been much harder to sell, but thankfully, they did not doubt their people's loyalty, the Daynes had ruled over the land for thousands of years, ever since the Age of Heroes and there was no record of one ever turning against its people.

While she despised the thought, Elia's fate also played a role in their loyalty and willingness to keep a secret. Most of Dorne felt the same way, and though it felt shameful to profit from it, the fact was that Elia was dead. That she had been raped and murdered along with her two children, and that was not something Dorne would ever forget, for like the North, they remembered.

"My lady," one of the maids announced herself, shaking her from her thoughts and she tore her gaze away from the training happening below. "The sail you told us to look far has been spotted, my lady,"

"Thank you, Nina, could you tell Ser Oswell and my son?" she asked with a smile, finally her brother was back.

While she did not agree with the mission, she had learned to recognize misplaced reluctance and had eventually given her brother her blessing, all the while knowing he would go anyway. Not when his king wanted him to go, Aemon did not make a habit out of ordering anyone around but when he had made up his mind, he was very much like his father and what she had heard his mother were like.

The maid nodded and hurried off to do as told and Ashara followed, knowing the boys would meet her on the way.


291 A.C

Starfall

A blood moon illuminated the castle with the reddish hue it cast, and Aemon could only observe its sheer beauty.

They had not wasted any time since his kingsguard's sail had been spotted on the horizon. As far as he was concerned, they had already waited too long, as such he had immediately left Starfall with Oswell following behind, leaving his mother to greet her brother and direct him and his prisoner to the place they had chosen.

It was far enough that none would happen on the scene less they sought to.

What they were doing here tonight could simply not be allowed to be witnessed.

He had insisted he needed to be the one to do everything, there was meaning in this type of thing, he knew that. And as such Oswell had kept watch whilst he built a pyre, making several trips to the castle and back to provide enough building material.

While he loved riding the sand steed his mother had gifted him, he wished he could simply apparate. But he was reluctant to try without a wand to reattach missing body parts.

Still, riding was fun and he was good at it, though after riding a hippogriff and a thestral, how much issue could a normal horse prove to be?

But it was all ready now and finally, he heard the approaching hooves of Arthur's and his mother's horses and sure enough, they appeared seconds later, and quickly dismounted. Arthur helped the prisoner off the horse as well, making sure he left no opportunity for escape.

And Aemon found himself observing the man, Ser Jaime Lannister, or as he was known the Kingslayer.

Despite the shaggy beard and long dirty hair he wore, Aemon could see why this man was called the golden lion. One could easily see he was ready, even after all this time, he had not forsaken the idea of escaping.

It said plenty about the knight's character, even if Arthur's constant glare told differently. His lord commander had made his feelings perfectly clear, as was his shame of having knighted the man that became the Kingslayer. Not that Aemon thought high of honor as a principle, it was all well and good in everyday life and he preferred to call it basic human decency. It also often served as a reason not to act, and one thing was sure, honor was quickly forgotten on the battlefield. In the end, the most honorable was the one that survived and got to write the history books.

Still, it was not enough to change the path the night would take.

"Your grace," Arthur nodded as he forced his prisoner to his knees and Aemon could see his green eyes widen in surprise.

His mother lay the chest at his feet and flipped open the lid for him, revealing the white egg speckled with thin red lines.

They had not wasted any time since spotting his kingsguard, learning only later he had brought his grandfather's killer and Aemon found himself curious.

He had met killers before, but more than that, he had met the worst of what humanity had to offer. Truly vile people like Bellatrix Lestrange, or Antonin Dolohov, people that believed themselves to be gods amongst men, that they had a right over the life of any not strong enough to oppose them, he had met people like Tom Riddle. Jaime Lannister did not have the manic look in his eyes, nor did he reek of evil as those monsters had.

