Author's Notes: I hope you're all doing well! Thank you, everyone, for your support of The Dragon's Roar. It means a lot to me when you read this, when you comment, when you give your kudos, when you do anything regarding this fic. As always, I hope you continue to enjoy!

Chapter 44

Aemon XIII

"You've grown up as a bastard your whole life and now you are king. I would think the abrupt change would be harder to handle, so of all things to complain about, you complain about the noble ladies bothering you?" Robb said with an incredulous expression.

Aemon had finally made the time to see his cousin. Being king was consuming him and had been since he had declared himself in Winterfell. There was no small amount of work to be done, but he longed for a return to a sense of normal, so he settled for taking a walk with Robb in the godswood. His Kingsguard were at the entrance to the godswood, so for once he felt his conversation was truly private. Even if it wasn't, the conversation was of little consequence.

Their direwolves loped through the trees, howling and snapping at each other in play. Their energy was contagious and he felt happiness bloom in his breast in a way he hadn't since before claiming the crown.

It was short-lived since the discussion revolved around his troubles.

"It's unnatural."

"It is not! You are an unmarried king! Of course the ladies will want to catch your eye. And Lord Jaime's."

"They don't seem to be bothering him."

"Because you're king! Hand to the King is powerful, but it's still only second best," Robb replied, amusement lacing his voice. "He's also not afraid to swat them away. You're too nice. You make easy prey, Your Grace."

"You can just call me Aemon. We're alone."

Robb grimaced. "How about Jon? I know that's not your real name, but...that's what I know you as."

"Very well, but you may use it only for times like this."

"You have to marry, Jon. You need an heir."

"I know that! I know already whom I intend to betroth."

"Really? And you haven't had a wedding yet? You haven't announced it?!"

"Lord Jaime announced it to the Tyrells during negotiations. I figured they would've spread it around. Otherwise, the Lady Margaery would be my betrothed and not yours."

"For which, if you're right about her being the most beautiful maid in Westeros, I am grateful. Who do you intend to betroth then?"

Aemon looked out towards where the sea would be if he could see it and stared longingly. "Princess Daenerys Targaryen is out there. When I bring her home, I intend to marry her."

"She...fled across the Narrow Sea with her brother, right? I think father said she was born just in time to escape Lord Stannis."

"Yes, that's right. She and her brother have been fleeing from Robert's assassins her whole life. It's time to bring her home."

"And marry her?"

"Yes. I wish to re-establish the Targaryen dynasty with its true blood."

"I hope she's amenable to that."

"Me too," Aemon replied with a sigh. Would it be possible for them to fall in love once more? It was different this time. They were near complete opposites from where they were last time. He watched Jaime courting Brienne with hope that perhaps if their courtship was successful, then his marriage would be too. After their spar the day before, they had fought again in the morning.

"If that's who you intend to marry, then you should make it official. Issue a royal decree. Otherwise it's just hearsay."

"I will. I have a feeling the small council is going to be bothering me before too long about a bride."

"This won't stop the noblewomen," Robb said, an amused smile growing on his face. "They're going to try to change your mind. After all, Princess Daenerys isn't aware you intend to marry her, right?'

"I'd hoped it might," Aemon grumbled. A crowd of ladies had started waiting for him on the training grounds and they applauded in unison when he entered the ring to train Olyvar Frey. It was terribly distracting and he thanked the Old Gods that Jaime wasn't around to see him fumble in his swordplay. If they saw each other in private at all, Jaime would probably be teasing him.

"Your Grace, it's time for your small council meeting," Ser Torrhen Karstark appeared and made a stiff bow, nodding at Robb as well.

"A king's work is never done. Thank you for your company, Robb. It's lonely being king."

"Of course, Your Grace. We're family. You will always have me as an ally."

