Winterfell 301 AC.
Robb Stark.
His cousin was unmatched with a sword in hand. He, some of the other heirs, some of the lords, and Aemon's own men challenged him and none came even close. Other than Ser Arthur Dayne, he doubted there was any who could and the famed knight never once faced Aemon in order for him to find out. At first, it put him out a little, made him feel lesser than, which considering that his cousin was a Dragonrider and king of five kingdoms, he probably was. Seeing others be so firmly and completely beaten allowed for those feelings to dissipate a little.
As did hearing people mention the word "Dragonknight". Robb knew not what it meant to be one, but it seemed that it was a rare thing even among the Targaryens. Aemon was one of only seven in their history and though he knew little of the Targaryen Empire, even he'd heard one or two of the names who'd come before him. Other than his prowess with a sword, his cousin had a presence about him. An arrogance almost that both annoyed and intrigued him at the same time. Robb knew he possessed a little of the same arrogance, his uncle Brandon certainly had, Aemon though had it in spades. It should have made him dislike him and yet he found he did not. Not even the knowledge that it was because of Aemon that he'd no longer be a king had made him hate his cousin.
When it came to his cousin's wife and aunt, rarely had he seen two women as different in appearance and yet still clearly kin, other than his own sisters that was. Rhaenys was dark-haired and tanned, her dark purple eyes were striking, though not as much as the violet ones of Daenerys. Aemon's aunt had the silver hair and the soft features that his mother had named to be Targaryen Traits. While Rhaenys, and Aemon himself, had taken much from their non-Targaryen mothers it seemed. Both women had clearly grown up in the court of the Targaryen Empire and yet they were not silly fluttering ladies of the sort the North said the South was full of. In a way, they reminded him of his mother, just at ease sitting at the high table or walking in the courtyards of Winterfell. They'd made a true impression on Sansa too. His sister sought their company out each and every day while Arya would seek Aemon out more often than not.
Those who come with them were a strange bunch, to say the least. Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy were members of the newly formed Kingsguard. Yet it was the man who he'd found out was an Unsullied from Astapor that was Aemon's shadow. Torgho Nudho he'd heard him named and had been glad it was Rickon and not he that had asked what the name meant, "Grey Worm" was the reply and it was not one that any of them had expected. Nor was the answer they got when they asked why he was named that and why he'd not chosen to change it when given the option. The first of those being because of the Wise Masters of Astapor, the second being something that had endeared the man to all who'd heard it.
"It was my name when Empress Lyanna freed me." Torgho Nudho had said to a proud smile from not just his father but Aemon too.
Three days they'd been here and not once had he heard a complaint about the cold or had they looked down at anything they were offered. If anything, it seemed that Aemon's own joy at being in the home of his mother had rubbed off on his wife, aunt, and their men. Robb had not been the only one who'd caught his cousin stare at some part of Winterfell, either inside or out, with a look on his face that said he was taking it all in and searing it into his memory. Never more so was this true than when he was shown to the Godswood and stood before the Weirwood for the first time.
"I had not….my mother would tell me of it and I'd not dared to imagine just how…"
"Aems," Rhaenys said softly as she moved to take his arm in hers.
"It's beautiful, just as she said it would be. I…."
None of them had expected such an emotional response and when his father had asked Aemon if he wished to pray, they'd been surprised when he refused. Though whatever words his father spoke in Aemon's ear soon changed his mind and then he looked on as his cousin knelt and offered a prayer to the Old Gods. Later when he asked his father what he'd said, he'd been told that he had simply spoken about Aemon's mother. That he'd told Aemon that she was with the Old Gods now and that if he wished to speak to her, this was the one place where she'd be sure to listen.
It had changed things even more between the two sides of their family he believed. Aemon to them felt more like kin now that he'd seen their way of life and had not seemed to think them lesser because of it. He'd not looked down on their gods the way those in the South would, and if anything he'd embraced them a little. Enough to pray in front of the Weirwood more than once. Though mayhap he was simply taking the chance to speak to his mother as Robb's father believed.
Today they were to ride in the Wolfswood. Aemon wished to visit the dragons and to explore the lands around them while Robb found himself keen for a hunt of sorts. It would not be a true one, not given who was riding with them, but he still hoped to catch a deer or an elk for the table that night. After breaking his fast and dressing for the ride, he made his way to the courtyard to find the preparations underway. His father wouldn't be joining them nor would his uncle Benjen, but his cousin Torrhen would. As would both his sisters, Bran, Rickon, his cousin Lyanna who Aemon had taken a shine to based on her name alone, and their guards. Robb was sure there had never been such a riding party assembled in the history of the North before.
"Can we touch the dragons, cousin?" Lyanna asked as she was helped up onto her horse by Aemon himself.
"Touch, you should ask for us to fly on them, Lya." Arya said cheekily.
"Mayhap if you two behave yourself then I'll see how Gaelithox is feeling." Aemon said before leaning in so he could whisper to them both, Robb close enough so he heard the words "Though if you truly seek to fly then it's my wife and aunt you should make your requests too, they'll find it much harder to deny you than Gaelithox and I." Aemon's smile and look to the two women in question probably proving his words to be true.
Robb chuckled as he watched both girls move their horses closer to Rhaenys and Daenerys and he looked back to see his cousin was wearing the exact same smile as he. Aemon was jesting, but not truly, and he wondered if he'd get to see his sister and cousin on a dragon's back before the day was done. They rode slowly, enjoying the warmth of the day and the feel of a nice soft breeze. How long they'd been riding when it happened, he knew not, Aemon suddenly was sitting still on his horse and the conversation they were having had just stopped.
"My prince?" Torgho Nudho asked and Aemon hushed him with a look.
"Your grace?" Ser Arthur's voice was worried and yet once again Aemon bid him quiet.
"The horses need to be calmed, I'd ask us all to dismount," Aemon said after a few moments of silence.
"Is there danger?" Torrhen asked reaching for his sword.
"Is it the dragons?" Bran asked worriedly.
"No, this is something else, something different and we're in no danger here," Aemon said as he climbed down off his horse and moved to the front of their group.
He heard Rhaenys cry out only for Aemon to move his hand behind his back and motion that he was safe and well. His cousin moved slowly and seemed to be waiting for something, yet at no point did he make a move to his sword or seem worried and Robb began to wonder just exactly what the hell was going on. It turned out he didn't need wonder for long and when he saw it. He, his cousin Torrhen, all of those with him stared in shock as the wolf pack moved and then surrounded his cousin.
"Be at peace, Torgho Nudho, I'm in no danger here," Aemon said as Robb looked to the two knights and then his own guards to see they were not so easily calmed.
"Are they Direwolves?" one of his guards asked almost in disbelief.
"A pack of them, I've never…I would never…" he heard another say.
He looked on as a large white wolf with fur as pristine as untouched snow and eyes that were blood red moved closer to his cousin. Then he and the rest of those with them held their breath when Aemon brushed his hand over that white fur. The white wolf was soon joined by seven, eight, or even more wolves and then he heard the howl, as an even larger grey and a black wolf were seen off in the distance. Where once there had been a pack of mayhap twenty of more Direwolves, now the only ones in sight were the ones near his cousin. Looking on as Aemon knelt and the white wolf leaned into him as if he was his, Robb asked himself only one question.
