Author's Note: Good day, everyone! Once again, thank you, wonderful readers, for sticking with and supporting this fiction. It is a pleasure to write for you!
Please forgive any major typos that you see while reading. I was honestly writing this chapter up to the last minute, so I haven't had the chance to look at it more closely.
As of November 1st of 2018, The Dragon's Roar will be 1-year-old. I began writing it as my NaNoWriMo(National Novel Writing Month) project. It was by far the easiest NaNoWriMo I have ever done and thanks to that month, I was able to use it as a launch pad to continue writing TDR throughout the year. Coupled with The Lion's Fall(since it takes place in the same universe), I have written almost 175,000 words in one year. I have never been so dedicated nor so disciplined and you guys are instrumental to that! I will be doing NaNoWriMo again for this fic, but I unfortunately do not have the time or energy to write the usual goal of 50K words. I will write 500 words a day instead. As far as I'm concerned, any progress is good progress.
Chapter 37
Jaime XIII
Jaime was not thrilled to be Hand of the King, though he understood his duty right now was to guide Aemon and help the realm reach its goals. Not without reason, however, he found the hours too long and the lifespan often too short, typically ending in the Hand's murder. The last Hand who wasn't murdered was his own father near twenty years ago. Right now, however, he desperately craved the distraction being Hand to the King provided.
After Aemon had told him about Cersei's pregnancy, he had collapsed on his bed in the White Tower. He fell easily enough into sleep, though his dreams included a baby vanishing in smoke. He saw Tommen falling from the high window again, Myrcella choking on her own blood right in front of him, and Joffrey turning green to the gills. It caused him to jolt awake in a panic, forgetting for a few minutes where or when he was. He was damn near convinced he'd just dreamt the entire campaign with Aemon and he was back in Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard until he glanced out the window and saw Winterfell soldiers walking around.
With that, the news that Cersei was pregnant, almost certainly with his child, was brought to bear before him again. It may not be mine, he thought for a moment. Was it? He tried to think back on that horrible night, wincing internally because he had tried to quash that memory ever since. Did I spend in Cersei? He honestly couldn't remember. His memory was hazy, likely due to the fact that he'd had a seizure just moments after they'd been discovered. Amidst the stress and the chaos, it was lost on him how it had truly ended.
He tried to think back on that night, relive it, but it caused his stomach to churn and he eventually gave up lest he fall ill. It wouldn't do to be ill and unreachable the night of his and Aemon's unprecedented victory. In the next moment, he jumped at a knock on his door. Aemon had come to speak with him before the feast.
The walls of the White Tower were too thin to fear people lurking within them, so with Ser Barristan stationed at the door, they went over their plans. Jaime taught Aemon how to create ciphers and they decided on a key for each other, using memories and people only they knew. They created two lists of tasks. The first list was of the tasks meant to be widely known, which included addressing Stannis, sending for Daenerys, and negotiating with Dorne. The other list, meant only for their eyes, had tasks such as trapping Baelish, mining for Dragonglass on Dragonstone, and looking into the wildfire caches under the city. They both went over the second list multiple times and then it was burned by candle flame.
Once that business was conducted, they were expected to attend a feast made in their honor, to celebrate the taking of King's Landing. Once out on the grounds, Jaime asked, "Did you see the throne room yet?"
"Y-yes…" Aemon replied and he looked troubled.
Jaime raised his eyebrows. "What'd you think?"
Aemon was silent for a moment, clearly thinking on his answer. "It was...interesting," he offered lamely. At the irritated look he received in return, he sighed and added, "The throne is ugly. And yet it's a little difficult to believe that so much power, so much intrigue, and so much history - good and bad - is tied up in that chair. My ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror sat in that chair. You killed my grandfather, Aerys II, in that chair. I just wonder how I'm going to live up to it all. The people, the lords, they're counting on me to do what's right. Will I know?"