With some reluctance, he pulled away and headed once more back to the Keep. He heard a yelp and Ghost trotted up beside him. "I have to go to a council meeting, Ghost. Stay here." But the white wolf set his pace to keep stride with him. "It's going to be boring. Playing out here is far more interesting." Still Ghost maintained his stride and Aemon just shrugged and tangled his hand in his companion's fur. He only ever really saw Ghost at night anymore and when he did, he was usually petting him as he sat in front of the fire and pondered the egg.

The egg was as unmoving as ever, suggesting it was made out of stone as Dany had first said. He had not yet received word from his Great Uncle Aemon about it and he had been too busy with his kingly duties to root around the library. Mayhaps he could put the task to Tyrion. He vaguely recalled that he had a fascination with dragons and now that they had a proper Master of Coin - as proper as a conniving rat can be, Aemon thought - Tyrion no longer had any unofficial duties. He was bound to grow bored.

As he saw the small council door, he focused his attention and steeled himself. He was going to announce his intent to betroth Daenerys. He hoped it wouldn't be met with too much resistance. He did value debate, but this was a topic he had no intention of ceding any ground on. Jaime would undoubtedly back him up at least. A king could not remain without a queen. He currently had several armies to secure his position, but the only way to cement it was to marry and have heirs.

I'm still only seven-and-ten. It's not like I don't have time, he thought as he stepped into the small council chambers, but his eyes almost immediately fell on Baelish. An heir wouldn't secure him from any trouble with Baelish's plans, but his position would be far less precarious.

"Lord Baelish, settling back into the Keep well?"

"Your Grace, the Keep feels like it's returning to a semblance of normalcy. No doubt a credit to your ruling," Baelish said. His smile faltered as he saw Ghost saunter into the room.

It pleased Aemon to see him shrink. He took his seat and Ghost laid down by his chair. "You think so?" Aemon asked. He was smiling but he felt his heart pounding knowing there was poison laced in those pretty words. He had been foolish in the last lifetime, telling the Lord Baelish right from the start how he wasn't trusted. Sansa had played a much smarter game and he hoped he could follow her example.

"You have to understand, even before the Westerland army was settled outside, there was a fear that seemed to emanate from these very walls. I am grateful that Renly's madness could be contained before something irreversible could happen."

"Such as?"

"Well, Lord Tywin sacked King's Landing once," Littlefinger trailed and grimaced.

"Lord Tywin is under my command. And under Lord Jaime's. I wouldn't have allowed him to do any such thing."

"Of course, Your Grace," Littlefinger replied with an obsequious smile.

Maester Pycelle watched the conversation in quiet, his eyes flickering from Littlefinger to him. In the next moment, Varys shuffled in. They heard the thumping of Willas' cane and the door opened with David holding it open for Lord Willas and Jaime.

"Your Grace," the healer mumbled with a bow before sitting down, his head nodding in a way that suggested he hadn't slept in two days. Jaime at least looked rested. He was on time and he sat up straight now when there had been a slump to his shoulders previously.

Lord Velaryon was the last to enter. He bowed in the doorway and took a seat next to Maester Pycelle.

"For the first order of business, I will declare my intention to betroth Princess Daenerys Targaryen at court today."

Jaime smirked and failed to stifle a chuckle.

"Something funny, Lord Hand?"

"Already tired of fending off the noble ladies, hmm?"

"It should be known. You, after all, told Lord Tyrell, Lady Olenna, and Lord Willas."

"He did indeed," Willas chimed in. "We would find it objectionable if you declared for any other woman." The earnest way he was sitting suggested the tension. Aemon mentally waved it off. He had no intention of marrying another for any reason.

"I must admit to being surprised that the word hasn't spread further."

"There have been many interesting rumors flying around here. Surely you've heard a good portion of the rumors surrounding me?" Jaime said, a mischievous light in his eye.

"You made up half of those."

"It keeps things interesting. You should try it sometime."

"I don't need to embellish my reputation," Aemon said, struggling not to smile. He missed this banter with Jaime.