"Who owns the rest of them?" he said under his breath.
Sunspear 301 AC.
Tyrion.
He'd paid the tribute to the Dothraki, had set things in motion with them and with the assassin that Petyr Baelish had recommended. Then he'd readied to go home and had been happy to do so. It was however not Casterly Rock that was to be his destination and as soon as he read the message, he knew his father's plans. They were as ambitious as ever and as dangerous as he feared they may be. To lay down with snakes was to invite yourself to get bitten. Given these particular snakes, that was mayhap even more true.
Still, he did as he was bid and soon found himself sailing to Dorne. Truth be told he was looking forward to seeing the lands for himself. His curiosity about them was as it was with every place he'd never visited, ever unquenched. Even the Martells themselves intrigued him, and none more so than the famed Red Viper of Dorne, Oberyn Martell. With luck, he may see Jaime and the prince cross blades, though given how the Red Viper got his name, he'd not be surprised if his father refused Jaime leave to do so. As for the news he bore about the tasks he'd been set. Tyrion believed his father would be most pleased with what his coin had bought, most pleased indeed.
The actual journey took no time at all. They'd been blessed with fair weather and decent winds and when he saw the Dornish coastline, he felt his excitement begin to rise, as did his curiosity. He wondered which of his nieces or nephews was being sold off in a marriage contract. Tyrion then prayed to the gods that it wasn't Joffrey. Given how important this alliance was, the last thing they needed was for his sadistic and cruel nephew to ruin it all by laying hands on a daughter of House Martell. Even were that daughter to be his wife.
There was no one to welcome him to Dorne when they finally docked. No sign of his father's men or any of House Martell's and he felt a little put out by that. As he did by the looks he received when he made his way to the Old Palace. As a dwarf, he was far too used to such looks, but as a Lannister, they would quickly change or people would look away. It seemed in Dorne, being the second of those things made little difference, for the time being anyway. Tyrion wondered if in time it would or was it a Dornish trait that would change little once his house and their princes own were joined. Receiving no fanfare or with no one wishing to announce his presence, he made his way to the reception hall and was glad to see at least one member of his kin.
"Uncle Tyrion." Jason, his nephew, called out before moving towards him.
"Nephew mine, it's good to see you," he said genuinely before embracing his nephew, far preferring his brother's son to his sister's.
"Your travels went well, uncle?" Jason asked when they'd moved apart.
"I'll leave that to your grandfather to decide. Will you take me to where he's housed?"
"Of course, uncle," Jason said with a smile.
As they walked, he took the chance to find out as much as he could about the upcoming wedding. Surprised and yet not to find it was Joanna to be married. Given who the Martells were he'd have wagered they'd accept no one less than the daughter of the crown prince. Myrcella may be older, just as beautiful, and to Tyrion's mind, she was more formidable. But in terms of status, she was lower than her cousin.
He was most pleased to hear that the prince his niece was to marry seemed to be a good sort. Jason held no fears about the boy his sister was to wed and spoke somewhat highly of him. When he heard that Joanna was somewhat smitten and that it seemed her favors were returned, it only made him happier. It was rare that such matches found love at all. Let alone that this soon after one was made would there be the beginnings of a spark that could flame into a fire that he himself had never felt. If anyone deserved it, then Tyrion felt that it was one of his nieces.
"I'll go in and see him alone, Jason, mayhap later I'll regale you with tales of Essos," he said when they arrived at his father's rooms.
"I'd like that uncle, I'll make sure the best of the wines is put aside for you."
"And how will you do that nephew mine?" he asked while smirking.
"I'll speak to the prince, tell him that you're his betrothed favorite uncle," Jason said with a wink and Tyrion chuckled as he entered his father's rooms.
Was he not able to see the buildings from the open window, then he'd name himself in Casterly Rock. Whatever Dornish influence this room would normally have, he saw it not. Instead, at his father's behest no doubt, they'd replicated his father's rooms at the Rock as best they could manage. It was no mean feat and the lion banners, portraits, and even the furniture were almost a match. As was the look on his father's face when he saw him and bid him take a seat in front of him. His uncle Kevan sitting to one side as always and wearing a far friendlier look as he greeted him.
"Nephew."
"Uncle," he replied as he took his seat.
"You've just arrived?" his father asked, the brief look he'd given him now a thing of the past as he had turned his attention back to the missives he was writing.
He'd often wondered just how important some of those missives were. How key they were to the running of his father's kingdom and what would happen should there be a day when his father didn't send them out. He and Jaime would wager that they weren't truly needed. That his father would simply write them out and then when they weren't looking, he'd then throw them away.
"it's all a show, Jaime, I wager a golden lion that it is."
"We'll never be able to prove it one way or the other, Tyrion."
Looking at the number of them on the table, remembering how many ravens would fly to and from Casterly Rock in a given day. Now Tyrion felt that he'd have lost that wager had Jaime ever truly taken him up on it.
"Speak." his father said after he'd been quiet for too long and with a look to his uncle, he was happy to see a glass of wine poured out and handed to him.
"I spoke to Petyr Baelish and we've set a plan in motion, father," he said before taking a swallow from the glass.
It took him little time to relay said plan. His father showed no sign of whether or not he approved of it or not. Not even when he explained how much coin the plan had cost did his father's expression change. When he was done speaking, he waited to be dismissed and it seemed to take forever for his father to do so. Eventually, he was and was left in no doubt of how he was supposed to behave while in Dorne. It was as he was walking to the door that he heard as close to praise as he was like to get and despite it not being fulsome, he welcomed it all the same.
"I had thought it would have cost us more, you've been prudent with our coin, Tyrion, very prudent."
They held a feast that night, one of many they'd held since his family had arrived, given what Jaime said to him as they ate. His sister was her usual charming self and seemed most put out by his presence. More than once he caught her eyeing up one of the Dornish men and it almost made him laugh. His father would do far better to tell Cersei to keep her legs together than to insist he keep his britches on. He'd only lay with whores, his sister cared not who she'd lay with at times and if a man took her fancy, then she would go out of her way to find her pleasure with him.
His drunkenness and debauchery were to be expected if not tolerated. Hers was very much not and could lead to far more problems should it be revealed. Watching how her nostrils flared when she looked at one particular Dornishman, he doubted she'd go through their stay here without bedding the man. For as much as he may hate her, he'd not deny that were she not his sister and she offered him her favor, he'd accept it. 'As had many over the years' he thought and smiled wryly. When not focussed on his sister's facial expression, or engaged in conversation with his brother, his eyes roamed the room and took stock of their hosts.
Prince Doran was a man who was hiding the true extent of his affliction from all present. Tyrion could see it in the way the man's hands barely gripped his glass and how carefully he brought his food to his mouth. His daughter was a beauty and he wondered what the curves that he could see through an almost sheer dress looked like when complete bared. Two of her cousins, the famed Sand Snakes, seemed just as attractive as she did. Though the third of the oldest ones was very much not. Looking to the woman that he'd been introduced to as Prince Oberyn's Paramour made him almost wish he'd been born in Dorne. Ellaria Sand was a true beauty to Tyron's eyes. As she was to the man who sat beside her given they'd been together as long as they had.