"You're asking the wrong person, Aemon?" Jaime replied with a grimace. "I've watched kings rule for decades, but they were bad kings. I don't know how a good king rules. You have a good head on your shoulders, so you can't do worse than them."
"That's encouraging," Aemon said with a glare.
"Ask Ser Barristan then."
"Maybe I will." There was a pause. "I wish I could ask my uncle."
Jaime huffed. "He still giving you grief?"
"Less so today, but I don't know if it's because he's forgiven me or because the Keep was taken bloodlessly. We haven't been able to discuss anything other than troop movements. We've both been busy."
"I should've been there."
"Don't be ridiculous. You captured Renly without shedding blood and are the hero of the day, forgoing sleep entirely. You needed and deserved your rest."
With that, they stepped into the light of the feast hall. Jaime spent the next few hours regaling lords with an embellished version of how he took the Keep bloodlessly, cutting out the secret tunnels entirely. Gerion sat next to him and helpfully tweaked tidbits to get the laughter uproariously, winking at Jaime secretively. Thankfully, he mercifully skirted the initial teasing he had given Jaime after encountering Brienne.
Speaking of Brienne, he failed to see her. He knew she was never one for feasts and he could only presume that her lone friend throughout all this calamity had been Renly as before. There were no friendly faces for her here. At least not yet. Soon, he told himself and took a deep breath to calm himself.
He frequently had to stop and close his eyes. A thousand different shades of green, red, purple, and yellow assaulted him from all sides, making it impossible to keep track of them all. He had never particularly cared for such large social gatherings, unless it was a tourney, but now with the seeing sounds, he wished so desperately to seclude himself in his room and breathe in the quiet. This is my life from now on, he thought.
During the break of yet another retelling, he glanced around the room. Aemon seemed to be having a particularly engaging conversation with Lord Willas, his cousin Robb, and Theon a few seats down. Ned Stark, Edmure Tully, and a few other Riverrun lords were chatting at a lower table. Old Ned Stark was positioned at the high table, next to his nephew, but he had apparently sauntered down. His own father was seated next to him, but he too had drifted away and was speaking to Ser Kevan. By the sour look on his face, he was hardly enjoying the gathering. Tyrion was at the end of the table, apparently telling stories to their young cousin Tyrek, who was eagerly leaning toward him to hear. Lancel was nearby to them looking particularly discomfited, likely having heard about the mess Cersei had created for herself.
He's damn lucky she didn't feel like dragging him down with her, he thought. After their uncle Tygett had passed from the pox, Cersei sought out yet another Lannister to sate her lusts and that fell on poor, foolish Lancel. He was just as oblivious in this life as the last.
The Shepherds were even in attendance to the feast. Cyrus especially played the cello for everyone and received many cries for songs such as Down the Mander and a rather raunchy one called The Three Maids. David, Delphine, and a red-haired woman Jaime had yet to meet sat at the table. The women chatted to each other, but David remained quiet and distant, his face set in a perpetual glower. David's second-in-command, Julian Grey, had migrated to another table and was laughing raucously with some other young men. He was pretty sure David mentioned he was a son of a minor Westerosi house, so perhaps he was speaking to old friends. Callum was looking awkward in another group of men, but Vicente appeared to be telling his own version of their taking of the Red Keep. He hoped he had the sense to leave out the tunnels, but then again maybe people wouldn't think there was any truth to it with all of their embellished versions floating around.
A couple times during the night, he ended up catching Tyrion's eye. His brother's good cheer transformed in an instant to a rather murderous glare. Jaime sighed. He had to tell Tyrion about this new child eventually; it would affect him too after all. He knew already that Tyrion had been irritated with his avoidance. He truly didn't want to be distant with his brother, not after they were so close in the time before, but that Tyrion wasn't this Tyrion. He had been so alone in King's Landing for so long that he had long grown accustomed to being self-reliant. Aemon was different; he was a kindred spirit. There was not another living soul who could say they really knew him though.
