When The Dragonwolf Danced

by Alperez16

A collaborative effort between myself and my good friend, SPh0015. Jon Snow is born much earlier to a different prince of House Targaryen. Raised as Daemon Targaryen's son and betrothed to his cousin, Rhaenyra. How does his presence affect the Dance of Dragons and will he ever make sense of the dreams that hint at who he truly is?

7. The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors

King's Landing 112 AC.

Viserys Targaryen.

Almost a full year had passed since he'd last seen his daughter and nephew. The letters that they had both sent and the reports from his Master of Whisperers, or those from the Houses that Rhaenyra and Aemon visited were Viserys' only indicators of how well the Royal Procession was going. Each of them carried the same news and named it as a most welcome thing. Much to Viserys' delight.

Still, words on a piece of parchment or those spoken by Ser Gaven Tarly were no substitute for seeing his beloved daughter and hearing her and his nephew speak those words themselves. So upon hearing the news that their party had passed Rosby, Viserys had readied the city and the Red Keep to welcome their future queen and king back to where they belonged. His own excitement was fully matched by the people of the city and most of the residents of the keep. Though not all.

With Rhaenyra and Aemon far from sight, if not mind, Alicent had been more at ease while they'd been away. Their relationship had been much better without his nephew or daughter to raise her ire in some way. While Viserys truly wished they'd bridge whatever gap had formed between them, he'd not lie and say he had enjoyed the amiability of his wife these past few moons. Something that he now feared he would not know again for a short time at least. Especially as when he'd informed his wife and children of Rhaenyra and Aemon's return, Viserys had seen the curl of Alicent's lip and had liked it not.

'Am I never to know full peace within my House." he thought as he was helped dress for the day and hoped that today was indeed to be the day of Rhaenyra and Aemon's return.

In this, he was at least granted the god's favor. The outriders that had been sent by his nephew, no doubt, arrived first to let the court know just how close Aemon and Rhaenyra were. Viserys thanking the gods for the lessons Aemon had taken and for how different he was from his father in this regard. He knew full well that his brother not only much enjoyed making an entrance as Daemon put it, but that he welcomed surprising and shocking them all far too much. Aemon was far more dutiful in this regard than Daemon ever cared to be and it brought back memories of the conversation Viserys had with his brother before he'd departed.

He'd even tasked Ser Gaven to find out if it was indeed true what Daemon had said. Viserys had wished to know if it was truly Aemon on his own who'd done much to keep crime down during the tourney. Not only had his Master of Whisperers confirmed it, but crime in the city had risen since Aemon's departure too. All of this had combined to make Viserys wonder if his father's old role was truly one that Aemon was suited for. As he wondered too if after a year or more of being in charge of the Gold Cloaks, would a place on the Small Council then be merited.

Hearing the cheers from outside the Red Keep, the loudness of them bringing a smile to his face, Viserys put all other thoughts aside for now. Joining with his wife and children, he made his way to the Throne Room and though loathed to do so, he took his seat on the accursed chair. Thankful that for once he cut himself not in doing so. Alicent stood to his left, his wife holding Aemond's hand while Aegon fidgeted and Helaena looked every inch the picture-perfect princess that she truly was.

Smiling at his children, Viserys turned to look at the large double doors and held his breath when he heard the commotion outside. A moment later, they were both standing in front of them and Viserys would wager that everyone in the Throne Room had the very same thoughts as he. Both his nephew and his daughter had grown much since he'd seen them last. Neither of them truly looked the same children as they'd been when they had left this city behind and though it had been not even a year ago, to look at them you'd name it longer.

Rhaenyra was no longer a little girl. Even if since Helaena's birth he'd not thought of her as such. Yet to now see this young woman in front of him, took him aback for a moment. As for his nephew. Aemon had always seemed older than he truly was. To look at him now, however, was to look at a man almost fully grown. Or at least it was to Viserys' eyes. Which was why it took him so long to greet them both and why around the Throne Room, and especially his wife's, all eyes now looked eagerly at him.

"Forgive me, daughter, nephew. Yet when you left you were but children and you return to me as a man and a woman grown almost. Though just as pleasing a sight to mine eyes now as then." he said happily.

"As you are to mine own, father," Rhaenyra said. His daughter dropping protocol which Viserys welcomed and hoped Aemon did too. His nephew too naming him as an uncle, before then naming him as a king and taking a knee in front of him.

"Tis a true pleasure to see you hale and hearty, uncle," Aemon said. His smile one that Viserys truly enjoyed seeing. "We have returned from our travels through the realm, your grace, and once more seek to take our places by your side." Aemon then said more formally. Viserys knew full well that the fact his nephew did so while on one knee would be welcomed by some.

"As it does mine own heart to see both you and my daughter well, nephew," Viserys said before he too spoke formally. "Arise Prince Aemon and be welcomed like the true and good kin that you are."

At Viserys' words, Aemon did as he'd been bid and while he then readied to join his nephew and daughter, there were loud gasps around the room as what looked like a white dog ran towards his children. Before swords could be drawn or weapons unsheathed, Aemon spoke loudly and truly.

"Be at peace, Ghost means none here harm and wishes only to greet my cousins as he is aware they are mine and Rhaenyra's kin. I give you my oath that Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, and Princess Helaena have naught to fear from the white wolf." Aemon said.

'Wolf, it was a wolf that his nephew had brought back with him. A white one no less.'

Knowing now that the wolf was Aemon's, Viserys quickly surmised that it had been given as a gift from House Stark, or at the very least Aemon had found it while in the North. Should any harm befall the wolf due to some overzealous guard or even Kingsguard, then questions would be asked by the Warden of the North.

'Not to mention how Aemon or Rhaenyra would react'

"I believe we can all take my nephew's words on the wolf's intentions," he said to a shocked look from his wife. The shaking of Viserys' head however was more than enough to stop whatever argument that Alicent may have wished to raise.

Though in truth it was the fact that both Helaena and Aemond had asked Aemon for permission to stroke the white wolf's soft fur and been granted it, which truly stopped any moves towards the wolf. Viserys was not the only one entranced as his son and daughter laughed as the wolf rolled over and allowed them to tickle its belly.

"Ghost, Nephew?" he called out as Aemon had joined the wolf and was speaking fondly to his cousins.

"An apt name, do you not agree, your grace?"

"Indeed, indeed." he chuckled.

With the issues surrounding the wolf resolved for now, Viserys rose from the Iron Throne and greeted his daughter how he truly wished to. He welcomed her embrace and asked her if all was well. Laughing as she told him that while she had much enjoyed the travel, she was glad to be home. For he too felt much the same and was much happier to have her here than anywhere else.

All too soon, Aemon and Rhaenyra, along with Ghost much to his children's chagrin, needed to be settled back into their rooms and to wash off the grime of travel. Alicent took the children back to their lessons and whatever other plans Rhaenyra and Aemon's return had interrupted. While Viserys welcomed that there were no petitions or meetings today, so along with Ser Harrold, he made his way back to his own chambers. The coughing of the old knight behind him not enough to sway his thoughts from his daughter and nephew's return.

"They both looked well, did they not, Lord Commander?"

"They did, your grace. Both have grown much during their travels."

"That they have. A girl and boy went out into the world and a woman and man have returned."

"They seem the happier for it, your grace. And it will bode well when they wed next year."

"That it will, Lord Commander, that it will," he said happily. He'd speak to them both before the night's feast and let them know he saw no reason why the wedding couldn't go ahead as his grandmother had planned. They'd reach their majority in but a few moons, to wait any longer would raise questions and given how they both now seemed to be, his own had been answered.

'I wonder will my brother return for the wedding or will his kingdom require his presence still?'

Bloodstone 112 AC.

Daemon Targaryen.

He and Caraxes had toured each of the islands since he'd returned from his journey to King's Landing. They'd already fended off one attack by the Triarchy and had needed no ships or men to do so. The Blood Wyrm alone proving a dragon was more than a match for Racallo and his Dornish allies. Ships burn and with Mysaria once again by his side, Daemon had known of the attack long before it took place.

It had been why he'd cut short his time with his son and niece. Why he'd not stayed longer and so had not been there to wave Aemon and Rhaenyra off on their Royal Procession. That honor instead had fallen to his fool of a brother and the sour bitch he was married to. Though Daemon wagered that if the Lighthouse Keeper's daughter actually turned up, she did so reluctantly. In one way it made him glad he'd missed it, in another, it only reinforced that because of his brother, he had done so. Another check against Viserys in a ledger that Daemon kept deep within himself.

Still, he'd not lie and say he hadn't enjoyed the carnage that he and the Blood Wyrm had inflicted on the Triarchy's foolish attempt to wrest these islands from his control. Nor that it at least stopped him from being bored which he'd found to often be his mood. The trappings of being a king were something he'd found far more welcoming to him than the reality of actually ruling as one. Daemon long ago had come to the realization that he was truly not cut out for the daily grind or running a kingdom.

He was not a man who understood or cared for lists. For supply chains and the upkeep of the fortresses, keeps, and docks that they'd seen built. Daemon cared not for knowing that they had enough supplies to last a year or more should they be besieged. For to his mind, Caraxes alone would ensure that would never come to pass. War, however, got his blood racing through his veins, and while the wait for it to happen was dull, happen it would. So he'd best be prepared for when it did. Or so his son had told him.

"You don't believe the Triarchs will just abandon the Stepstones, Kepa," Aemon said, his son having reverted to using the word in fondness once more.

"No, Tresy. They will not." Daemon said firmly, naming his son as Aemon had named him, using their mother tongue and enjoying how it sounded to do so.

