Author's Notes: Good day, everyone! I hope your holidays have been great! Mine have gone so well that I almost lost track of the fact that it's Saturday and I'm due for an update.
Thank you, everyone, for reading and supporting this fic with your reviews and favorites! It's difficult to believe that +2300 people are following this fic. I hope this fic continues to meet your expectations!
Chapter 40
Aemon XI
Aemon strode to his first small council already feeling harassed. It had been two days since his dream with Daenerys and while his days had been full to the brim with small business, he couldn't seem to push away his concerns for her to focus on what he could do. Jaime noticed and couldn't refrain from making a few caustic remarks.
He's just cranky because Brienne's already rebuffed him, Aemon thought. He'd seen their encounter in the training yard, only emerging once Brienne had stalked away. Jaime had insisted that he knew what he was doing and it was not surprising that she stormed off in a huff.
"Women like to be called 'wench?'" Aemon asked.
Jaime had glared at him.
That wasn't to say that Jaime hadn't been busy. He'd spent the last two days making arrangements for David's 'clinic.' The healer had already started sitting outside the keep's walls, offering tinctures and potions for free to the most unfortunate, but his supplies would run out if he couldn't get a lab up and running. So then Jaime had to set him up with a lab in a vacant part of the dungeons, much to Maester Pycelle's consternation.
Aemon had spent his two days going through the food stores and the kingdom's accounts which was its own headache. Though not officially Master of Coin, Tyrion had labored over the books with him trying to straighten out the finances, but the numbers and streams of income were as twisted and convoluted as a kraken.
He had yet to decide on his new Master of Coin. He expected Petyr Baelish to come crawling back to save him the trouble, but it would look odd for him not to be looking. As much as he would love to give the position to Tyrion, it would cast suspicions of favoritism on the Lannisters. The entire point of this campaign was to unite the Seven Kingdoms, he thought to himself. I need to branch out and expand my council beyond my circle of friends. That said, he currently had no ideas who might best fill the role. He would not trust Ser Stevron Frey with the books anymore than he'd trust a fox to guard a henhouse. While he would trust Lord Willas Tyrell with such a task, he had already planned on giving him the position of Master of Laws. Too often that was filled by someone with ideas of authoritarian discipline and he'd rather the people look on him favorably. He felt Willas had the necessary knowledge, compassion, strength, and, most importantly, trustworthiness to achieve their goals to a prosperous kingdom.
His uncle acted as liaison to the North and an advisor, but he held no official position. So although they had cleared the air between them, Aemon still barely saw him since his knowledge was best outside King's Landing. He'll become more useful once the Long Night is upon us. His uncle and Robb would be heading back North sooner rather than later. While he preferred to treat with Mance Rayder himself, there was a possibility that his uncle would have to do it in his stead. As it was, he'd only sent the letter to the Wall a few days ago. It would be some time yet before they received word, hopefully of uncle Benjen's success. Those decisions could be made at a later date.
He entered the small council to find only Lord Willas seated at the table. He shot up with a wince and gave a half bow. "Your grace."
"Lord Willas. You need not strain yourself on my account," Aemon said, nodding back at him. He sat at the head of the table and Ser Arys took a position just behind him in the room. Slowly, Lord Varys, Maester Pycelle, and Jaime filtered into the room. Ser Stevron hopped in at the last moment, gave a clumsy bow and took a seat next to Jaime. By the way Jaime's lip curled in dismay, he was less than pleased about that.
"Is this all?" Jaime asked, glancing around.
"We're waiting for one more," Aemon said.
Jaime narrowed his eyes quizzically.
After a few minutes, the healer David finally sauntered in. He gave a deep bow.
"What's he doing here?"
"He is here at my invitation," Aemon replied.
"I apologize for my tardiness, your grace," David said, gliding to a seat on the other side of Jaime.
"Your grace, begging your pardon, but David is not a Maester. He does not belong on the small council," Pycelle said, glaring at David, but his expression softened when he turned it to Aemon.
"Grandmaester Pycelle, you are the Keep's primary healer and maester. However, you do not serve the people outside the Keep. David does. As such, he gets an up close and personal view of what ails my people and their mood. From past experience, few kings have had that kind of exposure to those outside these walls. I don't intend to improve my House's reputation just to the nobles, but to the people. David will fulfill the role of Master of Healing to King's Landing," Aemon replied, his voice nonchalant. He noticed the way Pycelle's lips pursed in disapproval and David smiled in smug satisfaction.