As for Prince Oberyn himself, the man did the tales justice. He'd seen him sparring before the feast began. The spear had been like an extension of his arm and standing beside Jaime, he could feel just how much his brother wished to test himself against him. It would be a contest for the ages and one he wasn't as certain his brother would win as he normally would be. When he then got to speak to the prince, he revealed he possessed a wit and a lust for life that Tyrion could easily relate to. Yet now, finding his eyes on him and being caught doing as he was doing, he felt a shiver run down his spine. This was not a man that you messed with and Tyrion was certain he'd taken the measure of his family long before Tyrion himself had arrived.
"The Dothraki Tyrion, the Khal," Jaime said, Tyrion realizing he'd been speaking for some time and turning to face his brother.
"The Khal?" he asked, not remembering what they'd been speaking of and when they'd even been speaking.
"You said you met this Khal Dorgo, Dirgo…"
"Drogo."
"That was the one," Jaime said as Tyrion looked at his drink and wondered if something had been put into it dismissing the thought a moment later when he and his brother spoke more on Khal Drogo and his Khalasar.
Later as he lay down in his bed, he again wondered had something been slipped into his drink. Even as he went to sleep he couldn't shake the thought that it had been and it took him two days to drink again. He vowed to get very drunk on the day of the wedding and to mayhap make a fool of himself somewhat. The fears that he'd been poisoned by the Red Viper had been replaced by a wave of anger directed at his father. Tyrion had taken some time to notice the amusement in his father's eyes when he drank juice or water rather than wine at their meals. Then to realize that it had been his father who'd seen something slipped into his drink to cause him to forgo it and not Prince Oberyn nor any of the Dornish.
"We'll drink to Joanna today, Jaime, both of us," he said as they broke their fast, his eyes on his father as he did so.
Blackwater Rush 301 AC.
Aurane Velaryon.
He marched with a large force. Men of Thoros' Flames of the Dragon, some of Aemon's own, but mainly his own Sea Snakes. Over one thousand in all he had under his command and more support would sail from Driftmark and Dragonstone, to begin the actual work of building the city that he would one day rule from. Aemon, Rhaenys, Thoros and he himself had gone over the plans more than once and other than Oldtown or Lannisport, there would be no city like it when it was completed. Though it would be years until it was truly able to rival any of those great cities if he was being honest.
The initial plan was to pick out the ground he wished to use, to decide the best location for a keep, and to build a temporary fort there. It was something he'd seen done in Essos more than once and he and Aemon had even built one or two to serve as outposts while on a campaign. Never had he built one for himself, nor one that was to last as long as this one was. So he rode both nervously and excitedly at the same time. Materials, men, coin, it would require much of each of those things and so he was happy that Aemon had diverted so much of the latter to see this city built. His brother by choice was honoring him in a way that not even his father or grandfather had been honored by House Targaryen, and yet Aurane knew it was not just that their closeness that was the reason for Aemon's favor.
This city would be strategically important, as it would serve as the main trading hub in Aemon's Kingdom. While Aemon sought his own keep to be of military and geographical importance, he'd not forgo the need for somewhere of economic importance in order to do so. So that keep, that city, would need to be held not only by someone that Aemon could trust completely but by someone who could hold it too. Thoros, Daario, Torgho Nudho, were all such men, as was he. Yet while the other three were accomplished in facing foes on land, something he too was much accomplished in, they were not so experienced in facing them at sea. It would be ships more so than men on foot or horse that would be the biggest threat to the new city, and ships were his domain.
"We'll camp here for the night," he said as the air began to chill and the sky darken.
"As you command, my lord." Valon his second said before turning to the men and relaying his orders.
They got the tents up just in time and the rains soon came. Aurane was more than happy to be inside with a fire and dry rather than still ahorse. He ate with some of his most trusted men. Men who had been with him and his family for as long as he could remember. Valon who'd fought with him and Aemon during their first campaign. Arras, who though mainly a shipbuilder, would be the chief builder of both the fort and the city that would eventually spring up around it. Darron, who was in charge of his cavalry, and Marxus who was the leader of Thoros' men that had ridden with him.
The food was good, the conversation flowed and other than those not here, Aurane couldn't have wished for better company. He'd be a liar though if he said he'd not have liked to have gone North with Aemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys. He knew better than most just how much his brother by choice had longed to see the lands of his mother. So much so that he was in essence putting his conquest on hold to do so. Aemon was taking advantage of what was happening in Dorne, not to conquer, but to do something that he'd wanted to do ever since he'd lost his mother.
Both Thoros and Daario had bid him take advantage of the situation and was this Essos and not Westeros, then Aurane would be certain that he would have. The Westerlands lay open to them without the Lannisters there. They could have if they had wished to, take the Lannisters at sea as well. His ships, their men, and the Blood Wyrm could have ended the line of the Lannister King in one fell swoop, should Aemon have wished it so. Yet the chance to walk where his mother had walked, to see the lands she'd come from and be welcomed there was too much for Aemon to resist. It had been the one constant in him since he'd arrived in Westeros, even more than conquest itself, that had been what he wished for. So he'd taken that chance and let an opportunity pass him by. When the next one came he'd very much not, of that Aurane was certain.
He went to his bed early and rose early the next morning. The ride to the mouth of the Blackwater Rush should be completed today and he hoped to do so with light remaining. In this, he was proved most fortunate, as they saw the three hills that he knew were close by, sometime near midday and by late afternoon they'd set up their camp on top of one of them. Aurane ate sparingly, washed, and then bid Valon and Arras ride with him. The three men and their guards took no time at all to mount up and like him, they then took in even more of the lands around them.
"What do you think?" he asked Arras after they'd ridden for more than an hour.
"The hills would be best, I'd put the fort on that one, two guard towers, and barracks on the other two," Arras replied pointing to each of the hills.
"A motte and bailey?" he asked and Arras nodded "How long?"
"We'd have something up within the week, a true fort within a moon or two if we have the men and materials."
"We have ships coming from Driftmark and Dragonstone with both." he said and Arras nodded while Aurane looked to Valon "How secure will we be?
"On the hill, we'll be more than able to hold back four or five times our number. When the fort is finished, three or four times that again. "Valon said smiling and Aurane felt certain now that he'd chosen right. There was no better place than this, not for access to the sea, nor for the protection that it would afford.
The first of the ships arrived the next day. Aurane made his way to greet Larence who was his second when it came to his small fleet. He was an older man, Westerosi, a sailor through and through who'd been Leal to his family for longer than Aurane was alive. As tall as Aurane was, Larence was taller and twice as broad. His stature, dark hair, and beard made him a fearsome sight to any of the pirates who dared think they'd found an easy prize in one of Aurane's ships.
"You had no trouble?" he asked the older man.
"No, it seems it was the dead stag that was the reason for our harrying."
"His brother is a different sort, his grace will be pleased to see that Stannis is living up to his word." Aurane said.
"You're really building a fort here?" Larence asked looking around.
"No, my friend. I'm building a city here."
A moon later.
