Author's Notes: Thank you all once more for reading, adding this to your favorites, adding this to your alerts, and/or leaving a comment! I really appreciate it. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story!
And for those who asked questions: Spoilers! These lips are sealed.
Chapter 32
Aemon VIII
"Ser Barristan, send for Tyrion Lannister."
"At once, your grace," the old knight said.
Aemon sat once more at the table and breathed, feeling the tension in his shoulders unravel. It had felt so good to vent about everything that had happened since they parted in Winterfell. While he had consulted in his uncle often, he simply wasn't on the same level of understanding as he and Jaime were. It was one thing to know about how events turned out, it's another thing to have lived through the whole damn mess.
Wine was prepared just in time for Tyrion's arrival and the dwarf wasted no time burying himself in his cups. Aemon raised an eyebrow at the behavior, but began questioning him on his reports of Lord Tywin and the Westerland forces. The answers were laced with heavy sarcasm and bitterness. Aemon tried to power through, but finally he had enough.
"Normally, I wouldn't care about what has you so incensed unless it potentially interferes with your mission. I am not convinced, however, you have been giving your orders the full consideration that they require. Why must you act so hostile to your king?"
The implied threat was enough to get through his alcoholic haze. Tyrion reacted as if slapped; his eyes widened and he shrank back in his chair, but he still held the goblet of wine.
"A-apologies, your grace. I forget myself," he mumbled.
"What has made you so angry? Is it your father?"
"No, your grace, it's...it's my brother. I fear you may know him better than me now."
Aemon's face softened, but only slightly. He knew Tyrion well enough at the end that he absolutely adored his brother and followed him to his death. What made Tyrion such a powerful ally also had a tendency to make him a nuisance. He could see past his allies' and enemies' false words to their true motivations underneath, unless he was missing certain pieces of information. It made him snoop and pry until his curiosity and logic was satisfied.
It was precisely that logic that cast him out of trustworthy candidates to tell their secret. Jaime had said he would laugh in their faces and that was the best case scenario. It could easily be that he betrayed them out of concern for their sanity.
"He is still avoiding you then?"
"Indeed. His excuses of avoiding me always fall under the pretense of being too busy, but his fighting skills will hardly rust in the hour of conversation that I crave with him."
"Have you considered perhaps there is a reason that he is avoiding you?"
Tyrion drew his mouth into a hard line. "Yes," the tone of his reply could slice skin. There was silence and then Tyrion said, "He doesn't like my prying."
"Then don't pry," Aemon said.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes at him and said, "You know the secret he's keeping from me."
"Your brother and I have been separated for six months doing our parts to bring the kingdom together. Our conversation earlier was strictly about the army and how best to end the war. There's no room for personal talk," Aemon replied. Lying gets easier the more you do it, he thought, feeling another pang at the partial lie, but Tyrion was still not ready to hear the truth.
With that, he dismissed Tyrion. As Jaime had already stated, Tywin was not happy to have been forced to sit outside King's Landing for so long doing little more than penning Renly and his Stormland forces in. Tyrion had not mentioned anything about Tywin having an ulterior plan, but it was unclear to him if that was simply because Tywin knew better than to share these plans with Tyrion or if Tyrion was still loyal enough to his father to remain quiet about them. It was difficult to tell with the old lion, but he had a feeling that he should not rule it out.
Next he ordered in Lord Howland Reed and Lady Maege Mormont. They gave him similar reports regarding Roose Bolton. If he was planning something sinister, he hadn't shown it. While he and Lord Tywin had exchanged pleasantries, they had done little more than glare at each other at the time. Still, Howland and Maege couldn't exactly keep their eye on him every minute of every day and certainly not without making it obvious. All was quiet for now.
He retired after that. Normally, he would have preferred to have met the Tyrells and Lord Tywin immediately, but it was well into the night at that point. They would have to wait until morning.
He summoned Jaime for breakfast and his Hand turned up not only looking remarkably chipper, but with the harp case in his hands. Aemon very nearly ripped it away and cradled it. "Thank you for returning it."
Jaime said, "Open it."
Aemon undid the clasps, pulled it open and then gasped. The last time he'd seen the harp, the wood was faded and the majority of the streams snapped or frayed. It had since been polished to a mirror shine and each of the strings were taut and gleaming.
