295 A.C
Blackwater Bay
Aemon winced as he took a blow to his shoulder pad.
Before his opponent could strike again, he took a few steps back and cracked his neck before going back on the offensive, he feinted right, and Brienne fell for it, trying to dodge a strike that would not come, instead, he used the hilt to strike her ribcage and forced her to take a step back, groaning. He was not done, however, with a snarl he swung his sword and found his path blocked by Brienne's.
The swords clanged, and Aemon flicked his, forcing Brienne's sword away from her.
She blocked his next blow with her forearm, and though she winced, she held, but with a kick to her kneecap, she was forced to her knees.
She managed to roll aside and stood, once more with her sword in hand.
Aemon smiled and she did as well, but with a grunt, she was the one to attack this time. He found himself having to parry and block each strike she sent his way.
Despite her size, she was faster than either Ser Jaremy or Ser Roland.
Calmly, he defended himself from her onslaught, not letting any of her blows touch him as he tried to find a weak spot while avoiding being led to the ship's guardrail.
Suddenly, she overextended herself, and Aemon pounced, reverting the way the fight was going, and Brienne found herself on the defensive.
She had to take several steps back, but he was unrelenting in his attack and left her no space to recover.
He feinted right and then left, and while she ignored the first one, she took the bait for the second only to find herself with the blunted edge of his word on her throat.
"Yield?" Aemon smiled.
He could see her eyes darting around, trying to find a solution to her predicament, to no avail.
"Yield," she conceded.
Applause rang, and Aemon turned to see that a small gathering had formed on the upper deck. Arthur gave him a nod before joining them.
"Good work, as always, Aemon,"
"Incredible you mean, Ser," Brienne said and both he and Arthur chuckled.
"That's about as good of a compliment you'll get from Arthur," he explained before gulping down a glass of water.
The fact that the knight bestowed so few of them only increased the worth of the compliments he actually pronounced.
"Brienne," Arthur began, "I'd like for you to train with weights on your ankles and arms from now on,"
Aemon nodded in agreement, while Brienne was strong, she could be stronger, and while she was fast, she could be faster, and few would know how to counter her when she'd take them off.
"I will," Brienne agreed with no hesitation, trusting in the legendary knight.
A moon under Arthur's tutelage had already seen her improve a lot, who could say where she would be in a year?
"My lord," Garrick Rambton approached them, his wooden leg signaling his arrival, "you asked to be notified when we would approach Dragonstone, the island is in sight,"
"Thank you, Captain," Aemon smiled and rushed to the first deck, Arthur and Brienne on his heels, and he could not help but gasp at the sight that greeted him.
As the ship sailed closer to Dragonstone, he found himself captivated by the looming silhouette of the castle against the backdrop of the Dragonmont. The early morning mist clung to the dark, jagged stones of the fortress, making the intertwined dragons and wyverns seem as if they were stirring to life. The castle's towers and battlements rose steeply from the cliffs, their shadows dancing on the churning waters below. The Dragonmont itself, with its peak lost in a shroud of smoke, seemed to watch over the castle like a protective elder.
The sheer magnitude of Dragonstone, with its ancient Valyrian architecture and the palpable weight of its history, left Aemon in awe. As the ship passed right next to the castle, he could almost feel the heat from the stone dragons' breath and hear the whispered tales of Targaryen conquests carried by the wind.
It was almost as if the fantastical castle was calling to him, calling to the blood that flowed in his veins. Where some might have found it foreboding and dreary, Aemon found it magnificent and homey.
This was the ancestral castle of his family. Their home. The place that had seen them live through the Doom when all other Dragonlords had perished.
And when he spotted the Stag banner flying its wall, flying Dragonstone itself, Aemon felt his blood begin to boil within his veins. He could hear his dragons roar from within the trunk, they too felt his anger at seeing their home defiled by the sigil of traitors.
"I know you are of the Stormlands Brienne," he said through clenched teeth, "but one day I will tear every Baratheon banner from these walls, and should Stannis not surrender my home when I come for it, he will burn."
295 A.C
Pentos
She had dreamt of the white dragon three times, each time he came for her, burning those that threatened her, be they stags, lions, or wingless dragons. Each time he protected her in her greatest hour of need.
'But those are only dreams,' she reminded herself as Viserys tugged hard on her arm, forcing her to follow him through the streets of Pentos.
"Be careful, Dany," her brother squeezed her nipple through the silky white dress she wore, and she winced. "Unless you want to wake the dragon," he said, now twisting it and she could feel the tears pooling in her eyes before he let go and it snapped back into place.
Whatever the white dragon was, he was not coming for her any time soon, not in the real world anyway.