"Then we needs must prepare for when they return."

"We?"

"Am I not your heir, Kepa? Do I not share in the responsibility as much as you?"

"You do, Tresy." he smiled.

"Then let's see what we can do to secure our islands then, Kepa."

Little had Daemon known that Aemon intended to use the Royal Procession to do just that. His son had expanded their deal with House Tyrell and had brought some other Houses into it too. Though few had a true naval presence or traded as extensively as those of the Reach, others did have dealings with Essos and ships that passed through waters that Daemon and Corlys now controlled. So their tariffs were far lesser than the ships of those that his son had done no deals with.

In turn, their own trading with those newly aligned Houses brought them great benefits and savings too. Food supplies were cheaper from the Reach. Wood from the North, along with men from the Stormlands, all helped to shore up their defenses and make life more comfortable on the shitpile of rocks that the Stepstones truly were. Yet nothing could be done about the fact that the islands would never be self-sustaining. Nothing truly grew here other than grazing grass for horses and there was not even enough of that to be shared with any other animals.

Flying now atop Caraxes' back, Daemon soon saw the sight of Bloodstone in the distance. Thoughts of warm food and an even warmer bed companion were enough for him to bid the Blood Wyrm fly faster. They landed outside his keep and he once again marvelled at how much it had come on since he'd conquered these islands. A small town and village now surrounded it and it could garrison nearly three thousand men if need be. Though less than a thousand were in residence.

There was a decent-sized brothel in the village too. Though the girls were poor fare and not to his taste. As well as two large taverns, which Daemon had a share in. Not to mention all the other amenities that a village in Westeros could provide. Yet it was the keep itself that was somewhat Daemon's pride and joy. It was built of stone and was filled inside with treasures that he'd gathered over the years. Enough wealth to last a man three lifetimes should he wish it so and only a portion of the wealth that Daemon now possessed. The vast majority of that wealth was instead split between two accounts in the Iron Bank. One in his own name and one in Aemon's. For no son of his would ever need to rely on handouts or coin granted by his brother. Not if Daemon had anything to say about it.

"You've returned early, my love?" Mysaria said. Daemon chuckling when he saw that look in her eye. A look he knew all too well and boded nicely for the night to come.

"There is naught to see or prepare for, and even I can grow bored upon the Blood Wyrm's back." he lied. For he'd found little in life that compared with being atop a dragon if truth be told.

"We have some missives for you to read," Mysaria said as she kissed his cheek. "One from Aemon."

It was not just thoughts of reading a letter from his son that had him hurrying into the keep. The night's air was chilly and the winds were beginning to pick up. Another reason why he'd cut short his flight. So taking Mysaria by the hand, nodding only to those who greeted him when he passed, Daemon quickly found himself inside the keep and wished it too had warm water piped through its walls. A memory of a conversation with Lyanna now threatening to overwhelm him as they walked. Melancholy to be his reward that night if he didn't manage to fight down the feelings that the memory evoked.

"How is it that it's here in the land of Northern Savages and not even in Essos that I find myself warmed while indoors?"

"Old magic, my prince, old magic. Mayhap one day I'll tell you the truth of such?"

"'Tis other truths I'd wish you to teach me, my lady."

"Mayhap I'll teach you them too. Should you earn my favor" she winked cheekily.

He'd been lost from that moment on. His heart filled with her and her alone until their son had been born. Had it not been for Aemon, then not even seven kingdoms could have filled the hole she left behind. His son though had managed to do so. Aemon had proved himself to be Lyanna's heir as much as he was Daemon's own. A heart that should have been broken beyond repair had never been allowed to shatter completely because of the gift she'd given him. So it was that he thought of as he and Mysaria hurried to their chambers. That which fought the melancholy away and soon enough it was Mysaria's wandering hands which did the rest.

Later, he stood naked by the fire with Aemon's letter in hand. Its words brought a smile to his face and even when Mysaria moved behind him and her hand began to stroke his member, it was the letter that Daemon concentrated on. With a loud laugh and his member now being fully erect, he then turned to face Mysaria.

"A wolf, he's only fucking gone and gotten himself a wolf. Not just any wolf, mind. A fucking Direwolf." Daemon's pride in his son's achievement clear by the smile on his face.

King's Landing 112 AC.

Mychel Waters.

He'd enjoyed his travels with the prince and princess, but he was far happier to be home. Not that he'd ever have imagined naming King's Landing as such. Yet over the few years that he'd been here, it was what it had become. As Cregan Snow had told him, by the prince's side would be where he truly found his calling. The older man had then been proved right from the moment Mychel had arrived in this not-so-fair city.

Since he'd been welcomed into the prince's service, Mychel had risen high indeed. Though he had no official role such as the one Rickon Snow had, he, Ser Daeron, and Donnel Locke were more the prince's protectors than anything else. Mychel knew that the fact that he was baseborn should have precluded him from being allowed anywhere near the prince and certainly the princess. Yet it was the fact he'd fought for his father on the Stepstones and not the nature of his birth that Aemon cared about. The prince would allow none to speak badly about any member of the Young Wolves, no matter their birth. Nor was it allowed to be a barrier to how far you would one day rise, or so Ser Daeron had said. As for the princess, she deferred much to her betrothed when it came to certain matters. As in truth did Aemon to her.

That the two of them were completely in love with each other was clear with any eyes to see it. Though for a short time, Mychel did wonder about the princess and Ser Harwin Strong. Not that anything untoward was going on, but that mayhap the princess was at the least flattered by the attention shown to her by the older knight. He knew too that his prince liked it not and yet Aemon had kept his composure and said or did nothing to dissuade the princess from spending time with the Strong Lad. In the end, even if there had been a moment where the princess welcomed Ser Harwin's attention, that moment had long since passed.

"Is there a reason for that crease on your forehead?" Donnel Locke asked and Mychel chuckled before answering.

"Thinking of the Strong Lad, Donnel," he said garnering a loud laugh from the older Northman.

"Given our travels, I'd wager he'll be given short shrift."

"I wager he may be given more than that, should he persist, then our prince may seek to teach him a harsh lesson."

"Now that would be a fight I'd like to see," Donnel said and Mychel both agreed and very much did not.

When it came to skill, other than the Rogue Prince himself or Criston Cole, Mychel would name Aemon a match for anybody. Ser Harwin didn't truly rely on skill, however. They named him the Strong Lad not simply because he came from House Strong. Mychel would wager there wasn't a man stronger than Ser Harwin in the Seven Kingdoms, and certainly not one in King's Landing.

Still, he doubted it would come to it. Ser Harwin was no fool and while he may be jealous of Aemon, he'd not risk going against a prince of the realm for no advantage. Ser Criston Cole on the other hand. Each and every man among the Young Wolves knew what their prince thought about the knight he was squired to. Aemon could keep things close to his chest but with certain people, he was far more open. The Queen, her father, Ser Criston Cole, and the Strong Lad, all being people he'd spoken his disdain for.

'We can now add the Lions to that list, I wager' Mychel thought.

Hearing movement from the door behind him, Mychel put all thoughts aside for now and readied himself for the task their prince had set them. In this, they'd be joined by Aemon himself, as the prince was wasting no time in setting the city to rights once more. For now, it would be a simple decree. Words and not actions to let the criminals of this city know once again by whose leave they operated under. Should Aemon's message not be taken, then it would be knives in the night and a changing of the guard. Those who thought themselves in a position of power would quickly learn what true power was all about.

"Ser Daeron?" Aemon asked as he walked out of the room. The white wolf moving by his side more faithfully and truly than any hound ever could.

"Awaits us in the city itself, my prince," Mychel answered.

"Good, then best we be about our business."

They'd returned but three days earlier. After almost a full year away from the city, the lowest elements of it had thought themselves untouchable. Without the prince to guide the Gold Cloaks or send the Young Wolves out to do what needed to be done, crime had risen tenfold. It was not something that Aemon would let go for long and yet even Ser Daeron hadn't expected it to be dealt with this quickly. Mychel wondered why that was and believed he'd not get an answer to such a question for some time.

In the end, it mattered not. They left the Red Keep, moved through the city, and were joined by Ser Daeron and thirty men of the Young Wolves. By the time they reached the first of the buildings, they had been joined by Rickon Snow along with twenty Gold Cloaks. All of them had once been the Rogue Prince's men and yet Mychel would name them all as Aemon's now.

All in all, they visited a dozen buildings. In three they found their target had decided to hide from them and yet those poor souls were soon to find there was nowhere to hide from the Young Wolves and their prince. Only one drop of blood had needed to be shed and it had cost a man a hand for his actions. An attempt to strike the prince which would have cost the man his life had not Ghost acted before even Aemon or he himself could. The white wolf clearly showed his ferocity and the strength of his bite as he took the man's hand in one swoop. Mychel still chuckling at it and the words that Aemon had said, even long after they'd returned to the Red Keep.

"Wolves are hungry creatures, Daras. Be sure to remember that and remember it well. For should I need to speak to you again, it'll not only be your hand that you lose."

It was upon their arrival back at the Red Keep, that Mychel found out why the prince had acted so quickly. Aemon heading not for his rooms but for the Grand Maester's and as Mychel and Ser Daeron stood guard outside, he learned of Runciter's illness.

"Is there naught that can be done?" he asked.

"The man himself believes not, Mychel." Ser Daeron answered.

"He'll take it badly." he sighed.

"That he will. Aemon was always close to the man and liked him as truly as he ever liked anyone."

'Tis a good thing he's doing, sitting with him."

