Aemon The Conqueror: The Rise of the Dragonknight

by Alperez16

Aegon and his sister-wives looked East instead of West and the Valyrian Empire was born. Jon Snow, a prince of the empire and the first Dragonknight in over a hundred years was born to wage war and strike down the empire's enemies. Exiled to Dragonstone because of his desire for his sister, how will the Seven Kingdoms react when the Dragonknight seeks to unite them under 1 King.

21. A Dragon's Call to Arms

Harrenhal 301 AC.

Thoros of Myr.

It was rare that he'd known such peace in his life. Rarer still when it was in the middle of a war that had not yet been won. The campaign to conquer Westeros though was much different than any of the campaigns he'd fought by his prince's side previously. Usually, when Aemon was called upon to bring the Blood Wyrm and the Second Army to bear, it would be against enemies that the Empire sought to vanquish quickly. When they fought before, it was to put down a rebellious army or to cow an overly ambitious Dothraki Khal and so those battles were quick and decisive.

When you then added in just how practiced and efficient Aemon, the Blood Wyrm, and the Second Army had become at winning those battles, they all soon began to follow the same basic principle. A song would be sung by one of Varys' little birds from some far-flung part of the Empire or the High Emperor's negotiations would falter and then his prince would be sent for. The Second Army would march and eventually reach the field where the battle would be fought and then Aemon, the Blood Wyrm, and their men would bring fire and blood to those they faced.

Occasionally, their mere presence was enough to stop a battle before it could begin. Sometimes, that battle would be over with simply a few sweeps from Aemon on the Blood Wyrm over their enemies' ranks. More than once, however, it had been a full and true battle they faced and not a single one of them had lasted more than a day or so. Even their last one in Essos before his prince's exile had been one they'd spent more time marching to and away from than actually fighting. Yet fight they did. Whereas here thus far, they'd fought not for true.

So it had been the duller parts of battle that Thoros was forced to deal with, the logistics, lists, supply chains, and billeting of the men. The last of which was far easier here in Harrenhal than it had been on Dragonstone. With Aurane now setting up at the mouth of the bay where he'd build a seat for himself and with all the lands from Storm's End to Gulltown under Aemon's control, they could finally bring in the required supplies from the Empire too. Something that the men would appreciate as their palates were not the same as the Westerosi and they had found the food and drink here were not to their taste. Thoros though would have to admit that at least when it came to the drink, there was much variation to choose from. He was enjoying a particularly fine wine from the Arbor in his solar when Larxus knocked on the door.

"Come," he said covering up the piece of parchment that he'd been writing yet another list on.

"The Second Sons have returned," Larxus said and Thoros hurriedly swallowed down the last of what he had in his glass before rising to his feet.

He moved quickly down through the corridors and halls, as he was eager to speak to Daario and to see if he'd found what his prince had sought in the West. That he was keen too to spend time with someone with different stories to tell around the dinner tables was something which put pace into his steps as well. Being holed up in a keep while those you named your truest friends were off traipsing through the country without you, was dull and boring and he longed for something to get his blood flowing once more. 'Something more than the fool who'd arrived a few days earlier', he thought as he caught sight of Ser Gerold Dayne out of the corner of his eye.

Thoros knew just by the look on Daario's face that he'd found the answers that Aemon wished for. So after greeting his friend warmly and bidding Larxus see to rooms and refreshments for the Second Sons, he told Daario to follow him back to his solar. As they were walking silently together, Daario noticed Ser Gerold Dayne and looked at Thoros curiously.

"From Dorne, claims to be Ser Arthur's cousin and says he's here to speak to him," Thoros whispered.

"You believe him false?" Daario asked and Thoros shook his head.

"Not quite."

"Thoros?"

"The man may share blood with the Sword of the Morning, but he's not cut from the same cloth. Not even close."

"A spy then?"

"A piss poor one if he is," he said with a chuckle that Daario joined in with.

Ser Gerold had arrived a few days earlier and other than being somewhat talented with a sword, by Westerosi standards at least, he was as far from Ser Arthur as could be. It quickly became clear to Thoros and to his men that the so-called Darkstar was a man of little honor. He had a reason other than the one he claimed that had brought him here, a reason that as of now, Thoros had not been able to ascertain. Though he didn't believe that reason to be in regards to Dorne or House Martell and if anything, he'd wager it was personal.

Clearing Ser Gerold from his mind, for now, he and Daario continued the rest of their walk in silence. Soon enough they reached his solar and as Daario took a seat, Thoros poured himself another glass of the Arbor wine he'd been drinking before taking a different bottle from the shelf behind him and then pouring Daario a glass from it. His friend was like most of their men and preferred the wines of their homeland, and the one he'd picked was from Tyrosh just as Daario himself was.

"Thank R'hllor," Daario said after he'd taken a large swallow from the glass.

"Fed up of the local stuff."

"You've no idea, old friend."

"I've ordered some supplies from Pentos, they should be here before a moon turns." he said to a smirk from Daario who then took another swallow of his wine before Thoros' expression turned more serious "You found what you were looking for?"

"The man who killed Aemon's uncle is a man named Gregor Clegane, The Mountain that Rides."

"The what now?" he chuckled and then took another drink for himself.

"Eight feet tall if he's an inch, Thoros. A huge fucking brute of a man."

"You've seen him yourself?" he asked to a nod of Daario's head "He was sent by his king?"

"He was. Not just that time either. I'm almost certain that he played a part in the death of Aemon's grandfather too."

"These people are fucking idiots," he said, unable to understand the way these men of Westeros thought.

"I think King Tywin sent his son Prince Jaime too, Thoros, I'd stake my life on it."

"It's not your life that's at risk, Daario. You know what he'll do," he said and Daario smiled a mirthless smile.

"I think he may have done it anyway given the West and its king seek to fight. Now he'll certainly do so."

"Fire and Blood," he said lifting his glass to his lips.

"Fire and Blood."

Over the next few days and nights, Thoros found he enjoyed his time far more than he had these past few weeks. Sitting and eating with Daario and his men, sparring against him in the morning. Then receiving news from Aurane and the men he'd sent his way that all was well and the city was being built, all added to his good humor. Though it was the ravens from Winterfell that truly brought about his good mood. Aemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys would be returning soon and the war that he'd come here to fight, would then truly be upon them.

