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.

30. Between a Rock and a Hardcase

Iron Islands 301 AC.

Harren Hoare.

He should be dead. They should have killed him and yet for some reason he'd been left alive. Not that living was something he welcomed much at the moment. Each day he woke, Harren cursed himself for not expecting it, for not preparing for it. His father had always warned him that Balon was an ambitious man who lusted for power, Harren now wished he'd listened to him more than he had at the time.

Instead, he'd expected his friendship with Theon to be enough to keep the Greyjoys in line. Even japing with his former friend that together they'd be a match for Euron should the Crow's Eye ever need to be taken down a notch or two. Foolish, childish games, that in truth he'd never taken as seriously as he should have. Now, sitting alone in his cell, his thoughts his only company, Harren could only pray to the Drowned God for one chance to bring his blade to bear against Balon, Victarion, Euron, and Theon before his time came to an end.

They were not the only prayers he uttered of an evening or a morn when his true fears would rise to the surface. Thoughts of his mother, his sister, and what may have been, or mayhap was still being done to them, were never far from Harren's mind. As too were hopeful thoughts of escape and rescue, justice and vengeance, blood, and death. His own to hopefully be the last of them. For was he to fall before the House of the Kraken, then his family's doom would be complete.

"I should have seen it coming," he said despairingly.

Many Moons Earlier.

The force that arrived on Pyke was broken. Their might, strength, and reputation were in tatters and the defeat they'd suffered at the hands of the Northmen and Riverlanders was true and complete. They'd suffered many losses in terms of numbers, his father amongst them. Then they'd found that Harrenhal too had been taken from them in the blink of an eye.

That his mother and sister were unharmed and had been allowed to leave with their wealth was the only welcome piece of news that Harren was given as he was freed. While the warning that was relayed to him was one that he very much intended to take note of. For despite how fierce and resolute the Northmen had proved themselves, they too had withered when faced with a dragon. Harren still shuddered at the memory of the sight of the Blood Wyrm and the words its rider spoke quietly to him before letting him loose from his chains.

"The Blood Wyrm put paid to the men your father sent to ambush the North, Harren. With a snap of my fingers, those men were no more." Aemon Targaryen said as he then snapped his fingers for effect. "Go back to your islands and await my coming. For not even they will remain separate from the kingdom I'm forging. Be ready to kneel as swiftly as I demand of you. Or be ready to face a dragon's flames. The choice of which it's to be I leave to you."

So fearful did the warning leave him that Harren made sure to speak to many of those who knew more of events than him. Those who'd seen what was left of the men his father had sent to the Neck. Or those who'd been in Harrenhal when it had fallen, Harren had spoken to them all. To his mother and sister even more truly and completely and he'd heard the fear and worry in his mother's voice when he'd done so.

It left him with no choice and so when Aemon Targaryen finally decided to look their way, he'd find the Iron Islands and its Lord Reaper to be accommodating to his wishes. There was no advantage in not being so and no path to victory for them in facing off against the man who would be king. Though Harren knew there would be pushback all the same. He knew too that he'd need too to be firm with his people in order to get them to understand just how dangerous a man Aemon Targaryen was.

He had little idea at the time that he'd never get to make that speech and even that night at the welcome feast, Harren was unaware of the plots and schemes that were going on around him.

Seeing Theon again had been a welcome sight and Balon had been most pleased to see that Harren, his mother, and his sister had arrived safely. He was given pride of place as was his right due to him being his father's heir and though talk turned to the Kingsmoot, Harren paid it little mind. The drink flowed, the conversation was full and friendly, and as the night wore on, Harren got more and more drunk. Harren was japing and sitting beside Theon eyeing up one of the thralls to be his bed warmer for the night when he heard the commotion in the Great Hall.

"Theon?" he asked confused.

"I'm sorry, but you're not my blood," Theon replied as around the room those most loyal to him and who'd come with his mother and sister from Harrenhal, were quickly and efficiently disposed of.

Men fell dead in their seats as those they'd been drinking with, now turned on them. Others were knocked unconscious or simply too drunk to offer any fightback whatsoever. Harren too was drunk, yet he rose to his feet and removed his throwing ax regardless. Hurriedly adding it to the dagger that he now wielded in his off-hand.

Theon, like the craven he was, almost ran from him. While two ugly brutes very much did not. The first of them fell to the thrust from Harren's dagger while the second met his end at Harren's small ax. Looking around the room in a panic, Harren found that he was now almost alone and without allies. There were no men he could trust who still stood and so his thoughts turned to his mother and sister. Gutting another man who moved toward him and caring not if he was friend or foe, Harren made his way to the nearest door, only to find an imposing sight blocking his way.

Victarion Greyjoy dwarfed him by more than a head and a half. Though not armored, he bore his large double-sided ax in his hand and it left Harren with no other choice but to turn tail and run in the opposite direction. Here too he found a Greyjoy blocking his path. This one was an even bigger obstacle than the last and while Victarion had looked somewhat conflicted and had spoken not, the Crow's Eye was very different.

"Run boy. I much prefer the chase." the Crow's Eye cackled.

Pride, annoyance, the knowledge that he was most likely not leaving this hall alive, Harren knew not which it was that set his feet moving. Only that he ran to and not from the Crow's Eye, came close to hitting him with first his dagger and then his ax, and then he knew naught but darkness. Harren never saw the blow that had knocked him out. Nor did he hear the words that were spoken over his prone and unconscious body. Not until the next day did he hear or see anything again and the sight and sound that he was met with, was not one he much enjoyed.

"Your mother and sister are safe, boy." Balon Greyjoy said.

"If you harm them…"

"You'll what? Speak angered words at me." Balon chuckled. "You live still only because I deem it so, your mother and sister, their lives and whatever virtue they possess are mine to do with what I will."

"I'm your king." he spat angrily.

"As good a king as your father, no doubt." Balon sneered. "I am the only king the Iron Islands needs. Kneel to the dragons, by the Drowned God they wished to kill you for that alone."

Harren looked at the man in front of him. Balon's grey hair was long and dank, while his face was lined with creases that made him look twice as old as he truly was. Where Victarion was a force of nature and Euron a mad and dangerous fool, Balon was neither. He bore not the build of Victarion nor the threat of Euron and yet he had something that neither of the other two had. Age. Balon was the firstborn and so he led their House, Harren tried not to ponder on what things would be like if he did not. For it did his situation little good after all.

"The Kingsmoot will be held on the morrow and who knows, once I'm named king I may find I've little use for you. Enjoy the day, my prince." Balon smirked. "It may well be your last."

Now.

For some reason, it had turned out not to be death that came to him and Harren still understood it not. He'd been held prisoner, treated relatively well, and fed more than enough so as not to starve. In terms of visitors, other than his jailors he'd had but three. Balon who'd come to mock and threaten that today was to be his last day, before then leaving and not coming back for a week or mayhap a moon. Theon who came and spoke about his mother and sister and who Harren shouted angrily at and bid to leave him alone, and finally, Euron. The Crow's Eye would come and look at him with an odd smile on his face and Euron always left after speaking but two words.

"Not Today."

Harren watched the light fade and the sun as it fell. His eyes were focused on the window as they re-adjusted to the light of the night sky. So concentrated was he on this, that he never heard the men as they moved into the cellblock. If it was not for the sound of bodies hitting the ground, then he'd have most likely drifted off to sleep. Yet with whatever was going on outside his cell door, sleep was the last thing he could do. Rising to his feet, Harren looked for anything he could use for a weapon, only to remember he'd had that thought before. As too had his jailors, which was why he found nothing he could defend himself with. Resolving himself to his fate, the door to his cell opened and he found himself face to face with one of the mutes that manned the Silence. The man's scarred face was a most unwelcome sight in the darkness of Harren's cell.

A muttered word, a gesture that Harren understood not and then he was being dragged and shoved from the cell. Outside there was more than one of Euron's mutes. Though he'd no wish to go where they wanted him to, Harren found to his dismay that he had little but any choice but to do so. He was pushed roughly ahead of them, forced down corridors and through doors and after some time, Harren found himself outside the keep. A brief moment to feel the cool wind of freedom on his face was all he was given before he was placed on a horse.

Again thoughts of true escape entered and then left his mind. Two men with crossbows quickly made sure he understood that he rode with them or they'd see he fell here instead. Soon enough the keep was far behind them and Harren began to recognize the cove that he was taken to. As he did the man who awaited him once he reached it. The Crow's Eye laughed like a loon as Harren dismounted from his horse and Harren readied himself for whatever fate the Drowned God had in store for him.

"You look like I'm about to stick my cock up your arse." Euron laughed. "Pretty as you are, boy, that's not what I freed you for."