Nearing the end of the feast, Jaime was becoming distractible and he could feel yet another headache coming on. At some point, he turned to find another tiny, stoppered bottle that resembled the headache medicine David had given him before. He sniffed it gingerly and it smelled the same. He glanced over to find David only just returning to his chair and when he caught his eye he gave him a pointed nod. Despite its foul taste, it did do the trick of easing his headache and he was able to return to being the arrogant Jaime Lannister they all knew.
The next morning, he and Aemon were up early, preparing for the ceremonies. They summoned the Shepherds, or at least the ones who had been of direct service to him and Aemon which helped in the war on such a high note. Cyrus, Delphine, David, Vicente, Callum, Gerion, and Varys stood before them looking ragtag.
"First things first, Cyrus, you and your wife shall be raised to lord and lady of a minor keep, as was promised. I'm still trying to decide on which keep you should be provided to you. There are a couple in the Westerlands."
"The Westerlands?" Aemon raised his eyebrows at Jaime, an amused smile hovering on his lips. "Nowhere else?'
"That's right. He and his wife followed my orders faithfully. As lord paramount - "
"You're not lord paramount yet," Aemon replied and his voice was colored a bright green in his amusement.
"I will be," Jaime replied, his voice tinted orange with his irritation. "They executed their orders admirably, I reward them for their efforts, just as I promised."
He had never seen anyone look so wary about taking a Keep. It was a great honor to be landed and titled, but they kept giving each other furtive glances and putting on cheery airs.
"Do you have a sire name?"
"I do," Cyrus said. He turned to his wife, "Do you think we should use it or create another name?"
"It's bound to reach Meereen eventually, no matter what name we take," she said.
"Hmm...I wonder what my father would think."
"He's not here. It's up to you."
He worried his lip and then numbly shook his head. "He'll think I'm way over my head. And he'd be right. I'm just a musician."
"Why so worried, Cyrus? Just because you'll have a Keep to run doesn't mean we'll abandon you to sink or swim," David interjected. "We'll be happy to help you. I did train at the Citadel for a few years, so I know much of the Maester's duties."
"And each Keep is assigned a Maester. You'll have resources at your disposal," Jaime said. "Now, your name."
He continued to hesitate and then said, "Alexandratos."
Jaime frowned at him and gave him the parchment to write it down. "That doesn't sound Meereenese."
"It's not. My family has lived and died on being musicians. Musicians have a tendency to roam, just like what Delphine and I have been doing with the Shepherds. There's a rare few musicians who manage to land court appointments. Once upon a time, my great grandfather landed such a court appointment within the pyramid of Meereen."
"You gave up that for a life on the road?" Jaime asked.
"Yes," Cyrus and Delphine said at the same time.
Jaime had certainly enjoyed the simplicity of life on the road, when he was traveling with Brienne, the army, or heading to Winterfell. Even in misery, his mind had never felt so sharp and clear away from the dizzying machinations of the city. However, he thought he might have different feelings living hand to mouth if children had been involved.
"Give some thought to your sigil and your house words. Let me know what your plans are and I'll send a seamstress over to get your ideas," Jaime said, no small amount of irritation in his voice. Why did I decided to handle the paperwork involving the rewards? He thought, wanting to pull his hair out, though he knew why. He despised the writing and record-keeping, but he had hoped to ease the load on Aemon's shoulders by dealing with the minutiae. Not to mention, the Shepherds were his people and his responsibility.
Vicente and Callum were much easier to reward. Vicente opted for a pair of freshly made knives fit for kings. Callum was at a loss what to ask for - "But I have a perfectly good sword," he said in bewilderment - and in the end they rewarded him with a knighthood. He was so overwhelmed that for a moment Jaime thought he would be overcome with tears, but he swallowed them back and wordlessly bowed. Knights typically had to pay their own way, but Jaime would arrange for him to be funded by House Lannister, as long as he remained loyal to him. Gerion, too, wanted nothing - "You better not reward me with a knighthood. Or a wife" - but eventually acquiesced to a better sword since he'd given up Brightroar to Jaime.
