Hi everyone, here is chapter seven, I hope you all enjoy,
As always, I own nothing
292 A.C
Starfall
Aemon could not help his chuckle as he watched Starfyre try to burn the piece of meat in front of her. To little success, given that her flames only cooked its surface.
Knowledge about dragons was rare, at least it was in Starfall, it meant he had to figure a lot of things on his own, like the fact that dragons liked their meat well cooked, if not slightly burnt.
"Incendio," he snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared on his palm, and Starfyre watched, enraptured by the sight of the flame that was quickly growing. When it reached a sufficient size, Aemon sent it at the meat and chuckled as the she-dragon began to devour her meal.
He had to repeat the process another few times, her appetite growing with each day that passed.
In only ten days, the white dragon had grown from looking like a small kitten to a full-grown one.
Once she was done with her meal, her red eyes found his purple ones and she climbed into his lap.
Again, the little knowledge he had about dragons had left him very much aware that he would need to pay a lot of attention to what she liked and felt, but never had he imagined she would let him know.
Yet there was no mistaking the feeling of happiness that was coming from her at the moment, nor was it possible when she grew hungry, annoyed, or sleepy. He was simply aware of what she felt and with each day that passed, it seemed to only grow.
And as usual, when Starfyre had a full belly, she slowly drifted off to sleep. The small snores she made only reinforced the protectiveness he felt.
Though he had never had children, Aemon could not help but think that it was what it would feel like.
Only that this particular child would soon become terribly dangerous and would likely not need his protection for more than a few moons.
A knock on his door broke him out of his thoughts and he turned to see his mother enter the room as silently as possible.
"She is precious," she whispered once she was close enough for him to hear and he could do naught but nod in agreement. "You have a visitor,"
Aemon could not help but frown at this, a visitor? How? Or rather why?
As far as he knew, few even knew he existed, so few that the number fit on two hands alone. And some had visited, like his spymaster, Alton Waters, but it had always been planned.
"Can you stay with her?" he asked as he slowly picked Starfyre up and without waking the white dragon, gently lay her on one of his pillows.
Nonetheless, he was curious, it was not every day he met new people.
As soon as he exited, the room, Arthur followed him, wearing his helm, and they quickly made their way to the great hall.
As he approached the large doors, they were joined by Sers Jaremy and Roland as it had been decided they needed more guards, not that he felt the need for more protection, but Aemon had figured it was a subject that wasn't worth arguing for.
And having two more knights to train him certainly did not hurt.
They opened said doors for him and he entered to find Lady Alysanne talking to a red-haired lady dressed in an equally red dress. The youngest Dayne sibling had to assume the house's duties as her elder siblings were either gone or believed dead.
"A red priestess, your grace," Ser Jaremy whispered in his ear, and he frowned, a what?
"It means I am a follower of R'hllor, my prince," the lady said as she turned to face them, visibly the knight had not been as discreet as he wished.
The woman looked beautiful, unnaturally so, the dress she wore left little to the imagination but what truly attracted his sight was the red ruby resting on her neck, it oozed magic.
Aemon's frown only deepened at the title she used. "I am no prince," he denied quickly.
"You're the prince that was promised," she smiled, "the one that will put an end to the Darkness and bring the Dawn, Azhor Ahai, R'hllor' chosen."
"And you are?" he raised an eyebrow, he could already feel the incoming headache that this woman was about to cause.
"The lady Kinvara, a red priestess from Volantis," Alysanne spoke for the first time. "I think I will leave you to it,"
Aemon's eyes widened as he noticed the two men, dressed in equally red robes, with flames tattooed on their cheeks. Though their robes looked much more practical than those of the red priestess.
If anything, he was curious now.
"I am sorry, my Lady, but I'm afraid I do not know of your faith," Aemon said, he truly did not, the Faith and the Old Gods were plenty as far as he was concerned but it seemed others did not agree.
"I follow the Lord of Light's will, as do countless others in Essos, for he is the only one capable of casting away the endless night and R'hllor has chosen you, my prince, to lead the fight against the Great Other and bring forth the Dawn," she said, her smile never leaving her face and the two men accompanying her nodded along.
'The Great Other?' Aemon could not help but note as she emphasized the words, was it related to what Death had told him? "How do you know of your Lord's will?"
"R'hllor manifests in the flames, my prince," she answered with another smile. "And the Lord of Light has seen me through my journey to the lands of the Dragonlords of old, to offer help in the fight to come," she said and nodded to her companions who brought forth a chest he had not noticed before.
Before he could ask another question, she flipped the lid open and revealed the help she had brought and he could not help but widen his eyes in surprise.
"The dragon must have three heads," she simply said.
In the chest stood two dragon eggs, one a deep purple with golden veins running through its scales and the other with pale blue scales and green lines.
He could not help but let his hand run over their surfaces, feeling the warmth they emitted.
Ever since he had walked out of the fire, unburnt and with a dragon, he had felt something different. It was certainly not his still re-growing body hair, but there was something. And now, in the presence of new eggs, he could not help but feel things would truly be different.