"Then why?" Harren asked. As bravely as any man could when they were face to face with a madman.

"For me to know and you to…." Euron paused before laughing loudly. "For me to know."

Harren looked at the man in front of him, his one eye was alight as Euron laughed at whatever private jape he was enjoying. Never did he think the man to be as dangerous as he did right then and he'd always thought the Crow's Eye to be the most dangerous man that walked the realm or sailed the seas. Tonight, under the light from the full moon that shined down on them, Euron Greyjoy looked truly insane and it was a terrifying thing to behold. Thankfully it was not something he needed to see for long, as Euron shocked and stunned him with what he proposed.

"The boat will take you to a ship, the ship to Lannisport. Call upon a dragon for aid if you dare, my prince. For should you not, then your mother and sister won't be as lucky as you and I'll wet my cock on each of them before they're sent off to the Drowned God's halls."

Wish as he might to kill the man in front of him, Harren was unarmed and outnumbered. Even should he manage to end the Crow's Eye, it would serve him little. Whereas if he was to find any hope of rescuing his mother and sister, then he needed powerful allies to do so and there were none more powerful than the Dragonknight. So he bit his tongue and spoke little, moved to the boat, and was soon rowed away from shore and to the ship. All the while, the Crow's Eye laughed loudly and the sound sent a chill down Harren's spine. A chill that he hoped a dragon's flames would be enough to force away.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.

Robb Stark.

While the camp was located on the path to Casterly Rock, Robb and the younger men of the North had spent much time in Lannisport. They'd learned how his cousin had taken the city and what Aemon had done to the Lannisters he'd found there. Not even the women or children were spared from the Dragon's Wroth. It disturbed Robb greatly. As some ideas were beyond his thinking and the killing of an innocent after the battle had been won was very much one of those.

Speaking to the other heirs and second sons of the North, to men that he would now name as friends, Robb was surprised to find that few of them shared his concerns. The Smalljon had simply said that there was no such thing as an innocent Lannister, while Eddard and Harrion Karstark had said that such was the way of war. That this war in particular would end in one way and one way only, the complete destruction of the Lannister line. Again, however, it didn't sit right with him and so Robb spoke to the one man he trusted above all others. His father.

"Is it not dishonorable to do what Aemon did, Father?" he asked as they sat alone in his father's tent.

"There is little place for honor in war, son. Especially when that war is fought against those with none. Or do you name the Lannisters as honorable men?"

"No, I'd not do so, but women, Father? Children?" he asked worriedly.

"You know the tales of the North, Robb. The tales of our House and those who sat on the Winter Throne before my father and even his father before him. The Hungry Wolf is not a man that either of us would name as dishonorable is he?" his father asked as he looked at him and Robb was shaking his head in reply almost before he finished doing so.

"So Aemon is truly going to end their entire line?" he asked.

"I would wager so and there is not a thing you, I, or even his wife can say to stop him from doing so, son." his father said before shocking Robb to his very core. "Nor would I want to."

It had preyed on his mind right up to the day that they made their first true advance on Casterly Rock. Robb having to force himself to look at his cousin as he killed first Joffrey and then Tyrion Lannister. Then as he and Ser Arthur Dayne had fought against the Mountain and the Prince of the Rock. Though by then, Robb had found a man far more worthy to be named dishonorable than his cousin ever could be.

The Mountain was a true beast of a man. Close to eight feet tall, the monster dwarfed even the Greatjon. He wore a dark heavy plate that Robb wagered would take four or five strong men to even lift. Wielded a Greatsword that rivaled Ice in size if not beauty. According to one of Aemon's men, Daario Naharis, it had been the Mountain who'd killed Robb's uncle Brandon. So as he watched the fight, he prayed that Ser Arthur would be victorious. Something that a few moments of seeing the famed Sword of the Morning in action was proved true.

To his and his father's great joy, the Mountain was incapacitated rather than killed, which was more than could be said for Prince Jaime Lannister. Aemon toyed with Tywin Lannister's golden heir, played with him, and then beat him with such ease and contempt that it made Robb wonder if the tales of Jaime's prowess were exaggerated. Again something that Daario Naharis had said to him had then come to mind to name it as not so.

"I know the Mountain killed King Brandon, while Prince Jaime himself killed both Martyn Cassel and King Rickard."

"How can you know for true?" Robb asked when his father did not.

"Because my prince ordered me to find out, and I've yet to not carry out one of his others to completion," Daario replied, firmly but not angrily.

It was because of that, Robb had then named Jaime Lannister as true a swordsman as his reputation had. Why he now named his cousin as either the first-best or second-best blade in Westeros. Only Ser Arthur Dayne of a level that could compete with Aemon, Robb wagered. With the fight now done, Robb, his father, his uncle Benjen and his cousin Torrhen, along with the Lords of the North, all looked on as the Mountain was chained and restrained. They watched as Aemon tied Jaime Lannister's body to the Blood Wyrm and then mounted his dragon. The massive red beast then took to the sky and beneath it, hanging by a long rope, a dead Prince of the Rock was soon returned to his father.

As the Mountain was moved to somewhere safe, Robb, his father, and those with them waited for both Aemon's return and to be told what was to be done with the man who'd murdered his uncle. On the latter, they did not have to wait long, as Ser Arthur made his way to them and was soon standing right in front of where Robb himself stood. The man bore no wound, no sweat fell from his brow, and he looked to all and sundry as if he'd just been taking a stroll. Apparently, the fight had taken little out of him and Robb promised himself that he'd test his own blade against Ser Arthur's in a spar should the chance present itself.

"His grace releases the Mountain to your care, Lord Stark. It is to you and House Stark to judge the proper sentence for the man and his grace only asks that if it's to be execution, you hold off until his return. For he too would seek to see the man who killed his kin as he takes his final breath." Ser Arthur said.

"I thank you and his grace, Ser Arthur. As for the sentence, death is all that awaits such a man and that death will be delivered by those of House Stark, you can inform the king thus." his father's words were spoken with authority and certainty that Robb had yet to master.

"An hour, Lord Stark." Ser Arthur said and Robb looked to his father, his uncle, and his cousin, all of whom would play their part in taking the monster from the world, or so Robb believed.

His father waited until Ser Arthur walked to where the queen and the princess stood and once he'd done so, only then did he speak.

"Have the man stripped of his armor and see it melted down along with his sword. I want him chained firmly to the nearest tree, Jon, enough chains that would hold even you." His father ordered the Greatjon who simply nodded and moved. "Benjen you and Torrhen must play your parts, you too, Robb, the Blood Oath demands it of us."

Robb shivered a little. He'd never truly fought or shed blood in more than just a spar. He had certainly not been involved in any action where a man lost his life, though mayhap that couldn't be said as truly now. For by simply marching with the Northern Army, it could be said that he now very much had. Whatever the truth of it, by the end of the day, he'd be bloodied properly. That it was to be with the blood of the man who'd killed his Uncle Brandon, was something that made him more eager than afraid.

His father spoke to him alone in his tent, his words ones that bid him to show resolve and not to falter or waver. Robb believed that his uncle was speaking those very same words to Torrhen in their own tent, mayhap even right at that particular moment. The hour passed almost in the blink of an eye and with a nod of his head, his father bid him to follow as he walked from the tent. They move through the Northern Camp where men looked on with eager eyes and bowed their heads both because of his father's rank and to show their agreement with what was about to be done. Eventually, they were joined by other Lords, and even by Lady Maege and her daughters, as they walked to the tree where the Mountain was held.

Robb looked around subtly, happy to see that Aemon had returned and now stood by his wife and aunt, his men alongside or behind him. His cousin nodded in his father's direction and Robb saw more words spoken in the simple nod of his father's head than if he'd spoken them aloud. There was gratitude for not only bringing the Mountain to justice but for allowing them to be who meted that justice out. Relief that it had cost them little thus far to see that was so. As well as determination to do what now would be done, Robb too was determined and he offered a prayer to the Old Gods to allow him to not hesitate when the time came.

Chained to the tree, the Mountain that Rides looked much different without his heavy plate armor. He was still as large, heavily muscled, and surprisingly he was more full of scars and marks than Robb expected. The monstrous man struggled against his chains and at one point he did so, so strenuously, that Robb worried the chains or the tree itself wouldn't hold him. Though it very much did and all his struggles were in vain, much to Robb's relief. As the Lords and Ladies of the North took their places, while around them so too did the other commanders of Aemon's army, Robb, Benjen, and Torrhen took theirs and his father then moved forward.

"This man ambushed our king and murdered him. He took the life of my brother, left my Goodsister a widow, and robbed the North of the man we sought to follow. There can only be one sentence given for such crimes. So in the name of their graces, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys of House Targaryen, I, Prince Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, acting on behalf of House Stark, do hereby sentence you, Gregor Clegane, to die a murderer's death."