There was no mistaking the burn in Jaime's eyes however. Aemon hadn't consulted him on this appointment. He and Jaime seemed to have contradicting opinions about the trustworthiness of the healer, but the reasons for bringing him on the small council were sound. There were few enough Nobles as it was that deigned to listen to the people. David was more likely to receive an honest answer from the poor folk.
Aemon started the agenda by appointing Willas as the Master of Laws and spun another position out of whole cloth, Master of Food, for Ser Stevron Frey. He and Jaime both would be watching him very closely since it was paramount for food stores to be full for the Long Night.
"I may be a Targaryen, but I grew up a Stark, and the Stark motto rings as strong to me as it does to them. Winter is coming, Lord Stevron. I expect you to reach out to each of the Seven Kingdoms to coordinate food stores. A long winter usually follows a long summer. We need to be prepared for all of my people to need food, not just the fortunate."
"Of course, your grace. Leave it to me," Ser Stevron puffed up.
"Lord Willas, I've been going over reports regarding the Goldcloak's conduct and there are some...concerns," Jaime said with a rather truculent jut to his jaw. "The Captain of the guard, Janos Slynt, and those directly beneath him have apparently been taking bribes, judging by the way they're living beyond their usual means. It needs looked into."
"Thank you, Lord Hand," Willas said, accepting the brace of documents Jaime shoved over to him.
"There are...a number of names within the Goldcloaks that might grab your attention, Lord Willas," Varys spoke up. "I serve the king and therefore serve the welfare of the people. I am at your disposal."
Willas eyed Varys before reluctantly nodding .
"It is of my utmost concern that you suss out the truth, Willas. It is imperative that those charged with keeping the King's peace within the city are they themselves above reproach," Aemon replied, his mouth set to a grim line.
"As your grace commands, so I shall proceed," Willas replied.
"David, how are the people?" Aemon asked.
"In just the few short days I've been out there, the people seem relieved. They were expecting a battle on their doorstep after all, so they're glad that this was a peaceful transition. While merchants are being allowed into the city, prices remain high and many are going without," he reported soberly.
"What can be done to ease the starvation of King's Landing?" Aemon asked, glancing around at the people.
"We could dig into the current food stores and dole out what's there," Ser Stevron suggested. "I know it's not ideal, but it'll be a few weeks before sufficient trade routes are set up."
"My father had supply lines set up for the army, that could easily be diverted to spread to the city," Jaime said.
"That seems more suitable than digging into the food stores. It's best we keep those high."
"If you'll allow me, Aemon, I want to discuss the army. They don't all need to be here. You should think about sending some of them back to their farms so they won't leave the crops rotting out in the fields. It will be Fall soon," Jaime said.
"How much trouble do you think Stannis Baratheon will give me?"
Jaime raised his eyebrows. "That's difficult to say. We haven't heard from him yet."
"That man is sitting on my ancestral home, a stone's throw from King's Landing. We can't leave him there."
"And we won't," Jaime said. "If we haven't heard from him by the end of the week, then we should see about setting sail for Dragonstone."
"We wouldn't be able to take much of our army. Lord Redwyne's ships haven't arrived," Aemon said.
"Stannis didn't have much of an army to begin with. The vassals of Dragonstone have relatively few soldiers, however they were still loyal to House Targaryen last I heard. I think only their immediate proximity to King's Landing kept them from setting sail to the Free Cities to back Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys, not to mention having the King's own older brother in charge of them. Stannis wouldn't hesitate to hang them for treason."
"Lord Varys." The eunuch seemed startled to be addressed. "Do you have any little birds that can apprise us of the situation on Dragonstone?" Aemon asked.
"The Lord Stannis stews. It is said that he has come up with a hundred plans and discarded them all. You caught him very much unawares, but he was certain that you would take King's Landing. He doesn't lead his soldiers into a battle he doesn't think he can win and with all the allies you amassed, it would have been suicide for him to try and team up with Renly. I think he is waiting to see how you act as king before he decides on his next move," Lord Varys replied in a simpering tone.