"I commissioned it to be restored in Lannisport. It's playable now."
"Thank you," he whispered, gently running his hands along the string to produce a wave of beautiful sounds.
"I have it under good authority that one of David's men, the musician inside the Keep, can play it. Damn near had to pry from his cold dead hands to get the harp away from him."
He chuckled. He longed to keep holding it, but there was business to be done so, reluctantly, he latched it and stored it in a chest in his tent.
Once breakfast was cleared away, he sent for Lord Tywin. Ghost returned from his hunt just now, panting in the hot sun. He brushed against both Aemon and Jaime before settling down between the two of them. They were quiet as they waited. Jaime remained seated at the table, but Aemon stood, keeping his feet planted solidly to the ground.
"Lord Tywin, your grace," Ser Preston Greenfield announced, with Tywin following behind him.
Aemon nodded at him and the Kingsguard returned to his post at the front of his tent. It took every ounce of his being not to shrink back. Tywin was a tall and forbidding countenance. He saw very little of Jaime in his cold green eyes and the hard planes of his face. He was impeccably dressed in Lannister red and gold armor and a crimson cape. Aemon was finely dressed himself with black and red Targaryen cape but was in otherwise plain dark leathers and his crown. He had a feeling if some poor soul had to guess who was king between the two of them, Tywin would be chosen in a heartbeat.
"Your grace," Tywin said in a gravelly voice devoid of emotion.
"Lord Tywin," Aemon replied, his voice steady as the rising sun. "I wanted to thank you for marching to King's Landing and positioning your camp here like a barricade. I know it was difficult to stay steady in one place without a clear goal. Jaime tells me that I have you to thank for keeping your men busy with training and building war machines. And for the furnishings of my tent." He gestured around his tent.
There may have been a slight upturn of Lord Tywin's lips, but if it was there, it was gone within the blink of an eye. "Yes, your grace."
"He also says I have you to thank for torturing soldiers defecting from the enemy sides. Is that true?"
There was no missing the slight tightening around his eyes. "It is, your grace. There's no denying that important information can be found in odd places. Best to look thoroughly."
"So you have found important information?" The dead silence was telling, but Aemon pressed. "Have you discovered important information?"
"No," Tywin growled. "That doesn't mean it's not possible-"
"You were torturing men who were forced into their positions in the Stormlands armies. None of them are close with the leadership of the Stormlands. You could not hope to possibly gain anything of particular interest, so that leads me to the conclusion that these men were tortured to sate some carnal lust for violence," Aemon's voice was unforgiving as it rang through the tent and he had to take deep breaths to bring his own anger into check.
"Forgive me, your grace, but what is the point of this? Jaime already put a stop to the torture."
"The point, Lord Tywin, is that we are prepared to storm King's Landing any day now. There are unarmed civilians in the city who do not have the means to leave. Considering what happened the last time King's Landing was overrun," it was here that Ghost stood by Aemon and growled, "if I hear that any unarmed civilians were killed during the assault on the Red Keep, I will hold you personally responsible for their deaths. Is that understood?"
Tywin glanced at Ghost and then at Jaime, who had his fingers steepled and was watching him with an oddly blank expression. "You have nothing to say about all this?"
"No," Jaime replied. "I am here to support my king. His words are my words."
"You're dismissed," Aemon said coldly. He was sure it must rankle Tywin to be ordered by a king more than a third his age.
Still, he bowed and in a low voice stated "Your grace" and then was gone.
There was a minute of quiet as they heard his footsteps fade away and then Aemon asked, "Was there anything peculiar about his responses?"
"He was angry, but nothing to indicate he was hiding something," Jaime said.
Mace and Willas Tyrell were summoned next. It took sometime for him to reach the tent since Willas had to be carried, but they finally arrived. Aemon heard the thump of his cane before he saw him. Ser Arys Oakheart pulled back the tent flap to allow them entry. On first glance, Willas seemed an earnest young man with chestnut brown hair artfully arranged around his shoulders and he was dressed in a green robe with gaudy gold finery. He stopped momentarily at the door to weigh them both.