The war, though now that he had known true warfare, it felt something of an overstatement to call Voldemort's uprising a war. Still, it had been simple. A matter of good against bad, of right against wrong, in one word, it was just. The death eaters were rabid dogs that needed to be put down. And so was their master. If he had to compare it to muggle history, it would likely be with the second world war, Adolph Hitler had been a monster, a truly evil man and so were those under him, there was no conflict of morals where one wondered if they were doing the right thing, they knew they were. Like Voldemort, he had to be stopped if the world was to survive.

The second one, though, was not right against wrong, nor good against evil. It was a war of survival, at first anyway, then they had damaged what little land was left so much that it only became a matter of ending it. For him, it had been neither, at first, he had fought to avenge his wife and the future they had taken from him. Then it was only a reflex, there was nothing else for him to do, and it had been his way to seek death as he was too much of a coward to do what he had prepared to after finding out Ginny's fate.

The thousands he killed in that conflict barely registered with him, they were the enemy, simple numbers. It had taken Death to pull him out.

Reclaiming the Iron Throne would be much the same to everyone else, there was a nobler, truer goal in the end of course, defeating another Dark Lord and his army of inferius but no one knew that.

Given the lack of references in Starfall's library, it was easy to understand the subject was not widely known.

"I admit I was curious to meet you, Ser Jaime," he said, everyone else having kept silent whilst he observed.

"I wish I could say the same…" he said, fishing out for his name and Aemon smirked, it was good to see he was as much of an unknown even after moons spent in captivity.

"You stand in the presence of Aemon of the House Targaryen, the first of his name and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the realm, the rightful King of the Andals, the First Men, and the Rhoynar." Ser Oswell's voice boomed into the night.

"I'm afraid I…"

"That you didn't know of me?" Aemon interrupted him. "As intended then, I am the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and as my kingsguard put it so well, the rightful king, etcetera, etcetera,"

"A bastard has no claim…" the Kingslayer began to say but Arthur backhanded him before he could go further, bursting his lips open.

"I'm quite legitimate you'll find," Aemon snorted, it was all a big joke anyway, legitimacy was earned not inherited, "my parents wed at a sept near Harrenhal, their union blessed by the Seven, and by the old gods on the Isle of Faces, but I don't expect it will matter once it hatches…" he said and slowly turned the chest to face his prisoner, enjoying how his eyes widened as he looked between the egg and the pyre. "But I was more interested in why than getting your opinion on my legitimacy,"

"Why?" he frowned.

"Why you killed my grandfather, of course, what else?"

"He was mad and…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know all this, he was a mad king, paranoid, and liked to play with fire, killing and torturing people with it," Aemon waved him off, he had heard plenty about the madman that was Aerys.

"Your grace there is no…" Arthur began but stopped at his raised hand.

"No, I want to know, I want to know why? You bore it for some time, you saw what he was, like Arthur and Oswell, you served, you kept to your oath though I would argue it was a mistake then,"

He enjoyed the surprise he provoked in his prisoner, the man had probably expected to be blamed immediately, he was ready and had obviously had the same argument before. But Aemon was not one to blame for killing someone that needed killing. Hell, had his father possessed the balls to do it himself, he would have spared everyone a lot of pain. But the fact was that Jaime Lannister had served, not as long as the others, but still, he had. He had seen what kind of man Aerys was, what kind of King sat on the Iron Throne. The honorable thing as Aemon saw it would have been to slay the mad king there and then, but no he had waited. Like all other kingsguards of the time his honor had been set aside in favor of his oath, and it was one of the reasons Aemon gave little value to the notion.

"Is it as Arthur says?" he tilted his head, "that you only waited for a time where you would face no consequences? To earn your father's praise while he and his men sacked my city?"

Something passed in Jaime Lannister's eyes, it immediately faded but there had been something, and Aemon narrowed his eyes.

"Are you nothing but a kingslayer?" he pressed and saw he had hit a nerve, "A man who sold his honor for nothing? Who had so little of it that you could not even face him and had to stab him in the back?"