Ser Gerold Dayne had long outstayed his welcome. and if it was not for both he and Daario wishing to see Arthur and Aemon's reaction to the man, then he would breathe no more. Thoros had already needed to have Daario intervene with one of the Second Sons more than once just to get them to hold their swords. Daario had found out that the man had traveled with Prince Oberyn Martell when the Dornish Prince had sought the Empire's intervention against Daemon, and that while there he'd met Princess Daenerys. His friend had then informed him that Aemon had told him that his aunt had flown here because of a run-in with a Dornishman. It made him wonder every single time when he looked to the cocky fool if it would be Aemon or Arthur who ended him. For he was sure it would be one or the other and given Daario's news, he'd wager it would be his prince that did so.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVIII

Governance of an Empire II.

Conquering is one thing, Ruling is another. Words spoken by the first Empress of the Empire and first Dragonknight Visenya Targaryen. Early on in the conquest of Essos, it became clear that given the sheer size and the distance between the major cities, it could not be ruled over as other lands had been. While Volantis was chosen to be the heart of the empire and the seat of the Emperor and his Empresses. To rule Braavos or Pentos, Norvos, Lorath, or the lands in-between, it was not ideally placed.

By the time news would arrive in Volantis from Lorath or somewhere just as distant, whatever that news pertained to would already have come to pass. Should there be a Dothraki horde threatening one of the cities under the Empire's protection, then not even the dragons could come to that city's aid quickly enough were they based in Volantis. So an edict was drawn up by Empress Visenya and Governorships were granted.

At first, it was those trusted by the Targaryens who were named as their representative. Later as more and more Targaryens were born, it became their family members who along with their own dragons, were named as Governors and Protectors of the cities of the Empire. While it differentiated from city to city, most of these Governors almost stood as a king of sorts with very little interference from the Empire itself. Which though presented the potential for one of them thinking them so and seeking to become a king for true, had yet to happen in three hundred years of the Empire. Why rebel, when to do so, would lead to your death and to deny you all the privileges that doing so would entail, after all.

Over the course of the history of the Empire, there had been good and bad governors, and some who'd needed to be removed, which if it came to it was done so by the Dragonknight or the Emperor himself. Some faced revolt and a few had even been put to the sword by those they ruled over. Something which would bring down dire consequences on those responsible each and every time it happened. Like with any rulers, there were good, bad, terrible, and mad ones who'd been named as Governors and yet, those who were kin to the Targaryens in Volantis caused far fewer problems to the Empire than those who were not. Blood shared it seemed was something that held truer in the House of the Dragon than anywhere else.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,

Marwyn the Mage.

Braavos 301 AC.

Aegon.

Saying goodbye to his wife had been harder than it had ever been. Talisa and he had truly worked on their marriage these past few moons and it had born fruit, in more ways than one if his wife was right. So where once it was a chore to spend time in her company and even in her bed, now it was anything but. Even knowing he'd only be gone for two weeks or a moon at most didn't help him feel any less keen to leave. Still, he had much work to do and so they had lain together the morning he was due to leave and had then said their goodbyes privately in their rooms.

His mother had bid him be careful and even suggested that he bring some of his guards with him. She'd even gone so far as to say that when Aemon traveled was not Torgho Nudho always by his side, which showed just how fearful she was about what he was setting off to do. Aegon though knew his dragon better than any and Caraxes while accepting someone flying with him for a short distance, would not allow it for a longer one. Thankfully his father knew so too and in the Sealord they had a man who would provide him with a suitable escort.

After he'd said his goodbyes to his father and mother, he spoke to Viserys about his own journey and wished him good fortune before he then made his way to the Dragonpit. Caraxes was already waiting for him there and the Green Dragon was even keener than Aegon was to set off on this journey. It had been some time since they'd flown any true distance together, or spent as much time alone with each other as they would on this flight, and Aegon had to admit that it was something he looked forward to. Checking his pack and making sure he bore his sword and dagger, he moved to Caraxes' head and looked deep into his bright yellow eyes.

"Emi tolmiot naejot jikagon, ñuha raqiros, se olvie naejot gaomagon skori īlon jiōragon konīr." (We have far to go, my friend, and much to do when we get there.) he said to a loud trill as he leaned forward and placed his head against the dragon's own.

A few moments later and they were in the sky, Aegon somehow resisting the urge to fly to the Grand Palace, and instead they flew north. He'd considered flying closer to the sea or even stopping off in some of the cities along the way and in the end, had decided not to. Lys, Tyrosh, Pentos, and then Braavos would not only be a longer route, but the temptation would be to spend far too much time speaking to the governors and catching up with kin. Something that was yet another reason for him flying over land was where the other route would take him. Going by sea brought him far too close to Westeros and Aegon wasn't certain he would be able to resist the urge to fly to his brother, sister, and aunt if he did so.

When night fell and he was sure there was no danger nearby, Aegon bid Caraxes land. He told his dragon to go hunt while he made a fire and rolled out the blanket he'd be sleeping on. After eating his meal for the night, he was just laying down to sleep when Caraxes arrived back. The hunt had been successful and just like Aegon himself, the Green Dragon now sought only rest. His dreams that night were of his wife and of a child they may have, of a silver-haired boy named Jaehaerys or girl named Alysanne and they were enough to make him wake with a smile the next morning.

The next day they passed over Chroyane and Ghoyan Drohe before making camp. Aegon then spent most of the night sitting by the fire speaking to Caraxes who listened to him before falling to sleep. He then fell asleep where he sat, which he paid for the next morning with some stiffness in his body that made flying less enjoyable. It almost made him consider landing in Norvos when they passed it, but instead, he bid Caraxes fly west and one day later Braavos came into view. They landed in the courtyard of the Sealord's Palace. The man himself and his First Sword hurried to greet them and Aegon found himself eager for cooked food and a warm bath.

"My prince, I had not expected…" Ferrego Antayryon, the Sealord of Braavos, said as Caraxes looked at all those present with a wary eye.

"Which is no fault of yours, Sealord. My visit was not one announced ahead of time. Mayhap we can speak more on why I'm here a little later. I find the desire for a warm bath and even warmer food to be something I much look forward to."

"It shall be done at once, my prince." the Sealord said clapping his hands "Syrio, please see to Prince Aegon's protection personally."

"As you command, Sealord." the smaller curly-haired Syrio Forel said.

"I thank you, Sealord."