Mace Tyrell was his opposite, strutting about like a prized rooster with his oversized chest puffed out. The gold finery and jewels embroidered into his clothing would have rivaled Cersei Lannister at her most decorative. Aemon struggled to keep from laughing as Lord Tyrell knelt to the ground and said, "Your loyal servant, House Tyrell, is at your service, my liege."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jaime roll his eyes and he tapped his fingers . Even Willas seemed exasperated by his father's behavior, but he stiffly bowed and kept his head down for as long as his father remained kneeling.
Aemon had been standing as a power play to Lord Tywin, but he took a seat for himself for Mace and Willas.
"Your grace," Willas said in a steady and even voice and bowed as low as he was able. "Lord Jaime."
The chat with Mace and Willas was idle. He invited them primarily to assess them. He found Willas to be particularly careful about his words. Although he carried himself with an imperious air, he appeared honest. Mace Tyrell was another beast entirely and Aemon was immediately grateful that Jaime had insisted that Willas sit on the council rather than his father. The lord blustered and made ridiculous declarations. He was just smart enough to phrase his demands as questions and was, of course, particularly concerned about his son Loras, which Aemon could sympathize with. It was clear, though, that his harping on Loras got on Jaime's nerves.
Once Aemon had again reassured Lord Tyrell that Jaime would do everything in his power to ensure Loras' safety, he called yet another meeting to discuss strategy. There were nearly three dozen lords that took part in the council meeting, but closest to him were his uncle, Jaime, Ser Barristan, Greatjon Umber, Lady Maege, Roose Bolton, and Tywin Lannister. Edmure Tully and his Riverland vassals stood on the other side of the table. The Tyrells, the Reach and Westerland lords squeezed in wherever they could find a spot. Tyrion was able to position himself at a foremost spot next to his father.
"Thank you all for coming. I will open negotiations with Renly. Should he be a fool and not surrender, I want everyone to know the plan. Lord Tywin, the Westerland forces will take the siege towers you've been building and try to get over the walls of King's Landing here, here, and here. That should give you cover to ram down the Lion's Gate. Lord Tyrell, Lord Tully, you'll take another three siege towers and attack here and here and here. That should give you an opportunity to tear open the Dragon Gate and the Old Gate. Once the Westerland, Riverland, and Reach forces have drawn their attention, I want the North to focus on the Mud Gate. We outnumber them ten to one. We should be able to poke holes in their defense like cottage cheese."
"We'll overrun King's Landing like a swarm of ants," the Greatjon Umber said with a nasty chuckle.
"Unlike ants, however, we will take prisoners. Should a Goldcloak or a soldier throw down their arms, they are to be taken prisoner. No unarmed civilians are to be harmed."
"You think that wise, your grace?" Tywin said in a dull voice. Aemon noted that many of the Northerners and Riverland lords scowled at him.
Aemon held his gaze steady as he said, "They are my people! I will not have them needlessly slaughtered."
"As your grace wishes," Tywin said.
"The same goes for the vassal lords of the Stormlands. Fight only to the death if there is no recourse. However, Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon are to be taken prisoner!"
"What of Lord Stannis, your grace?" His uncle asked, appearing to show investment for the first time.
"I sent my cousin Ser Daven Lannister with a contingent of soldiers out to Sharp Point," Jaime said. "It has a clear view of the waters leading into Blackwater Bay. Should Stannis stir and set sail for King's Landing, we'll know about it in a day and a half."
"Any reports yet?" Aemon asked.
"All is quiet," Jaime replied.
"Where will you be, your grace?" Willas asked.
"I will be embedded with the Northern forces. The quicker I can claim my throne, the quicker we will end this siege."
"Where would you like me?" Jaime said in a bored tone. His Hand seemed convince that this planning was all unnecessary.
"You will be with the Westerland soldiers, of course," Aemon replied, pinning him with an urgent stare. You better be right about this, Jaime.
"What of the Vale?" Jaime asked.
"Lord Yohn Royce was gathering them when I left. They are between one and two weeks out. With any luck, we'll have taken the Keep by the time they arrive."
"Now, for the negotiations. Uncle, you're considered the most trustworthy of us here. Will you be willing to beseech Renly on my behalf?"
"Will he trust me after betraying Robert?"
"You did it for your blood."