292 A.C
Starfall
Aemon could do nothing but smile as the tip of his spear connected with the wooden shield and cracked it in the middle.
"Again," his taskmaster of a kingsguard instructed and handed him a fresh lance as Aemon passed by him.
The previous lance, fractured at the tip fell to the ground and Balerion, the black sand steed his mother had gifted him, followed his will, reacting without a need for a command.
The black horse began to pick up speed and with a crack that resonated all around them, Aemon finished breaking the wooden shield.
Oswell had been the one insisting he begin training to joust, at first, Aemon had no issue admitting he was reluctant. Seeing no real point to add to his otherwise full schedule for something only used in tourneys.
The fact was that Kings generally did not participate, and unlike most Targaryens before him, he would not be an heir before he sat the Iron Throne. Tournaments were simply very dangerous, no matter all the precautions one took, an accident happened too easily for it to be discounted.
Still, tourneys were essential, both for the smallfolk and the nobles of the realm. 'Panem et Circenses' after all, the Romans had it right, it had been true then, and it was true now, in Westeros.
As such, Aemon had relented, and to his surprise, he had found he greatly enjoyed the practice.
Oswell had taught him many techniques that he claimed were taught to him by Barristan the Bold himself, one of the greatest jousters the realm had ever known.
It was another person he yearned to meet, but as for most, one that would have to wait a few more years.
"Good," his kingsguard said as he dismounted Balerion, leading him to a post where water and hay waited for him. "Your aim and horse-riding are almost perfect, but you still need to work on keeping the lance perfectly still and steady,"
Aemon smiled, praise from the legendary knight was hard to come by but at least he was sure Arthur meant it when he bothered saying something. And he had to admit the one thing he liked most about jousting was spending more time with Balerion.
Horse-riding almost came as a second nature, it seemed the sand steed understood everything he wanted without needing any command, and in return, Aemon felt the incredible power behind the horse's gentle nature.
"It's heavy," he sighed, it was true, the elongated spear weighed much more than he was used to caring and despite the constant training, he was not even eleven yet, his nameday only being due in a moon or so.
"And it is the reason why you cannot face Ser Oswell or me, my king," Arthur smiled, "but your tactic is sound, you only need more time,"
Aemon rolled his eyes, it was always time.
"My lords," one of the servants approached.
"Yes, Agatha?" Arthur answered.
"The red priestess is asking for you, my lords, she says what you have been waiting for is arriving…"
"Thank you, Agatha!" Aemon exclaimed and put the lance away before mounting his horse once more. "Come on, Arthur, it's here," he urged his faithful knight who chuckled at his exuberance.
Balerion neighed and within seconds, began galloping, leading Aemon towards Starfall's harbor.
Though he still had trouble believing the red priestess when she claimed she was able to see in the flames, he had to admit that her visions had proven reliable given what she had brought him.
Dragon eggs, at least one he hoped was meant for Daemon.
Both would be magnificent. Once they hatched of course.
That she had found such in Valyria was incredible, and only reinforced his need to go there.
But given the fact that the sailors accompanying the red priestess had all perished, he once more resolved himself to wait, at least until he had the elder wand in his possession. For with it, Aemon seriously doubted anything in this world could be a threat to him.
That, or he would have to wait for Starfyre to grow strong enough that little could threaten her as well.
In both cases, it would take years.
Still, it was not the only thing he had learned from the red priestess since she had arrived a few moons ago.
Things he wished he had known earlier as it meant he had already wasted a lot of time.
It turned out blood magic was different from what he knew in his previous life. Though he had by no means been an expert on the subject, he knew enough to know that intent and meaning were the most important aspects of it, as well as sacrifice.
And while it still held for the sacrificial part, the meaning he had thought to use by sacrificing someone who had personally hurt him and his family, had all been for naught.
Intent and meaning in this world manifested through blood, according to the red priestess, certain types of blood held power, more power than others. Like King's blood for example, or blood that possessed some magic to it, like the blood of the dragon lords.
It had raised a lot more questions, some of which she knew the answers to, and others she did not.
And it only reinforced the need to visit the Valyrian Freehold, his ancestors had been experts of blood magic, they had mastered the art to such a degree that they had been able to bind dragons to their bloodlines. If only a scroll survived, it would be worth it.
And as always, it would have to wait.
Starfall's harbor slowly entered their sights and Aemon felt thankful that for once, the wait was over.
They slowed down the horses as they entered the streets filled with smallfolk.
The harbor was not particularly active, given only three ships would dock at a time. But it was the only harbor capable of receiving goods for the many people living on the banks of the Torentine. It also represented a large source of income for House Dayne, especially given that they exported a large part of their food production to the rest of Dorne.
It was also only the second time he came here, the first had been the time he had seen Arthur off to capture a sacrifice.
The smallfolk present looked and whispered at seeing them appear on their horses, Aemon had to admit that they must make for an impressing sight. His mother had long affirmed to him they could trust the smallfolk in the area, and he had no trouble believing her, but he could not help to think about what they must imagine.