"Anything else?" Jaime said, glaring at Varys but the man didn't shrink.
"There is much speculation among his vassals about whether you are as Targaryen as you say you are."
I wonder what it will take to convince them, Aemon though idly, his thoughts once more straying to the dragon egg in his fireplace. He hoped it would take less than that as it might be a while before that egg is hatched. "Try to press your 'little birds' for more information."
"Regardless of what the 'little birds' say, you still don't need four of the Seven Kingdoms' armies here in King's Landing. You could send half of them home and still be in shape to destroy whatever army Stannis may attempt to put forth."
Aemon pondered and frowned. It would be best to send the Northern armies home first since Fall reaches there faster and also the more fertile regions. The Reach, the Vale, and the Riverlands were the most fertile kingdoms in the land, but that would leave him with mostly the Lannister army. He trusted Jaime, but it was Tywin who currently controlled that army. If the worst were to happen, whose bidding would the army follow? He rubbed his chin as he thought, his face grim once more. It could mean the end of his reign if he made the wrong choices here. Why doesn't King's Landing have its own army? He supposed his own vassal lords of Dragonstone were meant to protect him, but those weren't currently under his control.
"Jaime, I want you to send half the Westerlands home, half of the Reach, a quarter of the Riverlands, and a quarter of the North. The Vale under Lord Royce hasn't arrived yet, but when they do we'll keep all of them here for the time being. When sending the North home, prioritize the lords with the most northern farms so that they have a chance to get back to harvest before it snows too much: Bolton, Umber, you get the idea."
"Done," Jaime said in a clipped tone, hurriedly writing in his notes.
"Grandmaester, do you have anything to report?"
"I'm lacking in supplies for the medicines that I brew," Pycelle said.
"I am as well, your grace," David piped up.
"He was speaking to me! Mind your manners, healer," Pycelle spat.
Instead of looking chastised, David merely gave him an unsettling smile. Pycelle appeared too apoplectic with rage to be disturbed by it.
"The health of both the men and women here in the Keep and in the city is important. I will do my best to accomodate you both," Aemon replied, giving Pycelle his own stern look. Their paths currently didn't cross and he didn't see why they should, though he wish he could make David the main healer of the Keep. Jaime had filled his ears of the many trespasses that Grandmaester Pycelle committed even before King Robert's rein and there was nothing to suggest his habits would change. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Pycelle. The Citadel would be more accommodating if they gave it proof of Pycelle's misdeeds.
"If that will be all? Jaime, stay after. Ser Stevron, I want to go over your duties in more detail tomorrow," Aemon said. "You're dismissed."
Jaime waited until the door had closed before he said impatiently, "What is it?"
"Ser Barristan leaves for Qarth as soon as we're done here, but he insisted that he be here to see the augmentation of another member of the Kingsguard."
"He's a stubborn old goat, isn't he?"
"I thought the Blackfish was a stubborn old goat," Aemon asked wryly.
"Can't they both be?"
Aemon chuckled. "Ser Arys, please send a servant for both Barristan Selmy and Sandor Clegane."
"At once, your grace."
For the rest of the time while they waited, they did not speak a word to one another. Jaime fidgeted. He tapped his quill, he shifted his weight, he sighed in exasperation, and ran a hand unceremoniously through his hair. I thought I was keyed for action, Aemon thought with some amusement. In the other timeline, Jaime was too worn down, old and tired, to exhibit this kind of energy, but now he seemed like a warhorse left too long in its stall.
Ser Barristan entered first, giving the traditional greeting.
When Sandor entered, he had a guarded look on his face and glanced around in suspicion. He bowed, but bypassed the honorific. It was typical of him, so Aemon let it slide.
"Lord Sandor - " Aemon began.
"I ain't no f-...I am no Lord, your grace."
"You will not interrupt your king," Ser Barristan barked.
This is off to a good start, Aemon thought. It seemed even the arrest of his brother couldn't soften the hard edge of Sandor Clegane.
Sandor gritted his teeth, but finally muttered, "Apologies, your grace."
"It just so happens we're here to discuss your lordship," Aemon said, turning to Jaime.
Clegane gave them a puzzled look but remained silent.