Ser Daeron nodded and seemed to be on the verge of saying something, only for the doors to open and acolytes and apprentices to come running out. Looking into the room, Mychel could see Aemon sitting by Runciter's bed and holding the man's hand in his own. His other hand softly brushed the Grand Maester's hair from his face before he leaned in and placed a kiss on Runciter's forehead.

It was two hours later that Runciter finally breathed his last. Another hour before Aemon walked out of the room and though Mychel wished not to intrude on the prince's privacy, one look at Aemon's face was enough to tell him tears had been shed. Aemon himself told the king and over the next few days, it was his prince who handled the arrangements for the Grand Maester's funeral. Mychel, Ser Daeron, the Princess, and no doubt the King and Queen, were all stunned to find it was a pyre and flames that were to take Runciter's body from this world. Though far less surprised to find that it was Vermithor who loosed those flames on the pyre at Aemon's direction.

Rarely had a Grand Maester been given such a send-off. None had ever been burned as far as Mychel was aware and certainly none by Dragonfire. The man was even given somewhat of a feast to celebrate the life he lived, though it was one that the king and queen didn't attend. Aemon did as did Rhaenyra and the Young Wolves were out in force. Their prince even raised a glass and toasted the man for all the work he'd done both for his grandfather and his uncle. Though Mychel would wager it was truly what he'd done for Aemon that his prince was thanking the man for.

"May we be lucky enough to know his likes again." Aemon called out loudly "To Grand Maester Runciter, a true servant of the Citadel."

Volantis 112 AC.

Corlys.

His coffers had never been so full. The tolls that he and Daemon charged for passage along with the deals Corlys had made because the Stepstones were under their control, both had seen to that. While he'd have sought to bring down the costs of maintaining their presence on the island even more, he couldn't deny that they were far less than they should be. Nor that Prince Aemon was largely the reason why that was so.

The prince showed a mind for trading that Corlys much appreciated. A political mind too as he'd used the Hightowers to bring both the Redwynes and the Tyrells even closer. It was yet another reason why Corlys cursed the match the Good Queen had made. Had she not done so, then Laenor would have had a path to becoming King Consort. Laena too would have a worthy husband to rule with her from Driftmark when the gods of the sea finally called Corlys home.

Yet it was not to be. The Good Queen's match had held true even despite Daemon's actions. Corlys could see no way of seeing the betrothal broken and it irked him greatly. Not even Rhaenys' words that she may have a plan to do just that had been ones he'd welcomed. Instead, he'd simply concentrated even more on the islands that were now key to his fortune. Which in turn had him sailing further and longer than he'd truly have wished.

"Would that I was a Dragonrider." he japed as the Sea Snake docked in the harbor of Volantis.

Along with his grandnephew Daemion who served as his squire and joined by a large guard, Corlys waited for the palanquin to arrive and was soon traveling through the streets of the First Daughter. His destination for once wasn't the Old Blood behind the Black Walls or one of the many merchant guilds he'd had many dealings with. Instead, it was to the Red Temple that the palanquin would bring him to and there he hoped to find an answer to a question he'd worried over for many moons.

Though he was not truly a religious man, Corlys was faithful to the Seven and even more so to the Gods of the Sea. Not the Drowned God of the Iron Born, but the true ones. The gods who'd granted him their favor from the very first moment that Corlys had taken to the sea to seek his fortune. Gods who'd watched over him on every one of his nine great voyages and who had ensured that never once had Corlys feared that the sea would take him. So to deal with Red Priests was not something he did lightly, to listen to them even less so, and yet here he was and as he climbed out of the Palanquin, there they were waiting for him.

"Welcome Lord Corlys, the High Priest has been much looking forward to your arrival." the pretty young woman said by way of greeting.

"Has he indeed?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He has, as too has our god. It's why you've heard the same call at every port your famed ship docks at, Lord Corlys."

Deciding it was for the best not to dally in the open and curious as to why the Red Priests had been so eager to see him, Corlys nodded to the young woman and together with Daemion, followed after her into the temple. It was not the first Red Temple he'd entered, but it certainly was the grandest. The sheer wealth and scope of the place made the others look like Bloodstone when compared to Driftmark and Corlys would not lie and say he was not impressed.

Down long corridors that were illuminated by numerous torches and sconces, Corlys found himself looking to see if they were indeed gold or just seemed that way. Eventually, he and Daemion were led into a large open hall to find more than twenty red priests and priestesses waiting for them. Here, his grandnephew was asked to wait and Corlys was bid to move onward. A simple nod of his head was enough to get Daemion to do as he wished him to.

The dark room he was taken to was smaller than he expected, and inside it stood a man taller than even he was. Dark of hair and green of eye, the man seemed almost otherworldly at first. Though very much less so once the torches and braziers alighted.

'A most welcome trick and yet one much wasted on me.' Corlys thought of the mummery he'd just witnessed.

In the newly lit room, Corlys took a closer look at the man he'd been brought to. Finding to his surprise, that he was actually closer to his height than he'd at first thought. His hair was dark as raven's feathers and the green eyes were, even now in the light, off-putting. That the man was looking as intently at Corlys as he was the man, was almost to be expected.

"Welcome, Lord Corlys. Long has the God of Flame and Shadow sought you out and I must admit I feared you'd not listen to the many messengers we sent your way."

"And you are?"

"Forgive my manners. I am Vyraquo, High Priest of the Temple of the Lord of Light."

"Indeed. And your god wished my presence you say?" Corlys asked, half in jape.

"Sought it, Lord Corlys. I would bid you to look to the flames and to remember that what you see is for you and you alone."

"What I see…."

Corlys never got to finish his question. The flames almost seemed to explode upward before they calmed and once they did, he found himself seeing images amongst them. Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys. Meetings held in secret and those that very much not. He saw Magisters, The Archon, as well as the Gonfaloniere. All of them were looking over maps and moving pieces over them that represented men and ships, or so Corlys believed.

The images were so clear and true that even were he a fool, Corlys would understand what he was being shown. Though how those images changed to fleets of ships, to men at arms and the sailing of a fleet, he knew not. Briefly, he feared that the invasion he was bearing witness to had already begun. Only for the images to change and show him ships being built and men being trained.

'Time was on his side, and it would serve the Triarchy badly that it was.'

Then almost as soon as they had started, the flames died down and the images were no more. Looking up from the brazier and to the man in front of him, Corlys could see just how eagerly the man was watching him. Vyraquo judged his reaction no doubt and Corlys would wager that the man was most pleased by what he saw in his expression.

"Why show me this?" he asked curiously.

"Because my god willed me to do so."

"Why would your god care for what I do?"

For the longest time, Corlys believed he'd receive no answer to the question. Vyraquo just stared at him silently, allowing him to almost become annoyed at his lack of response. Then just at the point where Corlys was about to snap at the man, Vyraquo spoke.

"Our god wishes you well in your endeavors, Lord Corlys. It benefits R'hllor to see the Triarchy humbled and the House that is allied with your own bears our god's favor most truly."

"The Targaryens?"

"The House of the Dragon is as clear an example of R'hllor's will as any could dare to be."

He understood it not. Daemon cared not for any god but himself and Viserys would never allow the Red Priests to gain a foothold in Westeros. Yet in the end it really made no difference to his own path and so Corlys simply accepted that for now, they were allies. Thanking the High Priest for the warning, Corlys hurried back to his grandnephew, and together he and Daemion made their way back to the Sea Snake.

There was what felt like a never-ending wait until the tide was right for them to sail and then once it was, Volantis was soon far behind them. Over the next two weeks, Corlys sailed close enough to Lys to see that ships were indeed being built. He passed Tyrosh and from the deck of the Sea Snake, and through his Myrish Eye, he saw men training for battles to come. When those battles would actually take place, he knew not. That they would, he now had no doubt.

As he set the course for the Stepstones, Corlys wondered if he'd need more than one dragon to win the day. Would he need to call on Laenor once more? Or mayhap even Laena too. If the gods were good, he could mayhap persuade Rhaenys to bring Meleys to bear on their enemies. Yet through it all, one thought kept coming to mind. One thought that he couldn't shake even when he landed on Bloodstone and made his way to inform Daemon of all he'd learned.

'Would the Bronze Fury play a part in protecting the islands that its rider was heir to?'

King's Landing 112 AC.

Rhaenyra.

She knew Aemon was hurting, even if he denied to her and anyone else that he was. Her betrothed was truly a terrible liar when it came to their own interactions. Every little expression, word choice, and even the timbre of his voice would give him away. Rhaenyra was actually most happy that it did. As she was that Aemon rarely lied to her in truth. Yet, it annoyed her that he hadn't told her just how much the Grand Maester's death was affecting him and so she told him so, most firmly.

"No, Aems," she said shaking his head after he'd lied to her again. "I know it wounds you so. I'm no fool, so stop treating me as if I am one."

"I.."

"Aems, let me help."

A nod of his head, her warm embrace. Words spoken softly between the two of them and, of course, much kissing and touching, were more than enough to change her cousin's mood. Aemon thanked her profusely and Rhaenyra tried her best not to feel smug for managing to accomplish what none but her could do.

"I fear we'll be given a poor replacement," Aemon said as they lay together in her bed.

"In what way?"

"I know not," Aemon said, sighing, before speaking more truly. "Not only was Runciter a learned and good man, he was a trustworthy one too. True, I earned some favor with him because of my studies and you say he always spoke up for my father and me during the Small Council meetings."

"He did, Aems. Most passionately at times."

"Will the next Grandmaester do so? Will he be our man or hers?" Aemon asked angrily. Who 'Her' was needed not to be elaborated on as the queen had made it clear that she liked not they were back in King's Landing.