Arthur always wore his helm outside Starfall but still, he was supposed to be a bastard followed by a large and impressive knight. It was bound to raise some interrogations, not that they would find any answers.
Still, as had become frequent, his thoughts turned to his child, she had already grown a lot in the past five moons, and Aemon could only watch as she went from the size of a small kitten at the moment of her hatching to the size of a wolf, the only point of comparison he had was Sirius' animagus form, and Starfyre was already bigger than what Padfoot had been.
Her meat consumption had followed the trend, and where she had needed only a few pieces at the beginning, she now ate a whole sheep each day.
Thankfully, she no longer needed him to roast it for her or it would have taken considerable time from his already busy schedule.
Aemon was thankful Edric had left with Ser Beric Dondarrion before the egg had hatched, he did not know how they would have kept that from him.
It would be years before the boy came back and the next time he did, Edric would no longer be a boy but almost a man-grown, he could only hope his cousin was not too upset with him when he learned the truth.
Still, it would be years before that time came, hopefully. In the meantime, if Aemon ever wanted to have a chance at claiming the Iron Throne, he would need an army and a navy.
Maybe his magic and Starfyre could be enough to make his enemies bow to him, but it would not buy legitimacy, only war did. And while dragons could lay waste to armies and destroy walls, only men could hold cities and keeps.
And the main reason he needed that throne, besides keeping the little family he had left safe, was to fight the army of the dead that would one day come.
It meant he could not just decimate the armies that would be raised in his path. For he would need them one day, and life was not easy enough to let him have decades to prepare. No that would be too easy.
And to do so would only invite revolts done the line. He could put them down, sure, but did he wish to be that king?
The answer was no, there was no hesitation.
But it did not mean it would be a bloodless war either.
Aemon still needed to show some degree of ruthlessness, otherwise, the lords of the realm would think him weak and revolt all the same.
No, the situation demanded he wielded the carrot and the stick expertly.
He could not afford to be associated with his grandfather after all.
And to do that and have his decisions respected, he needed an army of his own.
It had been one of the mistakes of the previous Targaryen kings, they had not bothered with a royal army when they had dragons, which he could not fault them for, but they had lost them, over a hundred years ago. And nothing had been done to replace them.
Not that any army could replace a dragon, but still, they ought to have done something.
It was what the company of the wolf was made for, eight thousand men, including two thousand mounted and well over six hundred knights.
They had begun to gather a reputation across the Narrow Sea and now regularly received contracts, either in the free cities or in Slaver's Bay. Though Aemon would have rather not have dealings with slavers, the company had to fund itself, House Dayne was very wealthy but supporting a company of that size was incredibly expensive, tens of thousands of gold dragons each year from the reports they received.
Besides, every single copper House Dayne had spent in his name he planned to see reimbursed, even if did not matter to Ashara or Arthur.
And to do that he needed more money, which had led to his presence here, in Starfall's harbor. Exactly a year and a half after he had signed a contract with a braavosi shipyard master, Lorenzo Marino.
The plans he had sent had needed a lot of corrections and adjustments, not that Aemon expected otherwise, he had helped himself with some relevant books he found in the library but his entire knowledge rested on things he had learned years ago and a visit to a museum that had happened decades in the past.
But as he lay eyes on the very ship he remembered, he could not help but feel his heart swell in pride.
It was beautiful, the seven and thirty sails seemingly made it glide on the waters of the Summer Sea.
It was huge too, even more so than he remembered or had pictured in his head when making those plans.
And as the ship approached, it was made even more evident.
It stood at over a hundred and twenty feet in height, and a hundred and fifty feet long.
It simply dwarfed any other ship he had ever seen in the harbor, and from what he understood, any ship this world had seen in a long time.
Aemon could not control the wide smile that formed on his lips as the ship docked and he spotted the golden lettering, 'HMS Victory,'.
Thankfully, the initials were unknown in this world, and it was not like he was misappropriating them. He was after all the king, not the king of much, but still.
"I've never seen something like it…" Arthur breathed out next to him, as awe-struck as Aemon was.
"Neither have I…" his mother said, having joined them without him noticing as spellbound as he was by the ship.
Now that the ship was near, he could see the six ballistae placed on each deck, one for each side, and there were many more hidden inside the massive hull.
It took over seventy men to operate it normally but there were enough weapon ranges that over two hundred men would be needed to man such a ship in time of war and it could house many more.
After all, he would need to one day transport his army back to Westeros. Hopefully, it will have grown some more by that time and as one of those ships could safely transport a thousand men over a large distance, he would need several of them.
"How long until the others are delivered?" Ashara asked.
"We'll have the whole thirty of them in five years," Aemon answered, this time could not come fast enough. Lorenzo had ensured him such an order could be kept and given the amount of gold the shipyard master stood to make, he was inclined to believe him.
After all, the ships would need to be used and it was not like he had the contact to organize transport deals, Lorenzo would get his fair share with a ten percent cut on all businesses he made for him.