Aegon turned to speak to Caraxes and bid the dragon go eat and get his own rest. He needed to tell him that he'd speak to him here again at nightfall before he did so, but once he had, Caraxes then took to the sky. With a nod to the Sealord, Aegon followed the servant and walked with Syrio Forel as his guard. Aemon had once told him that there were few better swords in Essos than the First Sword of Braavos and Aegon was more than happy to defer to his brother's knowledge in this regard. While about his business here, it would be to Syrio and only Syrio that he'd seek to see to his protection.

Whatever plots were going on regarding the assassin and the Lannisters, if the Sealord was involved in them, then even at the cost of his death it was for the best to know. Not that he believed the man to be involved in a plot against their house. Braavos of all the cities under their rule had benefited greatly and it was run with far more independence than most. No, whoever plotted against them may have allies in Braavos, Aegon was almost certain that the Sealord was not one of those allies. Certain enough to take the risk he was taking.

After bathing, he dressed in the clean clothing he'd packed with him and was escorted by Syrio to meet with the Sealord. They ate privately, Ferrego allowing him to fill his belly before he sought his reasons for coming here unannounced. It gave Aegon time to consider just how much of the truth he would tell the man, to ponder on whether it was for the best to be open and honest or should he be more circumspect. In the end, he decided to be a little of both and as he sipped the rather delicious peach brandy from Tyrosh, he began to speak.

"Strange tales reach my father and me, Sealord. Tales regarding a new Dothraki Khal and of a visit from a Prince of House Lannister. A rather small visitor if the tales are to be believed." he said to a chuckle from the older man.

"The Imp of Casterly Rock." Ferrego said and Aegon nodded "What care the Empire for such a man?"

"You've no doubt heard where my brother is?" he asked before taking another sip of the brandy "And what it is that the Dragonknight seeks?"

"And is well on the way to accomplishing." Ferrego smiled "Braavos looks on in interest at events in Westeros, my prince. We've even received some orders from Prince Aemon that benefit us greatly."

"Orders?" he asked, mistaken the word's meaning at first.

"Supplies, my prince. It seems the Dragonknight requires much of everything."

"And has the coin to pay does he not," he said to a loud laugh.

"More than enough."

"I'm happy to see Braavos and my brother both benefiting, Sealord. However, there are those in Westeros who no doubt would not be, and none more so than King Tywin Lannister. So when his son shows up in Braavos so soon after Aemon begins his campaign, the Empire and the High Emperor grow curious."

The Sealord looked at him, the older man was even more practiced in politics and double-speak than Aegon was and he found himself wishing he had his sister or Greatuncle here with him right now. Though given it would fall upon him to one day rule, this was something he needed to learn how to do. He kept his face schooled, much to the older man's consternation, and ended up winning this round.

"If there are those in Braavos fool enough to seek to aid anyone against the Dragonknight then they must be rooted out. I have no quarrel with Prince Aemon and nor do I seek one." Ferrego said and Aegon held back the smirk that almost appeared on his face.

"I am most pleased to hear it."

"Syrio will offer you his sword while you are here, my prince. I shall set my own spies to find out as much as they can and whatever you require for me, you need but only ask and it shall be given."

"I thank you, Ferrego, truly."

Caraxes arrived back and Aegon then spoke to him for some time. That night there was a more formal meal and he ate enough to be polite and turned down the offers of the courtesan's favors. Not even the Black Pearl was enough to tempt him and Aegon knew full well that he wouldn't have named that true but a few moons earlier. He slept alone and woke up refreshed, then he broke his fast, and once done, he and Syrio made their way to the Iron Bank.

Unlike any other visitor, he was not made to wait and it was four key holders that came to speak to him instead of the usual three. What surprised him was the one who did not, as Petyr Baelish had often been seen to be who dealt with matters involving the Empire. Seeing a face he knew well, Aegon kept his questions to the dull and boring kind. He asked little of what he was truly there for and instead spoke on matters that may have brought him to Braavos was his purpose something other than it was. After leaving the building, it was to the Sealord's pleasure barge that he and Syrio made their way. Their next stop was to be the House of Black and White, but he had another reason for choosing this form of transport, a reason that soon made his way inside and took a seat opposite him.

"Tycho," he said to the tall thin man.

"My prince."

"Speak to me of the Imp of Casterly Rock and of Khal Drogo."

There was much on his mind when the pleasure barge docked at the island that housed the House of Black and White. Much he needed to think about when he entered through the black and white door and made his way to speak to Jaqen H'ghar. Unsurprisingly, the red-haired Lorathi expected him and Aegon chuckled when he was offered the mug of water from the pool. His Greatuncle Aemon was the most learned man that he had ever known and it had been he who'd told both him and Aemon about the many secrets of the Faceless Men. This one was included among them. Taking the mug, he drank down a large swallow and knew as he did so that he faced no danger here. Whatever the true reasons for their compliance all these years, their compliance was one that none of his House had ever been in doubt of.

"A man is happy to see a prince." Jaqen said as Aegon sat down beside him.

"Or mayhap just this prince?" he asked.

"A man would like to see a prince who is now a king one day, but not today."

"No, not today," he said sadly, as he too would like to see his brother again.

"A prince seeks answers on an Imp."

"He does."

"An Imp gave a name that was turned down by a man's companions. A name that not even the Many-Faced God would seek for himself."

"What name?" he asked feeling his blood begin to race.

"A prince's brother."

He deflated somewhat. Aegon had expected it to be his own name given the attack that his Greatuncle had foiled, yet his brother's made more sense and as plays go, was not the worst one. Yet as he sat there he began to wonder and the question came from his lips before he'd truly formed the thought.

"What does a man know about the Sorrowful Men."

He flew from Braavos later that night, he had half-answers to certain questions and none to far too many. The Sealord had said that the Imp traveled further into Essos and he may very well have sought a different name once he couldn't get rid of the one he wished. Yet that was not the reason for Aegon's haste in departure. Tycho Nestoris had been found dead and Braavos even with the First Sword by his side was no longer safe for him. Safety only came upon Caraxes' back and as they flew back to Volantis, he still did not feel safe for true.

Oldtown 301 AC.

The High Septon.

Many years earlier he'd been the first Septon to be allowed to preach openly at the Grand Palace in Volantis. It had been him who'd handpicked the Septons and Septas that would herald a new age where the Seven who are One was the pre-eminent religion in Essos. The new High Emperor had married a woman of faith and after almost three hundred years were barring the old Andal regions and one or two small outposts they had held no presence in Essos, the time had come where they'd be everywhere. Or so he'd thought.