Next came David and he watched the entire proceedings like a proud parent, his chest was puffed out and there was no hiding in the glee in his eyes. But once the attention was turned to him, he frowned.
"Don't tell me you don't want anything," Jaime growled.
"On the contrary, there's plenty I want that you could give me," he said, staring down at Jaime imperiously.
"A lordship as well?"
David snorted. "There's nothing I could do with a lordship."
"Get married and have kids. That's what all lords do," Jaime muttered.
"That would be the shortest lordship in this country's history."
"There are men older than you who've fathered children," Jaime sniped, his lip curling as he thought of Lord Frey.
"No," David growled. "I want the Lannister's to sponsor the Shepherds. We'll set up a clinic here to care for the people of King's Landing. I'll follow you again when you go back to Casterly Rock and set up in Lannisport."
"The people of King's Landing would be most grateful," Aemon said. "As would I."
Jaime pondered. Why not just have the King sponsor you? Then again, he owed a personal debt to David and his Shepherds, first with the rescue from the Ironborns and then attempting to help him control his seizures and keep his secrets. It would behoove him to keep David close.
"Done," Jaime said and wrote it down. There was some more arguing about the agreement, what Jaime was allowed to ask of David and what David in turn was allowed to do. Aemon wrote that down because Jaime's writing was getting to the point of being so erratic that no one could read it.
"Now, Varys, you have been faithful. What do you wish?" Aemon asked.
"I only wish to retain my position here as Master of Whispers," Varys replied with a slight bow.
"Is that all?"
"Serving a good king is reward enough," he replied.
I'm sure it is, Jaime thought sourly. They had to be wary of Varys, even if he had proven trustworthy so far. He could never be counted on to stand as allie for too long.
They finished just in time for lunch, but just as David was exiting, Jaime asked, "What's the history between you and Lord Mallister?"
"I've been expecting you to ask all morning. I'm surprised you could restrain yourself for so long," David replied, but there was a coldness to his eyes and he glared. "It's none of your business."
"We just created a partnership. I need to know I didn't just create an agreement that will anger an ally," Jaime said. Aemon was watching the exchange with great interest. Gerion was looking at Jaime like he was trying to play with fire.
"You saw the whole exchange. Does that sound like the exchange between two enemies?"
"I know what I saw. You hate him and the world knows it. You, a commoner, showing hate to a lord in a public setting. That is bold. What happened?"
David continued glaring at him. Finally he said, "I don't forgive or forget attempted murder." With that, he swept out of the room before.
Jaime was left in stunned silence. When he glanced at Aemon, he seemed even more intrigued, but most surprising was that the Shepherd's were equally stunned by the revelation.
Lord Mallister tried to kill David? He did not approach David with hostile intent, Jaime thought. That much had been obvious from the color of Lord Mallister's voice. It had been green tinged a little yellow from what he could tell was nerves. Yet another thing to add to the list.
|-The Dragon's Roar-|
Aemon IX
Aemon waited just outside the throne room. Ghost was faithfully at his side, close enough for Aemon's hand to tangle in his fur. Jaime stood next to him and behind him was Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Arys Oakheart. He tried to breathe deeply, but the crown felt heavy on his head and sweat slicked his palms, which had little to do with the usual heat of King's Landing: he was moments away from ascending the throne.
It would be his first time. He had merely looked at the throne from a distance the day before. It felt like too momentous of an occasion to just take the seat on a whim, so he had deftly avoided it until the proper moment. He almost expected the gods to announce their presence in some manner as away of voicing their approval, especially since they seemed so keen to have him there. Though they had been quiet ever since he broke the Greatjon's sword back in Winterfell.