"For the king and queen."

"For the North."

"For House Stark."

Robb listened as the cheers rang out, noticing that only on the last one did Aemon add his own voice to them. Happy to see he was not the only one who did so, as his father, uncle, and cousin, as well as the Lords and Ladies of the North, had noticed too.

"Benjen." His father's voice called out when the cheers had quietened. His uncle then stepped forward bearing his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

A slash across the chest and then a dagger in the eye was what the Mountain received from Robb's uncle. The first of those was just enough to spill blood while the second left the Mountain half blinded. Feeling his father's eyes on him, Robb awaited his uncle to move back and his own name to be called, he did not have to wait long. As with Benjen, he too bore a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, he too then slashed his sword across the Mountain's chest. Then with his dagger, he stabbed the man under the arm, a mortal wound, yet one that would not be what took the Mountain's life this day.

"Torrhen." his father called and Robb looked on as his cousin did as he had done and slashed the Mountain's chest before stabbing his dagger under the Mountain's other arm.

Benjen stood forward once more, quickly taking the other eye and then slashing the Mountain's stomach, cutting deep enough that it was not only blood that began to pour out from the wound. Finally, his father moved to the now dying man, Ice raised high in his two hands and Robb along with everyone there bore witness as his father wielded the greatsword as if he'd been born to do so.

A hand, a foot, another hand, Ice took them all and then with two downward slashes, it opened the Mountain's chest from neck to balls. Through it all, the Mountain screamed loudly and called for someone to come to his aid. His king, his prince, the very gods themselves, the monster cried out to them all and received no reply. The end when it finally came seemed to take an age. His father had finished cutting into the man and all that the Mountain had inside of him was now clear for all to see.

"For my brother." his father said before moving forward. Ice was swung in an arc that took the Mountain's head from his shoulders, the man himself having died no more than a moment earlier.

Had someone asked him before this day if his father was capable of such bloodlust, then Robb would have told them in no uncertain terms that he was not. As he looked on and watched his father lift the Mountain's giant head in the air and while the Lords and Ladies of the North cheered on loudly, he hoped that it was just because of what the man had done and taken from them that made his father this way. For he'd not deny that he too had a certain bloodlust when it came to the man who murdered his uncle.

There was to be no celebration of the Mountain's demise, however. No time for such. After a brief meal and with night now falling, the attack on the Rock began in earnest. Much blood still needed to be spilled before the Blood Oath his father, uncle, and the Lords and Ladies of the North were satisfied. While even when it was, Robb doubted that Aemon would be.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

Never had she seen Aemon as focused as he now was. It was clear from the moment she and Dany had arrived in the West. Not even when they were alone was he anything less than the Dragonknight and for the first true time in her life, Rhaenys had seen what it was that made her husband different from other men. Up until then it had simply been tales and stories and none of them did the truth justice. Nor truly prepare her for that truth.

Neither she nor Dany had seen what Aemon had done in Lannisport and had it not been so recently done, then Rhaenys may have sought to deny that Aemon would carry out such acts. If there were not so many who spoke of witnessing Aemon personally execute every single Lannister he'd found in the city, then Rhaenys would be certain it was simply tales being told. It very much was not and what she herself witnessed with Joffrey and Tyrion Lannister was enough to prove that even more truly.

As for Aemon, he had barely spoken to her other than in generalities and to ask about her health. He'd welcomed her and Dany and made sure they were well guarded and had all they needed, then once she'd told him that she was well, her husband had gone away and the Dragonknight was in full effect. He'd accepted no questions as to his behavior, would brook no rebuke, not that she wished to give him one, and had simply carried out his plans as if she had stayed in Harrenhal. Although the mere fact that Rhaenys, Dany, and their dragons had arrived had meant they were now part of the final plan to take Casterly Rock itself.

After he'd brutally and thankfully, quickly, executed Joffrey and Tyrion Lannister, Aemon had then goaded Jaime Lannister into a fight and Rhaenys had seen his true skills with a blade in his hand. For as long as she could remember, those in the Empire had named Aemon and Ser Arthur as the best swords in Essos. Now, she had no doubt that the tales would name them the same in Westeros. Aemon seemed to play with the Prince of the Rock before he took his life and then his dignity from him.

"What's he doing?" Dany had asked quietly as Aemon tied Jaime Lannister's body to the Blood Wyrm and took to the sky.

"I know not," Rhaenys answered truly.

It turned out that Aemon was goading the man's father now, or mayhap he was simply showing him what was soon to be his fate. In the end, it mattered not. Aemon and the Blood Wyrm flew for close to an hour and when they returned, Jaime Lannister's body was not with them. Rhaenys had found herself wondering if and how Aemon had returned him to his family home. Even after the Blood Wyrm had landed and Aemon walked to where she and Dany awaited, he spoke little to either of them. Simply telling them to prepare for the night to come and that he wished for some time to ready himself for the Mountain's demise.

Once again Rhaenys looked on as an execution was carried out. This one was far more bloody and took far longer than the two Aemon had handled himself or the ones he'd done before she and Dany had arrived. Aemon stood silently and watched as his mother's family took their vengeance out on the man who'd killed their kin. His hand though reached for hers and Rhaenys was most relieved with the contact. As she was with the talk they finally had upon returning to their tent after it was done.

"I am well, Rhaenys. I know you're worried about me and that I may seem as if I'm not, but I am well."

"You are grieving, Aemon," she said softly.

"No, I'm not. Not yet." her husband said as he moved to her. "My grief comes once he's been avenged. Only then can I allow myself to do so."

"Aems…"

"All I do is what must be done, Rhaenys. They….." Aemon pointed to the tent's opening. "They may see it as cruel, or unnecessary, may name me bloodthirsty, and yet I care not what they think." Rhaenys looked at him as he moved closer to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek softly. "I need you to know that it is not and that I am well."

"I know," she said, not sure if she was lying or just being hopeful when she spoke the words, but knowing that Aemon needed to hear them regardless.

It was the closest look she had at her husband since she'd arrived in the West and it was to be but a brief one. In the blink of an eye, Aemon Targaryen had once again disappeared into a hole that her husband hid him in. The Dragonknight was standing now in front of her and Rhaenys was discomfited by how easily Aemon was able to switch between the two.

"You and Dany are to destroy the ships and keep to the cove, fly over it and any who try and escape that way are to meet their ends in Meraxes and Nightwing's flames. Aurane will join me and together we'll break open the Rock and allow our army through."

"Aemon."

"You fly high, Rhaenys, Dany too. I'll speak to her before you take to the sky, but you fly high." Aemon commanded.

"I'll fly high," she said and ever so briefly, Rhaenys felt her husband's lips on her own before she was left standing alone in the tent.

Within the hour, she, Dany, Aurane, and Aemon himself were sitting atop their dragons. Behind them, the force that would take the Rock was lined up. Daario and his Second Sons, Thoros and his Flames of the Dragon, the Unsullied, and their new commander Torgho Timpa, who Rhaenys had not yet spoken to. As well as men of the North, Reach, and the Vale. How many in total there were, Rhaenys knew not, nor how hard or easy to take the keep would prove to be. What she did know was that before the night was done, Casterly Rock would fall and any Lannister alive by the morrow, would not see another sunrise.

"Soves Meraxes," Rhaenys called out and as one, the four dragons took to the sky and the army marched to the gates of Casterly Rock.

The Fall of Casterly Rock 301 AC.

Genna Lannister.

She'd never seen Tywin so broken or so devastated by a loss as he was right now. Not even when Joanna had passed had her brother looked as much in need of time to grieve as he did upon seeing Jaime fall. In this he wasn't alone, Cersei, Alysanne, Jason, and even Genna herself had been at first shocked that anyone could beat Jaime with a sword in hand. Then they were left stunned when his life had been taken so contemptuously. They'd all then had to watch on horror-struck as his body was desecrated and flown beneath the dragon before being dropped unceremoniously down upon the Rock.

Yet there was no time to grieve nor to even truly shed a tear over the loss of the Prince of the Rock. Not when the Rock itself was in such peril. For despite not being a woman who knew much of military tactics or warfare, Genna knew full well that other than when Lann the Clever had taken the Rock from the Casterlys, it was now as close as it ever could be to falling to a hostile force. A force that given what the Dragon had done in Lannisport, would see each and every member of their House in the ground once it was done.

So Genna made her way to the Hall of Heroes. Once there she walked past Cersei and Alysanne and listened not to their weeping and moved straight to her brother. She looked not at the broken body that lay atop the stone sarcophagus that was supposed to be another's resting place. Instead, it was Tywin and Tywin alone that she focussed all her attention on and her words, though harsh, were spoken regardless.