Jaime spoke, "Your brother was arrested and sent to the Martells to mete out justice-"
"Good riddance," Sandor growled.
Jaime glared and continued when Clegane remained silent, "You are now the lord of Clegane's Keep. I have other uses in mind for Clegane's Keep, do you - "
"Take it. I don't want it," Clegane growled.
"Very well," Jaime said, frantically writing more notes.
"Thank you," Aemon said, "but you're still a lord. Now I could set you up with a Keep somewhere else in the North…"
He at least shook his head instead of cutting off either of them this time. "I ain't a lord. I ain't got no desire to be one either. I can kill things for you. That's what I do."
Aemon cocked his head. "You might leap at this opportunity. As I'm sure you're aware, I still have two positions in the Kingsguard to fill. I would like to offer you one of those positions."
He's not sure he's ever seen Sandor Clegane rendered speechless. He glanced around at all of them and then his face grew thunderous, but he finally spat, "I will serve in your Kingsguard...but I am not a ser. I won't be a knight."
"Only knights can serve in the Kingsguard," both Barristan and Jaime said simultaneously. Jaime scowled at Barristan who merely bowed his head. It took some work for Aemon to keep himself from laughing.
"Then I guess I won't be in the Kingsguard."
Aemon gritted his teeth. "Is this really a sticking point, for everyone? Why won't you be a knight?"
"It's all empty vows, preening and posturing. It doesn't mean anything. I spit on their vows. After all, my brother was a knight."
"Being a knight is whatever you make of it," Jaime snapped, tapping his quill on the paper at a frantic pace.
Aemon stared at the ground, mulling his thoughts. He had been initially surprised when Jaime had suggested Sandor Clegane, but he was a solid fighter and loyal to the cause up to his death. Apart from Barristan and Jaime, he could not ask for a better example of a Kingsguard. I will make this work.
"My father was an intelligent man, admired for many things, but as all men, he still made mistakes. Knighting Gregor Clegane was one such mistake. Lord Jaime and I have rectified that to the best of our ability. Please accept my apologies for all you and your family have suffered," Aemon replied, dropping his head as a sign of respect.
If it was at all possible, Clegane only seemed to get angrier, his eyes like chips of stone and grinding his teeth together. Aemon expected the sentiment to be thrown back in his face, but Sandor seemed to think better of it. He simply nodded, but then said, "I still won't be a knight. I am no ser."
"Then you won't be on the Kingsguard," Jaime shot back.
"I am the king, Jaime, I think I can make that decision," Aemon shot back. The look he received from Jaime was powerful enough to burn him to a cinder. "What would you rather be called?"
"I already have a title. I am 'the hound.' A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face."*
"Would it be enough to be officially knighted as Ser Sandor Clegane, but known only as the Hound?" Aemon offered.
Sandor shook his head, his grin more of a grimace thanks to the twisted burns on his face. "I am no knight. I won't be a knight, officially or otherwise."
"You can't be a Kingsguard without first calling yourself a knight," Jaime persisted. Barristan continued to remain quiet, but it was clear by the small nods he was making that he agreed with Jaime.
"Is it really necessary to be a knight to be on the Kingsguard?" Aemon asked, irritating now apparent in his voice.
"It's tradition," Jaime replied.
Aemon shook his head. "Just because it's tradition does not mean it's not necessarily right. After all, women aren't allowed to be knighted and that's tradition." He winced as soon as he said it and Jaime stood up from where he was seated to tower over Aemon.
"Then why am I here if you're going to barrel ahead on this? Go on. Make him a Kingsguard without making him a knight. But I will not sanction this decision," Jaime said and stormed away.
Everyone winced as the door slammed, but Aemon declared, "Ser Sandor Clegane shall be made a member of the Kingsguard with no expectation of being officially ordained as a knight. Does that satisfy both of you?"
The Lord Commander gave Aemon a cold look that made him think of Lord Tywin. "I beg your pardon, your grace, but he must take the King's Oath that the Kingsguard swear or he cannot be a Kingsguard."
"The King's Oath?"
"Every member of the Kingsguard has been made to swear that they will defend the king from harm, that they will obey the king's commands, to keep his secrets, to counsel him when requested, to keep silent when not, and to defend his name and honor. Your safety is of the utmost importance and as I will be gone for an extended period of time, I refuse to leave you with a man who refuses all oaths, making him beholden to none. He must swear the King's Oath," Ser Barristan's voice cracked like a whip.