Had they been following his campaign? They had certainly had their difficulties, but otherwise it had gone smoothly. Jaime and I together are nigh unstoppable, Aemon had thought, glancing back at Jaime briefly. His friend raised an eyebrow at him in question, but there was a familiar arrogant smirk on his lips. He couldn't quite put into words how much he owed Jaime for this current moment of time. A lesser man would have been corrupted by the Tywin Lannisters of the world. With the might of Casterly Rock at his beck and call, Jaime had had the power to smother the campaign in its infancy if he had so chosen. Yet he had been unfailingly loyal, even thousands of miles apart. And now he was a steady presence that eased Aemon's nerves.
He did wonder how he was holding up after yesterday. There was no mistaking the haunting look in his eyes when they discovered the rope he used to hang himself with was now a permanent fixture of the godswood. It marred the godwoods' otherwise serene beauty with a painful reminder of the suffering Jaime had endured. Even before the news of Cersei's pregnancy, Aemon could see things were not quite right with him. His energy and excitement were unmistakably real, but Aemon had the feeling that Jaime was using it to cover up his difficulties. Jaime never seemed to find a full night's rest and he hoped perhaps concentrating on winning Brienne's heart might give him a positive goal than simply helping the kingdom run smoothly. It could just as easily end in his heartbreak though. Aemon prayed that Jaime would find his happiness eventually.
"You're overthinking things. Relax. Just breathe," Jaime leaned over to whisper in his ear.
Trust Jaime to pinpoint one of his many bad habits. In response, he shook his head and limbs to loosen them up, then took to stroking Ghost.
"Your grace, it's almost time. Are you ready?" His uncle Ned came over to ask. He was in charge of seeing that all the lords were present, especially the rebels.
"Yes, uncle, I am ready," he replied and was pleased his voice was steady.
His uncle Ned glanced at Jaime with something like hesitation. Aemon winced and closed his eyes in a silent plea, By the old gods and the new, can my uncle please not pick a fight with Jaime right now. If there was one flaw in his relationship with Jaime, it's that he would never get over his hate for his uncle. He understood it, but he didn't have to like it.
"Aemon," his uncle said which drew his attention. His uncle hadn't used his real name since the Vale. "I just want to say that I am sorry for my distance. I know - I understand - why you did what you did. It's not that I think you didn't have honor. Well, more like I felt you were placing your honor second to other things." He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. "This isn't sounding right. I think I was afraid I was losing you. You are so different from the boy that I have raised that I think I forgot that you are a man grown, capable of making your own choices. What I am trying to say is, I support you, as I always have. I apologize for my distance. Forgive me. I will be there for you from now, if you still want me there."
Aemon had to blink back tears and his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed and said, "Of course I want you with me; you're the only father I've ever known."
His uncle appeared to have a shine to his own eyes and he clapped him heartily on the shoulder and nodded and then left without another word.
Aemon breathed, filling his lungs and releasing the breath slowly. Though the nerves were still there, he felt like he was soaring. He could rely on his uncle again! He would now no longer feel diminished everytime he looked into his uncle's eyes, like he had fallen from grace before he had ever managed to attain it.
There was a low rumble of voices as the lords assembled in the hall, like a gentle roll of thunder in a spring storm. His uncle Ned surveyed the crowd, then turned to Aemon and nodded. He strode out into the hall with all the confidence he could muster, but his feet felt like bricks and staring up at the throne made him feel more like a child than ever.
Septon Roald regarded him with a pleasantly neutral expression. A young serving boy stood next to him, bearing a cushion with the crown at its center, and he carried it like it was as heavy as a blacksmith's anvil. Aemon knelt down in front of the septon trying to focus on his face, but the man's words rolled over him like he was speaking a foreign tongue. The Seven meant little to him, but he would have to at least pretend to adapt it for those he ruled over in the south.