"We have not time for mourning, brother. The Dragon is or will be at our gates and we must prepare. We must stop him lest he ends us all."

"He was my son." Tywin almost shouted and Genna spoke not on the fact that their brother and his son too as well as her own had fallen to the dragon or that they'd looked on while Tyrion had died at Aemon Targaryen's hands. For Tywin only ever had room for one son in his life after all.

"And to avenge him we need to survive the night, brother."

It was not enough, her words barely registered and Genna left the Hall of Heroes alone. She'd walked no more than a few feet when Jason and Tommen came to her. Both her grandnephews were armed and armored and trying their best to look older than they truly were. She bid them to speak to their grandfather, to try and talk sense to him where she could not, and then she continued on her way. Her destination was the walls of Casterly Rock where her own sons and even her fool of a husband would be.

By the time she reached them, Genna knew more than one thing. The men were far more scared than she'd ever known a man could be. They worried about the fight to come and with no one to lead them or inspire them, they were almost beaten already. She knew too that they would be no match for the dragon and its flames and cursed herself for not leaving when Gerion did. Her brother had spoken the truth about what he and his men had faced and what came their way, but Genna had been too proud and stubborn to listen.

'She was a Lioness of the Rock, a matriarch of House Lannister, no one would force her from her home' or so she'd thought at the time.

As she looked at Walder, Tion, and Emmon, she began to think that her true reason was that in truth there was nowhere to run to or to hide. Essos belonged even more to the Dragons than Westeros now did. So they'd find no comfort or respite there after what her brother had done. The attack Tywin had sent Tyrion to organize as well as the alliance they'd made with the Dornish had now doomed them on both sides of the Narrow Sea.

Genna hugged her boys and for one of the few times in her life, she willingly kissed Emmon fully on the lips. She asked if they had everything they needed and did the same to the men. Just as she was about to turn and head back inside, the horns rang out loudly. Looking over the parapets, she witnessed the siege engines being moved forward. Fewer of them than she would have expected and briefly, very briefly, Genna felt hope rise in her chest. Then the roars echoed and Genna, Emmon, her sons, and each and every man atop the walls of the keep all looked upward.

She'd seen the dragons from a distance and had looked up only momentarily when the red one had flown over the Rock. The sight of her nephew's dead body had been more than enough to force her to not pay too close attention to the so-called Blood Wyrm. Now, Genna could see it in all its terrifying glory. Its flight this time was much different and it took her only a moment to realize just exactly what it was the dragon and the man atop its back intended.

"Walder, Tion," she called out and her sons moved to her. "Emmon," she shouted, having to do so again to get her husband to come and join their sons in her embrace. "I love you all so very much, my sweet boys. You too, husband," she said, both truthfully and not. Though Emmon needed a lie far more than he did the truth at that moment.

Placing kisses on each of their cheeks, Genna felt the warmth as it washed over them, the flames licking against their skin. Then she, her sons, and her husband felt no more.

Aurane.

He'd listened to Aemon's plans and had raised no objection to them. Not that one would have been listened to. For only a fool would argue with the Dragonknight about how best way to wage war from atop a dragon's back. Together they would open the gates to the Rock and allow their army to march right through them. The plan was as simple as that and Aemon had told him to just do as he and the Blood Wyrm did. To do so and to watch out for arrows or scorpion bolts.

Rhaenys and Daenerys would fly behind and not above the Rock. Meraxes and Nightwing were to be used to ensure there was no escape. To ensure that the last remaining ships the Lannisters had no doubt hidden in order to do so, were burned rather than sailed away unhindered. Daario and Thoros were given command of their ground forces, with Aemon's Kin, Lord Denys Arryn and the Vale Knights, Lord Willas and the men of the Reach, and the Lords and Ladies of the North taking their orders from them. While Torgho Timpa and the Unsullied would lead the assault on the keep itself. No men were more suited to hand-to-hand combat than they and none had such a desire to see their fallen commander avenged.

'Well, almost none'" Aurane thought.

It was Aemon himself who lay down the first flames. Aurane looking on from atop Darkfyre's back when the poor fools who hoped to defend the keep found out to their cost that it could or would not be defended from the Dragonknight's Wroth. The second wave of flame came from the Blood Wyrm too, as Aurane was still stunned by the effectiveness of the red dragon's flames. Blackened walls and ash were all that remained of the men, and what looked like a solitary woman, who'd been standing there but moments ago.

"Dracarys," Aurane called out, seeing men scurry to find cover or safety. Neither of which they'd find this night.

Again and again, over and over, Darkfyre and the Blood Wyrm went about their deadly work. Not only did they end any man who would dare fire on their own from atop the walls of the Rock, but they made sure that none would seek to try and replace them once the dragons had moved on to their next targets.

In the distance, Aurane could see Nightwing and Meraxes, their own flames were no longer being produced and he took that to mean that the ships sailed no more. Now the two dragons flew high over the cove that lay behind the Rock as if they were two sentinels and Aurane would wager that even Aemon took some relief from that. Not that his brother by choice wasn't worried about his wife or aunt, but more that the man atop the Blood Wyrm was not a husband or a nephew at that moment in time. The Dragonknight had been who the Lannisters had brought down onto their heads and after this night, Aurane would wager no one in Westeros would ever be fool enough to do so again.

"Dracarys," he called out as the two dragons turned their attention to the courtyards and what they'd named as a barracks on a map drawn by Aemon himself.

Aurane had been relieved to find out that the flight over Casterly Rock, while Jaime Lannister's dead body lay tied to the Blood Wyrm, had not simply been for that purpose alone. Aemon had sought to identify where to strike and to use the dragon's flames to their best effectiveness. While at the same time, he was showing contempt for the man who'd killed his uncle and sworn shield.

A map had been drawn after Aemon had landed and it was that map that they now worked to. In far quicker a time than Aurane had expected, they were now done. The defenders of the Rock were by now either hiding in cover and praying that a dragon's flames wouldn't be able to reach them, or they'd already fallen and so they prayed no more. Either way, it brought them to their final target, the Lion's Mouth and the great gate that barred the way into the cavern and the Rock itself. A gate that was soon to find itself no match for the Blood Wyrm's flames. Aurane was almost awestruck as he watched Aemon and his dragon easily take away one of the final defenses the Lannisters had to protect them.

Once it was done, the Blood Wyrm roared loudly to call their men into action and Aurane looked on as once the Unsullied had marched into the cavern, the red dragon landed and Aemon dismounted, before then joining with Daario, Thoros, and his uncles' men as Aemon too took the fight to the ground. A part of his plan that he'd told none of them about and one that left Aurane both worried and concerned. Though not enough to join Aemon and shield his back as he still had work to do and the dragons must remain seen no matter what.

Taking a long lingering look at the melted steel gates and the army that now marched through them, Aurane bid Darkfyre to fly over the Rock once more and to make ready to lay down his flames if needed. He doubted they would be and took some comfort from the fact that the Blood Wyrm had joined them rather than waited for Aemon to return. If his dragon worried about Aemon not, then mayhap there was nothing to be worried about. Or so Aurane hoped.

Denys Arryn.

Denys had expected a pitched battle, mayhap even a charge led by the Knights of the Vale, or at the very least, their cavalry being put to its best use. Yet by the time he'd joined up with the king's army, those parts of this particular campaign were long since past. Instead, it was to be a siege and their target was to be Casterly Rock itself. A target that men such as Yohn Royce, Brynden Tully, and even Prince Eddard Stark worried about taking on.

Besieging a keep was hard work at the best of times. When your supply lines were so stretched and you were so far from your own lands, it could be nigh on impossible. To besiege a keep as formidable as Casterly Rock, to do so in the very heart of the Westerlands, Denys wagered that even with dragons that may prove too much for Aemon Targaryen. Or he would have if he could have found someone to wager against. He would have lost that wager too, as Casterly Rock was now open to them and it had all been done in less than one night.

Just as the king had taken Harrenhal with an ease that stunned all who heard the tale of it, they were now well on the way to doing so with Casterly Rock too. The dragons had opened the way and the king himself led them into the Lion's Mouth. Denys was not the only one who was both proud to see that was so and who worried about the man to who they'd sworn their oaths. Though given how easily said king had dispatched Jaime Lannister, he really should worry more about himself and his own men.

"I'd not have believed…" Gerold Grafton said as they moved carefully through the cavern and made their way up the long stone stairway that led to the very heart of the lions' den.

"Nor would I and yet, really we should," he replied as Gerold nodded.