"He had wildfire…" It was naught but a whisper, but everyone could hear Jaime Lannister as he lowered his head. "Aerys had his pyromancers build caches all over King's Landing," he developed without needing prompting. "He was going to burn them all, he gave Rossart the order, and I…"

He could everyone else also had their eyes wide open as they seemed to understand everything he was saying.

"Rossart?" he asked.

"A pyromancer," Ser Oswell answered.

"He was," Jaime nodded, "and Aerys made him his Hand, I killed him, before Aerys,"

"How much wildfire was there?" Aemon asked, pretty sure he already knew and yet he needed to verify.

"Enough,"

Aemon sighed, it seemed the madness of his grandfather had known no bounds. For only a second, he felt pity for the man who had to face scorn for saving King's Landing, a man who had to bear the shame of breaking his oath because he had chosen to save countless innocents.

"Will you also tell his grace what you did after you slew Aerys?" Arthur sneered.

There was no response, Jaime Lannister stayed silent, staring at the ground.

"I sat the throne…" it came out as a whisper, "I sat the Iron Throne," he said once more, this time more assuredly as he rose his head, looking as defiant as possible.

Aemon frowned, whatever for? What was the point?

"And will you also tell him what happened whilst you did? What you let happen?"

"Arthur…" Ashara began but was cut off.

"No Ash, he needs to know what they did to them,"

Aemon narrowed his eyes, "speak," he ordered, he was tired of not understanding.

Jaime Lannister's shoulders slumped as he exhaled a deep breath, "They… They raped her, and they killed…"

"Say it, kingslayer," Arthur pressed on and Aemon let him, too curious to know.

"They killed little Rhaenys and Aegon and they raped Elia before killing her,"

Aemon's eyes widened with horror, finally understanding what it was all about, and he found himself at a loss for words.

"Do not be shy, tell us what happened, tell us who did it," Arthur continued.

"Arthur…" his former brother tried to say.

"No," he cut him off, there would be no pleading today.

"It was Lorch, he killed Rhaenys and the Mountain, he killed Elia and Aegon…" Jaime Lannister admitted with shame-filled eyes and a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Say it," Arthur insisted, "say what they did to them,"

What could be worse that Arthur felt the need to insist? Aemon thought, his fist clenched at his side, reeling from the information he was learning.

"Don't force me, Arthur," Jaime began again but it earned him another backhanded slap.

"You let it happen under your watch, have the balls to own up to it," his knight sneered again, while Aemon had never seen him this angry, this close to losing control. He found he did not care, for he was not far from that point either, feeling a rage like none other as he learned what had been hidden from him.

"He stabbed her," Jaime sighed, "half a hundred times they said, and that monster raped her after bashing little Aegon's head against a wall and he nearly split her in two with his greatsword…"

Aemon could hear his blood pumping through his veins as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to digest what he had just learned, from the corner of his eye he could see his mother weeping and his heart broke at the thought of what had happened to them.

Baby Aegon must have felt so lost, and despite his young age, Aemon had no doubt he had known fear before his death, and he could only hope it had been quick.

Little Rhaenys had been only three, but she had been old enough to realize what was happening, to know utter fear, before the pain came, an agonizing one. And Elia had to watch her children being murdered in front of her eyes before being raped, he could not even try to imagine what she must have felt.

The only thing he could do was to reiterate the oath he had taken years ago, whomever the Mountain and this Lorch were, they would die, them and everyone responsible, and they would feel the pain and suffering they had inflicted on his brother, sister, and their mother before they left this world.

"And on whose orders did they do it?" Arthur asked again and Aemon could only lean forward, anticipating the name of the man who had given the orders.

"My father's…" Jaime whispered but it was loud enough for him to hear.

Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock and one of the most powerful men in the country. The man who had betrayed his king and sacked his city to buy his way into the rebellion, paying with the blood and suffering of the people of King's Landing and that of his family. A man who had been rewarded for it. One who likely believed himself all-powerful and all-knowing, he would soon learn otherwise.

First, he would lose his son, then everything else, and only then, his life.