When the Septon finally stepped away with the boy, he moved to the bottom of the throne. Slowly, he put a foot on the step and then the next one. He paced himself. He was the king. He was in control. He had shed his childhood long ago, stretching over from the other life, but this was at the point when it was crucial that no one else think him a child in spite of his youth.
Once at the top he turned around and was forcefully reminded of the dream he had at the foot of the weirwood tree in Winterfell, the morning after Jaime was condemned to the executioner's block. Not everyone was there of course. Maester Aemon was still up at the Wall, and a few other familiar faces were not present, but he could see Tyrion, his uncle, Robb, Theon, and young Olyvar all staring up at him expectantly. He turned to the chair and lowered himself on it.
He turned, half-expecting Dany to be seated in another throne next to the great chair, and frowned when he didn't see her serene, smiling face. I hope she's safe, he quietly pleaded. Surely the gods were aware of how important she must be, and not just because she hatched the dragons that would combat the Long Night. Were the gods the type to be concerned about his happiness? Would they ensure that he and Dany were one day reunited? He could only pray. He turned to the chair and lowered himself on it.
As soon as he was seated, everyone in the Hall knelt. He saw no hesitation in anyone, not even Tywin or Roose. Only the Kingsguard and his Hand didn't kneel. Ser Preston and Ser Arys were at the front of the dais ahead of Aemon staring out into the crowd. Jaime was at the bottom of the stairs, to the right of the throne, facing the crowd, resplendent in red and gold finery. He wore no armor, but Brightroar was strapped to his side all the same. He doubted no enemy on earth, alive or not, could reach him with Jaime there. Ghost had laid down left of the stairs and stared out at the crowd, looking regal and serene.
Never had the crown felt so heavy as it did now.
"You may rise," he said, his voice somehow calm and even. "This is a momentous occasion, not just for myself, but for all of Westeros. Almost seven months ago, I vowed to one day sit the throne and uphold the mantle that my forebears have so long carried. I will not shy away from this; some of those forefathers hardly deserved the responsibility they were born to carry. I will not stand here before you and pretend the crimes of the past are gone and forgotten. They are relevant even to this day. However, this I vow, I will do my best to uphold the rule of law in the realm of Westeros, execute my duties to the people faithfully, and defend from foreign invaders. I ask that you give me the opportunity to demonstrate my goals and lead the realm into a prosperous and bright future." He glanced at his uncle, whose gentle smile shined with pride and happiness. It was enough to make his throat constrict with emotion once more, but he deftly swallowed it back.
"Without further ado, let's move on to business. It was a bloodless campaign that saw Westeros unite under a single banner. It all started with my uncle, Lord Stark of Winterfell, whose belief in me as king never wavered. On my behalf, he called his banners and reached out to alliances he had forged long ago during Robert's Rebellion in an effort to uphold my claim. Thank you, uncle, on behalf of House Targaryen "
"Of course, I wouldn't be here without the unfailing effort of Lord Jaime Lannister. I'm sure most of you heard him boasting endlessly last night his story of taking the Keep." He thought he may have heard a smattering of chuckles. Jaime remained a statue, but he was certain that same proud, arrogant smirk he was famous for was on his lips. "He did more than capture Renly to force a bloodless surrender. He traveled on his own to secure the Westerlands and bring the Reach into the fold of Westeros. There is no mistaking his courage or his devotion. I have never had cause to doubt him. Thank you, Jaime."
Was it his imagination or did Jaime squirm when he publicly thanked him? You earned it, Jaime. It won't be long before the Lannister adds trust and honor to its reputation. It was unlikely that they would ever lose the reputation for brutality they had garnered thanks to Tywin Lannister, but he would admit that having a violent reputation had its uses. It made all the other kingdoms leery of challenging the North and the Westerlands combined. The odd and contradictory combination of Jaime Lannister and Ned Stark had helped him establish trust while also suggesting they would be unafraid to join battle if necessary to reach their aims.