Daenerys had learned long ago that she could count on no one to protect her. Once her brother had, when they had been young and safe, even for some time after they had been thrown from the House with the red door. Ever since then, he had gotten worse.
Becoming something that she did not recognize as her brother anymore.
"I told you to hurry," he snarled and almost made her tumble.
She had no idea what she had done to deserve this.
Ser Willem had been the only person Daenerys knew she could have trusted, but he had died so long ago that it felt like a lifetime had passed since.
And as she caught a glimpse of his purple eyes, she shuddered, today was one of those days.
"Come on, sister, don't make me wait," he dragged her into the streets they were not supposed to venture into.
"But Illyrio…" he slapped her.
Once more she felt the tears gather in her eyes, but she had become a master at hiding those.
"I say how things go, I am the dragon!" he shouted, and she could spot passersby looking in their direction, but she lowered her eyes, shivering as she spotted the gleam in her brother's eyes.
Like her, he also had the purple color of Old Valyria.
And the gleam that inhabited them always foretold of his anger and the blows that almost always followed.
Not enough that it would mark her, never, but more than enough to hurt.
He kept dragging her along and despite her best efforts, she could not remember the path they had taken as they got deeper into the city.
Pentos had been their latest stop after they received the invitation of a certain Illyrio Mopatis, a magister of the free city and a supporter of her brother.
He had told them he had a plan to make Viserys the seating king of Westeros, but it was all she had been told. Any further discussions were held behind closed doors she was not allowed past.
But unlike what her brother seemed to think, she was far from naïve, she had heard the servants talking. She was to be wed to a Khal Drogo, and though she had not discovered who he was, she had no doubt it was in the goal of securing the army Viserys often mumbled about.
They turned another corner into one of the smaller alleys and her purple eyes widened as she saw seven cloaked figures approaching them and blocking their way forward.
Her brother's grip was too strong and prevented her from running.
Images of the previous times they had been attacked ran through her mind. Viserys said it had been assassins sent by the Usurper, but somehow, they always made their escape.
But this time, her brother was not trying to escape.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
"Silence, and do as you're told, if not…" he answered, leaving the threat open to interpretation but she knew perfectly what he meant. "Good Sers!" he cheerfully greeted the approaching group, and they uncovered their faces.
Every one of them was much bigger than Viserys with his lithe frame, they wore no armor and had scars adorning their faces that indicated just how much they had used the weapons they bore at their waists.
"Your grace," one with a wild red beard answered in a mocking tone.
He was taller than any man she had ever seen, he wore a great bush of a beard with fiery red whiskers and long braids.
However, Viserys was unable to spot the mockery and puffed up his chest.
"As agreed, Bloodbeard," he threw her to her knees in front of the leading man. "Here is my sister, you can do as you please with her for a fortnight, except taking her maidenhood,"
Her eyes widened as he spoke, and she felt the ground scrap her knees, but she could only look up at the grinning man, the smile somehow making him even uglier.
"You know how they call you around here boy?" the man called Bloodbeard snorted, and Viserys' face took on a purple shade. "The beggar king,"
The other six laughed at this and it seemed as if the vein on Viserys' neck was going to pop soon.
"How dare you…" he seethed.
"Take him, boys," Bloodbeard ordered, Viserys tried to pull his sword but was too slow and a bald man punched him in the jaw, forcing him to his knees. "The thing is, King Robert offers too good a price for your head," he smirked, and Daenerys felt dread like she rarely had before, she had been right. "And I figured once I send him your head, he won't mind I kept your sister for myself,"
In that moment Daenerys found herself praying, not to the Warrior for protection like Ser Willem had taught her, nor the Father as she had sometimes been wont to do, she prayed to the one being that could possibly help them, the white dragon.
And she screamed as Viserys' head came cleanly off his shoulders, landing right in front of her, his empty purple eyes looking straight at her.
"Nooooooo!" a guttural roar came from the alley and an ear-splitting crack parted through the air as a man appeared out of nothingness, a sword and a wooden stick in his hands.
Hell was unleashed, bright colors almost blinded her as they flew through the air and another fighter joined the first man, before another took hold of her, and Daenerys screamed once more. She kicked and tried her best to free herself, but her captor was too strong. She was left to watch her brother's murderers getting cut down to pieces.
"Please Princess, calm down,"
Daenerys froze at those words, they were not said with any malice, the opposite in fact.
The two men were a sight to behold as half a dozen opponents as each of their enemies was quickly dispatched.
A scream came from behind them, and she was forced on the ground once more, thrown by the warrior who had been holding her. She turned to see the man, not the woman, the largest one she had ever seen fight off the man that had sneaked upon them.