It would keep a steady stream of income coming in and would be enough both to maintain the fleet's maintenance cost and make a profit.
Even he had been impressed by the numbers involved but given the ships were so large and well protected, a lot could be transported and all of that was without accounting for the increased speed.
The complex array of sails and shape of the ship insured it was at least twice as fast as the fastest swan ships and thrice as fast as the longest war galleys. Instead of taking two moons to join them from Braavos, it had taken the HMS Victory a single one.
That alone would have made him wealthy.
The ship had to stop a dozen feet away from the docks as the ship's lower deck was far too tall for a harbor.
And whatever smallfolk that had been present in the harbor had now found their way to the docks, most gasping in awe at the sight of the three-deck ship.
This was not a problem he had thought about, none of the harbors either in Westeros or Essos were suited to receive such a ship. 'Oh well', Aemon thought, they would adapt, the sheer traffic that would come to fruition in the next few years would force them to. If everything went as planned, such ships should overtake most of the maritime trade in the next decade or so.
And he would own a lot of them.
As soon as it was secured, sailors began to disembark a few dozen crates before they started loading the cargo leaving Starfall.
Sadly, he would not get to keep the ship this day, he had been warned that interrupting a ship's maiden trip was to tempt the gods. Though he hardly believed it was true, it was not like he could not wait for a few more moons while the HMS Victory traveled to Oldtown, Lannisport, and back to Braavos, stopping on the many cities and harbors on the way.
"Every house in the realm will want one," Ashara commented smiling.
"If I agree," Aemon smirked.
292 A.C
King's Landing
Only the birth of her third child had kept her going after losing her other half.
A gift Jaime had left her before those savages killed him.
Cersei was not foolish, quite the opposite. She was far cleverer than everyone else in the Red Keep and by extension, King's Landing. Varys and Littlefinger thought themselves smart, trying to influence her with half-truths, they were naught but ants for her to play with.
As such, when her father had told her not to lose faith, that Jaime would be given back to them, she had refrained from balking. Ironborns were degenerate savages, that was all there was to know, and she had taken comfort in the fact that her father had exterminated the vermin on Harlaw.
It was said screams could be heard all the way to the coast.
The sole thought of what it must have been like warmed her core.
And now that Jaime was gone, there was no one to take care of it, 'well no more,' she thought as she observed her reflection in the looking glass.
The birth of Tommen had taken its toll on her but as for the first two, her body had recuperated and dare she say, grown even more desirable.
Her breasts were fuller, she realized as she cupped them, heavier, her hips even seemed to have widened again.
It was all welcome, not that Cersei needed it, already there was not a man in the Seven Kingdoms that did not desire her.
Checking her dress revealed enough, she nodded to herself and as she began to head for the door, a knock sounded and she stopped, raising a well-manicured eyebrow, she was not expecting anyone.
"Yes?" she asked, and the door opened to reveal her uncle Tygett.
She barely needed to pull on her dress to reveal even more cleavage, "Uncle," she approached, stalking her prey.
Though he was older than her usual flavor, he was formidable, with Jaime gone she needed another protector, one that would slay her husband at only a word of her.
It happened she had often seen him leering at her.
"Niece," he nodded, "I have a message from your father,"
"Oh?" She bit her lower lip, and closed the door behind him, leaning enough so that he could see everything, Cersei smirked as she spotted his lowered eyes. "I did not take you for my father's messenger…"
She almost grinned as his face reddened, knowing which buttons to press to provoke a man was always useful.
"I am not…" he began but stopped as she stepped even closer to him, with only an inch now separating them.
"Calm down, uncle…" she huskily whispered, "I'm sure we can find a much better use of your time," she continued, raising on the tip of her toes, she closed the remaining gap with her only too willing uncle.
292 A.C
Casterly Rock
Crossing the last name of the list he had made over a year and a half ago brought no relief to Tywin Lannister as he was seating in his solar, at the highest point of the Rock.
He had plenty of enemies that would wish to hurt him, such was the fate of any successful man, and he was the most successful of all.
But none of them had been bold enough to take his son.
Or they had been so competent he could not find out, but Tywin doubted, something as important as Jaime's disappearance would have people talking, it would leave traces.
Enough for him to find out.
But there were none, his youngest brother, Gerion had reported seeing three men leave the camp that same night with a cart. Where they were going, he had no idea, but Gerion had been most assured that he had seen nobody inside and he had reported the cart had not been full enough that he could have missed something.
It truly was a mystery.
Whoever had done it was extremely competent, more so than he thought any were.
If left him with only a few options as to who might have done it.
The Martells were first among his suspects, they were perhaps the ones with the most motivation to hurt him.
Only Oberyn Martell would never keep him to himself if he managed to get his hands on his son. And his contacts had reported the Dornish Prince to still be in Lys, where he whored his way through the city.
Doran was too sick and weak to attempt anything.
No, the Dornish lacked the pull to manage something so brazen. But they could have hired someone.
Only the faceless men had come to his mind, it would take someone of their skill to infiltrate a war camp and get out unnoticed, but the servants of the many-faced god were known to leave the bodies of their victims behind, as proof of their work.