"Ser Jaime Lannister, I name you not a kingslayer, but an oathbreaker, the slaying of Aerys the Mad King was just, yet his safety was not your only charge," Aemon began, "I, Aemon of the House Targaryen, first of his name, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, sentence you to die for the oath you broke, do you have any last words?"

All the bravado that had been present in the Lannister knight disappeared as he realized it was truly the end and as he rose his head to look Aemon in the eyes, he could see the shame the man felt, "protect my children, please…"

"Your children?" Aemon could not help but ask in surprise, he was a kingsguard, he was not supposed to father children.

The blond nodded slowly, looking more and more dejected, "Jeoffrey and Myrcella…"

Aemon's eyes widened, he had heard those names before, they were the names given to the royal children, and one of them had been born just under a year ago. That could not be right…

He chanced a look at both his mother and kingsguards, they all had horrified looks on their faces, having come to the same conclusion as he had.

"And Cersei is waiting for a third…" Jaime Lannister added, all but confirming his previous thought.

Though a very large part of him felt disgusted by the siblings, twins in fact, he knew he could not blame the children for their parent's failings. And knowing Robert Baratheon's stance on murdered children, he preferred not to think about what would happen to them if he found out their true parentage.

"Tell them their father loved them, more than anything in the world…"

"I will," Aemon nodded, it was maybe dangerous, and he had no doubt some would try to discourage him, but he could not bear the thought of harming a child, no matter who their parents were. "You have my word,"

The oathbreaker exhaled a deep breath and nodded before Aemon nodded at Arthur who moved Jaime in front of the pyre while he took the egg from the chest and lay it atop the pyre, finding it even hotter and livelier than it had ever been.

He unsheathed a long dagger, its blade gleaming in the red light of the moon.

His mother used the torch to light the pyre, and the flames grew unnaturally quick as it turned into a roaring fire.

"Know your death serves a greater purpose," he said as he approached from behind and with a single movement slit Jaime Lannister's throat and pushed him directly into the flames, his blood spraying everything in front.

They heard screams, but only for a few seconds and they stopped quickly.

As the fire grew, Aemon could feel the magic in the air thicken, it had been unnoticeable before, almost completely gone, but at that moment he was left with no doubt as to whether or not magic was alive.

There had been a few moments in his life where magic had been so potent that he could easily feel its presence. When he had saved Sirius from a hundred dementors, or when the Priori Incantatem had summoned the shades of Voldemort's last victims.

And as the flames grew more powerful and consumed the life that was given to them, the magic grew too, until it reached such a point where Aemon could hardly breathe.

Unable to control his feet, he began to walk forward, the heat increasing dramatically as he did and yet, it did not bother him the slightest.

"Aemon!" He could hear his name being called, screamed even, but the roar of the flames occupied every one of his thoughts and none of them could reach him as he stepped into the flames.

Immediately, the flames grew more powerful and an inferno raged around him, he could see nothing, his view being obscured by both flames and smoke and while he felt the fire lick his skin, it left him with nothing but a pleasant tingle.

Aemon had no idea how long he stood there. Standing in the middle of the flames but at some point, the fire began to recede, and his view cleared.

He heard a first crack, then a thunder-like clap, and magic surged forward at once. Aemon felt power coursing threw him as he had seldom felt it before.

And as the flames finally died, he felt something climb on him and his eyes widened as he realized what it was.

His breath itched at the sight of the small, kitten-size, white dragon climbing his legs. Its claws somehow not hurting his skin.

He could do naught but stare into the red eyes of the dragon as it joined his shoulder.

She, he corrected himself, he knew not how he knew, none of the books he had read possessed a definite answer on the gender of dragons. Some claimed they could change at will, others that they had none, and some argued the only visible difference was the ability to lay eggs. Though both supposed male and female dragons had been known to lay clutches. But all of this was forgotten in that moment, he simply knew.

Still unable to stop his movement, his right hand slowly approached the dragon's head who immediately pushed it against his palm, and it purred.