She wielded a greatsword with two hands and Daenerys gasped as the blonde warrior almost cleaved the man in half. He fell to the ground, dead, but so did her sword, and she screamed as another opponent's sword came in a wide and powerful ark, no doubt ready to kill the giant woman.
The woman caught the blade with her bare hand, and without showing any hurt, headbutted the man, sending him sprawling to the ground. She kept hold of the sword and it was soon buried in the man's chest.
"Are you all right, princess?" The woman returned to her side, blood running down her hand and soaking the ground, Daenerys could only nod in answer before turning to the other fight. Only to find a young man staring at her with purple eyes so like her own it stole her breath.
Her eyes next found the beheaded corpse of her brother and she felt her heart squeezed in anguish. She could have run, no one was holding her, but she had nowhere to go, the last of her family was dead and she was alone in the world.
"Here," she looked up, surprised to see him handing out a purple handkerchief she had not seen him pull out.
Daenerys gratefully took it and wiped her face before blowing her nose into it.
"My name is Aemon, I am your nephew," he said, and Daenerys gasped, her world going black as she fainted.
Purple eyes grudgingly opened as Daenerys woke up with a groan.
She wiggled in her bed, luxuriating in the silk sheets that she had learned to appreciate. It was not often since they had left Braavos and the house with the red door that she had been able to sleep in such comfortable beddings.
At the beginning sure, when highborns and powerful men in Essos wished to meet the Targaryens, but there had been plenty of time when she and Viserys had had to sleep on the streets.
Her eyes widened at the thought of her brother, remembering all at once what had happened before she passed out.
Tears began to fill her purple eyes as she could still hear his last words and gurgle before life left his purple eyes.
Taking a few deep breaths, she managed to control her emotions; now was not the time to cry.
She looked around and noticed that the room she had expected was not there. Instead of the chambers Illyrio had assigned to her, she stood in a cabin.
She was familiar enough with ships to recognize immediately she was on one.
However, she spotted something she had not seen in many moons and everything else was forgotten, she quickly got out of bed only to notice someone had put her in a nightgown.
She blushed at the thought of anyone seeing her naked, had her nephew been the one to change her clothes? No, he had had a woman with him, one unlike any she had ever seen, but a woman all the same.
Still, she gingerly approached the banner on the wall, her small feet carrying her to the three-headed dragon that was depicted.
She grazed her fingers upon the symbol of her family, woven in the black silk.
Next to it, however, was something far more magnificent, she approached, mesmerized by the sight of the tapestry depicting the Field of Fire.
It was easy to spot the Lannister's lion banner, alongside another she assumed was the Gardener banner, being engulfed by Balerion's black fire.
It was beautiful and she was unable to prevent her fingers from touching it, feeling the high quality of it for herself.
Their tapestries had been the first to be sold, simply for the amount of gold they provided but to this day, she had regretted selling them, and so did her brother.
She jumped as she heard a knock on the door and froze, before realizing whoever it was, was waiting for her permission to enter.
It was another confirmation that she had not dreamt what had happened, Viserys would have simply barged into her room, not caring for any sort of permission.
"Come in," she said loud enough to be heard.
"Show me your hand," Aemon said, gesturing for Brienne to sit in front of him.
"There is no need, your… Aemon,"
"There is," Aemon shook his head, people could be foolish sometimes, "you protected my family, the least I can do is heal you,"
"Heal me?" she asked, confused.
"You've seen me appear from thin air, become invisible, and create a world inside a trunk and you think healing a cut is beyond my abilities?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I did not mean…" she began to apologize but Aemon could not control his laughter any longer.
"It's alright," he shook his head with mirth, "you'll get used to it, now your hand,"
Brienne slowly undid the blood-soaked cloth, wincing as she did. And Aemon's eyes widened at the sight of it, it was deep, probably too deep for a normal healer to fix entirely.
"How are you not screaming…" he whispered. Even if he had a high pain tolerance, experiencing the cruciatus did that to a person when they were lucky enough to survive it. A cut this deep, on the hand, and even he would have been screaming in pain.
Brienne only shrugged in answer. "It's not my first cut,"
"Yes, but this one…" Aemon began, "Without magic, I don't think you'd have retained full motion, if any,"
Brienne's eyes widened in horror at this. "Can you do something?"
"I did say without magic," he chuckled and pulled his wand out from his concealed holster, "it will hurt,"
Brienne nodded and he applied the tip of his wand where the cut began, before he began whispering under his breath. And slowly, but surely, the wound began to close, the skin knitting itself back together.
Brienne had tears running down her cheeks, but she otherwise stayed silent.