They had done even more than he'd dared to hope. The walls were completed, they'd built two watchtowers, one on the north end of the fort, the other on the south. Inside the walls, they'd begun work on some of the larger buildings but had already built a temporary barracks, stables, and a small building to serve as his keep. On the other two hills, they'd secured them with spikes and small walls. Though it was still tents rather than actual buildings that the men would call their homes for now. All in all, they could hold fifty men on either hill and so he rotated who stayed there weekly.
At the bay itself, they'd built a dock that was protected for now by men, but soon it would be watchtowers, archers, and a contingent of cavalry that would be housed there too. As for their neighbors, he'd seen more than one horse watching them from a distance. No doubt eager to report back to whoever had sent them to spy on them. So he'd insisted the banners flew high enough for all to see. His own silver seahorse flying next to Aemon and Rhaenys' two-headed dragon entwined. There would be no doubt who now claimed these lands and what retribution there would be should any dare try to stop them from doing so.
So far though it had been only those willing to accept that they were ruled by the dragons and the seahorse who'd come to actually speak to him. House Darklyn, House Rosby, and House Massey all had sent riders to name themselves as no enemies of him or Aemon Targaryen. House Rosby had even sworn to him without him asking them to do so. Lord Gyles was far more eager to be under his protection than to be in the path of his fury. Yet it was the houses that had not come that Aurane pondered on.
House Celtigar and House Sunglass were sworn to no king and House Bar Emmon though sworn to Stannis, was closer to where Aurane was building his new city than to Storm's End. As for the Houses of Crackclaw Point, they had been sworn to King Qhored Hoare and so now too they were now sworn to no king. In time he knew they'd be sworn to Aemon, but he wondered if they'd need to be conquered first or would they come of their own accord. Should they band together, then not even this fort would be enough to protect Aurane and the men he'd brought here and so despite the peace, he prepared for war.
He was at the docks when the horns blew. Looking over the delivery of wood and sundries that had arrived one moment and he then rode his horse hard the next. Then he was climbing up the ladders that led to the watchtower and looking through the Myrish Eye at the men that rode towards him. He'd put it at three times their number, though surprisingly he believed he had more horse than they. The red crab of House Celtigar and the golden stars of House Sunglass, along with the blue swordfish of House Bar Emmon. There were few if any other banners that he could see and none of the houses of Crackclaw Point much to his relief.
"Order the men to form up, cavalry only Valon. Send word to the docks to let loose the ships. Should we fall here today I'll not have them take the ships as well." he said and Valon rushed off to do as he had bid.
"What are your orders, Lord Aurane?" Darron asked.
"We ride out and parley, make it clear what they face here should they seek a fight and the consequences should they win one."
"You fear defeat?" Darron asked surprised.
"I fear only the god of death and to him, I'll say the same thing I've said each day he's sought to take me into his cold embrace." Aurane said resolutely.
"Not Today," Darron said smiling as they moved through the fort and readied to ride out to treat with the lords that marched their way.
The Conquest of Westeros XLIV.
The House of the Snake.
House Martell started off as a minor house amongst many that were larger than it. Unlike the other houses of Dorne who had named themselves as kings, House Martell was not and never would name themselves as such. Founded by Morgan Martell, an Andal adventurer who won the lands that would become the seat of his newly formed house from House Wade and House thousands of years they were happy with their lot and showed no ambition to be more than they were. It was not until the arrival of the Rhoynish Princess Nymeria that they began to reach for more.
Mors Martell, the then Lord of Sandship, had grown tired of the cautious fealty that his House had given to those who named themselves as kings and saw the chance to rise and rise high. The cost was a simple one, a marriage, and it was one that he was only too happy to pay. Yet for all their pride, all their arrogance, it was Princess Nymeria who was the driving force behind their taking over of Dorne and not a Martell. Without her, they'd have faded into obscurity mayhap, been relegated to being known as a minor house with no great deeds or victories to name their own. With her, they rose high and a lesson was learned and learned well. With the right match, much can be achieved.
Never was this shown to be more true than when a princess of house Martell, Elia, wed the son of the High Emperor of Essos and ensured that Martell blood would rise higher than before in the form of her two children, Prince Aegon, and Princess Rhaenys. One set to be the future High Emperor of Essos and the other the Queen of Westeros. Dizzy heights indeed for a house that started out with little and yet even these heights were not enough to still their ambition.
It was yet another wedding that they sought to rise high through, another union with a powerful ally. One that would change the course of their history forevermore. For unlike those who named themselves as kings in Dorne when Mors Martell made a similar move, this time they would find themselves facing a far more dangerous foe. Unlike when marrying into the House of the Dragon, this time they'd find themselves with far weaker allies. Dragons too are ambitious, they too seek to soar and the rule over the skies is not nor has never been enough for them.
A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
Sunspear 301 AC.
Doran Martell.
The wedding negotiations had almost come to a close and not in a way he liked. While they'd agreed to the match, it was some of the other aspects that Doran was displeased about. He'd not send his son to be Lord of Castamere, not even if the keep would still deliver the gold that Tywin said it would. On that aspect alone he trusted Tywin's words, for he'd not see his granddaughter without means. Yet Doran could not agree to Trystane being housed in the west. Kin or not, the Old Lion would not be above using his son as a hostage should the need arise.
It was something he could respect the Old Lion for, something that he too would do with his gooddaughter were the need to arise. Yet on that point, he'd not be moved, nor would he on Tywin's suggestion to name Trystane as his heir. Dorne was not the same as the other kingdoms, first born and not first son ruled here and Arianne was and would remain his heir, with Quentyn as second in line. That it added a layer of protection to his children was not lost on him and was one of the first things that Oberyn had brought up in his opposition to this wedding. His brother's disdain for both the alliance itself and the man he was allying with had been made perfectly clear. Yet while Doran shared some of his distrust, he did not share his aversion to the match.
The next bone of contention had been in regards to their joint armies. Tywin had wished for overall control and that was something that Doran could and would not agree to. Dorne would never follow someone who was not of their blood. Oberyn would lead his armies, Quentyn and then Trystane should he fall. Tywin could name himself how he wished and the West may bring more men to the fight, the armies though would be joined yet separate. It had cost him more coin in regards to the dowry, Tywin fighting a tough fight, and Doran, in the end, giving ground on the still generous amount he'd receive for the match. Still, it had been a worthwhile fight he felt.
It had allowed for mutual respect to grow between them both. Had almost made him consider another match should things work out as he hoped, though not with the grandson that Tywin offered. That boy wouldn't last long in Dorne and had already been banned from the brothels, Oberyn had even taken things into his own hands so that Joffrey would fail to rise to the occasion should he seek his pleasure elsewhere. What his brother had put in the young prince's food and drink, Doran knew not, but the boy had been even more sullen and irritable ever since. No, if it was to be another match then it would be Tywin's other granddaughter he sought and if he fully trusted the man that he was welcoming into his family, then he'd seek it still. Princess Myrcella was a more formidable young lady than her cousin Joanna and it would have benefited Trystane to be wed to her. Mayhap in the future, it would benefit Quentyn just as much.
He'd had to wait until Prince Tyrion's return to find out the plans for the dragons themselves. Tywin kept that close to his chest and it was only when one of his spies placed near the Lannisters' rooms overheard where Prince Tyrion was, that Doran understood the reason for his reticence. That the prince arrived with the wedding almost upon them was an annoyance, as was having this final meeting on the day of the wedding itself. Doran though had to know it all if he was to join his House to Tywin's. Their fates from that point on would be entwined after all. So he held the meeting, without his brother as Oberyn was still not on board with his decisions yet, on the morning of the wedding. Just he, Tywin, and Areo in his solar in the early morning.