"Would it matter truly?"

"I know not and yet I worry so." Aemon chuckled.

"Well you are a worrier." she japed getting a full laugh in return. Aemon then went quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

"Forgive me, Nyra, for burdening you so. I wished not to."

"Of course you did not, you're a fool," she said, sticking her tongue out at him when he glared at her. Knowing full well he meant it not.

They lay together just softly stroking the other's hand. Rhaenyra's head was placed on Aemon's chest and she listened to the beating of his heart and allowed it to calm her as it always did. As for Aemon, she knew if she looked at him, his eyes would be closed. Not yet asleep, but simply relaxed enough to do so. All too soon, however, the time came for them to wish each other goodnight. Something that Rhaenyra hated and loved in equal measure. Their kisses grew ever more true before they parted and her thoughts would turn to the day of their wedding and the night that followed.

'When there'll be no need to say goodnight to each other ever again.'

Sleep came to her easily and she awoke the next morning to the sound of Olene Tyrell singing in her room. Rhaenyra made a jape out of glaring at the girl and even threw her pillow at her at one point. Her moods were well known to her lady-in-waiting, however, and Olene just picked up the pillow and placed it back on her bed. Then with a look of sternness that reminded Rhaenyra of the ones her mother used to aim her way, Olene bid her rise and make ready for the morning.

Annoyingly, it worked as always. Rhaenyra rose and dressed and then made her way to dine with her father, stepmother, half-siblings and her betrothed. The sound of children's laughter for once seemed to be far more welcoming to her than not.

Entering the room, it was to see Aemond and Helaena taking turns feeding Ghost while Aemon looked on happily. Her father wore a true smile on his face while Aegon very much did not. While the one on Alicent's was as practiced as ever. How Aemon knew she'd entered, Rhaenyra would never know. Her betrothed almost seemed to have a sixth sense at times and before she'd even moved to the table, Aemon was up and helping her to her seat.

"Father, your grace." Rhaenyra greeted the king and queen. "Brothers, Sister." she then said to Alicent's children. Though she thought of them as anything but.

"And what of me, don't I deserve to be greeted so?" Aemon asked, doing a passable mummery of feeling left out to Rhaenyra's mind.

"No, you don't." she giggled, as did Helaena and Aemond.

"Your sister is so rude, is she not?"

To her true delight, both her younger half-siblings refused to answer and Aemon simply mumbled about everyone liking her more than they did him. Her father watched their interactions with a fond look on his face while Ser Harrold seemed both amused with their antics and yet for some reason not. The reason for why that was, soon made clear, and how Aemon managed to see the children from the room along with her while dealing with the Lord Commander's collapse at the same time, was something akin to a miracle.

All of them were quickly ushered into another room, only Aemon and Ghost left behind and it took what felt like an age for her betrothed to make his way to them. The look he wore on his face when he did so was not one that boded well and for once Aemon seemed sympathetic to her stepmother as he spoke.

"Your grace, mayhap it's for the best if the children were taken to another room. I have news that may disturb them and…."

"I….I thank you for the consideration, Aemon." Alicent said as servants were called for and with Ser Arryk to act as their guard the children were brought back to their rooms.

Aemon waited until they had left and during that time, Ghost had moved to where she stood. The white wolf allowing her to rub her hands through its soft fur and the feeling of doing so was enough to soothe some of her worries.

"I'm afraid it's not good news, uncle." Aemon began. "Ser Harrold is not long for the world and though he's been made as comfortable as he can, I wager he'll not see the morrow."

"Is there naught that can be done for him, nephew?"

"No, uncle. Other than what we have….no."

"I should go to him, speak to him. The man has served me well and he deserves that at least." her father said shakily. The emotion clearly getting the best of him.

"I believe he'd welcome that, uncle. To be told that he failed you not."

"He has never failed me, Aemon."

"Speak to him, uncle, tell him so. It would please him greatly I believe."

Her father wasted no time in doing so and it left them alone in the room with Alicent. Aemon offered Rhaenyra the comfort of his arms while her stepmother stood there alone and with none to offer her the same. Yet for once Rhaenyra didn't feel the need to gloat or feel superior when it came to the woman. While Aemon it seemed was in no mood to do so either. Only for the words that Alicent said before leaving the room to be enough to make them both wish that they'd done so.

"We'll need a new Lord Commander. There is much to be done." Alicent said as she left the room.

Rhaenyra could see the glaring look Aemon gave her as she did so. Then before she could speak about that look or her stepmother's words, she felt his lips on her own. Soft words were spoken in her ears that she most truly welcomed. As she did the comfort of Aemon's arms as he held her tightly.

Ser Harrold passed that night and to her shock, the new Lord Commander was named moments after he'd done so. Aemon's words that it needed to be done that way were rendered mute by the fact of who it was her father had named in Ser Harrold's stead. At least they were in Aemon's eyes as he liked not Ser Criston Cole and not even now being squired to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would be enough to change that.

Rhaenyra though somewhat welcomed the appointment. Ser Criston was the very best blade amongst the Kingsguard. That it would fall to him to guard her father's back relieved her far more than ever having Ser Harrold do so. The man's age had caught up to him and just like Ser Ryam Redwyne before him, your reputation counted for little when time had worn you down.

The funeral was a large one and Ser Harrold was given all the honors his role afforded him. Though compared to Grand Maester Runciter's it felt lesser to Rhaenyra and she wagered it did so in most people's eyes. Soon though the former Lord Commander was forgotten somewhat. Her father had called her and Aemon to his solar and the words he'd said were enough to turn her thoughts far from death.

"A year, Aems. One more year and then I am yours and you are mine," she said as they lay in her bed.

"I'm already yours, Nyra." Aemon said as he kissed "Now and Always."

King's Landing 112 AC.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

She misliked this city and so was only present at court when it suited her and her House's interests. Each time she came to visit, her eyes would look to the Iron Throne, and once again the unjustness of the world they lived in would be proved true. Though Rhaenys had never wished to be queen or sought it, the Iron Throne was hers by right of law and blood. So she'd never forgiven the realm nor Viserys for stealing it from her.

That he'd then compounded that injustice by refusing her daughter's hand in marriage had only made her hate the man even more. Still, she had work to do, and the funerals of first a Grand Maester and then a Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had required her House to be present. With Corlys busy in Essos, it fell to her and her children to act as House Velaryons' representatives in his stead and Rhaenys wished to make one last attempt to get what she was rightly owed. Hard though that may be to achieve given how Aemon and Rhaenyra both looked at each other.

Rhaenys would not deny they made a striking couple. However, she did think upon seeing Laenor speak to Rhaenyra that they made an even more impressive one. As for Laena, to be matched with the Rogue Prince's son would be most welcome. Not only would they then have control over the three largest dragons, but given the Stepstones, they'd control a kingdom of their own too. To have her children as consorts to a king and queen. One day to have her blood sit on the Iron Throne for true. It may not have been her dream and be more what her husband wished for, but Rhaenys couldn't deny that she and he deserved it. Which was why she'd not raised any objections to what Aemon had done for the Grand Maester's funeral rites. Not that she'd not had any.

"I'd not expected the Grand Maester to be given such a send-off, Mother," Laena said.

"Nor had I, though I believe he and the prince were close."

"Yet to use a dragon, would there not be those who name it as too much?"

"Very much so, daughter."

Though it was not the same as their own, it was far too similar for Rhaenys' liking. Had it been anyone else but Aemon who suggested it, then Rhaenys would have complained directly to Viserys about the message it may send. As it was, she'd held her tongue and had done so too after the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had been given a much poorer send-off. Rhaenys not even raising a question at who had been appointed in Ser Harrold's stead, though she liked Ser Criston not.

She'd come here with a mission and so it was that and only that which filled her thoughts. It was why she embroidered with the princess, queen, and their ladies, though she truly hated embroidery. Why her daughter wasn't present while she did so, Laena told to go and speak to the prince instead. Her daughter was not sent to seduce but to intrigue and given that it would be in the sky that Aemon spent the morning, Laena and Vhagar would serve as good flying companions, or so Rhaenys believed.

Laenor on the other hand would wait to cross paths with the princess when she grew bored with the morning's activities. Rhaenys had come to learn the young woman's routine and should her son accidentally inform the princess that her betrothed and his sister were flying together, then all the better. As for her own task, that unfortunately meant that she and the Lighthouse Keeper's daughter would need to share words.

'The things I do for love.' Rhaenys sighed.

Almost on cue, Rhaenyra's boredom won out and the princess along with her ladies in waiting rose and excused themselves. Rhaenys noticed how despite the protocol demanding that they ask the queen's permission to leave, Rhaenyra never did so. She noticed too how Alicent's brow creased. So she bided her time and waited until the queen brought the activities to an end, before then suggesting they walk together. Hating the intrigued look that the younger woman gave her and yet knowing that it was very much needed.

It took some time for them to be far away from prying ears and for Alicent to get the message that what Rhaenys wished to speak about was for hers only. The queen then quickly sent her ladies away and asked Ser Criston to move a little further from them both. Deciding that subtlety would serve her not with the woman, Rhaenys spoke far more truly than she would normally dare to. Especially when she was basically plotting to break a betrothal and replace it with two.

"They are a striking couple, the young prince and princess, and yet….."

"Yet?" Alicent asked.

"A wasted match."

"It's one my husband is most strongly in favor of, Rhaenys."

Rhaenys tried not to bristle at not being called Princess, another snub that only added to the long list of them that she'd suffered.