Aemon only breathed out when the wound was entirely closed and a pink, puckered scar now ran on her entire palm.
"I won't be able to do anything about the scar," he said, he would need some essence of dittany for that, though it was not a priority, it could always be useful.
"I shall wear it proudly," Brienne gave him a faint smile.
He was about to answer when his wand buzzed, "She's awake."
"Do you want someone with you?" Arthur asked, already rising from his seat.
"It's fine," Aemon denied, "Keep my sword, I don't want to frighten her more than she already is,"
His kingsguard only nodded in answer.
"And could you have some food and drinks brought? She must be famished,"
"I'll take care of it," Brienne answered and Aemon smiled at her.
He had a feeling he would never regret asking the female warrior to join their group. And given the lengths she had gone to in order to protect his aunt, he was confirmed in his initial thoughts.
Not many would be willing to have their hands almost cleaved in half to protect someone else.
Aemon softly knocked against the door of his quarters, having left them for his aunt when they had arrived a few hours ago.
"Come in," she called from inside and Aemon's breath hitched in his throat.
For the first time in over a decade, he would meet another of his kin. The poor traumatized girl had been terrified, given what had just happened to her, he could hardly blame her for fainting.
Hearing her scream had forced him to apparate to a scene he had dreaded.
Viserys lying on the ground, his head missing.
He had reacted on instinct, his magic cutting down the first men, before Arthur joined the fray and he reverted to using his sword. With all of them having witnessed his magic, there had been no choice but to kill them all, what they had done to his uncle only spurned him on.
Still, it was not about him now, but about his aunt, who was still probably terrified and uncertain of what had happened to her.
Aemon found himself speechless when he lay eyes on his aunt, standing in front of the Targaryen Banner. She looked truly the part with her silver-white hair. If anything, she only needed a black and red gown to look as Rhaenys did in the paintings.
He took a step forward, not knowing what he could say to her. And she surprised him by bridging the gap and hugging him.
"You came for me," she whispered against his chest. "I never…"
"It's alright," Aemon returned the hug, "you're safe now…"
Suddenly she broke the hug, blushing, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"You have nothing to apologize for, only I do," Aemon gave her a sad smile, maybe if Alton had lived, he would have been able to relay information to him. Perhaps allowing for his uncle to live. "For not coming sooner,"
"You're my nephew?" she asked, her eyes roaming over his features, no doubt looking for the Valyrian traits.
"I am," he nodded.
"But how? Viser-," her voice broke, "my brother, he always told me we were the last Targaryens,"
"Maybe we should sit," he gestured to the armchairs beneath the tapestry, and she obliged him, "What do you know of your brother, Rhaegar?" he asked, once seated.
"Are you Aegon?" she frowned. "I thought you said you were Aemon…"
"No, and I am," he shook his head, "Aegon and Rhaenys did not survive the sack of King's Landing,"
"But then how? Viserys never told me about another child,"
"Lyanna Stark," he smiled, "or rather Lyanna Targaryen I should say, is my mother,"
"He told me that it was a lie, that Rhaegar would never abduct anyone, much less a northern…" she stopped herself, blushing.
Aemon could not help but be amused by her shyness, though a part of him knew where such came from, many years ago he had been much the same.
"I'm afraid Viserys wasn't the best source of information," he answered and Daenerys nodded. "But he was right in that case, my father didn't abduct my mother, they wed, and they had me and my brother," he smiled as her eyes widened with happiness.
"Your brother?" she asked with her purple eyes wide, "there is another Targaryen?"
"Two others," Aemon confirmed, "Daemon my twin, and Maester Aemon,"
Her purple eyes widened even more, "Maester Aemon? Maekar's son?"
Once more he nodded with a smile.
"But he must be…"
"Seven and ninety," he chuckled. "And from what I know he still lives,"
"Is your brother here?" she asked next.
"No," Aemon sighed, "When Eddard Stark," he began but her eyes narrowed at the name, "what is it?"
"One of the usurper's dogs," she almost spat and Aemon frowned.
"What do you know of the war?" he asked, maybe he should have begun there.
"I know that the Usurper and his dogs spread lies about my father, that they betrayed their oaths and slaughtered Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys," she spoke with conviction, "that their victory was only possible through trickery because Tywin Lannister betrayed his king and slaughtered our family,"
"It's a bit more complicated than that…" he sighed; this was not going to be an easy conversation to have. "I'm guessing it was Viserys who taught you that?"
She only nodded in answer, looking more defiant by the second.