And so, he had continued, investigating, sending letters containing offers and threats to those he deemed might know something.
He might have told his daughter not to lose hope, he was not sure he held any still.
Tywin sighed, with only the Imp as a son, he would have to take another wife. He had refused, his vows still true after almost two decades. But it could not be avoided, as much as he missed his dear Joanna, the future of his House could not be threatened by his weakness.
He could only hope that when he joined her, she would forgive him, for that and many other things.
Though there was a chance he might avoid resorting to marriage again, Tommen, his daughter's latest child. As a second son, he stood to inherit nothing from his beast of a father.
Maybe the boy would show potential, but only time would tell, one thing was sure though, if he did, his grandson would need to be raised on the Rock as no heir of him would resemble Robert Baratheon.
"Brother," Kevan coughed, pulling him from his thoughts as said man entered his solar.
"What?" he asked, already feeling irritable, he hated being disturbed in his solar and Kevan knew that.
"I apologize, I know…" he began but Tywin waved him off, "there is something you should see,"
"Do not waste my time, brother, tell me what it is I must see," he snapped, before taking a few breaths to settle his thoughts.
"A ship," Kevan said, "unlike anything the men have ever seen,"
Tywin narrowed his eyes, feeling his anger bubbling under his skin, "you bother me for a ship?"
"Not just any ship brother," he countered, "they say it is the largest ever build, and that it reached Lannisport from Oldtown in only a fortnight,"
"Impossible," Tywin scoffed, it was ridiculous, no ship this fast existed. He would know, they were currently beginning the construction of his new fleet.
"As I said, you should come to see for yourself,"
Tywin narrowed his eyes once more but nodded, "Very well…"
He would go and see for himself, even speak to the captain of the ship, but Tywin held no doubt his brother had been played for a fool.
292 A.C
Starfall
Aemon chuckled as he watched Starfyre chase after a ball he directed with his magic, keeping it ahead of her enough to taunt but not for her to catch it.
She enjoyed the chase more than succeeding, though she still did from time to time.
Using her wits more than her natural power.
At nine moons old, she had grown even more, slowly reaching the height of a pony.
And it seemed she only grew faster with each moon that passed, something that was verified by the chart he kept.
The more active she became, the more she ate, and the more she grew.
The white dragon now had the uppermost floor of the castle to herself. And they had emptied the two below, restricting his access to the Daynes, him and Oswell.
The three floors were all now littered in silencing rooms that had proven more than enough to keep Starfyre a secret.
He had relocated his room just below, even after nine moons, Starfyre did not like to be separated from him and it meant he barely left the floor.
It was not like they could afford a dragon rampaging through the halls of Starfall, the mummery would be all but over.
The only time he truly got to himself was when she was sleeping, and it was the time he spent training.
It was tiring but Aemon paid it no mind, it would all be worth it one day and if he was honest with himself, he could not bear the thought of Starfyre being unhappy or suffering.
Thankfully, their bond was deep enough that he would immediately know if it was the case.
He made the ball take a sharp turn and she followed, her reflexes kicking in, and suddenly, he raised his hands to the night sky, it shot upward and Starfyre followed behind, thrilling as she flew.
She quickly disappeared from his sight, her white scales being swallowed by the darkness of the night, the only time when she could fly freely.
Aemon kept the ball going, knowing the white dragon was still not caught up as he felt her frustration growing.
And suddenly, he felt her roar in happiness, and he lost control of the ball.
Aemon chuckled as he realized he had been tricked, she perfectly understood he could feel her emotions, as she did his.
He was still chuckling as she emerged from the darkness and landed gracefully in front of him, the ball stuck inside her fearsome jaw, some of her fangs already were five inches long and he knew perfectly well she could easily kill a man.
That was without counting her fire, which was more than enough to burn an entire cow, which amounted to her daily meat, not that she ate much of anything else.
She dropped it in front of him but before he could begin anew, she tensed and Oswell entered the open garden.
"Your grace," he took a knee.
Though she was less familiar with him than with Arthur or his mother, it only took a few seconds for her to recognize him and calm herself.
"Rise, ser Oswell," Aemon sighed, "you know you don't need to…"
"I prefer to, your grace, when she's around at least…"
"She won't hurt you,"
"It doesn't hurt, your grace," Oswell smiled, and Aemon had to concede his point, though he considered her his child, he could admit others needed to be careful when dealing with a dragon.
"It's good to see you, Ser," Aemon smiled, the kingsguard had been gone for a couple of moons now. "Do you bring news?"
"I do," he nodded, "we found them,"
Aemon clenched his jaw, the time had come.
"The lady Kinvara is preparing the pyre, they're waiting for you and the eggs,"
Starfyre looked on with an interested glint in her eyes as if she could understand what they were speaking about.
"All right, the eggs are here anyway," he said and claimed back them from Starfyre's improvised lair, the white dragon having refused to be parted from them from the moment she had laid her red eyes on the eggs.