"Yet surely there are more advantageous ones are there not? Ones that would serve the realm much better."

"Would that the king would go for such."

"Mayhap with the right incentive, your grace."

"And should those matches come to pass?"

"Then our loyalty would be owed to the one who made it so, would it not?"

She meant it not. Her and Corlys' loyalty would be to their House above all. With Laenor on the Iron Throne serving as Rhaenyra's consort then it would be to the new queen and not the old one that House Velaryon would kneel to. Yet, needs must and with Alicent hopefully on board, it rested now with Laena and Laenor to enchant a prince and princess. Rhaenys in no doubt that her children could manage to do such a thing.

In this, she may have placed too much faith in her children. Or more truly, she misunderstood the depth of feeling between the prince and the princess. Laena was given short shrift by the prince and Laenor fared little better with the princess. Worse than even that, her attempt didn't go unnoticed and so, much to her shock and surprise, she soon received a visitor to her chambers. One that she'd have only expected if her plans were working.

"Prince Aemon?" Rhaenys covered up her surprise as best she could and welcomed the prince into her chambers.

"Princess." Aemon bowed before he and the white wolf she'd seen follow after him like a faithful hound entered her rooms.

She marveled at seeing the wolf up close. A Direwolf south of the Wall was almost unheard of. One in the South for true, certainly was. Offering the prince some refreshments which he turned down, Rhaenys wondered just why he'd come to visit her. Briefly thinking that her plans had worked and that he was here to suggest that he may wish to court her daughter or better yet, to ask for her hand.

"It stops now, Princess," Aemon said, stopping her thoughts from going where they may. "I'm no fool and I blame you not for it, but it stops now."

"Whatever could you mean, my prince?"

"By the gods, you're no fool, woman, don't act as if you are one," Aemon said angrily before composing himself. Rhaenys was more than ready to snap back at him before to her surprise he apologised. "Forgive me, that was uncalled for, Princess."

"Rhaenys, best we use names since we're about to argue," she said, half in jape.

"Rhaenys," Aemon said as he pointed to the seat and waited for her to nod her head before sitting down. "I am my father's son in many ways, Rhaenys. One thing I've learned well from him is that the man who knows little is the man who ends up with a knife in his back."

"A good lesson to learn, Aemon."

"This city…the keep. The Realm itself. Just as Ser Gaven, the queen, you and your husband, and my father, I too have mine own people who tell me things. Yet even without them, I'm not fool enough to know what it is you seek."

"What I seek?" she asked, playing somewhat dumb, and yet the question itself was true enough.

"I love my cousin. With all I am, I am hers and she is mine," Aemon said firmly. "Because I understand your reasoning I am willing to forget what you tried to do. Should you persist I very much won't do so next time."

"Is that a threat, Aemon?" she asked, annoyed.

"I would never presume to be able to threaten you or your House, Rhaenys. So consider it a friendly reminder that I am my father's son." Aemon rose to his feet.

Why she said it, her reasons for it, later when she thought about it she could name them not. Yet the words came from her regardless.

"I had my birthright stolen from me, Aemon. My family's due taken from them."

"Which was wrong and unjust but has naught to do with me or my betrothed," Aemon replied.

Rhaenys thought that was to be the end of it. That Aemon who now moved toward the door, would leave it at that. Instead, he stopped, turned back toward her, and then walked back to where she sat.

"I cannot right the wrongs of the past how you wish them to be righted, Rhaenys. My heart allows me not to. And yet I am not unfeeling or do I not agree that they were wrongs."

"What good are your words, Aemon? Words don't fix anything."

"Some do," Aemon said as he took a seat. "A future child of mine will sit the Iron Throne one day. A king most likely, who'll need a queen will he not?"

"I.."

"Your House and mine own are already allied in the Stepstones, I would be more than happy to see them allied much more closely in the future."

It took no more than a moment for Rhaenys to realize what Aemon was offering. A simple nod of her head was the only agreement made between them for now. Three days later she and her children flew from the city atop their dragon's back. In her pocket, she bore a fuller and truer agreement and yet it was words that Laena said to her that made her time in King's Landing even more worthwhile. Words that had led to a plan forming in her head and one she much needed to speak to her husband about.

"The prince worries about his father, Mother. He thinks him lonely and given his own happiness with his betrothed and the wedding to come, Prince Aemon wishes his father had someone like the princess in his life too."

A prince for her daughter, a child of theirs to one day serve as Queen Consort, it was not what Rhaenys had come in search of, but it was more than enough to leave with.

"More than enough to right the wrongs of the past."

King's Landing 112 AC.

Lyonel Strong.

Unlike the king, Lyonel welcomed not the return of the princess and prince. The joviality that life at court had become was something that he knew was now to be a thing of the past. As once again the silent war of words between the Blacks and the Greens would begin. Still, he was pleased to see both Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aemon were hale and hearty and that they at least seemed to be willing to try a little harder with the queen and her children. So much so that he suggested to the king that he encourage this as much as he was able.

The white wolf helped much in this regard. Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond were much enamored of it and it them and Prince Aemon warmed more to them because of it. Or so Lyonel believed. Yet in Prince Aegon's regard and in the Queen's, little had changed. In truth though it wasn't the princess or prince's return that shattered the relative peacefulness of courtly life. That dubious honor fell to the two deaths that took place not long after Rhaenyra and Aemon's return.

Grand Maester Runciter died as peacefully as a man could and with Prince Aemon by his bedside while Ser Harrold Westerling passed in his sleep with the king by his. Two men who'd served their king and the realm well and who were both honored in death. Though one of them more so in Lyonel's eyes. However, it was not an argument about the funeral rights that he and his king had, instead it was about the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Lyonel liked it not that Ser Criston Cole was named rather than one of the older men.

"Would not one of the twins serve better, your grace? Or Ser Steffon?"

"To name Erryk over Arryk or the one over the other could lead to a rift between them both, Lord Hand, as for Ser Steffon, the knight is far closer to my daughter and nephew than he is to me."

Lyonel had wished to argue further. To name another and had even thought to bring up the knight's closeness with the queen. However in the end he had not. In truth, it would only make the king angered for him to do so and if anything, Cole's closeness to the Queen stood him in good stead. So it had been Ser Criston who was named and other than the looks that the knight received from Prince Aemon and those close to the prince, all had accepted it.

What was less acceptable was the queen once again trying to break a betrothal that the king refused to even countenance. Her words sent the king into a furious mood and Lyonel, though he agreed somewhat with the reasoning, took the king's part when he was asked for his opinion. To break the betrothal would cause far more disruption to the realm than making one with House Velaryon would avoid. Or so he'd told the king when asked.

"Were it for that reason and that alone, then I'd not advise it done, your grace. Prince Aemon brings the Stepstones too as dowry and yet even that is not why I'd counsel you to stay the course your grandmother set."

"What is your reasoning, Lyonel?" the king asked, naming him by name for one of the few times he did so.

"It's clear to any with eyes to see just how true the feelings between the princess and prince are, your grace. To break them apart is to deny them what their hearts clearly wish for. It would require a good and true reason to do such a thing and I know of none."

"Nor do I." the king said resolvedly.

So preparations were begun for a wedding for the ages. Six or mayhap seven moons from now the great and good of the realm would make their way to King's Landing and see Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aemon wed. The future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Something that had once given him pause and which now very much did not. All his reports regarding the Royal Procession having managed to alleviate almost all of Lyonel's concerns.

"Though the Hightowers and Lannisters bristle and could cause issue."

With matters of the realm mostly dealt with, Lyonel now turned to matters of his House. He'd arranged for Larys to be given a role with the Confessors. For Harwin to be named a Captain of the Gold Cloaks. It was time to see at least one of his sons wed and much though he may try, it would be a hard thing to do in the case of his clubfooted son.

That his heir had felt something for the princess was thankfully something that he could put behind him. Lyonel was happy to see that even Harwin had accepted there was no future walking that path. Had he continued to do so then Lyonel worried that he'd be found lying dead in a ditch somewhere. For while Aemon was not his father, the men with him had learned much under the Rogue Prince's tutelage, and Daemon himself was a man who'd see such a thing done.

He was about to send for his son when he was called to a meeting with the King and the Master of Whisperers instead. Lyonel hurried to the Small Council Chambers and arrived to find he was the last to do so. Though it was only the three of them and the Lord Commander who were present.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I was unaware we'd be meeting today."

"There's naught to forgive, Lord Hand. This is not an official meeting, more one I seek your counsel on."

"Whatever help I may be, your grace," he said as he took his seat.

"Ser Gaven if you will." the king said and Lyonel turned to the Master of Whisperers.

For the next almost an hour, Lyonel listened as Ser Gaven spoke of all that Prince Aemon had done since he'd returned. How the young prince had spoken words to some of the worst criminals in the city. Warnings that had been given and acted upon and even a tale of a fool losing a hand in a vain attempt to strike a prince of the realm. The end result was that crime was back down to the level it had been before the Royal Procession and Lyonel could see just how proud the king was of his nephew because of it.

"I intend to name Aemon to his father's old role, Lord Hand. I would ask if you have any objections to such?"

Lyonel thought long and hard, yet he could think of none. More than that, he knew that the king wished for none to be spoken and so he, the king, and the Master of Whisperers were all surprised when one was. Almost as much as they were by the fact that it was the knight that Aemon was squired to that was the one to do so.

"There is no doubt that my squire is a capable man, your grace. Nor that he is surrounded by such. However, something does give me pause." Ser Criston said, to a glare from the king and a loud sigh from the Master of Whisperers. Lyonel keeping his own feelings on the matter to himself for now.