"Some lies were spread, true," he began, "but most of it were not lies, my grandfather, your father, was mad,"
"Lies," she declared, "you were raised by one of his dogs…"
Aemon laughed, he would make sure not to repeat that to Arthur or Ashara, they would not appreciate it. "I was raised by Arthur and Ashara Dayne, aunt, two of the fiercest loyalists you'll find,"
Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. "The Sword of the Morning lives? Viserys…"
"I think we've established Viserys wasn't the best source of information, no? I do not mean that he meant to lie to you, only that he told the truth he knew,"
Daenerys nodded, looking down and Aemon raised her chin to have her eyes meet him.
"It's alright, it's all in the past, but you need to know the truth, yes?" She nodded, "Right, I'm afraid not all of it was lies, but when Brandon Stark learned my mother had gone missing, he made a mistake, one that cost him his life, his mistake also revealed the true depth of Aerys' madness to the realm, he burned my other grandfather, Rickard, alive while Brandon strangled himself to death, attempting to free his father."
Brandon Stark had been a fool, even with a sane king, threatening the crowned prince was high treason, and though it could be argued that the heir of one of the kingdoms could be pardoned, Aerys had every right to take Brandon's life.
"But that wasn't what started the war," he continued, "it started when Aerys demanded the heads of Jon Arryn's wards, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon,"
"Why?"
"Because he feared reprisal," Aemon shrugged, "he had every right to trial Brandon Stark for treason, but not his father and certainly not his brother, and that's what began the war, and we lost. And I was born shortly after my father fell. Eddard Stark came with a group of six to rescue his sister but found her dying in childbirth, protected by the last three kingsguards, Ser Gerold fell, but Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell fought them off until they were only two, and they came to an agreement to end the bloodshed,"
"The Black Bat survived as well?" she asked, eyes shining with excitement, he had no doubt she had been raised on tales of the knights of the kingsguards.
"He did," he nodded with a smile, "both he and Arthur are here, at their rightful place,"
Her eyes widened when he said that and he could see her shrink on himself.
"I apologize…" she whispered looking to the ground and Aemon could do naught but frown, what had just happened?
"Whatever for?"
"Not addressing you properly, your grace," she said, keeping her eyes on the wooden floor, "you're the rightful king,"
Aemon laughed, if anything he had not expected that, but it seemed it was not the reaction Daenerys was waiting for as she shrunk even more, if the armchair could have swallowed her, it would have.
He gently took one of her hands in his and raised her chin once more.
"The day I have my family call me that in private is a day you'll never see, understood?" She nodded in his palm, finally raising her eyes to meet his, "I did not think I needed to say it, but you are safe here, I know Viserys was not the best of brothers," far from him the idea to disparage her brother's memory, but still, he had been far from perfect. "Family is what is most precious to me, always,"
She hugged him once more and Aemon happily returned it. Though they had barely a year of difference, Daenerys felt much younger, and Aemon knew he would do anything to protect her.
Their embrace was broken by a knock on the door and Brienne signaling herself.
"Enter," he called out and the giant woman carried in a tray laden with fruits and cheese.
Daenerys had her eyes wide at her entry. "You're the one who saved me,"
Brienne nodded, slightly blushing, "I did, princess, as was my duty,"
"Still, I thank you Ser,"
This time there was no doubt of the warrior's blush, red as she was, "I am not a knight, princess,"
"Why not?" Daenerys asked, "I apologize, I did not ask for your name,"
"This is Lady Brienne of Tarth," Aemon answered, but his aunt's question was legitimate, why not? By law, a king could knight anyone he wanted, only he had a feeling that being knighted would be more meaningful if it was done by someone like Ser Arthur Dayne, not that he would order him to. But in his eyes, Brienne had more than proven herself.
"Women are not traditionally knighted, my lady,"
Daenerys turned to him, with fire in her eyes, gone was the previously meek girl.
"Thank you, Brienne," Aemon dismissed her.
"You don't have to worry aunt," he smiled. "Brienne is worthy of knighthood in every aspect that matters,"
"You can call me Daenerys," she said with a small smile, "or Dany if you want, that's what my brother called me,"
"Alright Dany," Aemon answered with a smile of his own, "But I am sure you have plenty of other questions." He could only laugh as he was answered with an excited nod.
"Dany," Aemon changed the subject, she had been asking him all kinds of questions for hours and he had been only too happy to oblige, "We must talk of your brother, his funeral,"
Her previous joyful mood evaporated, and he could not help but feel guilty for it. Of course, he could conserve the body until such a time she was ready, but from experience, he knew one was never ready to say goodbye, it simply had to be done.
"We should cremate him," she still answered, "as is our family's tradition,"
He nodded, it had been his intention as well.
"Do you want to wait? We can, if you want," he still offered.
She silently shook her head.