"A good day for a wedding," he said as the sun shined in through the open window.
"A very good day." Tywin replied "I shall be as brief as I can be, for I think we'd both like to enjoy as much of this day as we can. My first grandchild and your first child to be wed, requires that of us does it not?"
"It does," he said, somewhat genuinely.
"My son, Tyrion, met with some people in Essos who think like we do and would wish to be free of the yoke the Dragons would place around our necks and have around theirs. With the aid of a large amount of coin, an old enemy rises to strike at the heart of the Targaryen Empire." Tywin said looking at him to see how he replied.
"My sister and her son, I have no wish to see harm come to them. They are not who I take issue with."
"Nor I, and we both know that in truth there is no enemy that can truly threaten the Empire, not with all the gold in Casterly Rock could that be so." Tywin said and Doran looked at him with intrigue "But when the Empire is threatened who do they seek to face that threat? Who do they call upon to force that threat back?"
"The Dragonknight." he said almost smiling before the thought struck him "Would he come to their aid if called, he accepted exile after all?"
"Do you believe your son would come if you called, even were things not good between you? That he'd leave you to face an enemy alone?"
"He would not. Neither of them nor my daughter nor my brother too." Doran answered emphatically.
"As would mine own children or grandchildren or the rest of my kin. Aemon Targaryen may have fallen out with his father, but his Brother? Uncle? Your sister? Their families? I think with them in need he'd go to their aid, even were he not to, his wife would and a man who accepted exile to be wed would follow his wife would he not?" Tywin asked.
"He would. But what enemy could threaten the Empire so?"
"The Dothraki have a new Khal, a man named Drogo. He is the son of a man named Khal Bharbo and has taken on the remnants of his Khalasar and grown it even larger. Do you know what happened to his father?"
"No."
"He fell to Aemon Targaryen's blade," Tywin said and Doran smirked.
Their meeting made the view of Princess Joanna as she walked down the aisle a few hours later one that he enjoyed even more. The saying of the vows and the look on the faces of both his new gooddaughter and his son as they shared their first kiss, one that he took as much pleasure in as the two newlyweds apparently did. The food, drinks, watching the dancing, and seeing people enjoy themselves at the wedding feast, all were much sweeter than he'd dared hope they would be. Simply because of the plans he and Tywin Lannister had made that day.
They would send Aemon Targaryen back to Essos to save his family and while he was gone they'd take all he'd built and destroy it brick by brick. When he returned, if he returned, it would be to find he had no lands, no men, and no allies. The kingdoms he'd won so easily would be lost to him in the same manner and with the same ease. Faced with such a defeat, he'd leave their lands, and together he and Tywin Lannister would carve them up. Before the Old Lion then learned the most valuable lesson of all. Snakes are not to be trusted and even a mighty lion can't overcome their bite.
The conquest of Westeros XLV
The Legend of the White Wolf.
In the history of House Stark, there have been many famed names. From King Theon the Hungry Wolf to King Torrhen the King who Wept. There were men like King Jon Stark and King Brandon the Shipwright or King Cregan Stark the Wolf of the North. None however were spoken of as reverently or as little as King Brandon the Builder, who founded House Stark and was named as the man who built Winterfell, the Wall, and many other of the great keeps of Westeros. And King Brandon the Breaker, who defeated the Night King and freed the Night's Watch from his reign of terror.
Despite the esteem that both men are held in, little is known and less is written about them both. Not in the Citadel, nor in books of the Empire, and not even in the home of the Starks themselves are words written speaking of their great deeds with any accuracy or verification. Instead, it's tall tales, spoken word, and legends that have been passed down from generation to generation. None of which are spoken so much or so reverently as the Legend of the White Wolf.
It was from the Empress of the Ice that I first heard the tale from. A story told as she sat by her son's bedside and put the Dragonknight to sleep. A tale of how in the hour of the North's greatest need, the white wolf appeared. How it sought out the man the North needed to guide them through whatever was to come and how it had appeared and chosen only two men to stand beside in all the years that a Stark ruled the North.
The names of those men were King Brandon the Builder and King Brandon the Breaker. It is said that deep within the bowels of Winterfell, far beneath the crypts where no man who doesn't bear the blood of the wolves in his veins is allowed to tread, images show both Kings of Winter with the white wolf by their side. Whether this is true or not, I cannot tell for I am not a Stark and no pleading on my part or beseeching of my prince would grant me access.
What I can tell for true is this. As she'd place a kiss on the Dragonknight's forehead and as he drifted off to sleep, the Empress of the Ice was oft heard to say that it would be he that the White Wolf returned for. That in time it would Prince Aemon who'd be seen with a white wolf by his side and that when that time came, he too would be a King of Winter.
A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
Winterfell 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
She was everywhere he looked, in every corner of the keep, the grounds, and even in his dreams when he slept at night. Never had he felt more connected to his mother than he did right here and he reveled in it. As he had in the stories he'd heard thus far about her. The woman known as Old Nan had especially had delighted in telling him tales of his mother and Aemon had eaten each and every one of them up like they were the most delicious of meals. He'd heard her being named as a true wild wolf, had been told that his cousin Arya was much alike her in both looks and attitude. Something that now brought a smile to his face each time he looked at the young girl. His mother had been loved here, she was missed here, and that was something he could relate to easily.
Mayhap that was why he felt the call so truly. Or that was the reason that the need to ride through the places she had ridden through was almost overwhelming. Though that had been a need he'd always had he believed. Still, it was sooner than he'd expected that he'd suggested they go on a ride through the Wolfswood and he'd then felt it from the moment that they'd entered it. Something within those trees called to him, it sought him out and it was a feeling he'd felt but briefly when they'd stopped on the way to Winterfell. What that feeling led to was something he never could have imagined. Even now as he moved with the Direwolves back to his horse, he still could barely believe what he was seeing and doing.
The white wolf reached almost to his shoulder, the others with it were just as big and while those he rode with looked at them warily, Aemon felt they posed no danger to him or anyone he cared for. Something about the way the red eyes looked at him had made him believe this to be the truth. For had any of them wished to harm him, then he'd be laying in the snow and bleeding out rather than walking to his horse with a pack of Direwolves.
"Aemon?" Rhaenys questioned and Aemon smiled at her and rubbed his hand through the white wolf's fur, the wolf leaning into his touch, and yet still it had not made a sound.
It was that more than Rhaenys' fears that made him stop and kneel to face the wolf once more. Its red eyes met his own grey ones and both of them stared deep into each other's soul. The connection when it finally locked was almost the same as the one he had with Gaelithox. This wolf was his, he was always to be his, and he would always be his.
"Ghost," he said softly and then laughed when the wolf licked his face, his laugh was soon joined by Rhaenys' relieved one. Turning to the rest of their party who it seemed were torn between looking at him and Ghost or the other wolves, he did his best to put them at ease "The wolves mean us no harm, far from it. I believe they were meant to be ours." he said to shocked looks.
"Ours?" Rhaenys asked confused.