"What gives you pause, Lord Commander?" Lyonel asked when the king would not.

"Crime is down and yet not completely, Lord Hand. As it was when the Prince and the Princess left on their travels. If Prince Aemon is able to do such with simply a word, then why is it not completely eradicated? How is my squire able to speak to criminals so freely and get them to adhere to his will, yet not bring those criminals to justice?"

Lyonel looked to the knight and was stunned to find that there was merit in his words. As too it seemed did the king who now wore a more contemplative look on his face. Again it was the Master of Whisperers who spoke and explained why it was impossible for crime to simply be stopped completely.

"Crime will take place, your grace. To try and end it all is akin to standing by the sea and telling the tides not to come in." Ser Gaven said to a chuckle from the king. "Only a fool would do such a thing, Lord Commander, and Prince Aemon is far from a fool."

"I understand you not, Ser Gaven." Ser Criston said, somewhat angrily.

"I believe what my Master of Whisperers is telling us is that it's far better to limit crime and control it than it is to dare try and end it. That just as we accept we have no control over the sea, we learn how to sail and navigate its waters all the same."

"Prince Aemon will be most pleased to be named a sailor, your grace." Ser Gaven said to a true and full laugh from the king.

"That he will. Ser Gaven, Lord Hand, you agree with my choice for new Commander of the Gold Cloaks?"

"Wholeheartedly, your grace," Lyonel said as Ser Gaven said similarly.

"Lord Commander?"

"I agree, your grace."

"Then it's settled. On his Nameday, Prince Aemon will be named Commander of the Gold Cloaks. Ser Gaven, Lord Hand…."

Lyonel watched as the King and the Lord Commander left the rooms, Ser Gaven rising and wearing a smile on his face as he did so. He wondered if the Master of Whisperers was firmly in Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenyra's court now. Was the man a Black when he'd once have named him a Green? Or was it simply that as he'd said, only a fool tries to control the tide and the city would be best served if it wasn't a fool in charge of the Gold Cloaks? Regardless of whichever it was, there would be those who liked it not that Prince Aemon was given a role of such importance. Ravens were soon to be sent to Oldtown, Lyonel would wager. Shaking his head and clearing them of matters that for now were of little import, Lyonel turned his attention back to those that were.

"A wife for a son, I have much to do."

King's Landing 112 AC.

Aemon.

As he rose from his bed and threw water on his face, Aemon's thoughts were on days gone by and not the one ahead of him. Dressing far more hurriedly than was his norm, he found himself pondering on how much if anything he and Rhaenyra had achieved during their travels. Their time away had been something Aemon had very much enjoyed, especially the freedom it offered him and Rhaenyra. While their lives were far from confining, there were things expected of them that presented themselves differently in King's Landing than they had during the Royal Procession. Then they had almost been master and mistress of their own fate, while once they arrived back in the city, they once again were very much not. Not yet at least.

Aemon had welcomed seeing the different lands they'd passed through and meeting the different Lords, Ladies, Knights, Guardsmen, and Servants that they'd encountered on their travels. As he had when he and Rhaenyra had spoken to the Small Folk be it in the Reach of the Vale, Riverlands, or Stormlands, and even more so the North. The two of them took the opportunity they'd been presented with and used it to find out what those they'd one day rule over wished for more than anything else.

Be that a match that some Lord or Lady wished for their son or daughter. Advancement that was wished for a favored child that may include a place at court. Or more simply, for lower taxes, more food, and opportunities which was what the Small Folk truly desired. Aemon was now even more keenly aware, not that he'd not always been so, of just how simple the desires of those who had little to their name truly were.

For his and Rhaenyra's own part, the Royal Procession served an invaluable purpose. It allowed the realm to see their future queen and king, and to get to know them as much as their short time with them would allow. In time, Aemon believed that it would serve them well and earn them favor with most of those they'd met and even those who'd simply seen them up close. That it had been used just as much by Aemon to solidify and grow the level of support to ensure that the Stepstones thrived and remained in Targaryen hands, well he was his father's son and so that was more than simply an added little bonus to their travels. Not that even that could measure up to spending time in the North, in Winterfell, to being with the other side of his blood, and finally seeing his mother's final resting place.

"Far later than I would have wished and a place I vow to visit much in the future" Aemon promised himself.

They were back now, however, and that meant they had things to do and duties to attend to. The first of those on Aemon's part was to see the city put back to right. Crime had risen far too much for Aemon's liking during their time away from King's Landing and messages needed to be sent to let the criminals know that he'd not accept such. Something he and the Young Wolves had done at their first opportunity and which had cost a man his hand in the process. Aemon turned to look at the white wolf who'd taken his own judgment on the fool who'd dared attempt to strike a Prince of the Realm.

"Shall we make ready for our day, Ghost?" he asked, kneeling down to rub his hand through the pristine white fur. The white wolf's red eyes staring deep into Aemon's gray ones and looking at him almost as if he knew every thought that Aemon possessed.

Almost immediately Ghost rose to his feet and Aemon chuckled as he felt the white wolf nip gently on his now-gloved hand. It was a game that he and the young Direwolf had come to enjoy and one that for some reason stirred up odd images when they played it. A shiver went through Aemon as he could almost picture the giant wall of ice and the lands that could only lay beyond it. Shaking the thought out of his head for now, he and Ghost left the room and with a nod to Donnel Locke, who was serving as his guard, they made their way to break their fast.

"You've eaten, Donnel?" Aemon asked as they walked. The Northman simply offering him a smile and nod of his head as a way of reply.

Entering the family dining room, Aemon sighed to see it was only Alicent and her children who were present. Rhaenyra either had slept in or she and his uncle were already at a Small Council meeting. Though if that was true, then either Aemon had awoken much later than he'd wished to, or there was something far more pressing going on that he was unaware of. Aemon considered turning and walking from the room and would have done so if not for the sound of his cousins' happy voices at seeing Ghost's arrival.

"Here Ghost, I have bacon for you," Helaena said, sounding very much the young girl she truly was. Aemond quickly joined in with his sister's feeding of the white wolf as Aemon then took his seat.

"You'll spoil him, cousin," Aemon said jokingly as he was handed a plate by one of the servants, his own piece of bacon hurriedly being eaten as he knew the white wolf would look his way once his cousin's own had run out.

"He's so fluffy, cousin, he should be spoiled," Helaena replied. Aemon shook his head fondly as she and her brother continued to feed the white wolf and Ghost alternated between whichever one of them had a new delight in their hands for him to savor.

It was a strange and somewhat confusing development. How because of the white wolf, Aemon looked at his two cousins and saw them as only that. Yet when he looked to Aegon, he saw him only as his mother's son, his grandfather's grandson. That the white wolf paid Aegon no mind and Aegon in turn scowled each time he saw Ghost, may have been the reason for that. As while Ghost was as friendly with his younger cousins as he was with Aemon or Rhaenyra, with his older cousin it seemed he'd earned only the white wolf's disfavor.

"You're late this morn, Aemon. Your uncle and your betrothed both commented on it." Alicent said taking Aemon's attention from the games his cousins and Ghost were now playing. Aemon then took a moment to try and discern if there was some slight or not-so-small rebuke in Alicent's words.

"I'm still finding the adjustment back to mine own bed to be a difficult one, your grace."

The lie was spoken far too easily. Aemon wondered why he'd even bothered to as there was truly no need and it wasn't as if Alicent Hightower actually cared for his answer. Still, he liked the woman not, and no matter how simple it was to tell the truth or how petty lying to her made him, Aemon cared not. That it was the one and only thing she said to him before she left the room with her children, well that was most acceptable to Aemon too.

Though his reluctance to leave and head to his own duties for the day had nothing to do with the Lighthouse Keeper's Daughter and more to do with the knight he was still squired to. Criston Cole may have been appointed as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, yet to Aemon's mind it was a post he was ill-suited and ill-fitted for. Not that it made any difference to his day and so for the next few hours, he stood by Cole's side and did the man's bidding. Irksome that he found it to do so.

By mid-afternoon, he was almost begging for the chance to be atop Vermithor's back and when the time came for him to do just that, it was to find out he'd be flying alone. Rhaenyra and her father had things to discuss that Aemon was not privy to and so his betrothed begged off their daily flight and would instead join him on a nightly one. Aemon trying his very best not to imagine some of the things they may get up after they'd done so and smiling to himself as he remembered a small hut in the North.

"Yes, you can come with," he said to shakes from his men's' heads as Ghost wagged his tail and joined him as he climbed up Vermithor's wing.

The flight itself was not one spent as alone as he feared. Silverwing joining them and so Aemon and Vermithor then flew further and for longer than he'd intended. Later, much to his annoyance and no doubt Rhaenyra's own, he had needed to cancel their nighttime flight. His uncle had made it clear that he wished to speak to him after their nightly meal and Rhaenyra despite how much she enjoyed being on Syrax's back, did not like to fly without him. So while he made his way to the King's Chambers, Rhaenyra just visited the Dragonpit and spoke to her dragon rather than fly with her.

A nod to Ser Erryk and Aemon and Ghost were both allowed in to speak with the king. The knight looked to the white wolf and yet knew better than to try and deny him leave to join Aemon inside. Both Aemon and to his surprise, his uncle, having made it clear to the Kingsguard on more than one occasion that where he went, so too did Ghost. Upon entering the room it was to find his uncle playing with his model of Valyria and Aemon reluctantly joined and offered his assistance. Knowing full well that it would be this way that would lead to him being told what he was there for more quickly than not.

"It's coming along well, uncle."