Not long after he'd arrived and been welcomed, the High Emperor had taken a heathen for a wife. Then to add insult to injury, the heathen had given the Empire its first Dragonknight in a hundred years. Not the wife who followed the true gods, but the heathen who followed the Old Gods of the North. He had believed that was when they lost the opportunity they'd been given and so he, those he'd brought with him, and those who had followed after he'd returned to Westeros had blamed the heathen boy for costing them so very much.

That said boy proved just how heathen he truly was in wishing to lay with his sister had only made things worse between them and Aemon Targaryen. Not that he or any member of the Faith truly cared or worried about doing so. Something that could certainly not be said about how they felt now. He had been aghast when the so-called Dragonknight had been exiled to Westeros, at least at first. Later when he'd found out the reason for the exile he'd reveled in the chance it gave him and though he'd worried what it meant that Aemon was now in Westeros, it was to Essos he had looked instead.

"I should not have done so." he sighed.

For almost two years, Aemon Targaryen had been content on his pile of rocks and the Faith had paid him little mind. In the last few moons, he'd been all they'd talked or thought about. When he'd begun his conquest, they'd been sure he didn't have the men to take but even one kingdom. Now he controlled five, with the Reach among them. The home of the Faith was now supposed to bow down to a man who not only had heathens in his ranks but may very well be the worst of any of them. For at least the heathens followed a god, even if it was the wrong one. Were that not enough to take issue with, then his marriage to his sister surely would be.

He rose to his feet, knocking over the dishes he'd been eating off. Once he'd been a slim man full of vim and vigor. Those days were now long behind him and the knocks his plans had taken had stolen much of his enthusiasm from him. It had been food and sins of the flesh he'd taken comfort in and the former of those had taken their toll on his body. His belly was large and ever-expanding and was that not enough, his appetite was rarely sated. Grabbing the large mug of wine, he drained it down in one swallow before moving to the door.

The great and the good had been gathered. A conclave was ordered and it had but one goal and reason for being. Aemon Targaryen could not be allowed to reign over Westeros for long, for each day he did so was an insult to the true gods. Each moment he and his wife named themselves King and Queen and besmirched these lands with their foul behavior was a moment too much. It was time for the faithful to act against this heathen king and those he named as his allies. Time for the Warrior and the Stranger to unite and remove him from these good and true lands.

"Father, give me the strength to see your will be done," he said as he walked from the room.

More than five hundred Septons and Septas had been gathered in the Starry Sept. The halls had been closed off to any but the truly faithful and as he waddled to take his seat, the High Septon looked out on his fellow true believers with glee. Prayers were offered to the Father and the Mother, to the Maiden and the Crone, the Smith and the Warrior, and finally to the Stranger. Candles were lit and songs were sung at each of the seven large statues. He waited until they were finished and everyone was seated once more, then he rose to his feet and raised his hands in the air.

"My friends, we come here today to speak on the biggest threat the Faith has ever known. We come to speak on the heathen king and his bride of incest. Aemon Targaryen and his sister-wife must be removed from the throne they claim illegally and be forced from these lands, lest they allow Westeros to become a land of false gods and ill faith as Essos has become." his words provoked the reaction he expected.

"Death."

"The Stranger's Kiss."

"True sons of the Warrior."

Raising his hands once more, the loud cries out for different courses of action were silenced and he began to speak once more.

"I call upon this conclave to give me leave to form true men of faith. To bring about the Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows. Men of noble birth who think as we do and seek to fight down any foe who does not accept the true gods into their hearts. Men of lesser birth who too shall rise to offer their lives in service of the Seven who are One. What say you?"

"Warrior's Sons!"

"Poor Fellows!"

The chants rang out loud and proudly, with not a single voice raised in opposition to his words and he looked on with something akin to fervor in his eyes. He and those of the highest rank amongst the Faith had discussed this for weeks. They'd gone back and forth over the best way to bring Aemon Targaryen down. That there needed to be both a political effort and a military one to do so had been the conclusion they came to. Seeing it now being accepted by one and all, he felt as he had the first time he'd set foot in the Grand Palace, he felt his god's favor once more.

They ate and celebrated their decision and he indulged even more than usual. The next day the best and the brightest among them would go out and begin to gather the men who'd form the two facets of the Faith's resistance. Knights for the Warrior's Sons, Small Folk for the Poor Fellows, and those not recruiting would speak to Lords and Ladies of faith to bring them to their side. He himself would travel to Highgarden to speak to the former King of the Reach. While others would travel to Casterly Rock to speak to King Tywin Lannister. The King of the Rock was one of the last true chances they had to beat Aemon Targaryen in a full-on assault and the Faith would be there by his side when he did so.

Entering the small room, he looked at the man and boy who sat there. Randyll Tarly was a man of true faith and courage. A military man who others would follow. Moving to the bowl containing the boiling oil, he dipped the cloth into it and watched as it soaked the white material and turned it a crimson red. He then bid both Randyll and his son take a knee and then moved over to stand in front of them. Cloth in hand, he drew a seven-pointed star on their foreheads in the oil and saw images of it being carved into heads for true. In time that's what he'd seek to do, for now, this would be enough as subterfuge may be required at some point to come as well as visible opposition.

"In the Name of the Warrior, I bid you use his strength to cast down all foes of the Seven who are One. Lord Randyll Tarly, I name you the Warrior Reborn, the First Sword of the Faith."

"Thy will be done," Randyll said rising to his feet and the High Septon smiled with thoughts of what was to come.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVIV

Dragonlords.

Second only to the Dragonknight in terms of importance to the security of the Empire, Dragonlords were far more prevalent than their rarer brethren. While the Dragonknights would excel both in the sky and on the ground, most Dragonlords truly only did so in the former. Though as with anything, there were exceptions to even this rule. The Conqueror himself was a Dragonlord and yet as fierce with a sword in hand as any man. Where it not for his sister-wife being a Dragonknight, then it may well have been Aegon who was named the most dangerous warrior in Essos and at any other time, he would have been.