"Those with wolf's blood," he said and saw the way his cousins now looked at each of the wolves.
"You can't be…" Robb said as he looked at a large grey wolf and yet neither he nor any of his other cousins moved until one did.
That it was Arya who did so should have been no surprise. His young cousin was fearless and he'd even sparred with her much to her delight. While her sister bid her be careful, Arya paid her no mind and was soon standing next to a wolf that was taller even than she. Then it was her laughter that rang out when the wolf she had begun to stroke softly turned and licked her face. Almost as if it was the signal that the others had been waiting on, the rest of his cousins quickly dismounted. Even Robb who'd tried to preach caution a few moments earlier now moved to a wolf.
As Aemon moved to help Rhaenys from her horse so that she too could stroke Ghost's fur, around him each of his cousins seemed to find a wolf of their own.
"I swear to you, he means us no harm, my love," he said, and holding Rhaenys' hand, he brushed it through the soft white fur.
"He's…I'd not expected him to be so soft," she said smiling and before he knew it, his aunt too was standing beside Ghost and stroking the wolf who seemed to enjoy it greatly.
They stayed like that for close to an hour. His cousins, his wife, his aunt, and he himself were all simply enjoying the company of wolves. At one point he swore he had an image of laying in a bed with a wolf pup on his chest, its white fur and white eyes marking it out as Ghost. Looking to the wolf in question, he swore that its red eyes looked at him with reproach, almost as if to say that was how things were meant to be. Yet when he moved and stroked Ghost behind his ear, that look was soon replaced with a far more contented one.
"What are we to do with them?" Robb asked no one in particular.
"I believe they're ours, cousin. That they seek to offer us their protection and company," he said, and though he could see the next question on his cousin's lips and knew what that question was, Robb never uttered it, instead simply saying they should ride back to Winterfell.
"Nymeria is coming with me, I don't care what you say, I'll not leave her here." Arya declared and Aemon smirked as he looked to Rhaenys whose head had turned in his cousin's direction at the mention of the Princess of the Rhoynar.
"Lady too," Sansa said resolutely and soon she was joined by all but Bran out of his cousins. Not that he didn't wish his wolf to return with him, only that he had apparently not yet thought of a name for him.
This was not an issue with the rest of his cousins. Grey Wind was what Robb named the one he stroked, Shaggydog the name given to the black one that Rickon had taken for his own. His cousin Torrhen named his grey wolf Frost while Lyanna named her's Winter, its dark fur was streaked with white and grey and looked like the ground beneath their feet. Not a pristine snowdrift like Ghost resembled, but one that had been traveled upon. The last wolf was another dark black one and it too had no name, nor an owner for now. Aemon though was sure that its owner waited for them back at Winterfell and would be just as happy to see it as he and his cousins were their own.
"We'll bring them back, no doubt my uncles will have much to say on the matter," he said stopping any argument that may have been made before it truly began.
Arthur may have looked at the wolves warily still and the Stark guards seemed at a loss, but neither he nor they would go against the word of a king. He hoped that his uncles would feel the same when they saw what was accompanying their children. Given how orderly the ride back to the keep was, he felt they would. Each wolf walked calmly beside the horse of the owner who'd chosen it or to be more true, that they'd chosen. Torrhen rode with two, one on either side of his horse, and had he any doubt he was right about the owner of the second one, then he'd not anymore.
"You truly believe these wolves were meant to be yours and your cousins don't you?" Rhaenys asked with a large smirk on her face.
"I believe my mother wished it so," he said as he looked to Ghost.
"So I take it he's coming with us when we leave, my king?" Arthur asked and Aemon chuckled.
"I doubt he'd let me leave without him, Arthur." he said smiling as he then turned to his sworn shield "It seems we've found another guard Torgho Nudho."
"Wolf look fierce, my prince."
"That he does," he said agreeing with his sworn shield.
He expected the loud shouts and the worried glances that were thrown their way when they reached the gates. His uncles and both his aunts came running as soon as they'd been told that they'd not returned alone. What he didn't expect was the way his two uncles looked at the white wolf and him in particular. There was a recognition there, something in their expression that seemed to suggest they almost expected this and he wished to speak to them more about it. Though for now, he needed to stop the inevitable argument.
"The wolves won't harm anyone that means not to harm their owner, uncle." he said looking to his uncle Ned "They will protect them, fight for them, be their truest and most Leal companion. We were meant to have these wolves uncle, just as my wife, aunt, and I were meant to have our dragons. I know not how I know that to be true, but I give you my oath that I do."
"MAEGE!" his aunt Dacey called out before his uncle could reply and Aemon turned to see his youngest cousin laughing as the wolf, which was easily twice or even three times her size, licked her face as she held onto its fur.
"Could something that wished her harm be so gentle with her, uncle?" he asked his uncle Benjen who was staring at his daughter with an awed look on his face.
"No, I don't believe it could, nephew."
Once his aunt had calmed somewhat and the argument over where the wolves would stay had been won and lost. His cousins had come out the victors over their parents in that regard. He was asked to join both his uncles in his uncle Ned's solar. Bidding Ghost farewell, for now, he kissed his wife and then chuckled as the white wolf walked by her side and joined Arthur in serving as her guard. Then he and Torgho Nudho followed his uncles into the keep.
He turned down the offer of ale when he took his seat, though he did accept the warm soup that was offered and insisted that Torgho Nudho eat and warm himself too. Something that was accepted reluctantly and only because he faced no danger from either of his uncles. The look on his uncle Ned's face was pensive and Aemon expected the true argument about the wolves was about to be had, yet it was not them that was spoken of.
"What know you of the Night's Watch, Aemon?" his uncle Ned asked.
"My mother told me the tale of them when I was a boy. Tales of them and the Wall. She said they guarded the North against what lay beyond its lands." he said to nods, Aemon not telling them some of the other things his mother had said about them, nor what she had said was beyond said Wall.
"We received a raven from the Lord Commander, he calls for our aid and bids us send men as soon as we're able. Had we still been in the south….But it matters not. No Stark has even refused the call when the Night's Watch made it and I'll not be the first to do so." his uncle said firmly and Aemon had to admit it made him proud that his mother's family thought in such a way.
"So we'll be marching on the morrow, Aemon, which means we'll not be here to say our goodbyes to you, your wife, or aunt." his uncle Benjen said.
Aemon looked at them both, they seemed reluctant to ask the question that he knew was on both their minds and so he decided to answer it for them.
"Whatever it is that the Night's Watch has called you for, a dragon is not only the equal of the men you'll gather, but can reach the Wall in far less time than it'll take you to march to it." he said seeing both his uncles relax "Yet I know not the men at the Wall, uncle, so it seems to me there is but one thing we can do."
"Aemon?"
"We fly on the morrow, uncles. Me, Torgho Nudho, and you both. I would bid you sleep well and to not eat too much when you wake, the first time can lead to you losing the contents of your stomach." he said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet "I'd not send a raven to warn the Night's Watch either, Gaelithox will beat it and whatever you may say in your scroll, the sight of the Blood Wyrm landing can't truly be explained in words."
"I thank you, your grace." his uncle Ned said, slightly paler than he'd been when he entered the solar as he was now worried about his first dragon's flight no doubt.