Ahead of them, the Unsullied marched in close formation, their spears all at the ready to be used at the first sign of trouble. The men who followed the red priest, for once marched with their swords not ablaze. While those who Denys had heard named the Second Sons, now bore crossbows and looked to the walls and murder holes. Not that anyone stopped their progress and as they neared the burned and open gate that led to the inner keep, it was easy to see why.

The dragons had done their work diligently and effectively. Across every murder hole and atop the very walls themselves were marks and the telltale sign of a dragon's flames. Denys found himself contemplating on the fates of the men who'd simply been doing their jobs. Soon enough he was trying not to think about those that the Vale had lost at the Bloody Gate, or to feel annoyance that the Rock had suffered less damage. Though a small voice in his head told him that it was a different message being sent here than the one that the Dragonknight wished to send there.

It was as they reached the final few steps that the first signs of resistance came. Arrows flew and the Unsullied simply blocked them with their shields while the men of the Second Sons proved themselves as adept with crossbows as the dragons were with their flames. Two loud roars rang out loudly and echoed right through the cavern as the Blood Wyrm and Darkfyre flew overhead in warning. Then the king's voice sounded even louder than any as he gave them their orders.

"It'll be tough going from here. Men will fight and traps will be laid and so I bid you all be wary. Move not alone and watch your step and we'll see each other again."

Simple words and worryingly there were no words warning the men to behave or not to act the beasts that men were wont to do when sacking a keep or city. Those words were left to Denys, Ser Brynden Tully, and Prince Eddard Stark rather than being spoken by the King of the Seven Kingdoms. It showed the depths of the king's hatred for the Lannisters and once again it made Denys glad that the Vale had seen sense and knelt rather than fight against him.

Looking on as the king moved one way, Denys was tempted to follow and yet he knew he should not. Turning to his men, he motioned for them to go in the opposite direction and bid them to accept any surrender and to protect any woman and child they found. He reminded them that they were the Knights of the Vale. That chivalry and honor were things they prided themselves on. Then he offered a prayer to each of the Seven who are One and bid them to look down upon them this night.

For the next few hours, they cleared out rooms and fought but sporadically. Denys only had to use his sword once in truth and even then, he wounded rather than ended the far too young boy he fought against. More than once they came across maids and servants who hid wherever they could and who feared for their lives and virtue. Women who dared to hope that Denys and his men wished not to take the one and had no interest in the other.

"Bring them to the large room we just passed, have them join the others" Denys ordered as they found a woman and two young girls hiding behind some sacks of flour. "See they are unharmed," he added for the women's comfort.

It was Yohn Royce who fought the closest thing to a true battle that night. The Lord of Runestone and his men came face to face with a detachment of Lannister guards who refused to yield. Five men of the Vale were lost in the encounter and not a single Lannister guard was left living by the end of it. Be that by necessity or because they'd killed good men and true, Denys knew or would ask not.

The western wing of the Rock was completely under their control by morning and so Denys led some of the men to join those who'd gone to take the eastern wing. They eventually caught up with men of the Reach and North and found their tales to be a match for their own. Other than finding out that their work had yet to be done.

As for the king, it was a long wait for Denys to see Aemon Targaryen once more. Though it was one spent with no doubt that he would.

Benjen Stark.

As bloodthirsty as they had been when leaving the North, not one man or woman under their command had acted dishonorably. They'd taken their lust for vengeance and justice out on the Mountain and though only the Starks had shed the man's blood, others had seen it done and allowed it to quench their own thirst.

Those who'd not, soon had done so in the fighting with the Lannister men that they came across. Quarter was offered but not accepted and once refused, it was never offered again. Benjen had tried to keep sight of Ned but had lost him, the Greatjon, and others as they moved deeper into the bowels of Casterly Rock. He did, however, have his son and both nephews in sight though and he took some comfort in that.

As he did from the Unsullied and Aemon's own guards. Ser Arthur having found his way to his nephew's side along with the scarred Sandor Clegane who bore some knowledge of the Rock with him. Though as powerful and fierce as his nephew was, Benjen found it was the Unsullied themselves that settled his heart and forced away the fear that at times threatened to overwhelm him. Just watching them in action was more than enough to convince him that just like with the dragons, with his men Aemon was truly unmatched.

Spears moved and men fell. Arrows were blocked by their shields and those who dared to fire them, soon found themselves falling to crossbow bolts. Any lucky enough to survive what the Second Sons aimed their way, soon found themselves fighting against men who were taught from birth to do so. Men who made no unnecessary motion and who killed with brutal efficiency.

"UNCLE!" Robb's voice rang out and it was enough to bring Benjen's sword up and stop him from daydreaming in a place that he very much should not.

He blocked the strike and then slashed with his sword almost instinctively, hearing the cry and feeling the cut of the flesh that his sword made. Looking at his assailant, Benjen almost wished to weep loudly. The boy was no more than two and ten or three and ten at most. Blond of hair and green of eye, not that he truly noticed either at that precise moment. Instead, it was the look of shock, horror, and pain that Benjen saw as the boy fell to the ground and cried out for a woman that could only be his mother or his love.

"MYRCELLA!"

Despite there mayhap being more danger and there still indeed was fighting going on around him, Benjen knelt down and took the boy's hand in his own. He held it as he looked at the boy's labored breathing and brushed his fingers softly against the boy's cheek while those green eyes wept tears of sadness or hurt.

"Be at peace lad. May the gods welcome you into their warm embrace." Benjen said as the boy breathed his last and Benjen closed his eyes for him.

"Uncle."

"Father."

He heard the voices from behind him, though they sounded even more far off than that. Benjen rose to his feet and quickly embraced first his son and then his nephew.

"I…"

"You're unhurt, Father?" Torrhen asked and Benjen nodded, moving away from the dead boy on the ground and trying but failing to do so without taking a final look.

He could see what appeared to be a peaceful look on the boy's face. Though later he'd tell himself that he'd seen only what he wished to. Benjen believed he'd done the lad a disservice and would name him even younger than two and ten. Something which almost made him lose the contents of his stomach when he thought about it or when he looked at his son.

"Make sure he's treated honorably," Benjen called out to one of his own men and then he forced himself to concentrate on what needed to be done.

As the hours passed, they cleared room after room and eventually came to a large metal door. Benjen, Torrhen, and Robb along with each man there all looked on as Aemon leaned against the door and placed his ear against it. He doubted that his nephew could hear anything and when he looked closer, he saw that Aemon wasn't simply listening but that he seemed to be warging too.

"Thoros, the flames, you know what to do," Aemon said and almost before he finished speaking the words, the red priest moved forward.

"All of you move back. Even you, my prince," Thoros said and Aemon did as he'd been bid. As too did the rest of them.

Benjen looked on in confusion as a green liquid was poured around the edges of the metal door. He turned to look to Aemon who spoke some words to the commander of the Second Sons and then watched as each of those men followed the commander somewhere he knew not. By the time the red priest had finished, Ned and the Greatjon along with Maege had arrived. His brother, godmother, and the giant Umber lord all seemed to be unharmed and were relieved to see that Benjen, Torrhen, Robb, and Aemon were too.

"You fought?" he asked his brother as they embraced.

"Some, there were few men to face, Benjen. You?"

"I killed a boy, Ned. No older than Torrhen….I…"

"War is one of the Seven Hells, brother. Be thankful that it was that boy who fell and not one of our own."

"Aye.." he said, unsurely.

It was not that Benjen would trade any life for the boy's own, more that in his final moments, Benjen wondered what went through that young boy's head. Did he think of all the days he'd lived, few though they were, or did he wonder about all the days he'd never now know? Did he miss his mother? Sister? Love? In his final moments when he called out the girl's name, did he wish it was her eyes that he'd seen rather than the cold blue-grey eyes of the man who'd taken his life? Would he haunt his dreams for years to come? For Benjen would certainly dream of the lad often in the future he wagered.

"My prince," Thoros called out and Benjen found himself looking to Aemon and the red priest and forgetting about the life he'd taken.

"Do it."

A flash of green forced all but Aemon and Thoros to shield their eyes. Benjen and the others taking some time before they could turn and look at the metal door and the fire that now engulfed it. Around him, his brother, son, nephew, and his goodmother all wore looks of disbelief. While the Greatjon stood open-mouthed. None of them had ever seen a fire of its like before and knew not how it could burn without a source to feed it. Yet burn it did and when water was called for, Benjen wondered what they'd see once the fire was put out.

"Move further back, all of you," Aemon called out and Benjen saw the men who followed the red priest had already done so. Those men had clearly seen this fire before.

To his shock and he'd wager to the shock of every single man or woman who'd not followed his nephew into battle before. When the water hit the fire, it then burned even more truly. Three buckets full were thrown onto the green fire and each time it only grew stronger. Benjen stood there and looked on in disbelief as it did so.