The first Empress of the Dragon, Rhaenys Targaryen was just as fierce upon her dragon Meraxes back as her brother-husband was, and once again if it were it not for their sister-wife being a Dragonknight, then she'd have had no equal in the sky. Later on, there were those such as the Conciliator, Emperor Jaehaerys Targaryen, and his wife Empress Alysanne the Good. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen the Empress who Never Was and the two princes, Prince Baelon and Prince Maeker, the famed Hammer and the Anvil of the Empire.

While there had been but seven Dragonknights in House Targaryen's history, there had been countless Dragonlords. Each and every boy or girl who bonded with a dragon in the nursery of Lys would grow up one day to find they too may be called into action. From atop their dragons, they'd rain down fire on the enemies of the Empire while on the ground their armies would put men to the sword. Fire and Blood was the battle cry of House Targaryen and it was a cry that few who heard it directed at them, would live to tell the tale of.

For more than eight years not one Dragonlord had been called into the fray. Not one dragon had been required to do more than to be seen and be looked upon with awe. With the Dragonknight to do their fighting for them, there had been no need for such. But all things come to an end and soon the sky was to be filled with Dragons and Dragonlords once more.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,

Marwyn the Mage.

Viserys 301 AC.

Meereen.

He'd said goodbye to his wife and children, spoken at length to his brother and nephew, and then he and Tessarion had taken to the sky. While Aegon and he were ostensibly seeking out information, unlike his nephew, his mission had another facet to it. By the time he left Qarth, the order of assassins known as the Sorrowful Men would be no more. Not a single one would be left alive when he was finished with them and as much as finding out the name of the man who'd hired them, it was that which Viserys focussed on.

Had this been but a few years earlier then it would have fallen to his other nephew to see this task through to the end. Aemon would have taken it upon himself to fly to Braavos and Qarth and Viserys had no doubt that had it been him who'd done so, the answers they sought would be found. Should the news reach Aemon of their granduncle's death, then he'd do so still and while a part of him felt they should wait for that to occur, a larger part called for him to be the one to deliver justice for what the Sorrowful Men had done.

As for Tessarion, his dragon reveled in them flying together as she always did. The Blue Queen loved nothing more than soaring through the sky with him on her back, especially at times like this when it was more than just a pleasure ride they were undertaking. Yet there was to be some pleasure to be had on this ride too and so Viserys gave Tessarion leave to show off and the Blue Queen did so wonderfully. She soared high in the sky before tucking her wings in and dropping to the ground in almost an instant, pulling up at the very last moment which made Viserys' stomach do somersaults. When they flew over the water, she dipped her wing into it to splash him and he could feel her joy in doing so. Eventually, tiredness and hunger forced them to land for the night. His tiredness and hunger that was as Tessarion could have flown through the night had he bid her to.

They had just passed Mantarys and he'd considered stopping off there before he decided it would be Meereen where he resupplied and rested a night for true in. Viserys was keener to be among family than anyone else at this moment in time. The hill they landed on was deserted and the stream that flowed nearby was fresh and crisp. So after they'd landed and he'd bid Tessarion seek out her own food, Viserys gathered wood and water and cooked himself a small but quite tasty meal. He slept that night while leaning against Tessarion's blue scales. Her warmth made the cold night something that bothered him not. His dreams were of Serra and his children and when he woke the next morning it was with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Māzigon, aderī īlon'll sagon lēda lentor." (Come, soon we'll be among family.) he said to Tessarion before he climbed up on her back once more.

The pyramids of Meereen soon came into view and Viserys heard Tessarion roar out in greeting to the two dragons that took to the sky ahead of them. The yellow dragon was Syrax, who was his cousin Haegon's mount and he could see his cousin's silver hair blowing in the wind, the riderless one was Vermax and was the mount of the governor of Meereen, Daemon Targaryen, Haegon's father. Flying closer to the yellow dragon and away from the green and bronze one, Viserys saw Haegon point to a pyramid in the distance and fly towards it and so he followed.

After landing in a large open courtyard in front of the pyramid, he climbed down off Tessarion's back and moved to the Blue Queen's head. Thanking her for the flight, he then bid her enjoy her time with her kin and looked on as all three dragons took to the sky once more. Where they were heading to, he had no idea, but he wagered all three would be back before nightfall. Turning his attention from the dragons, he found himself face to face with his cousin Haegon for the first time in more than two years.

Tall and muscled, Haegon was a formidable warrior and Dragonlord. Talented with a blade in hand, he excelled in tactics which had been why he'd been suggested to take over Aemon's role as leader of the Second Army, a role that as of yet he'd not taken up. Why that was, Viserys knew not and so he resolved to speak to him about it while here. For now, he just enjoyed the fact that he was with his kin once more and looked forward to washing and eating something that he didn't need to cook for himself.

"By R'hllor you're a welcome sight cousin," Haegon said greeting him warmly.

"You too cousin. Your mother and father are well?" he asked as he and Haegon began walking towards the pyramid.

"They are, both are busy with the wedding," Haegon said happily.

"You're finally getting married?" he asked surprised.

"Hah, as if there is a single woman that could hold my attention." Haegon chuckled "No, Rhaenyra is to wed."

"But she's…"

"Six and ten and a woman grown." Haegon interrupted and Viserys almost looked at him in disbelief.

He'd thought of Rhaenyra as he did his own children, even pictured her in his head as he did them. To his mind his cousin was a child still and yet at six and ten she was as Haegon had said, a woman grown.

"When is the wedding?" he asked as they passed the guards and entered the cool pyramid, Viserys welcoming being out of the warmth of the sun.

"A moon or so. I had wished to attend before taking up my role in the Second Army." Haegon answered both the question he'd asked and the one he'd intended to.

"I would very much like to attend, cousin, as I'm sure with Serra and the children," he said to a broad smile from his cousin.

They walked and talked, catching up on various things and Viserys found himself listening keenly. It was his other cousin who stopped their conversation, Rhaenyra running to him and welcoming him to the Pyramid with a tight hug and a kiss to his cheeks before then taking his arm and escorting him into the throne room. Upon the throne sat the Governor of Meereen, Daemon Targaryen, and he looked like the very image of his brother Aegor. Barely raising an eyebrow at his arrival, Viserys would have missed the nod he gave to his daughter had he not known Aegor as well as he did. The two brothers shared as much in their expressions and ways of acting as they did in their looks.

"Prince Viserys Targaryen, Governor of Qarth and member of the High Council," Rhaenyra said loudly and proudly, the herald who stood to his cousin's left completely outshone by his cousin's voice.