"I've longed to see the Wall too, uncle, though I'd have wished for it to be under less pressing circumstances. Now if you'll both excuse me, I must go tell my wife that I'll be departing on the morrow. No doubt I'll soon look as fearful as you both." he said to laughs.
His own was more stilted as he left the room, the thoughts of being parted from his wife, not ones that he wished for. Still, he wondered if the Wall was as majestic as his mother had said it was. If the people who lived the other side of it were truly just people born on the wrong side and then denigrated for it. He wondered if some of the other tales his mother had told him were true too.
"There is evil Beyond the Wall, Aemon, not the evil that lies in the hearts of men, but true evil and the only way to beat evil is to fight it with something it can't withstand. To beat back darkness you must bring the light to bear, and you, my little Lightbringer, you are what the darkness fears "
Volantis 301 AC.
Aegon Targaryen.
He made his way to the meeting with Varys. His father had entrusted him to come up with a plan to deal with their potential Dothraki problem and Aegon was keen to do so quickly. Varys had been tasked to find out as much as he could about Khal Drogo, his strengths, weaknesses and whether or not he was as his father believed, a Khal alone, or as Aegon feared, something much more. That it had taken the Eunuch away from other tasks was a bone of contention for Viserys most of all. His uncle wished for more news on Dany and they'd not received word from Aemon, Rhaenys, or his aunt herself as of yet.
Aegon could understand his uncle's concerns, despite not sharing them. All her life they'd kept Dany away from the harsher things of the world, they'd protected and shielded her from them. Even when it came to Aemon, she only saw the one side of the things his brother did, the glory and acclaim his victories brought to the Empire. Never did she see the truth of the battles that Aemon waged, the blood that he was forced to spill, or the destruction that he and Gaelithox would unleash upon the Empire's enemies.
His uncle, his mother, and even his father all feared that in Westeros, Dany would not be so shielded. Aegon did not, he knew his brother would not wish Dany to play a part in any of the fighting. She'd not be needed to do so and so Aemon would never seek to expose her to the worst of men. Instead, it would be just as it was in Volantis for his aunt. Glory, acclaim, and feasting would be what she experienced while by Aemon and Rhaenys' side, that and support and advice that he himself longed for.
With a nod to the guards that stood at Varys' door, Aegon knocked and was bid to enter the rooms of their spymaster. How the eunuch knew all he knew, none could ever tell, only that he'd served the Empire faithfully and truly and along with Aemon, had at times been its strongest weapon. Now it was up to him to do some of what his brother did and he prayed to the gods that he was up to the task. For now, though he simply prayed that Varys had found him out something of use.
"My prince," Varys said looking up from the table where he was reading what seemed to be small pieces of parchment.
"You have news?" he asked as he took his seat.
"Strange songs that I've not yet fully grasped the meaning of, my prince. Khal Drogo is indeed as fierce and formidable as you feared and has gathered quite a following. Since Prince Aemon was exiled, Drogo has spent his time rebuilding his father's broken Khalasar and adding it to his own, while at the same time facing off against other Khals." Varys said and Aegon shuddered slightly.
"Adding more men to his number," he said and Varys nodded.
"Indeed. Recently things have changed, however. He was seen near Pentos, his father had a Manse there, a gift held in their family from before even Aegon the Conqueror landed on these shores. One not used and yet maintained regardless." Varys said and Aegon looked at him confused.
"Why would a Dothraki Khal keep a manse? And how come we were unaware of such?"
"I know not an answer to the first of those, my prince. To the second I can only say because the manse fell under the purview of the Iron Bank and since no Khal has actually spent any time there for more than a few generations, no one paid it any mind."
As answers go it was not the best, yet he could find no fault in Varys' work or no blame he could attach to the man for not knowing of something that even the governor of Pentos didn't, or he hoped he didn't.
"Was the governor aware?"
"No, my prince. I doubt anyone other than a member of the Iron Bank with access to the accounts was aware. I would not have been, had Khal Drogo not visited the manse some weeks past." Varys said.
"The purpose of the visit?" he asked and then held his hand when he saw the sheepish look on Varys' face "Speak to the Iron Bank and to the governor, I wish to know every last detail about who accessed this account and what the purpose of Khal Drogo's visit was. If need be, travel to Pentos yourself and speak to whomever you need to, Varys."
"As you command, my prince."
Varys then handed him some papers and he looked over the figures that were written on them, the numbers that it was believed Drogo could call upon. It was worse than he feared and they'd need to use far more dragons than he'd expected should his fears be proved true. After speaking to Varys on less important subjects and asking him had he heard anything from his little birds regarding his aunt, which he had not, Aegon then bid him farewell and left to walk to his father's rooms.
While he'd been given charge of dealing with Drogo, he was not averse to taking advice on how best to do so. Something that he was about to find another source for. The sight of his granduncle as he walked towards him was one that he was most grateful for, as no man was wiser than he, and even Aemon had taken advice from his namesake from time to time. He'd just reached him when he heard the words though it was Aemon who heard them more truly than him. Then it was chaos, he was grabbed and pushed to the ground, a knife flashed in front of his eyes and a pained scream rang out as his granduncle fell to the ground, blood pouring out of a wound on his chest.
A few feet from where his granduncle had fallen, a man lay, he too was bleeding but unlike Aemon he was unmoving. His guards had done their duty, yet they'd failed at the same time. Was it not for his granduncle then it would be him laying and bleeding out. He shook off the hands that tried to grab him. Refused to move when his guards bid him to and instead he crawled to where his granduncle lay dying.
"A healer, get a healer." he shouted out as he raised Aemon's head and was shocked to see the blood pouring out of his mouth "It'll be…the healer will be here in a moment…..You'll be well, uncle, you'll be well…"
"No need for lies, nephew, I know the truth of the wound I feel." his granduncle said as his hand dipped into the bloody wound and was then held up to show just how covered in blood it was "The assassin, he…"
"He's dead uncle, he's dead," he said as if that made what he'd done irrelevant and not as costly as he feared it would be.
"He was a sorrowful man, Aegon, tell your father…..tell your father he was a sorrowful man."
"I will, I will," he said not understanding why the man being sorry for what he did meant and certainly not caring that he was sorry for doing so.
"I...your brother, sister, I'd have….Tell them I loved them, Aegon, as I did…..as I did you all."
"You'll tell them yourself uncle." he said as Aemon closed his eyes "Uncle, uncle...Where the fuck is the healer?" he shouted out but he knew that the time for healing had long since passed and his granduncle had breathed his last.
He was still in a daze when he stood in his father's rooms later that night. Still covered in his granduncle's blood and though he'd spoken words to his father, mother, wife, and uncle, he could remember them not. His mind kept going back to the moment that his granduncle had pushed him to the ground and he tried to make sense of things. Closing his eyes, he shut out the noise of his family speaking around him and concentrated as best he could on what had happened.
Aegon pictured the man in his mind, he was small, nondescript, and wore servant's clothing. So insignificant and non-threatening was he that his guards had felt no danger from him at all. Considering that it had been many years since anyone had dared attack them in the Grand Palace, Aegon couldn't fault them for that. His granduncle though, he'd known, he'd saved him. How? How had Aemon known?