Aemon gasped as he felt emotions not his own invade his mind.

Happiness, love even, as well as hunger.

She opened her eyes to reveal red orbs that seemingly stared through his soul and found him worthy.

"Starfyre," he breathed out, instantly knowing he should name her in honor of the house that had taken him in.

Everything was going to change.


291 A.C

Winterfell

A few hundred miles south of the legendary Wall, a grey-eyed, dark-haired child rose his eyes to the sky as he began to equip himself to begin his daily sword training. He gasped as he saw a red star streaking through the early-morning pale blue sky.

He could only wonder what it meant, surely Maester Luwin would have an answer, the old crow that was the Septa would probably say it was a message of discontent of the Seven for the North who were heathens and that they would strike down sinful bastards like him.

Darian was not a grown man, but it did not take one to understand the septa hated the very sight of him.

Thankfully, few in Winterfell listened to her drivel.

Old Nan would probably counter that it was not for men to try and understand the will of the Old Gods, the true Gods. As well as told them a story of a forgotten time when a red star had heralded the arrival of a great hero meant to save men from the Long Night or some other foolish tale.

Darian had no idea what it meant but he could feel in his bones that something had changed.

If only it was enough for his uncle to tell him the truth. But even at ten namedays, Darian realized the futility of it. It seemed nothing would ever change Lord Stark's mind and that he would never tell him who his mother was.

And so, he was left with questions, ones that he would never get the answer for. Though it did not mean Darian would forget, that would be to not know him, one day he would know who his mother was, and he would find out the truth of his birth.


291 A.C

Qohor

Nine namedays old Daenerys Targaryen could do naught but watch, awestruck by the amazing red star crossing the night sky of Essos and leaving a red streak behind.

It was beautiful, more so than anything else she had ever seen.

What did it mean though? Ser Willem had often spoken of the different stars that had been named by the Maesters of the Citadel. The old knight had made sure she knew all of her constellations. From the Crone's Lantern to the Ice Dragon and passing by the Moonmaid. Ser Willem had repeated many times how knowing them could one day save her life and guide her home.

He had also insisted on the fact that celestial events like the one she was witnessing held power. It had been so in many of the tales he told.

And if it so happened that the color red was involved, then it was all the better for it was her favorite color, even after three years away from the house with the red door and the lemon tree.

"Sister!" Daenerys cringed, he was here. "Have you seen…" Viserys cut himself off as he barged into her room.

Instinctively her shoulders tensed as she felt his hands on her and he squeezed, almost painfully.

How she wished the old knight was still here to protect her.

"It is a sign of the gods, they announce our return to Westeros and the beginning of my Reign, I know it."

She glanced at his eyes and sure enough, the mad glint was there again.

Daenerys shivered, whatever the red star meant it was nothing that would help her soon.


291 A.C

Summer Sea

Kinvara woke up with a gasp, feeling the overpowering urge of exiting her cabin.

She could not remember what she had been dreaming just moments ago, but only her Lord had such power over her.

The red priestess quickly slipped on a robe to mask her nudity.

Though she had no problem whatsoever with her body, its sight was only meant for R'hllor, and his chosen if he was so willing. Certainly not for the sailors of the ship.

Before she could open her door, she caught sight of herself in a looking glass and gasped, the ruby on her neck shined bright, brighter than it ever had.

She rose a hand to her neck and could not refrain to moan as she felt power coursing through her entire body.

The red priestess had to take a few quick breaths to calm the warmth that coursed through her lower stomach before she exited her chamber.

As usual, the servants of the Fiery Hand guarded her door, though it was not Kinvara's first time seeing the men of the order, she knew little of them. As was meant to be, but their skill with their flaming swords was renowned, as was their connection to R'hllor, second only to her and the High priest Benerro.

As soon as she left the warmth of her room, she felt a chill go through her spine, not for the sudden lack of warmth, no, it was a simple reaction the completely dark horizon for the night was full of terrors.

Kinvara gasped as she lay her eyes on what had summoned her to the deck. What her Lord wished her to witness.