"My Prince, We welcome you to the great city of Meereen," Daemon said as Viserys stepped forward.

"I am most happy to be welcomed so, cousin," he said emphasizing to any that were listening that it was a familial visit and not an official one.

Two days later.

He'd made his cousin's day when he told her that he, Serra, and the children would be attending her wedding. More so because of his wife's attendance than his own, he'd wager. When he'd spoken to Daemon in private, he'd told him much if not all of his reasons for traveling firstly to Meereen and then on to Qarth. Both Daemon and Haegon then insisted that the latter joined him on his journey. Something which he at first refused only to later be talked into by Haegon as they ate.

Truth be told, should it come to swordplay then Viserys was out of his element. He could wield a sword somewhat and was better able to handle a dagger, but in truth, he was a poor match for any trained in either. While he knew that his goodbrother would provide him with the men he needed once he arrived in Qarth, another Dragonlord and one as capable as Haegon couldn't hurt. Besides, he'd enjoy the company too. So he accepted and after staying for as long as he dared, they set off for Qarth. Viserys vowed once more that by the time they left the greatest city there ever was or will be, they'd have brought fire and blood to those who'd dared to raise arms against a dragon and he would have avenged his granduncle's death.

Sunspear 301 AC.

Tywin Lannister.

Each time he looked at his granddaughter and saw her smile or laugh at something her new husband said or did, Tywin felt justified in the choices he'd made. Though Joanna's happiness hadn't been the most important reason behind this match, he much preferred that she was more happy with the arrangement than not. Doran too seemed most pleased by just how well the newly married couple were behaving around each other. Cersei had confided in him what Myrcella had said about the bedding, how well it had gone, and that Joanna was not averse to laying with her husband again since the first time they'd done so.

With the match settled, Tywin had then turned his attention to the rest of his family. Jaime was keen for the war to begin, almost too keen, while Tyrion as always was far more considered in his thinking. It had led to some strange thoughts running through Tywin's mind. An image of a perfect son who combined the traits of both and even some regarding what he may have thought of Tyrion had he not been born a misshapen dwarf. Though in truth it was more than simply his appearance that he faulted Tyrion for. It was the life that he had stolen so that he could live that Tywin truly hated him for.

The biggest issue he had since arriving here was the one he now set about resolving. Joffrey had been neutered somewhat, or so he thought. Only to find that even if his member couldn't rise, it didn't stop the lusts his nephew had from being his only concern. Thrice he'd almost beaten a whore to death and while their lives were not ones that Tywin concerned himself about, they were not in the West and so he had sent Kevan to bring his errant nephew to his solar. Looking at the boy now, he felt his anger rise at just how carefree and unperturbed Joffrey was.

"Are you a fool?" he asked as Joffrey looked at him confused and proved that he somewhat was "Or is it that you think the status of being my grandson means there are no consequences for your actions?"

"They were whores, grandfather," Joffrey said derisively.

"And we are not in the West, I warned you to curb your instincts while here. Had you done so then there may have been a chance of an even more advantageous match than the one I organized. Now not only would Prince Doran not allow you within ten feet of his daughter, but Prince Oberyn would see you in the ground should you dare act to your usual standards anywhere near his niece."

"As if I care what the slut of the Viper thinks of me."

"You should care what I think of you." he said glaring at his grandson who at least had the good sense to cower a little "From now on you will receive a pittance for your allowance. Any items you need will be purchased for you and you'll have no coin to spend on whores and on your distasteful activities. Should I find you trying to go around my will on this, you'll find you've truly incurred my displeasure." he said as Joffrey gulped "Now get out of my sight and behave, lest you find it's not the West you'll be returning to."

His grandson sloped out of the room. No doubt later he'd whine and moan and even curse him and as long as he did so in private, Tywin cared not. When the war truly began, he'd set him amongst the Mountain's men. His cruelty would be welcome there and should he fall, then he had more than one grandson to replace him. Tywin bid Kevan sit and handed him the message that had been given to him, his brother reading it with an eager eye.

"The Faith, interesting."

"Indeed. There are pious fools all over Westeros and some among the men that now name Aemon Targaryen their liege."

"You mean to use them against him?"

"Both now and when the time is more to our advantage," he said as he poured himself a mug of water that was far too warm for his liking.

"And our plans in the east?"

"Are well underway. Though the target that we aimed for escaped unharmed."

"A pity," Kevan said and while Tywin felt that too, the death of another prince of the Empire was beneficial to them as well.

"What of Prince Oberyn?" he asked to a sneer from his brother.

"He, his paramour, and their children have left Sunspear and Prince Doran is wroth with them, brother. While there is no actual news on his destination, I believe we both know where he is headed."

"Then the war has begun."

Later that day, he sat with Prince Doran who was just as Kevan had said he was. The prince felt betrayed by his brother and while on one hand, Tywin was angered that he didn't have the Red Viper leading the Dornish Army, on the other, he was very much not. He'd not liked being told that they'd not answer to him and while they still wouldn't officially, in truth now they would far more so. Without Oberyn leading them, it fell to Prince Quentyn and the boy was green and weak. The young prince was someone who'd seek his counsel far more than his uncle would. For now, he and Doran looked over the maps and moved pieces around upon them, Tywin making new plans and discounting old ones almost as quickly as he'd done so.

"The dragons have not yet left the North." Doran said as he moved the two figures to Winterfell "And Harrenhal is still as formidable as ever." he added as a small figure representing the Dragonknight's army was placed there.

"I've received word that Velaryon is busy at work building a city, here," he said placing the Seahorse near where he believed the city was to be built.

"The Lords of the Narrow Sea? Celtigar, Massey, Sunglass?" Doran asked.

"Have knelt to the Dragonknight."

"Sunglass may change his mind soon enough," Doran said and Tywin nodded slightly.

"As will some of the Reach Lords once we give them a banner to rally to," he said moving the figure representing his own forces into the reach.

"The Reach it is then," Doran said moving his figure into the reach from the south.

"Highgarden," he said knocking over the rose figure.

They feasted one last time that night, Jaime and Alysanne said their goodbyes to their daughter as did Jason to his sister. Joffrey sulked in the corner and was not alone in doing so, Tyrion too wearing the same angered look on his face and that at least pleased Tywin somewhat. Myrcella charmed the hall and so he again vowed to himself that he'd see her wear a crown. While Jaime sat and japed with Lords and Knights of Dorne that they'd soon be fighting alongside.