"The Dragonknight sends his regards." the assassin said before then adding "I'm sorry."
Aegon's eyes opened wide, his brother, the assassin was claiming to have been sent by his brother. He was sorry, he'd said he was sorry. His granduncle's words began to make some sense to him now, he knew who he was, though he couldn't believe that he'd been sent by who he claimed to be. It made no sense, none at all and yet his father needed to know.
"He was a Sorrowful Man, father. He said that Aemon sent him."
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Aemon, Ned, and Benjen arrive at the Wall and Aemon begins to believe his mother's tales were true. In Essos Rhaegar, Viserys and Aegon react to the death of their beloved granduncle and set Varys a new task. Rhaenys and Dany spend time getting to know the Starks while Aurane faces a fight that does not go how his foes expect it to. In the West, Daario finds a man who's more of a Mountain and hurries back to tell Aemon important news in the search for his uncle and grandfather's killers.
For those following my other fics, the second chapter of the Last wolf and the Northern dragon is up next, should be posted on Friday.
Chapter 17 Reviews.
Daryl Dixon: Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed it.
Sozin: Really glad you're liking it.
Frenchwhitefox: One of the key things for me is that the difference in how he's raised allows for him to be different, there's no doubting that in canon Jon is influenced very much by being raised as Ned's bastard son. So when you change who raises him, you then should get changes based on that IMO, here he was raised to be who he is and so has more of an attitude. To me it would be no different if he'd been raised by Brandon Stark in WF instead of Ned, he'd change and be more forceful because he's not imitating Ned who was himself much influenced by where he spent most of his life. The love between him and Rhaenys is a key part of things, it's pretty much his reason for being and so always has to be there present, so I'm glad you're liking that.
Celexys: We'll see with Tarly in the next couple of chapters, as you see Dorne are readying to make a move against Aemon.
Dunk: I could have gone and had Aemon steamroll over everyone, but Tywin is a different sort of enemy, he'll fight when he needs to, but always when he thinks he's got the advantage. Aemon in a way is opening himself up to a larger fight by not finishing it off when he has the chance, so I hope this explains his reasons as to why he went North rather than West or South. You're right about the love of family, and the standing on their own, it's a dilemma we may see him face over the next few chapters. The faith is about to make their presence felt, Aemon while taking the lands he has, hasn't really interacted with them yet and so you can say they've been watching and waiting, him going North will play a role in that too. As for Tarly, we'll see. That's an interesting idea regarding the towers. We'll certainly see some Essos influences in things he'll seek to bring simply because that's what he knows, we'll also see some of the so far non mentioned characters within House Targ pop up soon enough, the Blackfrye line. I do like people being overconfident without fully knowing the extent of what they face and with Tywin especially we see this when he dismisses Robb as a green boy in canon, so its definitely within him.
Creativo: Oberyn aún no se ha perdido.
Real Mirror: It's annoying isn't it, makes you almost long for the dark days of the pandemic when you found yourself with more time than you knew what to do with, almost long for them lol.
One of the big problems with Randyll is he's a bit like Stannis and quite blunt, he doesn't really do subterfuge as he thinks he can just bulldoze his way through a problem. So we'll see how subtle he can be here. I'll show more of Gwayne later and expand upon his reasoning for accepting things how he did and even if he has accepted them fully. I do think at times people have preconceived notions of characters and so they forget that in non-canon au's, while those motivations may remain, they may not be as clear to everyone as they are to us. We know the Tyrells so we see them a specific way, now to be honest I will freely admit that I think that most people are too harsh on them. They tar them with the ambition brush, which is certainly true, but forget that other than Ned Stark, so too was everyone else in GOT. If anything the show certainly in Sansa's case, pretty much shows her using the same tactics as those who people denigrate in order to become queen. Had it been Margaery in Sansa's position at the end of Season 8, then people wouldn't be as forgiving as they are of Sansa.
For Aemon, he really doesn't care about Gwayne or the Gardeners, nor does he see the Tyrells as any true sort of threat and so he's happy to let them play their games as long as it doesn't affect him. He's also deferring to Rhaenys a lot on this aspect too. While I've not really shown it as much as I wished to, the Empire's court is no different than any other, within the Empire there are plots and schemes, and the Game of Thrones is played, just not at the very top level because the Targs reign supreme. Which they did in Westeros too for close to 300 years. Yes, they faced threats, but until Robert came along, not one that ever truly threatened their position and so it's the same in Essos. So there is this hint of arrogance there, this idea that the games played by those lower on the ladder are beneath them. I've tried to like it to Rome a little. Where those in Rome cared little about those in the provinces in terms of their own position, simply because they were no threat.
Grim: I wish I could spoil it, but I can't not yet, sorry.
Pontiac: Hopefully this chapter cleared up the why of it a little more. Basically, though he felt the call from Ghost, the need to come to him and since he wished to see the lands of his mother ever since she died, he was more than eager to answer that call. He is completely unaware of LF's plots, as is the Empire itself, Tywin he can see coming or so he thinks. But history is littered with even the greatest of commanders making a tactical error, Hannibal not taking Rome for example. Some may say he did so because he didn't have the resources, but had he truly the will then he'd have marched anyway.
More than anything though, it's more than simply to conquer Westeros Aemon's path has led him here and we're seeing some of that play out here, forces working within him that were always to be brought to bear, etc.
John 777: As you command.
Chapter 18 Reviews:
Daryl Dixon: Thanks so much.
Sozin: Really glad you liked it.
Dunk: Hopefully this chapter clears it up, we're starting to get into some of the stuff I hinted at throughout, his mother's plan, Rhaegar's part, and his reasoning for why he's done some of what he's done in regards to Aemon. It's funny you say that about Doran, the Marwyn note about House Martell in this chapter kind of alluded to some of that. I think without Oberyn by his side over the years since the Rebellion in canon, Doran would have been screwed, here he's risking losing him from his side too. I wanted to show a decent Aegon, one that while different from Aemon wasn't lesser. They have different strengths which I hope come across but they're not and have never been rivals, other than the usual brotherly rivalry. Daario is next. Aemon was very close to his namesake here, so we'll see a very visceral reaction.
Creativo: Lo consideró, lo pensó mejor por lo que su abuelo sentía por su madre, pero cuando llegó a Westeros, esa fue una de sus primeras ideas.
Celexys: I kind of held back a little on the interactions between the Starks/Aemon et al, we'll see more of that side of things next chapter with the splitting up, Dany/Rhaenys at WF and Aemon/Ned/Benjen at the Wall. The thing with Tywin/Doran and this is part of the reason I've made things so easy for Aemon up to now, is that they've no idea what it feels like to face a Dragonknight, it's coming though and it will be a shock to them.
Felipe: You nailed it, my friend. Called that one really well, kudos. The Dothraki are moving into position yes.
14omega: That was my true inspiration here, a Roman Empire/Alexander the Great type mish mash of sorts. So far we've seen very limited battles, none really, because I wanted to set up the enemies to force those battles to come, to make Aemon be who he was in Essos, who people have heard about. We're just about at that point, both in Essos and Westeros.
Xan Merrick: Thank you, my friend. Yep, our fave white wolf is here and the herald of big things to come.
Pickingupstories: So very glad you're liking it.