Aemon felt his heart pounding against his chest. He had never seen Barristan so impassioned. He was always calm and collected, even while sword training, whether he won or lost. The integrity of the Kingsguard was a sore spot for both him and Jaime.
He glanced at Sandor who was curling his lip at Ser Barristan like a snarling dog.
"Will you swear to the King's Oath?" Aemon asked, preparing to be disappointed.
"Your reasons ring false to not accept the King's Oath," Barristan warned. "Your brother was never a Kingsguard. Its oaths have never rung hollow."
"Yeah? What about the Kingslayer? He broke his oaths. If I remember rightly, you have hated him for that, Ser Barristan."
Aemon frowned but before he could say a word, Ser Barristan replied, "King Maegor Targaryen I, also known as Maegor the Cruel, ended his reign on the blade of one of his Kingsguard for his tyranny. Now, I do not know what drove Lord Jaime Lannister to slay King Aerys, but his action since and to this day suggest it was neither out of cruelty or vanity. King Aemon has pardoned Lord Jaime of that crime; it can no longer be held against him, or the Kingsguard. Now, will you accept the King's Oath?"
Clegane looked mulish, but then gave a curt nod.
"Are you satisfied then, Ser Barristan?" Aemon asked.
He did see the tension leave leave his shoulders, but his expression remain terse. "Well enough, your grace."
"Excellent. Then it's time you left on your mission."
"As you will, your grace," Ser Barristan said, hesitation in every movement as he bowed and strode out of the room.
"Thank you, San-Hound. Jaime wished to give your Keep to Lord Alexandratos. I'm sure they'll rename it," Aemon said.
"I pity those poor fools. There's naught there but ghosts," Sandor whispered.
"I'm not sure they believe in ghosts," Aemon said. "Report to Ser Preston Greenfield for duty. You will swear the King's Oath tomorrow at court."
"Yes, your grace," Sandor said, though there was clear irritation in his voice.
"You're dismissed."
When he swept out of the room, he did so with an air that suggested the shadow of his brother was no longer dogging his steps. Aemon, by contrast, left the room feeling like he was carrying a blacksmith's anvil on his shoulders. He would have to make amends with Jaime. Being at odds with his Hand was bound to get around, so the sooner the better, but he expected a blizzard. Unlike his sister, he was not the type to destroy, but his anger was enough to strip people of the very warmth in their blood.
When he came to the door and found Pod looking anxious he said, "Hello, Pod. I take it he's in?"
Pod was a little shaky as he nodded and then reached over to knock on the door, pinching his face like he was about to take a snake bite from a viper.
"I said I wished to not be disturbed," Jaime's voice shouted through the door.
Aemon stepped in to bear the brunt of Jaime's wrath. "It's me. We need to talk."
Jaime ripped open the door to glare at him. "Your grace," he spat.
"May I come in?" Aemon asked. He didn't think he had ever seen his friend this angry.
"Am I even allowed to decline?" Jaime shot back, but he left the door open and stalked away to sit on the front of his desk.
Aemon felt like a child in trouble for skipping his lessons, which annoyed him. He was the king and he was allowed to make decisions without necessarily any input from anyone. While he couldn't say he understood Sandor Clegane, he had a notion of what to expect and had agreed with Jaime wholeheartedly when he had initially suggested it.
"Look, I apologize for my words back there. It was cruel to use some of your ideas against you, but I felt you were being a hypocrite. I have made the decision; Sandor Clegane will be a member of the Kingsguard known as the 'Hound.'"
"I'm glad you continue Robert's tradition of chipping away at the foundations of the Kingsguard," Jaime sniped.
"Naming Clegane to the Kingsguard is hardly chipping away at it! I am confident he will be a fine example," Aemon replied, trying to contain the heat in his voice. One of them had to control their temper and as king, it was up to him to act the adult. "You said yourself that you intend to change elements of the Kingsguard."
"To strengthen it! You weakened it."
"I did not!"