A red star streaked across the sky, leaving an awe-inspiring reddish hue behind.

It was perhaps one of the most glorious sights she had ever witnessed and Kinvara's heart soared in happiness for R'hllor was sending a message for all to see.

The prince who was promised was here, Azor Ahai had awakened his powers.


292 A.C

Braavos

Hammers clanged loudly all around Lorenzo Marino as hundreds of men worked on his ships, barely looking over their tasks as he passed by with his firstborn in tow.

There were several shipyards over the many isles that made up Braavos, some more important than others, but each very competent when it came to building ships. Braavos simply gathered the most skilled shipmasters of all the known world.

Even westerosi shipyards were not able to keep up with them, and the constant competition in the largest of the free cities kept them to a standard far above the others.

With all the shipyard combined, as would happen in a time of war, they were capable of producing a galley every day. In just a year they could make a fleet large enough to contend with the likes of the Redwynes or the Lannisters in Westeros. And that was without counting their current armada.

"She's coming along well father," Firenze, his son, commented as they reached what would put him and his family ahead of the other shipyards by a very wide margin. His braavosi accent was still very prevalent but now more than ever, he needed his heir to master the common tongue.

The glorious sight of the hundred- and eighty-feet long keel only inspired awe in him, it was sixty feet wide and once the masts were added, it would stand at over a hundred and twenty feet high.

It had been years since he had heard of his old friend, Alanis, the healer having been hired by a westerosi lord. He had been surprised to receive a package from him, as it was not their habit to communicate nor to send gifts to each other, but his surprise as soon turned to confusion as he read Alanis' words.

He had told him about an incredible child that was being raised by a legendary House, one that had a mind like no others, and certainly not one of a child his age.

And his confusion had turned to wonder as he had gone over the plans and drawings realized by said child.

Part of him still had trouble to believe a child could think of something like this, much less be able to design it. But the other part had realized the sheer genius of it all. And Lorenzo had jumped on the occasion.

The plans had needed a few corrections to strengthen the hull and increase the ship's potential speed, he also had to make adjustments for how the seven and thirty sails were tied to each other on the three masts.

Once done there had been no doubt in his mind this could become the greatest ship to have ever been built. And he would get the credit for it.

Of course, Lorenzo knew there was something afoot. How else could he explain that his offer was barely negotiated? The deal he offered was not a bad one, sure, but anyone capable of thinking of such ships had to know they could get a lot more.

But no, more had not been requested. And Lorenzo knew that the opportunity could not be passed on, even if there was something he could not see. Perhaps it was even more of a reason to do so.

He would build the ships ordered by the child for a fifth of the price for the next ten years, then to half the price for the next twenty-five and three-quarters of it for the following half-century.

Despite the loss of gold it incurred, as a ship this large and this complex would at least cost ten thousand gold dragons to build, Lorenzo knew it would hardly matter in just a few short years.

"This will be my legacy, son," Lorenzo smiled, "we'll become the foremost shipyard of the known world,"

"When will it set sail, Father?" Firenze asked with a smile of his own.

"Once they've hoisted the masts, the wood must dry for six moons," Lorenzo answered, this ship alone would become profitable on its second trip.

Once they had confirmation it was a success, the rest of the shipyard would focus on building such ships, his goal was to produce ten three decks a year, as the lad had called them.

He already had an order for thirty of them, to be delivered in the next five years to said inventor, and Lorenzo did not doubt once the ship sailed many more would want for one.

In a single trip, it could carry thousands of gold dragons worth of merchandise, and unlike most ships, it could also carry its escort. An impressive one that would have pirates running tails between their legs, he thought with a smirk.

With a permanent smile etched on his face, Lorenzo could not help to wonder about what the future would bring and how many shipyards he would be able to take over to satisfy the demand.

Yes, the gods truly smiled upon him.

I hope you enjoyed, don't hesitate to follow and leave a review, see you next week for chapter seven and another few surprises ;)