"Okay then, I'll leave you to dress," he rose from his seat, "you'll find clothes in the cabinet,"
He had made sure to stock it with enough clothes for both his uncle and aunt, though it seemed only part of them would be of use.
The pyre had been assembled quickly, each of his guards had wished to aid and Aemon had relented. To them as well, it had been a blow to lose Viserys the second they had found him, but none more so than Arthur, who had been unusually silent since.
As always, the knight would come to terms with it, they all would. Not that it lessened the pain in any way, he might not have known him, and Viserys might not have been the best person, but he was still family.
"Do you want to do it?" Aemon offered a torch to his aunt who quietly nodded, taking hold of it.
Once Oswell and Jaremy had placed his uncle's corpse atop of it, enveloped in a shroud of red and black silk. Only his face was visible, his head reattached with magic. Despite everything he had put her through, Daenerys did not deserve to have the image of a beheaded brother as her final one.
Daenerys began to walk with assured steps, holding the lit torch at arm's length.
With both of them wearing Targaryen colors, they looked truly the part, but none more so than Daenerys and her silver-white hair.
He could see her lips move but the wind carried no sound, and she plunged the torch inside of the pyre, only stepping away when she was sure the fire took.
"May you finally find the peace that evaded you in the next adventure, uncle," he whispered under his breath as the fire began to consume the entire pyre.
Daenerys finally retreated toward them, and came to stand at his side, tear tracks still on her cheeks, "Thank you, Aemon,"
"Always," he smiled, tentatively draping his arm over her lithe frame and he felt Daenerys relax against him as they watched the pyre burn away.
"Lady Brienne of Tarth," Arthur called once nothing but embers were left, "kneel,"
Aemon smiled at this, he had talked with him, making it clear it was in no way an order, but it was evident Arthur had not thought to knight her, not because he believed her unworthy, the opposite, but she would become the first woman knight in history.
He had no doubt it would upset some people, but by the time Brienne was done training under Arthur, there would be few able to do anything about it.
"Ser?" Brienne questioned hesitantly.
"Was I not clear?" Arthur asked, "kneel,"
Brienne executed herself, her piercing blue eyes confused, and yet hopeful.
Arthur unsheathed Dawn, having taken it back from the bottomless pouch for the occasion.
"In the name of the Warrior," he lay the milky-white blade on her left shoulder, "I charge you to be brave," Brienne gasped and Arthur switched to her other shoulder, "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just," and finally he lay it back on the first shoulder, "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocents. Arise Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms,"
Brienne did so, unshed tears in her eyes and a smile wider than he had ever seen her wear.
"Ser Brienne of Tarth!" Aemon called loudly, "Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"
His call was answered by the other knights present, all having come to learn Brienne in the past moon as well as his aunt who was grateful for her protection.
However, it was what the newly knighted Brienne did next as she rose and came to stand in front of him and Daenerys, and she unsheathed her sword, presenting it to them as she fell to her knees once more.
"My king," Brienne began, a firm look in her blue eyes, "with your leave, I would offer my sword and my life to the princess,"
Daenerys turned to look at him, a confused look in her eyes. "I don't want to take your guards away…"
"You do no such thing," he smiled in answer, "I have four men to keep me safe, you need your own, and I would rest better knowing such a capable sword has your back, but it is a serious matter, you understand? Brienne will protect you, she will become your bodyguard, your eyes and ears, and your champion if need be, and in return, you will pledge to never dishonor her,"
Daenerys nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.
"You have it, Ser Brienne," Aemon nodded, feeling his heart swell with pride.
"My lady," Brienne began, now looking at his aunt, "I pledge my sword and my life to you, I vow to defend you from those who would see you harmed, I vow to keep your secrets and safeguard your honor, I pledge to obey your commands, to give council when asked and to keep silent when not, I vow to give my life for yours if need be, this I swear on the Old Gods and the New."
His aunt's purple eyes sought his own and Aemon realized she did not know what to say to accept her pledge.
"I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," he whispered in her ear, and she repeated, speaking the words with conviction. "Accept your sword and shield, Ser Brienne of Tarth, I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and mead and meat at my table, I vow that I shall ask no service that would bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New,"
She repeated his words without missing a beat, her smile growing as she did and once she was done, Aemon called loudly one more time. "Arise Ser Brienne of Tarth, Sworn Shield of Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen,"
"Come on," he urged his aunt on once they had regained the ship, "I know something else that should cheer you up,"
It was time she met his children.
"We'll be in my trunk, Arthur, Brienne,"
His kingsguard only nodded in understanding and both took to guard his cabin's door.
"What do you mean in your trunk?"