"Yes, you did," Jaime retorted. "With that decision, you just told everyone that Kingsguard don't need to abide by their knightly oaths. Why should any of them now follow their oaths if you didn't force Clegane to be beholden to them?"
Aemon opened his mouth, searching for the right words. "I think you and I would both agree that Sandor is a special case."
"Fine, he is a special case, but no one else knows that!"
Aemon stared flabbergasted.
"When you can't provide a reasonable explanation about what makes him so special, what do you think people will do? He's a great fighter, but a troubled person with a brutal history and you allowed him into the Kingsguard without his oaths? How are you so sure he will uphold the ideals without taking the vows?"
"Well, you should be pleased to know that Ser Barristan refused him entry until he swore the King's Oath."
"Did he now? I'm honestly surprised he stood up to you," Jaime replied. "He was never very good at having a spine."
"The Hound will have those oaths; is it necessary for him to have the others?"
"As far as I am concerned, yes. After all, I killed the King to fulfill my first oaths as a knight. They offered me a direction when everything else was chaos. What does he have? A strong moral sense? Does that sound like the Hound to you?"
Aemon searched for words but he had none.
Jaime filled the silence. "Take the Karstark boy. I can't say he's the best admittance to the Kingsguard, but at the time it was a good decision. The North's presence has lacked considerably in the Kingsguard for years. Tying the North more closely to you was a great idea! And the boy's young; he can be taught. He's already a decent fighter. Barristan and the others have done a fine job training him. He's obviously green on the battlefield, but hopefully we can teach him enough that he can be a fine soldier and eventual commander should there ever be war."
"The North doesn't have a tradition for knighting its warriors, as you well know, but you still forced him to become a knight to enter the Kingsguard. You just made that lad look like a fool to all of the North. He stands out among his people now and not in a good way. He's probably too respectful to ask, but the rest of his family will: why did Torrhen Karstark have to be knighted when the Hound didn't?"
Aemon winced. Maybe I should have given this more thought. He'd been impatient. Sandor was a particularly notable fighter, matching even Jaime in skill. Judging by his commitment to the cause in the last life, he could be counted on. Aemon was happy to leap at the opportunity to appoint him. Furthermore, Ser Barristan refused to leave on his journey to find Daenerys until at least one more Kingsguard slot had been filled. In his rush to push Barristan onto the boat, he had plunged headlong into this.
"I...I didn't think..."
"No, you didn't," Jaime snapped. "Now, if you said to me that the requirements to be knighted weren't stringent enough and allowed too many fools among its ranks, I would've agreed with you. But the answer is to tighten those requirements not blow the requirements to be a Kingsguard wide open!"
As Jaime had lectured him, he had left his desk and stepped closer to Aemon until he was towering over him, causing him to shrink. "And Sandor Clegane refused to be a knight because his brother and many knights like him made a mockery of those vows! He was right. I agreed with him once. And then I learned that being a knight isn't saying some words and following orders. It's a lifestyle. You mold yourself to those vows and do your damndest to uphold them, no matter the cost. She taught me that."
Aemon flinched as though struck by those words and stared helplessly at Jaime, who strode back to his desk and sat.
"The next time you want to make an appointment to your Kingsguard, you will consult me, and we will give it the proper discussion. I was blindsided by Clegane's reticence to take the oath. We should have convened and given it more thought."
Aemon nodded numbly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"You may be Targaryen, but you were raised in the North, where they don't give much thought to knighthood and what it means," Jaime said, his voice now quieter but he was still glaring. "As was made apparent today, Ser Barristan and I agree on much about what makes the Kingsguard great and I am very interested in restoring it to its former glory. If not for my sake, then for yours. I need to know the men guarding you can be trusted."
"B-but becoming a knight doesn't prove them trustworthy," Aemon replied weakly.
"Then I guess we'll have to make the requirements more stringent, as I said before. And make an example of those who fail to uphold their vows. Now, if you'll excuse me, your grace, I have a lot of work to do."
Aemon nodded and said, "I see now I should've given this more consideration. I apologize for rushing the decision. I'll leave you to it then."
He tried to hold his head up as he walked back to his rooms, his face clean of any anguish, but that was an argument that would be heard around the kingdom. There would be consequences and he would have to prepare for them.
* The line the Hound says is lifted directly from the books, which is why it's in italics.