"I've never…"

"What sorcery is this?"

"Can it be stopped?"

The answer to that last question was one that took some time to find the answer to. Benjen, Ned, the Lords of the North, and those of the Vale, Reach, and Riverlands that had joined them, were all forced to wait until the fire had run its course. Then and only then did it go out and once it did, ropes and chains were tied to the smoldering door and the Second Sons arrived back bearing large shields thrice the size of any man.

"Daario. You know what to do." Aemon said to a nod of the Second Son's commander's head. "Thoros, at my command."

"My prince." the red priest answered.

Aemon held his hand up and then dropped it a moment later. Unseen by Benjen, four of Thoros' men had taken hold of the ropes and chains and they pulled on them at Aemon's signal. The metal door then came crashing to the ground and even broke off into pieces in certain places. At the same time, with practiced ease, the Second Sons blocked the door with their large shields and Benjen heard the sound of the arrows that almost instantly crashed against them.

"Fire when ready!" Daario called out and small gaps appeared in the shield wall where crossbows now fired into whatever lay behind the no longer standing metal door.

For the next few moments, the sound or arrows crashing against the shields was intermixed with that of crossbow bolts being fired. Eventually, the latter was happening far more than the former and at a nod from Aemon, men readied to move forward.

"The Unsullied lead the way, shields at the ready," Aemon commanded and Benjen looked to see that even Aemon himself now carried a shield in his hand.

As one the Second Sons moved into what was revealed to be a large open cavern with numerous vaults and locked doors. The Unsullied quickly moved past them and then made their way down the long flight of stone steps. A lone arrow flew and Aemon blocked it with his shield before a pained cry rang out as a crossbow bolt hit home and took the want-to-be Kinglsayer from this world.

At the end of the stairs, a group of archers lay dead or dying, and as soon as the Unsullied reached them, a large group of soldiers came rushing forward. Two things happened instantly, the Unsullied formed a line of shields and spears, and crossbow bolts once again flew. Though these were soon joined by arrows.

In what felt like less than a blink of an eye, Aemon led them down the stone stairs and Benjen watched as his nephew stepped over the bodies of dead men with no care or concern for their loss. Given these men had tried to kill him and them a few moments earlier, neither did Benjen or Ned it seemed. To Benjen's surprise, his fight was now over for the night. Though the Greatjon and Maege both spilled even more blood before their own night was done.

Tywin Lannister, Part One.

All he'd built had come crashing down around him, figuratively if not as of yet, literally. His son and heir was dead, which had almost broken him. Tywin felt a grief he'd not known other than when his beloved Joanna had passed. There was an annoyance too, as Jaime had disobeyed his orders and lost his life in a vain effort to save those who mattered far less than he did.

Tywin mourned not Joffrey's passing and almost welcomed Tyrion's. He would have done so, had it occurred far from here and not been a portent to what was soon to come. When Genna had then berated him over his grief and willed him to do his duty, Tywin had almost told her to go to one of the seven hells, only to stop himself from doing so. He was the Lion of the Rock, Tywin Lannister, and he'd not go quietly in the night. The world would hear him roar before his end befell him. Or so he'd told himself.

Now, here he was, cowering as the Dragon moved ever closer and with his House on the very precipice of its end. Genna and her children were dead, Jason and Tommen lost, and Cersei and Myrcella were scared out of their wits. Steadying himself, he rose to his feet and moved from the relative comfort of the room he'd sequestered in. Tywin moved through the darkened corridors and past other rooms where the wealth of the Rock lay and yet served no purpose at all. Not now at least. He did so without second-guessing himself or attributing blame for what he wrought down on all their heads.

'For when you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.'

He'd played and was now certain to lose. The Rock itself had proven no true obstacle to the Dragon's path. Tywin had lost all that he held dear and the only thing he had left was his very life itself. That he'd not give up without a fight and so gathering the last of his men, he readied for the final door to be breached and for the Dragonknight and his men to pour through it.

Tywin resisted the urge to see his daughter and granddaughter one last time. He'd never been a sentimental man and to be so in his final moments in this world would be a betrayal of who he truly was. He did mourn them, however, their fate if as of yet not their lives. Cersei had at times annoyed and angered him, but she was her mother's child and for that alone, he'd loved her. While Myrcella had ever been his favorite and the thoughts of her not getting the life she deserved, or any life at all really, were not ones that he welcomed.

As the sounds of men moving came ever closer, Tywin wished he had Brightroar in his hands rather than the poor sword he wielded. It would be fitting for him to meet his end bearing his family sword, though it had served Jaime poorly when he'd fought against the Dragonknight. Not that Tywin would fare much better with it, and certainly not against Aemon Targaryen.

'Still, it would have been nice to have wielded it just the once-for-true,' he thought and smiled.

The banging was loud and then the door itself was taken. His final fight was now upon him and Tywin looked to the door and the men who poured through it and he waited. He waited as his men and Aemon Targaryen's came together, as the fight truly began. Tywin waited until he saw the Dragonknight himself and then he roared loudly as he charged and men moved out of his way to let him through.

"TARGARYEN! HEAR ME ROAR!"

Aemon.

He had not told them that he would be part of the army that took the Rock. Aemon kept that to himself while he wondered if his desire for vengeance would be quenched from atop the Blood Wyrm's back. It had very much not been and he worried now that it never would. For not even killing yet another Lannister had been enough to do so. The Prince of the Rock's son too had fallen to Dark Sister, as Jason Lannister had now met his father's fate.

Unlike his uncle Benjen's own encounter with a young Lannister, Aemon cared not that the boy he faced was far too young to die. If anything, Jason had been given a far better death than the one that would befall his grandfather, mother, sister, and the rest of his House. For to die with a sword in your hand was a much better way to go than to face your death on your knees as you lost your head. At least in Aemon's eyes.

As his uncle had, Aemon had told his men to treat the boy's body with honor. He'd not allow them to shame themselves as he had done with Jaime Lannister. It had been wrong of him to desecrate the dead when all he'd really wished to take from the man was his life. That would stain him for some time to come, yet it would be the only stain he'd wear when it came to the Lannisters. Let others think him cruel or bloodthirsty when he ended the House of Lions, for Aemon would certainly not.

Each step they took was another that brought them closer to Tywin himself and Aemon, was he a different man, may have prayed to gods he didn't believe in just to be certain to be the one to bring about the Old Lion's fall. Instead, he'd simply given orders that Tywin was to be taken alive if possible, but that dead was just as good. He'd spoken privately to Torgho Timpa and told him if he got the chance to end the man, then end him he should. Aemon believed that the Unsullied deserved their own measure of vengeance for the loss of Torgho Nudho, just as Aemon himself did. A small smile now coming to Aemon's face at what Torgho Timpa had said once he'd done so.

"This one is happy for his prince to avenge Torgho Nudho."

"Avenge him I will, my friend," Aemon said, slapping the Unsullied commander on the back.

How many men's blood had been shed in the search for that vengeance, Aemon refused to count. The lives that had been taken thus far hadn't even come close to paying for the one he so longed to mourn for true. So much so that it took him almost until the very last set of doors to realize that he'd done his great-uncle a disservice and it stopped his footsteps for a few moments. Forcing Arthur to look at him worriedly.

"I'm good, Arthur," Aemon said after a brief pause.

The truth was that he was very much not. Memories flooded his mind of days gone and of time spent with a man who'd taught him much about his place in the world. It had been his great-uncle who'd shown Aemon the path he must walk. He who'd told him of the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders and what it truly meant to be a Dragonknight. Along with Torgho Nudho, his great-uncle had been taken from this world far too soon by men not worthy to breathe the same air as them. Yet, Aemon had almost forgotten about him.

Was it because he'd killed Tyrion Lannister by his own hands?

Did he accept that as justice and vengeance for his great-uncle when it was truly neither?

If so, then why didn't Aemon feel the same about Torgho Nudho after killing Jaime Lannister? After all, it was he who'd taken him from the world.

They were questions that mayhap had answers and yet he had not the time nor inclination to search for them now. Forcing them back down deep inside of himself where they belonged, Aemon moved forward and watched as the final door was almost ripped off its hinges. Again shields were raised and arrows flew and then he heard the sound of the man's voice as Tywin Lannister began to roar.

"TARGARYEN! HEAR ME ROAR!"

Around him, the Unsullied and his men dealt with Tywin's own. Sandor Clegane and Loras Tyrell along with Arthur cut down any who came too close to Aemon as Aemon moved toward the Old Lion. In what seemed like no time at all, his men had the upper hand, and then their fight was done. Aemon's own was just beginning as he came face to face with the man who'd all but ordered the deaths of his sworn sword and his great-uncle and who had certainly done so with his uncle and grandfather.