He started with the rewards first. Seeing as they were to be the most handsomely rewarded, Cyrus and Delphine were called up first. He had seen them dressed in plain, though of nice material suggesting that they were a minimum of merchant class. But now Delphine was dressed in a flowing silk gown of mulberry and gold that could rival any noble lady's dress if any were present. It was different of a different cut from the familiar Westerosi gowns he often saw Sansa or Lady Catelyn in. While it hugged her torso and the gown opened up at the bottom where there was a slit up the side for her to walk, but the sleeves were wide and airy, making it look almost as if she were floating. Cyrus was in a robe as well, but his was black with gold trim. The knelt in perfect synchronization in front of the throne.
"Cyrus and Delphine Alexandratos, you risked life and limb to secure the Red Keep for a king you hold no loyalty to and you did it through intelligent and cunning means. I hereby proclaim you Lord and Lady of the house of Alexandratos. Be proud of what you have accomplished," Aemon declared.
"Thank you, your grace," Cyrus said, his voice smooth and deep in the hall. "House Alexandratos pledges itself to you. Our House is at your command."
Aemon nodded and they once again walked away in perfect sync. Callum was called forward next. Where Cyrus and Delphine moved in sync with each other at the same measured pace, Callum took short choppy steps and seemed pale in the afternoon light. He fell to his knee quite quickly. Aemon descended to officially ordain Callum as a knight and Jaime provided Brightroar. Aemon struggled to keep a straight face as Callum shuffled off looking about ready to faint.
Torrhen Karstark was next called up for knighthood. Though he had been deprived of an opportunity to make a name for himself in battle, he had already started serving as a knight of the Kingsguard before being officially ordained. His fighting skills were ample good enough. In contrast to Callum's fear, he seemed almost starstruck by Aemon and Jaime both being there and he had to fight to hide his glowing smile and maintain a serious demeanor.
David was the next to approach. While nearly everyone before him had shown varying degrees of wonder and fear as they peered up at him on the sword-melted throne, David was the only one to truly remain impassive. Aemond had had little contact with the Shepherds since it was barely three days past that he had joined his own army in King's Landing. He knew Jaime was leery and suspicious of them, but he found them to be a curiosity. While he did not know their intentions, his conversation with David when he was waiting for Jaime to grab Renly, had proved enlightening and he thought that the healer could prove a valuable asset.
David truly did present himself as a healer at heart. In their conversation, he had shared a vision of opening a clinic in King's Landing to treat the ails of the sick and the poor at no cost to them. Aemon had certainly liked the idea. He was looking for ways to improve the lives of the citizens in King's Landing, including building a sewer system, but thanks to Robert Baratheon squandering the kingdom's treasury, it would be some time before they could make any progress on that front.
When Aemon announced David's reward for aiding and abetting a king he had no loyalty to, he noticed Lord Tywin's lip curl into a snarl. He wondered if the lord was sour because David had taken it upon himself to treat his torture victims and had stood steadfast at Jaime's side rather than deferring to him. Lord Tywin was even more imposing than he had ever imagined and he found he had to make a concerted effort not curl in on himself whenever they passed. He pitied Jaime and Tyrion both for having such a trying man for a father. Knowing what he did now, it was a miracle Jaime and Tyrion had turned out as well as they had, but in hindsight it seemed only natural for Tywin to spawn someone as despicable as Cersei.
Vicente and Gerion were publicly honored, but their rewards would be ready in due course. Varys was then called forward. Unlike the others who walked alone, Varys beckoned another man with a small, gilded chest followed him down the aisle.
"Lord Varys, you were instrumental in allowing me to attain my throne. For your efforts, you shall retain your position as Master of Whispers."
"That is most kind of you, your grace. I know you will bring the Targaryen House back to its former glory. To commemorate this occasion, I have a gift." He pulled out a key, turned the lock and opened the chest, then stepped back. Sitting on a white velvet cushion was a dragon's egg.