Had anyone else but him touched them, they would have died a fiery death.
But as he took them, it seemed she understood what it was all about and roared in happiness, unleashing a stream of white flame almost twenty feet long that had his eyes widen.
When she stopped, he looked in said eyes and spoke, "ao gīmigon skoriot naejot jikagon,"
He had no idea if speaking in high valyrian truly helped, but whether he did or not, he knew she understood him perfectly. She took flight and quickly disappeared into the night, Starfyre knew where to go.
"Come on, you don't want her getting there first or she'll preen about it for the next sennight," Aemon chuckled as he passed by his kingsguard who followed with a snort, dragons were prideful beings.
And if he was honest, they had no chance of getting there first.
Still, they quickly descended the many stairs that led them to the entrance hall and the small barge that would lead them across the Torentine. Ser Jaremy and Ser Roland fell behind as always since they had come back with Arthur.
Balerion neighed as he spotted him, and Aemon could not resist taking an apple in a waiting bucket and handing it to his faithful steed who accepted the treat neighing.
Part of him felt bad for not spending as much of his time with his horse as he used to, but it could not be helped, Starfyre demanded a lot of attention and apparently, the situation was only going to worsen before it got better.
The foursome rode silently through the night, heading for the same hill that had seen Starfyre's birth. After a thirty-minute hard ride, they finally arrived, finding a group of seven waiting for them. All looked in awe at the dragon that had settled in front of the pyre, watching intently as it was readied.
While awe was prevalent in those watching, two of them only felt horror, one that could only be inspired by one's imminent death.
"My prince," Kinvara greeted him, "it is ready,"
"What are their crimes?" Aemon asked, nodding towards the kneeling men who shook like leaves in the wind, their eyes now fixated on the ground in front of them.
While killing did not bother him as much as it once had decades ago on a different planet, Aemon was not one to murder in cold blood just to hatch a dragon or dragons.
No, the person serving as a sacrifice needed to be guilty, there needed to be a reason for their death. And though he had not expected to feel bothered by it, the fact was that the Dayne's lands were among the safest in the Seven Kingdoms, or so Arthur claimed, and as such, finding a man guilty of crimes heinous enough to justify being sacrificed had not been easy.
"I found him whilst he forced himself on a woman, your grace," Oswell said, "after he had murdered her husband,"
Aemon closed his eyes, he would never enjoy killing, but some people deserved it.
If he was honest with himself, the man's appearance was enough to tell him he should not be surprised so much.
He had long unkempt dark hair and a shaggy beard, his face and forearms were littered with scars, most having not healed well. He was also missing a few teeth, but it was his eyes that attracted Aemon's attention, a Dornish dark, there was malice for all to see in them.
"Is she…" he began to ask.
"She is fine, your grace," Oswell answered, "as well as one can be after what happened to her,"
"She'll be working for you, from now on, her name is Dana," his mother completed, and he nodded, the least he could do was to offer the poor woman a roof and a way to earn coin.
If she became loyal to him because of it, then all the better.
"And this one comes from the Marches, he and his fellows thought they could live from harassing the smallfolk, their group killed two men, one woman, and her boy,"
This one looked less Dornish, but not less unkempt, Aemon could only guess his companions had already been put to the sword.
"What do you answer to these charges?" Aemon said, forcing the already condemned men to look into his eyes.
"I'm innocent, I swear…" the dark-eyed man began to deny but stopped as Aemon's fist connected with his nose.
"Do not lie to me!" Aemon sneered, legilimency was perhaps the most useful skill he had ever learned.
Though it felt distasteful to use the mind arts on someone with no possibility whatsoever to defend themselves, Aemon's reservation melted as snow under the sun as he was left with no doubt in his mind that the vile man before him was guilty of this crime and many others.
Only a peek inside his horrendous mind was enough to tell him that.
The other one kept silent, staring defiantly ahead, probably aware of what awaited him.
"Nothing to say?" Aemon asked and when he was met with no answer, took another peek inside the man's mind.
Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms in general were better off without men like them running around.
Sadly, it was not because the Dayne's lands were safe that it was so for the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
Life as smallfolk was harsh, their lives mattered not to a large majority of the highborns. A fact that did not surprise him at all.
Those in power often cared little for the ones living under them.
Of course, that was not true for everyone, his ancestor, Aegon the Good had done his best to improve the quality of life of the smallfolk, angering many lords in the process.
Aemon could only try to emulate him, only he would have to be better. Because in the end, most, if not all of the reforms he had enacted had been repelled by his successor, Aerys, and his hand, Tywin Lannister.
Right now, however, he could only make plans for the future and make sure vile men paid for their crimes.
"What is your name?" he asked the first one.
"Brune Sand," he answered, still shaking, "my prince," he added, trying to find the right title.
He really should not be surprised he was a bastard, not that they were any more likely to commit crimes, but they were extremely numerous in Dorne as the Southernmost kingdom did not share many of the beliefs the other ones did.
Especially regarding anything that had to do with sex.
"And you?" Aemon asked the one who had kept silent.