Aemon only smiled in answer before tapping his wand against an invisible object and Daenerys gasped as the large trunk appeared out of thin air.
The fact that she was asking questions could not have pleased him more. In some ways, he could not help but be reminded of himself, not as Aemon Targaryen, but as Harry Potter. Much like Daenerys he had been a bright child who had had his curiosity stomped by narrow-minded relatives, much like Viserys, the Dursleys had been abusive, if not physically, then verbally and emotionally.
Still, already she was coming out of her shell and he could not help but feel confident about the future.
"What is it?" she asked, "it feels…"
"You feel something?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, and Daenerys nodded in answer. "What you feel is magic,"
"I can feel it?"
"It appears so," he hummed again, "we'll try a few things later if you want,"
"You'd teach me magic?" Daenerys asked wide-eyed and Aemon nodded with a smile. It was worth trying at least, and if she could learn, then surely Daemon could too, it would make the matter of making wands much more urgent as well.
He was answered with a beaming smile, only reinforcing his decision.
"Now, come on," he flipped the lid open, revealing the familiar darkness.
"What is it?"
"I think it's easier if you see for yourself," Aemon answered with a wink before taking hold of the ladder, "follow me,"
Unlike the others, Daenerys had no hesitation, and she quickly found her way by his side, her eyes as wide as physically possible.
"How…"
"Magic," he winked, "You'll need to learn a lot before I try teaching you something like that, but that's not why I brought you here," he pointed in the distance, toward the approaching dragons.
Daenerys was left doing her best impression of a fish as she laid her eyes on his children, gradually getting bigger as they came closer.
Only seconds later, they landed, making the ground shake under their combined weight, and all three approached, Aemon could feel their curiosity at the person he had brought.
With Brienne they had not even bothered to land, content to stay in the skies, it was much the same for the others and it only became more so the more they grew.
"Dragons…" she whispered, awe-struck. "You brought them back…"
"Daenerys Targaryen, meet my children," Aemon smiled, "Starfyre," he caressed her white snout. "Lyarax," the blue dragon puffed her chest when introduced, "and Rhaenyx," the purple dragon had not let his aunt leave the sight of her golden eyes.
Aemon could do naught but watch on curiously as she came up to them, his wand slipping in his hand, though he felt confident they would not hurt her, it was best to be prepared. She sniffled his aunt, her slithering tongue darting forward, licking Daenerys' hand, and the slivered-white hair girl could not help but giggle.
With both Lyarax and Rhaenyx now standing at the size of elephants, the smallest accident could have truly dire consequences.
Starfyre was even more dangerous now, four years after her hatchling, she was now closer to the size of two elephants put together, with a wingspan over thirty feet long. She was many times taller than him and when he stood next to her, he no longer reached her shoulder. In only a couple of years,
she would grow enough to swallow entire keeps in her shadow.
"The white dragon…" she whispered, alternatively looking at him and Starfyre, "and the purple dragon," she looked at Rhaenyx with love and admiration in her eyes. "I dreamed of you, Aemon, you did come to save me,"
295 A.C
Pentos
"Come on," Aemon whispered, urging Arthur on as they made their way through the gardens of one of the many manses sitting on the bay of Pentos.
Hearing guards approaching they both stuck to one of the hedges, making sure the two unsullied could not see any flaw in his disillusionment charm. Though Arthur could have continued, they had established many rules to make sure not to lose each other when going on such expeditions.
The first and most important failsafe was the tracking charm on the cloak, which he suspected was only possible because he used the elder wand. Then Aemon made sure every once in a while, to physically touch Arthur, ensuring the tracking charm had not failed.
Finally, they were both equipped with a portkey, with instructions to activate it if either of them got lost.
"Go," Aemon whispered once more once the two unsullied had passed. While he did not doubt that he and his kingsguard would be enough to handle any type of threats, there was no reason to alert them to what was happening.
They walked quickly but silently, and without crossing any more guards, finally arrived at the entrance.
Much like the gardens and walls, the doors were impressive, carved in gold and depicting what Aemon guessed were scenes of Pentoshi history. It left him with no doubt of the wealth that was inside.
And there was a reason they had chosen this particular manse, not for the wealth it contained, but for the man who owned it. Magister Illyrio Mopatis, one of the wealthiest men in Pentos and the man who had offered safe harbor to his kin.
However, it was not to thank him that both he and Arthur had chosen to come that night when everyone was asleep. But to figure out what his plans had been, why did a man with no apparent connections to Westeros wish to wed his aunt to a Dothraki horse lord? What interest did he have in his family?
Undoubtedly, Viserys' death, if he was aware of it, ought to have greatly restricted his possibilities.