Though he was no doubt to most an impressive man, to Aemon's eyes he simply looked older than he'd expected him to be. Bald-headed with bushy side whiskers and green eyes that seemed to be flecked with gold, for some fool reason Tywin Lannister wore no helm upon his head. Something that brought a half smirk to Aemon's face as with Dark Sister raised high, he blocked the poorly aimed blow at his own dragon helmed head.

Though the fight could be ended with one single thrust, death was not what Aemon wished for Tywin Lannister, or to be more true, not a quick death. So instead, Aemon blocked the blows and tired the man out, making Tywin look a far better swordsman than he truly was in the process. He soon noticed some similarities in how Tywin fought and how his son and grandson had, though both were far more skilled than he.

Dismissing the urge to let some of his strikes hit home for true, Aemon opened himself up and saw the eager look that came over Tywin's face. As he did the moment the Old Lion realized that it had all been a feint and that he was to fall here today. Moving inside Tywin's guard, ducking the blow that had been aimed at his head, Aemon crashed Dark Sister's hilt against the Old Lion's chin and watched him crumple to the ground.

"Chain him up and see he's well guarded," Aemon said to Torgho Timpa. The Unsullied commander moved to do as he'd been bid while wearing a true smile on his face for mayhap the first time ever.

With the Old Lion his prisoner, Aemon bid the men to move further into the vaults and family rooms, soon coming across a scene that shocked even him. There must have been close to a dozen of them, most of them women and children, and all of them now lay lifeless. Calling for Daario, Aemon asked him to name them if he could. Soon finding himself unsurprised by who they were and in some way thankful that this was the end they choose.

"That's Cersei and Myrcella Lannister," Lucearon said at Daario's bidding. "Dorna Swyft and her babe Janei. Alysanne Lefford, Prince Jaime's wife…."

The names kept coming, Lannisters who'd been connected directly to the main branch along with those who were cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, or had simply wed into the House of the Lion. All in all, there were one and ten bodies and they'd taken their lives so recently that Daario wagered the Old Lion himself was unaware of their deaths. It allowed Aemon's mind to go to dark places and had it not been for his uncles' arrival, then each of the bodies would have soon lost a head. Instead, he simply told his men to treat them honorably and see they were buried far from here.

"Secure the keep, put men on guard duty both atop the walls and here. That especially needs to be guarded." Aemon said, pointing to the large chamber that contained the vast treasury that Tywin Lannister had once named his own.

"As you command, your grace."

"Daario," he called out.

"My prince."

"Casterly Rock is yours, I name you my Warden of the West."

"I…"

"Will serve me as well as you always have," Aemon said before moving closer so he could whisper in Daario's ear. "The letters you send to my father, they stop now, Daario."

"My prince I…" Daario said worriedly.

"Your word."

"You have it, my prince."

"Then we shall speak on it no more."

Aemon walked away, leaving Daario to come to terms with what he'd said to him. It had taken him some time to figure out who it was that had sent his father so much news about him. Thoros would never do so, nor would Torgho Nudho or Aurane, so it left Daario or one of his men as the only ones who would. In the end, however, it could only be Daario. As had it been one of his men, then Aemon would wager Daario would have found out and ended the man himself.

He'd thought it a betrayal at first and had planned to dismiss him from his service. To send him back to his manse and to the Empire. Yet, the more he thought about it, the less he looked at it like that. Although it was not until Torgho Nudho fell that Aemon truly decided what Daario's fate was to be. The Second Sons would serve him still, as too would their commander, they'd just serve that little further removed and would never again be fully in Aemon's confidence.

As he walked up the long stone staircase and out of the caverns and caves that the Lannisters had made their last stand in, Aemon readied himself for what came next. The Old Lion would not last the night and his death when it came to him would be one he'd beg for. Of that, Aemon vowed.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.

Tywin Lannister, Part Two.

He was tied to the very same stake that Tyrion had been tied to. A large group of men surrounded it and yet only one of them could Tywin focus on. Aemon Targaryen wore no armor and Tywin watched as he stripped down to his bare chest before moving toward him. The Dragonknight bore a leather sack in his hand and for the first time that he could remember, Tywin felt true fear.

Not fear for his life or even his legacy. Both of those things were no longer within his control and he'd be losing at least one of them very soon he'd wager. He feared just what Aemon Targaryen carried in that bag, simply because he feared it may not be the tools to end his life, but instead, ones to break his spirit. Given how the Dragonknight had treated Jaime's body, Tywin feared he bore further examples of his desecration of his family's corpses. For he had no doubt that other than Gerion and Joy, or Joanna in Dorne, Tywin himself was the very last of his line.

Images of Myrcella's head or heart, of Cersei's golden hair, or of them having faced the flames and being burned, now all came to Tywin's mind. So fearful was he of seeing such things that he willed his eyes to close and yet found they would not. In the end, the gods were good or as good to him as they'd ever been and it was simply tools of torture that were removed from the leather sack. Tywin's relief was palpable and fleeting, as the reality of what was to come was now revealed.

"Torgho Nudho would oft say to me that when you decide to kill a man, the time for talking is done." Aemon Targaryen said loudly. "My sworn sword was a man of few words as those of you who know him would attest. Me on the other hand, I have many words I need to speak before this night is done."

Tywin looked on as Aemon brushed his hand over the numerous blades that he'd removed from the sack. A look of almost pleasure on the Dragonknight's face when he did so.

"I've faced off against a Dothraki Horde. A lockstep legion. Fought from the Dothraki Sea to Ibben. From the Mountains of the Morn to the Shadowlands. Through it all, by my side, Torgho Nudho shielded my back and offered his counsel. I owe no debt greater than the one I owe him for his service and you and your plans took the chance from me to tell him so." Aemon looked at him and if Tywin was not tied in place then he may have turned away. "You stole that chance from me with your actions, Tywin Lannister, and you brought down the Dragon's Wroth upon your House for doing so."

The knife moved quickly, its blade was sharp and the blood leaked from Tywin's shoulder almost before he felt the pain of the cut. It was not the last cut that Aemon made. As to Tywin's horror, a name was soon carved into his chest and stomach, a name that he didn't need a looking glass to see.

"In your final moments, I promised myself that you'd remember his name. Let all here bear witness to the fate of those who would dare to take better men than they from this world. For mark my words, Torgho Nudho was the very best of men. A man worth the entirety of your House and line and so that's what your actions reaped. Your sons, your daughter, your brothers and sister, nieces, nephews and grandchildren, even your cousins and those who were fool enough to wed into your House, all have fallen because of what you dared to take from this world." Aemon said as he sliced a blade down Tywin's arm causing him to scream out in pain and watch as more of his blood spilled onto the ground.

Another cut came to the other arm, this one just as painful. Aemon then moved to change the blade he wielded and then spoke some more.

"Your last remaining granddaughter will not be spared, Lannister. Your name will not be spoken of how Torgho Nudho's will in the years to come. Men will speak of the resoluteness, loyalty, friendship, and heart of Torgho Nudho. Of you, they will speak only in hushed whispers"

This cut was on his leg and for the first time, Tywin noticed he was naked. The next cut proved that even more so, as with a slice and then a tear, he felt himself be unmanned and then he smelt fire as a torch was used to stem the blood flow from between his legs. He screamed loudly and often, begged loudly for his life and even his death, and yet not once did he pass out. Not even when the pain became unbearable and so he wondered how that was, before remembering that he'd been fed some drink before he'd been brought out to face his fate.

"They'll tell the tale of the Lion who dared to roar at a Dragon only to find that Dragons roar loudest of all. The man who brought the Doom to his House. Whose actions cost his entire family their lives and oh what songs they'll sing." Aemon said almost gleefully.

The cuts this time were much deeper. Tywin felt them as his stomach was opened and whatever he had inside him now simply fell out. Around him, some men turned away, and through eyes that he wished would close, Tywin saw that Aemon Targaryen was now as covered in blood as he was. Though unfortunately for Tywin, it was the same blood. His.

There were no more cuts. No more words. Aemon moved to stand in front of him and his dark grey eyes looked deeply into Tywin's green ones. He bore no smile and showed no pleasure, Aemon simply looked at him as his lifeblood pooled on the ground between them. Tywin knew then that this would be the last thing he saw before he breathed his last and so it turned out to be. Though it seemed there were some words that Aemon wished for him and him alone to hear before he did so.

"I loved them. Both of them. My great-uncle was the best man I've ever known and only Torgho Nudho was close to being his equal. They should have known more days, known how I felt about them. I curse myself for not ending you sooner, Lannister, as I curse you for taking them from me. Yet I take comfort in knowing all I've taken from you for doing so. For my great-uncle. For Torgho Nudho." Aemon said softly.