"Trevan," he spoke for the first time.
Still, he nodded to Ser Oswell, who along with Ser Roland seized the men under their armpits, Brune could be heard whispering while Trevan kept a stony face, unwilling to show his fear anywhere but in his eyes.
He walked back to Balerion and recuperated the eggs, feeling literal life pulsing out of them. They were ready, and though he had given less of his blood, Aemon was sure of himself.
He gently placed them on top of the pyre, Starfyre's red eyes never leaving the eggs. And he came to stand before the kneeling criminals, their mouths forced shut by the knights.
"I, Aemon of House Targaryen, first of his name, Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, sentence you, Brune Sand, to death for the crimes of rape and murder, and you Trevan for murder and theft, know that your deaths serve a purpose greater than your lives ever could," he left them no opportunity to express any last words and he nodded, giving the signal for them to be tied up, they were gagged with a piece of leather as no one wished to hear them scream but the horror of their situation was clear for all to see in both with their widened and fearful eyes.
The white dragon moved beside him once Ser Oswell and Ser Roland had stepped back. And Aemon could only hope this brought some modicum of peace to the men's many victims.
"Dracarys," he spoke and Starfyre roared before unleashing a powerful blast of white flames that immediately engulfed the pyre.
From where he stood, he felt the extreme heat of the dragon fire burning even after she stopped.
It turned out even the roar of the flames and the gag did not prevent them from hearing the men's muffled screams, it lasted until suddenly they stopped.
But the fire continued burning for hours, keeping them warm in the night and holding the darkness at bay. Aemon found himself unable to look away.
And this time he felt no need to step into the flames, to his relief, as he had no wish to regrow his eyebrows once more.
Starfyre too, kept her gaze on the burning flames, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the red priestess and her guards kneeling, their lips moving but no sound being made.
They were praying.
Ever since she had mentioned that pesky prophecy of hers, he had done his best to avoid her, and as most of his time was being spent with Starfyre, it gave him the best of excuses.
Whatever prophecy it was, Aemon would rather not learn of it, he had learned enough of prophecies as Harry Potter for it to be enough for a couple of lives. And with the experience he had in the area, he could safely say it was better not to try and work around a prophecy, the meaning of one was subject to enough speculation as it was.
In the end, a prophecy only became clear once it was realized. Never before. And if there was one thing to learn from Tom Riddle's fate, it was that trying to understand and fight one was the best way to screw up and die.
Finally, the flames burned their last and revealed a large pile of ashes and red embers, and still in a trance, he slowly walked forward, his dark leathered boots greying as he did. Aemon knelt, clearing the eggs from the ashes, to find a crack had already formed on the pale blue and purple scales.
Starfyre too had gotten closer, and she stood by his side, her triangular head rising next to his shoulder, and both stopped breathing as other cracks formed.
A thunder-like clap boomed in the horizon and the blue egg parted in two. Revealing a small scaly head, looking every bit like Starfyre had, only with pale blue scales, intense green eyes, and small green horns protruding from her head.
Aemon slowly extended his arm and the kitten-sized dragon thrilled as his hand made contact, and like her sister, she quickly climbed his arm to come to settle in the crook of his neck.
"Lyarax," Aemon spoke, and she purred in happiness.
She would be named after the mother that had given her life to see him brought to this world.
There was a second thunder-like clap and the purple and golden egg parted in two, revealing another scaly, this time purple head of a dragon with beautiful and mesmerizing golden eyes.
"Rhaenyx," he named his third child, after the sister he would never meet and the dragon purred against his hand as she began climbing his other arm.
"And he shall wake the dragons from stone," he heard Kinvara say but at that moment he could not have cared less for her nonsense.
He slowly rose and turned, making sure not to disturb the tinny dragons that were already letting him know of their hunger and all gasped as the dragons were revealed to them.
293 A.C
Myr
Never had Oswell thought he would enjoy sea travel.
He had lost count of the number of times he had to sail since the Tower of Joy. But he very well knew that all of them had seen him taken with the seasickness.
Each time he disembarked; Oswell thanked the Seven and had to take an entire day to recover.
But it seemed like those times were over, he thought as he observed the free city of Myr appear in the distance.
He had embarked on the HMS Victory as it made its way back to Braavos, the ship still laden with cargo as every merchant in Lannisport and Oldtown had fought to get their wares onboard.
After only nine days of travel and a stop in Planky Town, they had reached Myr in twice as less time as he had done countless times before.
And unlike every other ship he had ever stood on, this one was so massive it was stable on the calm seas they had been blessed with.
His room too had been unlike anything he had ever seen on a ship, on par with what a king would travel in. It was under the main deck's level but only one opened on the deck and it was destined for the king.
Oswell had of course surveyed his king's chambers and found them more than up to the task. They took up an entire floor to themselves, located on the topmost deck, on the fifth level, and from them, one could see the entire horizon behind as they had been equipped with expensive Myrish glass, and if his quarters were fit for a king, then those for the actual king were one's worthy of an emperor.
Still, until his grace took possession of the ship, they would remain unoccupied and tightly locked.