Tywin would be a fool if he didn't have doubts about the war to come. However, his resolve to win that war was unwavering. Enemies and plots in the east would distract the Dragonknight, disloyal vassals and a rising of the Faith would turn Westeros against him, and yet it would the Lion of Casterly Rock that feasted on the dragon's corpse when all was said and done. When he took to his bed that night, he did so knowing that the moment the dragon left Westeros, was the moment that the true war would begin. In mere moons, he'd stand tall as King of all Westeros or he'd be back in Joanna's embrace once more.

"My love." he said softly as he closed his eyes "Our time has come."

Castle Black 301 AC.

Aemon.

The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was a stubborn man as were his uncles. His words to them that it would not be war he'd lead with were met with angered looks and raised voices from all three of them. Had he not looked at Torgho Nudho and shook his head, then his sworn shield may have raised his spear to quieten down the angered shouts and to answer some of the disrespectful words that were thrown his way. Aemon though could understand their anger and reticence to treat with men they considered enemies. Even if it more often than not was such men you treated with.

He allowed them to raise each and every single one of their concerns. Held his tongue when he was told that he had no understanding of the North and its ways and so was making a terrible mistake. Aemon listened when his uncle Benjen tried to act as the voice of reason and when Jeor Mormont very much did not. The Lord Commander said very loudly that the Night's Watch would never hold to any peace even should the Wildlings do so. Only when Jeor and his uncles were all shouted out did Aemon then choose to speak.

"I need no permission to do as I decide and no agreement from anyone to forge the path I seek to. I welcome your counsel but that is all it is or ever will be. What I do not welcome is any idea that I can be forced to agree to something that I find to be wrong. We only make peace with our enemies, Lord Commander, uncles, remember that and remember it well. Remember too that when I arrived here it was to treat I did so first. With the North, The Reach, Stormlands, Riverlands, and the Vale. Even now in my name, my brother by choice is treating with the Lords of the Narrow Sea. Treating not attacking without reason." he said firmly.

"You cannot treat with Wildling Savages, your grace." his uncle Ned said angrily.

"Have you heard of the Dothraki, uncle?" he asked to a shake of his uncle's head "Savage Horselords they're named throughout Essos, and though their ways are savage to our eyes, they're truly quite civilized in their own way."

"What have savages from Essos go to do with anything?" Jeor sneered.

"More than any one single group of men, they are who continue to poke and prod at the Empire. Four times it's fallen to my kin to see them humbled, for they will always seek to rise under another Khal at some point. Yet each time we've treated with them even though they'd taken the lives of men the Empire cares about. Each time we face them, we face them as not the same threat they were before, but as a separate one. Though it's well within my capability to do so, should I just go and end them all completely?" he asked.

Looking to Jeor he could see what he felt about him doing so in regards to the Wildlings, his uncles seemed less keen on the idea though.

"Or should I seek to at least offer them a chance for no blood to be shed?"

"Is it a lack of balls you're telling us you have, boy?" Jeor said and not even Aemon was quick enough to stop Torgho Nudho's spear from being pointed at the older man's neck.

"Feel free to test my strength of will any time, Lord Commander. You'll find I have no issue with spilling the blood of my enemies, or of fools." he said as he placed his hand on Torgho Nudho's shoulder and got him to remove the spear "Ask the Iron Born that felt the Blood Wyrm's flames or Robert Baratheon if my balls are big enough. Though you'll have to wait until your own time has come to do so."

"Your grace." his uncle Ned said softly as he sought to calm the tensions in the room.

"Out there are men who spilled the blood of my uncle and grandfather and though I was refused leave to meet the one and only briefly met the other, look to see what I do to those men and to the man who ordered them to do so and then tell me that I've not the will to bring death and destruction to those who deserve. But do not ask me to bring it to those who do not. Not as my first course of action. Not now, not ever." he said before turning to walk from the room.

He stopped before he got to the door, stopped and turned, and looked to see Jeor swallow down some ale and breathe in relief while his uncle Benjen looked to his uncle Ned with questions on the tip of his tongue.

"I will treat with the King Beyond the Wall, see if peace can be agreed. Should I find that one can, then the North, the Night's Watch, and every single man who names me their king will live up to that accord or face my wrath for trying to break it. Should I find that it's a war that the Wildlings seek then war is what I'll bring them and you'll get your wish, Lord Commander. But only then."

He and Torgho Nudho walked from the Lord Commander's rooms and Aemon knew that he'd need to speak to his sworn shield to calm his anger down. While to any who looked at him, Torgho wouldn't seem agitated, Aemon knew him far better than most. Someone disrespecting him was not something that Torgho took lightly and the Lord Commander may have thought it just a warning shot across the bows that he was sent. Jeor Mormont may never truly understand just how close he had just come to losing his life in that room and should he raise his voice that same way again, then not even Aemon may be able to save him.

"These men are fools, Torgho Nudho. Proud, loud, and boisterous as my mother would say and some as of yet have not learned to be humble."

"Some need lessons, my prince."

"We may have to dish some out before we're done. For now, we show restraint," he said, and reluctant though it was, Torgho Nudho nodded.

They spent most of the early morning sparring and the Greatjon arrived leading the first of the men to fight against the Wildlings later that day. He'd brought less than a thousand, though another two thousand had set off from the mountains. The large Umber lord then seemed almost fit to burst when Aemon told him to send riders to turn other men around and send them back from whence they came. Another argument was held and again his orders were questioned. Aemon then decided to speak somewhat of the tales his mother would tell him when he was a boy.

"Tales for babes, your grace, you're telling us you're doing as you are because of tales for babes?" The Greatjon asked incredulously when he was done speaking on them.

"Before the first dragons flew over Essos, I imagine a man just as you said the same thing about them, Lord Umber." he said and noticed his uncle Benjen's smirk "Yet they fly do they not? Have any of you here read the journals of the former Lord Commander's?" he asked to shakes of heads "Not even you, Lord Commander?"

"I care not for words that offer me little aid."

"An error on your part. My Granduncle Aemon is a scholar and the most learned man I know, which given that my father too is a renowned scholar should tell you much. Marwyn the Mage, a wise Maester who travels with me and had been welcomed as part of my court, he too is a learned man and…"

"Forgive me, your grace, but can you get to the fucking point already." The Greatjon said and Aemon chuckled at his directness.