Darkness was all that followed and a moment later, Tywin Lannister roared no more.

The Conquest of Westeros LXI

The Fall of Casterly Rock.

After taking Lannisport, beating Prince Jaime Lannister one on one, and witnessing Gregor Clegane's execution at the hands of House Stark, the Dragonknight then turned his attention to Casterly Rock. Though some named the keep impregnable, the Dragonknight and those with him very much did not. Not only had they taken so-called impregnable palaces and fortresses before, but they had something that none in Westeros could call upon. Dragons.

With four dragons at his disposal, the Dragonknight used them against the Rock to their full effect. It's said that one burst of flames from the Blood Wyrm ended the men atop the portion of the wall that Genna Lannister had been standing on. That the lady, her husband, and their remaining children all were caught up in that flame and that being kissed by fire was the last kiss any of them knew. They were not to be the only flames that were to be released on the defenders of Casterly Rock and the Blood Wyrm was not alone in doing so. The red dragon soon joined by Darkfyre as they went about their deadly work. While Meraxes and Nightwing ensured that no respite or escape was to be found by those who bore the sigil of the lion upon their chests.

Using wildfire to burn through gates beyond the dragons' reach, the Dragonknight led the men from the ground as they took the keep. Bearing Dark Sister, he even faced off against the Old Lion in the most mismatched of battles. Princes, Princesses, and those who named themselves kin by blood or marriage, all would have known the same fate and so some of them chose it for themselves. Princess Cersei and her daughter Princess Myrcella were among those who took their own lives before the Dragonknight could do so. Tywin Lannister was not so fortunate and his death was a bloody one indeed. The Dragonknight made sure that his great-uncle and Torgho Nudho were both remembered equally before he sent the Old Lion from this world into the next.

As for Casterly Rock, it was placed under the stewardship of a new Warden of the West, and its treasury was split between the Crown and Daario Naharis. The Dragonknight's Wroth was only but half sated, however, and with the Lions dealt with, his eyes next turned to Dorne and to its prince. That though is a tale for another day and so for now, this one will have to suffice.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,

Marwyn the Mage.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. I'm again sorry for the delays, but trying to find a balance between new working hours and writing is taking longer than I hoped. Things should clear up soon, so I hope you bear with me. Up Next, Oberyn meets with Arianne and finds his brother to be a challenge to remove. Aemon's grief finally comes forth as he mourns Torgho Nudho for true. Rhaenys struggles to help her husband before Dany and Aurane travel to back to Essos, while Harren Hoare gives Aemon a new target and enemy to focus on.

For those following my other fics, Last Wolf is due up next, hopefully, joined by either Dark Prince and either Purple Deception or Dragonverse next week.

Missed reviews.

Valaskia: Chapter 1. Thanks so much and I'm really glad you're liking it. Originally I had thought of doing it the other way around, with Westeros ruled by the Dragons and Aemon being sent to Essos in exile, but the more I considered it, the more I thought it would be more fun this way. Especially since we know all the major players such as Tywin, Jaime, Doran, Ned, etc. while with Essos it would be more the places and names that meant nothing to us. So I went the other route, then had to keep a note of whose life would be changed and how given there were no Targaryens in Westeros. Which was fun lol. Anyway, glad you're liking it so far.

Chapter 29 reviews.

Rhatch: Yes, it's his upbringing being different and I've sort of been hinting at it from the start.

Dunk: So glad you liked it, the Achilles/Hector fight was always one of my fave tales, I was such a Hector fan when I was a boy. As angered and grief-stricken as Aemon is, it's also the message aspect of things. He's done this in Essos more than once but had hoped not to have to do it in Westeros, simply because he didn't want Rhaenys to witness it.

Celesys: Thanks so much, that's the thing, I've hinted at it for some time so it really needed to be shown, but it had to have a reason for it to come out.

Mattblack: Joy is one of my fave characters, as for Gerion, I like the fact that so little is known of him and so he can be used in a few ways. All I'll say is we will see him and Joy again.

Alberto: Jaime is just cocky enough to want this end, while at the same time not ever believing anyone could give it to him.

Quatermass. With Sansa/Tyrion, it's the way their characters evolved at the end of the show that I take so much issue with and so when writing a story, there is a certain point which I call the cut-off where it's hard for them not to be those characters. For example, I have a story WK, where Sansa is rescued by Jon during the riot in KL, this changes her character completely as she never goes through the worst aspects of her life which harden her to the point the show did. Same with Tyrion, pretty much from the moment he leaves KL, after killing Shae and his father, he's a terrible character IMO, in the books at this point he's much darker than the show too.

So for me, it's all about the timing. A Tyrion post killing Shae/Tywin is a different character than post it, as is Sansa post being with Littlefinger. In the books, I can see Sansa turning into a selfish manipulator who'd do whatever she can to get what she wants no matter who is hurt in the process. I'm fine with that, as long as it's presented like that. The show sort of tries to do that, but at the same time hit us over the head with her being great, good, and always right, when she's very clearly not. Same with Tyrion, he's presented as the smartest man in the room, but let's face it, he'd never be Dany's hand given the mistakes he makes.

Dany shows signs of ruthlessness, not madness, there is a difference. Would she be a good queen, probably not, but if you can give me an example where she shows signs of madness, then so be it. It's certainly not in the signs the show tried to paint out, as they not only presented them as heroic acts, but compared to acts by others, they show no signs of being overly cruel or mad. I mean, burning the Tarlys, or feeding Ramsay to his hounds, which of those is a sign of madness or cruelty? Killing the slavers after what they did to the children, if that's madness, then Eddard Stark taking the head of a man who simply broke his oath, must be too, no?

But again for me it's timing, if I set a story in a specific timeline, then certain acts will have happened and so character arcs will be somewhat set in stone, if I can introduce a change or start the timeline earlier, then those acts don't need to happen and so characters can be more easily changed. Tyrion is TDC or Winter King, My Name id Daemon, he's different because certain things haven't happened, same as Sansa, but then you get the other thing which is that in some ways, certain things need to happen to bring him in as an ally rather than an enemy.

So, if Jon is going for the throne, even if Tyrion met him and traveled to the Wall unless Tyrion is gone to Essos, he's always going to be on his family's side, making him an enemy. That sort of thing. I try and be logical and other than with Littlefinger, Joffrey, Ramsay, and Euron, I try and do different versions of the same characters. So I've got a really terrible almost crazed Catelyn in one fic and a truly supportive one in another or Tyrion as Jon's uncle in one and wishing and planning for his death in another. Sansa being Jon's truest sister to willing his death, and so on. For me, it's bashing only when the timeline requires it and even then it's more about the forced nature of where the character is and trying to explain that character's prior actions.

Again for example. Sansa season 8, the only way logically I can explain her is by making her against Jon, nothing else works for me, Bran too, and Tyrion slightly differently, you can use incompetence, but I like evil better. Jon needs a wake-up call to change him, otherwise, he's showjon, that sort of thing.

Robert certainly would have, we know he does so to Cersei more than once. He's not a man who can be denied, nor would accept it. Hell we see how he reacts to Ned when he tells him no, and he's his true love LOL. But I do like that there is this side of Robert where superficially he's funny and charming even in a way, it makes him fun to write.

I'm with you on certain character bashing being a no no, I mean I have it with Jon, obviously, but I think we all have this moment where we go, nope, too much, I at least hope to explain why it's happening, or the reasons for it and hope it's not someone's true fave.

Vwchick: It's one of my fave one on one fights.

Elianna: Thanks so much, it's such an awesome fight.

Creativo: Muy cierto mi amigo, aunque no lo había considerado antes.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, Oberyn is up next.

Robobrain: You'll see with the first chapter, I'm aiming to have it out next month. I'm glad you're enjoying the fics, and I get you about Sansa. It's one of my least fave pairings, as I can't accept it in a canon-based story, for me the only way it could happen is if Jon/Sansa aren't raised together, once they are, there is no way they can ever be paired up imo and certainly not in anything like canon. I mean season 6 onward Jonsa stories just make no sense to me.

Keb: So glad you liked it, you have your answer to the Rock, Daario, and the Second Sons to rule over it. It's something that could only happen given what Aemon has done and also because Tywin has no true rival, sort of like the Stormlands and Baratheons, where most of the other regions have Houses that could take over, the Boltons in the North, too many to count in the Riverlands, Royce in the Vale, etc. In the West, while there are powerful lords and Houses, they are too scared of Tywin to challenge him, so here it would be the same.

Xpotter: Thanks so much for saying so, really glad you liked it.