"That it is, nephew. Though I wonder what I'll do to amuse myself once it's finally done."

"Mayhap one of King's Landing, uncle, or Dragonstone."

"Mayhap nephew, mayhap. Now, why I sought your presence tonight, I imagine you and my daughter had your own plans that I've somewhat spoiled, I beg your forgiveness for that."

"There's naught to forgive, uncle." 'Not for that at least'

Aemon took a seat when his uncle did, the two of them sitting in silence for what felt like an age but was only moments.

"You've spoken to the new Grand Maester, Aemon?"

"A little, uncle," Aemon said non-committedly. He'd already found the man to be wanting and decided that Mellos was a poor substitute for Runciter.

"I know it's hard to embrace change." his uncle sighed. "Yet it's something we must all do and is part of why I asked you here tonight."

Aemon looked on as his uncle sat up straighter in his seat. A piece of parchment soon being handed to him which Aemon read quickly and almost disbelievingly.

"I would name you Commander of the Gold Cloaks, nephew. I feel no man is more suited to the role and that despite your young age, you have the maturity to handle the responsibility. What say you?"

Rising to his feet, Aemon quickly took a knee. It was not something he'd done much if ever when it came to his uncle, but he felt that it would be much appreciated now. Given the look on his uncle's face, it most certainly was.

"You honor me greatly, your grace. I will do all that I'm able to ensure that I live up to the faith you've put in me."

"Arise, nephew, and know that my faith in you is undimmed and ever-growing." his uncle said happily.

They spoke then for an hour or more. Aemon found out just how much control over the Gold Cloaks he had and that he'd need to attend some meetings of the Small Council or report to the Master of Laws on occasion. Both of which he had no real issue with. Making his way from the King's Chambers later, he almost wished to call the Young Wolves together and tell them his news, instead, he hurriedly made his way to the tunnels and to Rhaenyra's rooms to share it with the person most important to him.

"Does this mean I'll see you less?" Rhaenyra asked annoyed.

"No. Nyra, you know I'll make as much time for you as ever I have."

"Good, though I like not the idea of you in a golden cloak." her nose crinkled which showed her disgust at the image.

"Father always looked dashing in his own or so I remember a certain person telling me."

"You look better in black, Aemon Targaryen, as well you know."

"It was always my color," he said before kissing her softly and ending all talk of new roles and the clothing they may require.

As was always the way with their explorations of each other, it stopped before going too far. Aemon refused to take the final step until they were married and since that night was not that far away, Rhaenyra agreed, frustrated though it made her to do so. So after saying his goodnights, and making his way back through the tunnels, he and Ghost soon reached his rooms and Aemon almost collapsed into bed. Only the need to write his father a letter stopping him from sleeping fully dressed. Once he'd done so, he took his clothing off and was soon under the covers. Ghost resting on the bottom of the bed and sleeping soundly before Aemon's eyes had closed.

It stretched on for miles and miles. Open lands that were covered in snow and seemed untouched by the presence of people. Yet they were there if you knew where to look. Hiding in the few trees that led to the beginning of the large forest. More hidden in the true safety that the forest itself offered, he'd wager. While others lay atop the snow and moved now so as to not reveal their locations.

Were it not for the white wolf by his side, then the man would think himself alone. Yet through their bond, he was well able to tell he was not. As he was that it was curiosity and not malice that had brought these people out to look his way.

Wild and free, a concept unknown to a man who lived by honor and duty. A glimpse at a world that seemed so very appealing and yet he knew that it would only ever be a glimpse at that world that he would ever know. Not even a woman kissed by fire would be enough to sway him from what must be done. Oaths sworn and promises made to people who deserved them not would instead be what he kept to.

Darkness, pain, blood, he knew all three, and yet as he lay dying in the snow, only one thought filled his mind. A little sister as wild and free as the people he'd tried to save. The hope that in doing the one, somewhere in this cruel and unforgiving world, another was doing the same to the girl he loved with all his heart. Arya. A name that conjured up memories of far better days. Yet it was not that name he spoke as he breathed his last.

"Ghost."

Aemon woke and almost fell from the bed in his haste to make sure he wasn't lying on the cold ground of his dreams. His hands moved over his body as he searched for and thankfully found not the wounds he'd believed he'd suffered. The next few moments were spent lighting every candle in his chambers as he bid to fight off the terrors of the night. Darkness was something that for once he feared and it took him some time to fight that fear away.

Feeling that he was coming back to himself, he looked to see the white wolf too had awakened. Ghost looked at him and did so in such a way that Aemon believed the wolf knew exactly what he'd just been dreaming of. The madness of that was not something he wished to ponder too much on until the day broke and yet it was not something he could easily forget or ignore until then. So he dressed and together with Ghost, though not with a guard since he'd told them that he'd not be leaving his rooms for the rest of the night, Aemon made his way to the library for some unknown reason.

For the next hour, he read through books that he knew not why he'd picked them. The room was illuminated brightly by the many candles he'd lit and it was only because of this that the voice when it called out his name, wasn't answered with a swing of his sword or a dagger into the neck. Aemon was still as much on edge as he was when he'd awoken and Mushroom was lucky to only face a glare and harsh words when he made his presence known.

"Forgive me, my prince."

"I forgive you not, dwarf." Aemon snapped, to no reply nor acknowledgment that he'd done so. Mushroom simply took a seat and offered Aemon some of the wine he'd brought with him.

Aemon drank it down quickly and welcomed the second glass. Wine was not something he usually imbibed but the feel of it was welcome on his tongue and soothed his dry throat.

"Direwolves haven't been seen south of the Wall in an age, my prince." Mushroom began. "Wargs even longer than that."

"Wargs?"

"Your wolf dreams."

"My wolf doesn't dream," Aemon said confused.

"No, my prince. "Your, Wolf Dreams," Mushroom said emphasizing each of the words and Aemon looked at the dwarf and bid him continue. "The bond must be forged, my prince. Despite the worrisome nature of what you may encounter or see before you do so. The bond must be formed."

"Bond?"

"You and he are bonded, my prince. As you and your dragon are, but not the same. Old Magic and not Fire Magic, my prince."

He had a thousand questions, more than a thousand, mayhaps. Yet Mushroom simply rose and moved to walk away. The dwarf then stopped and turned to look back at him for a moment. His words were confusing and yet not at the same time.

"The night is dark and full of terrors, but you are the Lightbringer and all shall find safety in your light."

It had been something that Mushroom had said to him before. Among the many cryptic things that came from the dwarf's mouth from time to time. Yet he had been warned by him once before and it had saved him from harm and so it was that and only that which allowed him to accept that this may be another warning of sorts.

Looking at Ghost, Aemon found those red eyes were now looking even more deeply into his own. Reaching out, he closed his eyes and rubbed his hands through the white wolf's fur. A feeling of peace and certainty soon came over him and Aemon welcomed both equally. The smell, however, he very much did not and the shattering of that peace and contentment was something that took him much by surprise.

Walking back to his rooms, eager and yet not for his bed, Aemon was shocked when he smelt that very same smell again. This time lesser and yet for some reason he knew it was not because the reason for it was further away. A look at his wolf showed that Ghost seemed happy that Aemon realized this somewhat. Briefly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the smell becoming ever stronger when he did so and though he knew not how he was certain of it, it emanated from Aemon's own chambers.

They came at him as soon as the door was opened. A swing of a sword that would have ended him had he walked through instead of waiting outside. The assassins' blades found naught but air and then Aemon's own sword very much did not. Soft flesh was no match for castle forged steel and the first man was dead almost immediately, the second taking much longer and needing a far truer fight to bring about his end. While the third required help from the white wolf to see to his own. Ghost playing his part as the bite he took from the man's leg was enough to give Aemon time to block the blow he'd aimed in his direction.

"What in the Seven Hells."

"Call out the guards."

"Protect the king."

Voices outside his room shouted out loudly as the sounds of the fighting raised the alarms. The Kingsguard saw to the King, Queen, princess, and princes while Aemon's own men and Ser Steffon would see to Rhaenyra's safety. Not that any of them were the assassins' targets and even the danger Aemon himself faced was becoming lesser with each passing moment.

"Īlē naejot sagon ēdrure!" (You were to be sleeping!) the last assassin called out, Aemon turning and dodging the small knife that had been thrown at him.

"Ñuha laesi sir ūndegon mirre." (My eyes now see all.) Aemon replied using truer Valyrian than the bastard version that the assassin spoke.

A side step as a dagger tried to close his eyes for good was followed not by the trust or even a slash of Aemon's sword, instead, it was the hilt being used to take the man down and keep him alive in doing so. There were many questions that Aemon wished the answers to and yet one he was certain of already. Ghost showed him the ropes and the gag that would have been used on him should they have found him as asleep as they'd believed him to be.

"My prince…." Ser Daeron said worriedly and Aemon shook his head and quickly told the knight that the blood he was covered in was not his own.

"Him, take him far from here and find out all the truths from him you can," Aemon said pointing to the unconscious man on his floor. An argument then took place as Ser Arryk and Lord Lyonel Strong both arrived at his door.

It was one he had no wish to engage in, not at that moment, and so it was one he very much did not. Aemon instead simply said that he'd speak to the Hand and everyone else once he cleaned himself up some. Neither man listened to him until he spoke of how it may disturb his betrothed to see him in such a state.