"I don't think he'll see it that way. What about Ser Barristan?"
Jaime chuckled darkly. "He immediately switched from protecting Robert to protecting Aemon. You're still probably the most trustworthy person here."
"Your grace, I will be happy to deliver the message of negotiations," Ser Barristan said.
Aemon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had leaned on his uncle's reputation for honesty for so long that he hadn't considered how it might invoke Renly's wrath to see him. "Ser Barristan it is. I want you to deliver the message now."
Aemon watched him go and fretted. Jaime nudged him, "Want to train?"
"Shouldn't you be training your squire?"
"He needs a demonstration."
The fight did take the edge off Aemon's mood, in part because he could think of little else but fighting as Jaime pressed him. It was satisfying to see the smirk fall from Jaime's face as Aemon stayed even, parrying and countering. Since they parted, Ser Barristan had taken over his training and he had noticeably improved. Coupled with his knowledge of Jaime's fighting style and he was actually getting closer to Jaime's level.
"You're training with Ser Barristan," Jaime said, jumping back.
Aemon raised his eyebrows at him and grinned.
"I recognize those stale moves anywhere."
He huffed at him and went in for a hit. They continued for another few seconds before Jaime weakened his wrist and knocked the sword from his hand. The second fight ended with him being thrown into the dirt. The same continued for fights three and four, but Ser Barristan returned before there could be a fifth fight.
"Renly wishes to meet you at the Lion's Gate before the evening meal. He will be on the wall and you are expected to be on the outside of it," Ser Barristan said.
Aemon nodded. He really hadn't expected anything different and was grateful that Renly wished to get the negotiations out of the way. It seemed he was just as impatient, but for what reason? He hoped Renly really was just a fool and didn't have anything unexpected up his sleeve.
"You should wear armor. We can't give them the opportunity to shoot at you," Jaime said. "Renly might just be foolish enough for that."
"Very well. Everyone is to be in armor. Prepare Robert Baratheon accordingly. We should ensure Renly can't kill him either."
"Hmm...I don't think he's the type of ilk to murder his own family for power," Jaime replied, but for the first time he seemed uncertain.
"He might kill him out of pity once he sees him," Aemon said. They had dragged Robert all the way to King's Landing and the last time Aemon had a glimpse of him was when they reached Riverrun. Cut back to normal rations, the weight had peeled from the old king; his face and skin sagged like ill-fitted clothing. At the same time, his beard and hair went all gray. Where once there had been fire and anger contorting his face, his eyes were clear, but sad. Coupled with the drooping of his skin, he looked like an old dog ready to be put out of his misery. He had been provided with clothes far less opulent for his new status, but he did not bothering keeping up appearances and soiled himself regularly.
It was pathetic and there were times where Aemon felt an ounce of pity for him only to then remind himself that this was the monster who had delighted in the slaughter of his half brother and sister, and whom would've been equally delighted to add him and Daenerys to that pile. Granted, there were still yet more monsters walking unfettered and he hoped that there would soon be a time he would scoop them all up.
"He has a stink that could rival King's Landing," Jaime sneered.
At the appointed time, Aemon, Jaime, Ser Barristan, Ned Stark, Willas Tyrell, a pair of guards, and Robert Baratheon tied to a horse, rode out to the Lion's Gate. Ghost ran between Aemon and Jaime's horse. Jaime was forced to give him a wide berth as his horse shied at the direwolf's presence. Upon approaching the gate, they spread out in a line with Jaime and Aemon in the center. Willas was on Jaime's right. Ser Barristan and Ned were on Aemon's left; Ned was as close to Robert as he could manage.
They waited in silence. The sun was still high in the sky with a few more hours of expected daylight, but their shadows stretched across the plain, bathed in golden light. The day had been stifling and hot, but now a cool breeze swept in, briefly taking the sting from the smell of shit that perfumed the city. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. It was only now that he glanced over at Jaime's short hair in jealousy, wondering how in the world he had managed longer hair in their previous life. A trimming may be in order after he takes the city.
Finally, he saw new figures appear high up on the wall. They were just visible enough that he could see a man with brown hair and a beard and next to him was a man with light colored curly hair. There were at least half a dozen other men flanking them, all wearing their helmets. Undoubtedly the guard.