Aemon shot to his feet before he had even realized it and stared. "Is that…?"
"A dragon egg, your grace. From beyond the Shadowlands."
Aemon descended the stairs and approached, entranced. He stopped a few feet short and fixed Varys with a questioning look. "Where did you get it?"
"There are supporters of House Targaryen from abroad. Long have they wished to see the Targaryens restored to their former glory."
And what do they want in return? He had a vague idea of whom Varys was referring to. Dany had told him her three eggs had come from the enormously wealthy Magister Illyrio Mopatis. He rather doubted that man was in the habit of giving away such rare and expensive gifts without expecting something in return. We'll talk about this later, he thought as he kept his eyes on Varys. He returned his stare and then nodded slightly.
He peered at the egg and felt his breath catch. The egg was green with what appeared to be bronze speckled across its surface. "Rhaegal," he whispered so quietly to himself that he doubted anyone had heard. Rhaegal had been most fond of him in the previous life, but he hadn't formed much of an attachment to any of the dragons as they were so much more deeply connected with Daenerys.
Dany, he thought and felt his heart sink. She was supposed to have the eggs, not him! Did she still have the other two eggs at least? Am I supposed to hatch this dragon? He barely knew anything about the previous hatching. They need the dragons, though. Not just two, but all three! I will find a way, he vowed to himself.
"Thank you, Lord Varys. Your gift is most appreciated," Aemon said, his voice sounding far away to his ears. A servant was called forth and was ordered to take the dragon egg to his room. As he returned to the throne, he glanced at Jaime. His friend was looking stoic, but there was a tightness to his face and he did not give Aemon a reassuring look in return. He knew Jaime was not fond of the dragons. Even after he pledged his allegiance in the other life, he had maintained his distance with them, not that Aemon could blame him. He'd had a front seat to his soldiers burning alive and after hearing about how Mad King Aerys wanted to destroy King's Landing with fire, it was understandable why Jaime would be leery of them.
He took the time returning to the throne to compose himself. There was still a slight waver to his voice as he ordered, "Bring forth Renly Baratheon."
Renly was flanked by two guards as he walked the length of the throne room, head bowed though neither his feet nor his hands were bound. There was an echo of sneering that he didn't quite hear and by the way Renly flinched, he was certain someone had spit on him. He stopped just before the dais, but continued to stare dejectedly at the ground.
"Renly Baratheon, you stand accused of inciting rebellion and willfully endangering the citizens of King's Landing. Do you deny it?"
Renly's lips moved but the answer was too low to hear it.
"Speak up!"
"No," Renly finally said.
"I hereby sentence you to the Wall. It is my sincere hope that you learn to make a difference there. They will need you."
Renly blanched and shuddered and then he was dismissed.
Aemon allowed the moment to permeate and then he said, "Any Storm Lord who fails to pledge to me can expect the same fate."
With that, a long line of the Storm Lords formed and each one came forward to express their allegiance to House Targaryen. None of the Storm Lords refused. At one point, Brienne of Tarth stepped forward wearing male clothes. He was certain he heard a murmur of laughter at her appearance. Though she glowered unhappily at him, she knelt and spoke the words all the same, her voice steady. His eyes flickered to Jaime and he was impressed that his friend didn't even appear to flinch upon seeing her.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. His actions and speech were rote as he accepted pledges of fealty, his thoughts too consumed by the dragon egg he had just received. All the plans that he and Jaime had made the night before, so ordered before had been blown open by this new addition. He needed to hatch the dragon. Tomorrow, I shall see about taking those first steps, he thought. Trying to stay on task with the other items would take a monumental effort, but he couldn't afford to waver. Somehow, he would find a way to implement their plans and hatch Rhaegal all at once.
Author's Note: I am sorry to say that I will not be posting to The Dragon's Roar for the month of November. I need to restore my buffer of chapters. The Lion's Fall will continue to be posted weekly as it is already a completed. Thank you all for your support!