"Those who don't learn from history, Lord Umber, are doomed to repeat its mistakes. Does that mean anything to any of you?" he asked to shakes of heads "How do we know not to charge uphill on horseback? Or not run directly against the walls of a keep? How do we know the right and wrong way to shoe a horse or sharpen a sword?" he asked.

"Because we learned," Benjen said and Aemon nodded at him.

"We learned. But in that learning, we made mistakes that we no longer repeat. Eight thousand years ago a threat arose that brought the Night's Watch, The King In the North, and the King Beyond the Wall together. They united and beat back that threat or so we're told. It's been more than a hundred years since the Night's Watch and the North truly fought the Wildlings and yet now they gather once more. Are none of you curious for the why of it?" he asked though he knew the answer and Jeor Mormont obliged with speaking it aloud.

"Because they're Wildling scum and they think they've gathered the numbers once more."

"Mayhaps. I find I'd seek the answer before posing….."

The sound of the roar was loud and Aemon recognized it was not Gaelithox that was making it. Caring no longer about the words he was speaking, he rose to his feet and was out the door within the blink of an eye. Torgho Nudho moved just as quickly as he and both men were halfway down the stairs before any of the others had even reacted. He looked to the sky and was stunned to see Darkfyre there and for the briefest moment, he wore a true smile at the thoughts of seeing his granduncle again. It was a smile that was wiped from his face when he saw that Darkfyre was riderless.

Gaelithox landed at the same time that Darkfyre did and yet it was the indigo dragon and not the red one that Aemon moved to. He stood in front of it, his hand touching its scales near its snout and he stared deep into its dark almost black eyes. Rarely had he seen such a sense of loss and pain in anything as he did right then. It reminded him of his father, of Elia, and himself when his mother passed. So much so that soon tears were falling from his own eyes as he knew then what had happened.

"Kostagon ao gīmigon se kirimves ao gūrogon isse morghon bona ēdā isse ābrar, Āemon Targārien" (May you know the joy you deserve in death that you had in life, Aemon Targaryen.) he said as he tried to wipe his eyes as subtly as he could.

The roar that came from Darkfyre was loud and angered and something in it resonated deep within Aemon. He looked into the dragon's eyes once more and saw it then, the fire that wished to be let loose, the anger that promised so much. Something more than he thought had happened, something terrible, and Darkfyre had come to him not out of grief, but out of a wish to see fire and blood unleashed upon someone who had done the dragon wrong. Touching his hand to the indigo dragon's snout, Aemon nodded his head and heard the trill that came from not just Darkfyre but Gaelithox too.

Three days later.

He'd said his goodbyes to his uncles, aunts, and cousins. Rhaenys and Dany had both insisted their time in the North was at an end and yet there were arguments to come between Aemon, his aunt, and his wife. For not all of them would be flying to Essos when he, the Blood Wyrm, and Darkfyre set off. Ghost rested in front of him on the Blood Wyrm's back and seemed comfortable and secure enough and with a look back at Winterfell, Aemon bid the dragons take to the sky. It would be to Harrenhal first they'd fly, then he'd fly on alone to Essos. What had happened, he knew not, though given it was only Darkfyre who'd arrived, it would seem it had happened to his granduncle alone. What was about to happen though. That he knew full well and much blood would be shed before he was done.

House Targaryen of Meereen (Descendants of Daemon Blackfyre)

Daemon Targaryen age 41 Governor of Meereen.

Rhaella Targaryen age 39.

Haegon Targaryen age 21 newly named commander of the Second Army.

Rhaenyra Targaryen age 16.

Aegor Targaryen age 40 a member of the High Council of Essos.

Dragons of the Empire.

Volantis.

Arrax.

Caraxes.

Tessarion.

Silverwing.

Nightwing (currently in Westeros)

Darkfyre (Currently in Westeros)

Meraxes (Currently in Westeros)

Gaelithox (Currently in Westeros)

Meereen.

Syrax.

Vermax.

Qarth.

Vermithor.

Two unnamed dragons recently claimed.

Pentos.

Vhagar.

Lys.

Dreamfyre.

Sunfyre.

An unknown number of unclaimed dragons.

Qohor.

Meleys.

Lorath.

Terrax.

Myr.

Shyrkos.

Aegarax.

A/N: I made an error and got mixed up with another story of mine and so named Aemon as Daemon in Thoros' pov, thanks to those who pointed it out, it should be fixed now.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up next. The Darkstar finds he's picked the wrong time and place to make an appearance. Viserys and Haegon arrive in Qarth and bring a dragon's wrath to the Sorrowful Men. Rhaenys and Aemon argue before he leaves for Essos. Aurane finds himself undertaking a Life changing journey and news reaches Doran and Tywin of Aemon's departure as Oberyn arrives at Harrenhal.

For those following my other fics, the second half of the Battle of Winterfell chapter of Brother's keeper is up next followed by The Winter King.

Chapter 14 reviews: Spstrader: I had thought of sending a Pm, but I posted my reply here instead. Really glad you're liking all the backstories. You were spot on with Ned, he's far more level-headed and in meeting Aemon, he'd somewhat gotten the measure of his character too. So while I wanted it to look as if they might consider it, logically they never would.

Chapter 20 Reviews.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Sozin's flame: Really glad to hear that, truly.

Shadowquark: Thanks so very much.

Celexys: I do have a surprise in store when we get to Mance. As for the Mountain, I hope to make it somewhat epic.

Seaweed: I will have to do it at some point in a fic, but for this one, I'd set my store out for it to be Jon/Rhaenys and it's too hard for me to not follow through.

Silverglow: Yes it was just an error on my path, I completely got the wrong end of the stick with the title for some reason.

Dunk: So glad to hear that. With the new arrival, I had hoped to make it a surprise as it leads to some future events. In regards to the Free Folk, we'll obviously see some of our faves, Tormund, Mance, Val, etc. But I have one big surprise in store, a character not ever used in this way before which I'm hoping people find interesting. I'll give you a hint, think of characters mentioned but not yet seen, and not someone who would be long dead like Bloodraven. Aemon's fury will I hope be a thing to behold, hope you liked the faith stuff here.

VwChick: So glad you liked it.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, the death is coming up first for Aemon to deal with, then the war and the Free Folk.