Still, there had to have been something more for him to involve himself so thoroughly in the future of House Targaryen.
They both waited in ambush, for the next guards that could come through the massive doors.
It happened only a few minutes later and they quickly slipped behind the unsullied.
Aemon's eyes widened as they entered and every plan of getting to the magister was forgotten.
There was magic in this place. The golden doors had concealed it, whether by design or not, but Aemon had no doubt about it. Without needing the plan Daenerys had drawn for him, he made sure to tap Arthur's shoulder every time they had to change direction and the magic led them deeper into the manse.
Soon enough not a single sound could be heard, and they arrived in front of a massive circular door. It reminded him of the one the Citadel used to guard their vault.
"Alohomora," he whispered, and this time, the locks all clicked open. With a jerk of his wand, it swung open and both of them gasped at the sight offered.
There was more wealth than he had ever seen, with piles of coins reaching the ceiling and coffers filled with jewelry, gemstones, and weapons. Even the vault of the Lestranges at Gringotts had not been this full, and it had been considerable already. With so much, there was no doubt he would not miss part of it, it was the price for trying to sell Daenerys to a horse lord.
In the dimly lit vault, Aemon's eyes were drawn to a pedestal standing solitary amidst the treasures. Resting atop it was a sword of exquisite beauty. The blade, forged from Valyrian steel, shimmered with a dark hue, its surface rippling with patterns reminiscent of flames.
The hilt was intricately wrought, with a crossguard shaped like dragon wings, and a large ruby, as red as blood, set into its pommel. Even in the muted light, the sword seemed to absorb and reflect darkness, making it stand out starkly against its golden surroundings.
"Blackfyre…" Arthur whispered, having closed the door behind them.
Aemon felt a chill run down his spine at this, this was it, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, a weapon steeped in history, rebellion, and bloodshed. The sword that had been responsible for House Targaryen's greatest enemy, the Blackfyres.
Almost in a trance, his hand closed around the hilt, and he rose it with more ease than he had expected. Greatswords were usually wielded with both hands to compensate for their heavier weights, but valyrian steel allowed him to make full use of it with only one hand, keeping his other free to unleash his magic.
"How in the Seven Hells did he find it…" he could not help but whisper.
"We may never know, Aemon," Arthur lay a hand on his shoulder, a beaming smile on his face as he admired the legendary blade, "but it is clear Illyrio Mopatis had plans for your family, Blackfyre would be enough to prove a claim, history has taught us that,"
"Did you fight during the war of the ninepenny kings?" Aemon asked, Arthur had been alive then.
"I didn't," he shook his head, "I was knighted only after it ended, but Barristan and Oswell did,"
"I guess I should be glad the Blackfyres are gone…"
"They are," Arthur nodded, "but the Golden Company isn't,"
"You think them a threat?" Aemon asked his kingsguard, they had never taken them into account in their plans, knowing that on principle they would refuse to fight for a Targaryen.
"No," Arthur denied, "With no Blackfyres to lead them and your dragons, there are too few of them to try anything in Westeros,"
Aemon nodded, they were a large company, the largest if what he heard was true, and they had elephants. But even against a single kingdom, they would struggle, and elephants were only useful in certain conditions, they could be devastating for cavalry but would only represent a very appetizing meal for dragons.
Still, it was not Blackfyre that had attracted him here, though its magic was undeniable it was nowhere powerful enough. What had attracted him was one of the chests, a rather inconspicuous one compared to some of the more garish, golden-made trunks, as this one was made of wood.
He stashed Blackfyre in his bottomless pouch, where it would rest next to Dawn until such time came for them to be more than a way to betray who they were. And Aemon took a deep breath, his wand held aloft, before flipping open the chest's lid.
Dragon eggs, three of them, the first was midnight dark with scarlet ripples, the second was the color of rich cream speckled with gold, and the third was of a deep green with streaks of bronze.
Aemon could not help but smile, one so large it reached his ears, it seemed his children would soon have more siblings and that Dragons would increase their numbers twice-fold.
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, don't hesitate to leave a review, I read them all even if answering is always a hassle.
I'm happy to report that after suffering from writer's block for over a month, I've finally been able to break through it this past week and I've just finished writing chapter 18, as I'm on paid leave for the next week I'm hoping I can write 19 and 20, if I do you'll get a chapter much sooner.
Also for reference: currently, Starfyre, four years after hatching, is taller than Drogon when he rescued Daenerys from the Sons of the Harpies. While Rhaenyx and Lyarax are Drogon's seize. After this episode, the dragons grew too fast, middle of season 6, Drogon had almost tripled in size which is a bit ridiculous if I'm honest, the dragons won't be that big anytime soon.