The lower levels were destined for the many sailors who roomed together but in far more decent conditions than he had ever seen.
The level below this one housed twenty scorpions on each side, which with the six situated on the decks, were ready to skewer any ship that dared to threaten them.
Finally, the hull was filled with all manners of cargo, from silks to Arbor wine, and jewels, all ready to unload in Myr where it would be loaded with carpets, lace, and looking glasses, the specialties of the free city for which nobles and highborns across continents were ready to part with considerable wealth.
The walled city had a harbor located a mile from the last wall, which he considered himself lucky for as he would not need to step inside the city.
But as in Planky Town, a crowd had gathered upon learning the ship was sighted, many no doubt desiring to witness the ship they had been told of when it last docked here.
It had been the same in every port, and the sailors now accustomed to it went to work with great efficiency, unloading the merchandise meant to be sold here.
Knowing the captain wished to set sail quickly to reach Tyrosh before the night fell and having already said his goodbyes to the man, Oswell grabbed his leathered traveling packs and disembarked.
Only to find the Lord Commander of the company of the wolf waiting for him five of his men by his sides, waiting with enough horses.
Oswell rose his eyebrows, before frowning, he had never needed an escort before.
Still, he went to greet the man who had squired with him so many years ago, "Ser Alliser," he gave a forced smile and was answered with one.
"Ser Oswell," the darting eyes of the armed men were only clear enough of an indication that he had walked in on a situation. "Things have changed a lot since we last spoke,"
"What is it, old friend?" he asked, last time he had received a report the company had just returned from a contract to protect Norvos during the passage of a certain Khal Drogo, the leader of what was said to be the largest khalasar ever gathered.
Despite all of that, lavish gifts had been offered and the khalasar had left without bloodshed.
Alliser nodded, "we should not speak in the open,"
Oswell simply nodded, "Lead the way,"
One of the lads took his bags and hung them to his saddle whilst he mounted the offered horse and as soon as everyone had, they were gone.
He had not noticed the bows three of the men pulled out from their saddles as they let go of the lead and concentrated on protecting their sides and back while their mounts followed the group which only had him frown deeper.
It was truly worse than he had thought.
They rode in silence, both he and the Lord Commander of the company protected inside a circle of men and horses. And he could not help but look for threats, his kingsguard training kicking in.
And to his relief, no matter how many times he looked, he spotted nothing.
After a thirty-minute ride inland, they finally reached the camp the company had built for itself, given the number of times the magisters of the city had counted on them, they were only too happy to allow them to settle outside their walls.
Long gone were the tents of the first time he had visited, they had built barracks and dorms as well as a communal bath, there to help relieve the aches of the constantly training men.
It was all protected by a wooden five- and twenty-foot-high wall, equipped with a watch tower on each side. As soon as they were inside, the tension evaporated.
They often had to be extended to accommodate the growing force.
Their group was directly led to a large, squared house that had not been there before, but as he was about to ask, Alliser answered.
"Take the horses to the stables lads, I'll show you inside the War House,"
Oswell could not help but raise an eyebrow, they were not going for subtlety.
The large map of Westeros had been covered by one of the Disputed Lands, tokens marking the presence of different enemy forces.
"What is happening, old friend?"
Alliser Thorne sighed but pointed at the crow token that stood alongside one representing a horse and a few paces away stood a cat. "The gonfaloniere has decided to ally with the magisters,"
"The?" Oswell asked unsure of whom the title referred to.
"Lys' military leader, he's an eager one, wants to earn fame and glory for his name," Alliser snorted as he explained. "He's hired the Stormcrows and the Windlown and Tyrosh contracted the company of the cat and the gallant men,"
"Why now?"
"They feel threatened by our presence," Alliser sighed again, "and the Myrish have been taking business away from Lys and Tyrosh for years, it was bound to happen sooner or later,"
"And?" Oswell could not help but worry, four companies of sellswords was a lot.
"It's alright," the lord commander grunted, "in total, they have a little over four thousand men, it could be trouble if they could work together but the Tattered Prince and Bloodbeard hate each other. Makes them easy picking,"
"It wouldn't do to be overconfident, Commander," Oswell said, "our king needs you and your men, not your corpses, not when he's managed to hatch a dragon,"
Alliser's laughter echoed around the room at this, but it took several moments for the knight to realize he was not jesting.
"Don't fuck with me…" the forty-something namedays old man choked out.
"Never," Oswell confirmed, "not with such matters, she's got white scales and blood-red eyes…"
Alliser's blue eyes widened. "The gods have spoken then,"
And Oswell nodded, even for those like him who did not hold religion in high regard would recognize it as a sign that the dragon was the same color as a weirwood tree.
"It'll only be a few years then?"
Oswell nodded, even more so with the two others, but this was to remain a complete secret.
"Good," Ser Aliser grunted, "the men tire of the heat, they long for home,"
"So do I, my friend, so do I…"
I hope you enjoyed, see you next saturday for chapter eight, only a couple more before we leave Starfall