"The Dragon approaches," the man he presumed to be Renly called out in a lofty voice. "I am prepared to hear you cede the kingship."
Aemon chuckled but there was no warmth to his eyes, not that Loras and Renly could see it anyway. "I do believe it's I who has everything and you who are barely holding the Stormland soldiers together."
"We have no intention of conceding to a dragon," Renly bit off. "You look a bit young to be playing at war. Perhaps you should run off back to your mother. Ah, apologies, you don't have one."
Aemon clenched his reins tighter and he felt a growl come to his lips, but Jaime shot back first, "I knew you were young, Renly, but I thought even you were above boyhood insults."
"The Kingslayer and now verified traitor chimes in. I knew you weren't to be trusted. You as well, Ser Barristan. I thought you were a man of honor!"
Ser Barristan remained silent and unmoved as his eyes scanned the wall for threats.
"Your brother was never the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. He stole it. With my ascension, it is being returned to its rightful ruler," Aemon replied. By accepting his position as king, he was forced to put on airs. He had to act like he already owned the throne and it was not something that could be denied to him. The feeling was foreign to him, but it seemed that way with every feeling of late. Would he ever be able to remove this ill-fitting mask? "As you can see, your brother, Robert Baratheon, is long my prisoner. The Seven Kingdoms needs a king. I am the only option."
"I don't believe that's my brother, the good King Robert. It looks nothing like him. I could be king in his stead."
"I assure you, Renly, it is him," his uncle Ned finally spoke up.
"You would dare speak, Eddard Stark, after your betrayal to my brother? He trusted you like family and you fed him to the lions!"
"I am not here to argue justification," Aemon snapped. "The iron throne will be mine. You have this one chance: cede the throne and I will allow you to retain your ancestral home of Storm's End. Continue to defy me and I will make certain the name Baratheon is scourged from the face of Westeros."
"Loras! Stop this madness at once," Willas jumped in, straining to see his brother. "You are a great fighter, but surely even you know when fighting will be folly. You can end this! Do it now?"
They could only just see Loras shaking his head. "Never did I ever suspect my family of betraying me. Are you truly a brother of mine?"
"We love you and wish you to join us! Forget this foolishness! King Aemon has already agreed to grant you immunity for your defiance. Please! We do not wish to see you dead!"
Loras had apparently run out of words and continued shaking his head.
"The dragons brought fire and blood to Westeros. My brother brought it peace." Both Jaime and Aemon snorted at that. "Whether he be alive or dead, I will continue to fight in my brother's name. This Baratheon will stand against you, even if he won't. Neither the Stormlands nor the Crownlands are yours."
A voice suddenly boomed out, "NEVER CEDE THE KEEP, RENLY! FIGHT THEM! FIGHT THE DRAGON TO THE DEATH IF YOU MUST!"
Jaime gave a signal and one of the guards slammed his armored fist into Robert's mouth, dazing him.
Aemon glowered and brought his horse in front of Robert. "You would wish your youngest brother dead all to retain your glory? You disgust me." He glanced at his uncle who appeared shamefaced. How many stories had he heard about the greatness of Robert Baratheon? He hadn't been particularly impressed back in Winterfell and now his distaste was cemented. What did my uncle ever see in that whoremonger?
He turned back to Renly. He was just close enough that he could see Renly's now smug smile.
"So you do have my brother. I will do as my brother and king demand. You will take the Keep over my dead body."
There was a pause as Aemon simmered. When he spoke, it was barely loud enough for Renly and Loras to hear, "Very well, we attack at dawn. My men will pour over your walls like the lava poured over Old Valyria, sealing its doom."
With that, he turned his horse and galloped back toward their encampment in the distance. He clenched the reins unnecessarily hard and was sure he'd have blisters by the time he got back. His lords were waiting, including Tywin, Roose Bolton, and the Greatjon Umber.
"Well? How shall it be?" The Greatjon bellowed as he reined in his horse.
He was silent as he dismounted and it continued to stretch as Aemon struggled to reel in his temper. He finally turned to Jaime who was waiting on tenterhooks for his words. "You have until dawn," he finally said to him. With that, Jaime bowed his head and disappeared into the crowd.