While Ser Daeron had men of the Young Wolves see to the bodies and to the one remaining assassin, the knight himself refused to be among the men who did so. He, Mychel Waters, Donnel Locke, and even Rickard Snow, all now joining Ghost and some guards his uncle had sent to act as his protectors. Whispering the words of who he believed had sent the assassins for him and what their true goal had most likely been, Aemon made the knight promise he'd not send word to his father before they'd spoken some more. Only once he'd done so did he make his way to join his uncle, the Hand, and to no one's surprise, Rhaenyra, who'd refused to be left out of the meeting that was to take place.

"Aems, thank the gods," Rhaenyra said hugging him tightly once he entered the room.

"I'm well, unharmed, I promise," he said softly, feeling her shiver against him.

"You are truly well, nephew, should not the Grand Maester take a look to be certain?" his uncle's worry clear in his tone.

"I am unharmed, your grace, truly."

"These men, my prince, from what we can ascertain it was just you they attacked, can this be so?" the Hand asked. Aemon hated that he needed to answer as he knew that it would worry Rhaenyra even more to hear it and yet, answer he did.

"They did, Lord Hand. Though I can't be completely certain until the man I left alive speaks, I believe they were men sent by the Triarchy and murder was not their true goal here today."

A sob, a further shiver, and Aemon's arms once again going around Rhaenyra and pulling her tightly to him. Words whispered in her ear that promised those who'd dare to do so would pay for what they'd attempted. Promises that Aemon would take even more precautions with his safety in the days, weeks, and moons to come. Only that he'd uttered each of those things and done so with much conviction being enough to calm his betrothed's worries for now. Truer words would need to be spoken when they were alone and Aemon knew that he'd not be getting any sleep in the few hours until morning came, not now.

"You are certain of this, nephew?" his uncle asked angrily and Aemon nodded he was, before then stopping the proclamation that his uncle may have been about to make.

"It shall be answered, your grace. These actions shall have consequences and yet I'd ask for time and calmer heads to be those that decide them. Mine own most of all, uncle." he said, hoping the naming of him so would be enough to stop the king from doing as kings were wont to do.

It turned out that it was and after assuring the Hand and the King that he faced no more danger to his person and that steps had been taken already to see that so, Aemon asked for and was given permission to see Rhaenyra to her bed. As he'd expected, it took many more words before she slept and unlike other times when he'd brought her to her chambers, he left her not once he'd done so.

At the breaking of their fast the next morning, even Alicent asked if he was truly unharmed, and Aemon for once answered her as if she truly cared about his well-being. It was when he went to do his daily duties that things took a surprising turn. Aemon, instead was asked to join Ser Criston in the Throne Room and was somewhat shocked by just how many people were already there. As he was by the beaming smile that Rhaenyra wore on her face when she saw him enter.

"My lords, my ladies, Good Sers. It is with great joy that I welcome you all here today to share this moment with us. Nephew, step forward." his uncle called out, Aemon doing as he was bid. "A knee nephew, if you will, Ser Criston…."

Though he wore a look on his face that made him look happy to all who saw it, Aemon knew the truth of that look and that Ser Criston liked this not. Whatever was to happen was not something that the knight wished to be a part of and yet, orders had obviously been given. Yet soon enough it was the words that his uncle spoke that took Aemon's attention and he almost cringed at them. Almost.

"Last night some men dared attack a prince of the blood. They sought to bring about my nephew's end and yet they found not a green boy who hid from such dangers. Not a prince who sought his guards to do as he himself could not, but a man not to be trifled with. A man who has much earned the honor which we now bestow upon him."

Aemon looked on as Cole took out his sword and placed it on one and then the other of Aemon's shoulders.

"In the Name of the Warrior I charge you to be just…"

Cole's words were lost to him. The expressions on the faces in the Throne Room all blended into one and it was only later when he spoke to Ser Daeron and the rest of the Young Wolves, that he would find out whether those there were pleased or not by what they saw. His uncle's pride, his cousin's joy, or two of them at least, none of it was noticed by him. Not even Ghost's small snarl at Cole holding his sword so close to Aemon's head was something he was aware of. Had it not been for the look on Rhaenyra's face and the happy tear she shed, then Aemon may have been aware of all those other things. Yet it was because of that look and that look alone that he cared not for them. Nor for the fact that his uncle had spoken of an attack that he really shouldn't have.

"Arise, Prince Aemon a true knight of the realm," Cole called out and people applauded and cheered. Aemon rose to his feet and he looked only at the woman he loved. Her pride, her joy, her happiness in his achievement was worth far more than all the words, smiles, or proud words true and not that anyone else could ever aim his way.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up next: Daemon rages at what the Triarchs tried to do and only a wedding stops him from burning Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys to the ground. In Oldtown Otto fumes as events in King's Landing continue without his involvement while the great and good of the realm come to see a prince and princess marry. Aemon and Rhaenyra spend their first night together as man and wife and are gifted their own keep by the King. While Alicent grows ever closer to the only other person who is less enamored by the wedding than she is.

For those following my other fics, My Name is Daemon, Winter King and Last Wolf are next to be updated.

Orhtankg: So glad you liked it.

Thirdcabinboy: Really glad you enjoyed it.

TehStorm: You're spot on, just Aemon's presence alone is a huge change as a lot of the issues that Daemon himself caused are much lesser ones here as well as Rhaenyra being almost a different person because of her relationship with Aemon. I do have plans to make things interesting but in truth, when it came to dragons alone, the Blacks pretty much had it won. I mean it was tactics more than anything that gave the greens a chance. Otto won't go quietly into the good night, nor will Alicent however, and as I said I have worked things out to hopefully make it fun.

The Last Northumbrian. So glad you're liking it, it's not a full fix-it such as Dragonverse will be more that when it comes to the book on the dance, here it's more a different course that I'm aiming for. I've weighted things far more to the black side as I believe Aemon's presence would allow for that. But Otto will make moves too and may already have been making them.

CEW: Ghost will have some detractors yes, though few will speak the words given Aemon's growing reputation and who his father is. Aemon seeing his mother's tomb is a huge moment for him as is meeting his northern kin and though it's not addressed here, the fact that Cregan was given the other Direwolf has meaning too.

I think Rhaenys never did and I hope I showed it here, her attempt was more subtle than Corlys' and it's also to set things up for later as you can see in the end part of her POV. I intend to show some of Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Baelon too when we get nearer the beginnings of the dance. Both Aemon and Rhaenyra will think back on lessons given and moments spent in their company. Aemma too when Rhaenyra is with child.

So if you see the timeline, Harwin/Lyonel is much later on, I think they were around 120 AC ish, but that's canon and not necessarily what may happen here. Harwin was only Captain of the Gold Cloaks, never commander as far as I'm aware. So he's that here too, we'll see some fun interactions between him and Aemon over the next few chapters. With the deaths I went with the two canon ones as they were both natural causes pretty much, Runciter and Ser Harrold both simply died in the same year and I wanted to show how they both affect Aemon in some way. Mysaria is with Daemon at the moment but she may end up working for Aemon at some point. As of now, Ser Daeron is working as both Aemon's MOW and Head of his guards. We'll be getting some cool backstories for him over the next few chapters.

Celexys: I still feel that Jon without Ghost isn't Jon, and Ghost has a big part to play in what's to come. A major role in a big event.

Dunk: Yeah I felt we needed our white-furred friend here, he will help open Aemon's third eye and as you see he's already having Wolf Dreams, as to why, well that will be explained as we go. I won't be going too much Behind the Wall here, however, there is plenty enough to deal with in the South without going that far north. That was exactly it with the travels through the realm. Aemon used it both for people to see him and Rhaenyra and to strengthen his father and his own position. It always struck me as odd that the Tyrells didn't have more issues with the Hightowers. That they didn't worry that they may get replaced by them. I mean, Aemond or Daeron could have been put in their place without any real issue when you think about it. So to have Aemon point it out and to then use that to bring them closer almost seemed like a given to me. As for Borros and the Baratheons, they're gaining from their alliance with Aemon now, informal though it is, we'll see if that's enough to sway them when the time comes.

Supremus: So glad you liked it.

Alberto: Me too, I hope to do it justice.

OO=Night Eyes-00: So happy you enjoyed it.

Xan-Merrick: He very much is, my friend. It's like he's an impostor or something.

Guest: So happy you liked it.

Anarra: Really glad you enjoyed it.

Lady Octarina: It's one of my many peeves about the HOTD TV show. They portray Daemon as an uncaring father when he's anything but. I think they get the line wrong between how a child may think they disappointed their father, such as having him practically ignore Rhaena. For me, a better way to show it would have been having Rhaena believe she was lesser in her father's eyes, yet that being far from the truth as it really was. They make him uncaring toward Laena too when by all accounts he loved her as much as Daemon ever could love anyone other than himself.

Here with Aemon, he has a son and heir and to my mind, he'd be a little Robert Baratheon-like. I mean Robert actually did ignore his children, but can you imagine if he had a son to be proud of, a future warrior. Robert would be all over him like he was his favorite bed companion LOL. So for Daemon he's just the same with Aemon and welcomes the fact that he has a living breathing piece of Lyanna still with him.

I think Rhaegar was a decent father or could have been. However, I can also see him going how a lot of fics have him in regard to Jon should he have lived and raised Jon in court. Ned for all his faults, could never have been called a bad father in most regards. I mean we can argue he didn't prepare his children right and Jon not being his son was never treated how he treated his sons. I mean it may be a small thing to some but he never called Jon his son, ever as far as I'm aware. Instead telling the half-truth that he was his blood. But, in terms of loving his children and giving them almost all they wanted or needed, Ned is right up there. As for the Targs, it's the curse of their house that so many of the fathers were poor ones. As it is that so many of the daughters of said House were who suffered most.