"Neither do I, but it has its advantages."

"May we focus on the topic at hand?" Willas interjected.

"Your Grace, do you think it wise to marry Princess Daenerys?" Pycelle asked. "Marrying brother to sister brought about the madness and the downfall of the Targaryen legacy before."

"Then it's a good thing she is not my sister." Pycelle grunted in indignation and couldn't keep from glowering at him. "I have blood from another - my mother, Lyanna Stark - flowing through my veins. If there is any concern about it causing madness once more, then that should be mitigated by my Stark blood."

"Princess Daenerys and her brother, Prince Viserys, are across the Narrow Sea," Baelish said.

"I am aware and I have clues to their whereabouts. Ser Barristan Selmy has already been sent across the Narrow Sea to retrieve them. They are my family after all and no longer on the run. It's time they came home."

"What of Prince Viserys, Your Grace?" Varys finally spoke up.

"What of him?"

"What will he do?"

Aemon froze, cast around for something to say, and then blurted out, "He'll marry. After all, I wish to re-establish the Targaryen legacy. It is important that our blood propagate."

Jaime raised his eyebrows at him. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Not off the top of my head," Aemon replied. "It will be months before we are reunited. I think we have time. Let's move on to more pressing topics. Lord Jaime, how are the preparations for sailing to Dragonstone?"

"They're done, Your Grace. We set sail in two days' time."

"Wonderful. Judging by Lord Stannis Baratheon's letter, we shouldn't have to fight, but it's best to be cautious. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jaime replied and suddenly his mood shifted and he became agitated. Just as Aemon opened his mouth to move on, he said, "Your Grace, there is another topic I wish to address that we have been ignoring for some time and, I think, at our peril."

"Yes?"

"The Ironborn."

Aemon had to bite back a groan, but he couldn't keep from closing his eyes to collect himself. "What about them?"

Jaime frowned and he leaned over the table with all of the characteristics of a posturing lion. "They waylaid my ship to the Reach, murdered my men, and held me captive for several days. I have been patient enough, but a Lannister always pay his debts, and I owe them a great one. They can't get too comfortable with the fact that they held captive the Hand of the King and the heir to Casterly Rock."

"Can't this...wait? We're about to negotiate with Stannis."

"It's been three months since they held me captive. I have been patient long enough. I would've sent them a minstrel playing The Rains of Castamere by now were other things not more important at the moment."

Aemon sighed. He had been ignoring the Ironborn because they had yet to do anything grievous. No doubt it was only a matter of time before they changed their tune, but they still had Theon as a hostage. He was currently standing in as a representative of the Iron Islands and Aemon hoped that would keep the peace for now.

"You'll have to bring them into the fold eventually. They still need to pledge to you."

"Yes, they do," he mumbled as he thought it over. He was still of the mind to kick it down the road. One step at a time, Jaime, he thought. Had his father put him up to this? "We don't have proof that your kidnapping was ordered by Balon Greyjoy."

"Who else could it be?"

"It could just be their usual pirate marauding."

"Which will need to be punished anyway."

"I'll send a letter then, to remind them of their position in the Seven Kingdoms," Aemon said.

Jaime wasn't mollified. "Make them come to you. If you go to them, they'll consider it a victory."

Aemon glared. "If I'm forced to go to them, it will be with the might of the Seven Kingdoms at my back to make them bend. Now, moving on!"

"You need to write to Dorne too, Your Grace," Jaime interjected.

"I am aware of that, Lord Jaime," he replied, narrowing his eyes at him. It wasn't like Jaime to be on top of things and this smelled of Tyrion interference. He had been doing a fair amount of ignoring Dorne and the Ironborn because there were more pressing issues at hand, but by virtue of being part of the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps he wasn't giving them the urgency and consideration they deserved. He supposed it would be foolish to ignore them any longer.

Then again, he vaguely recalled that Jaime was certain Baelish was behind the plot to kidnap him since the Ironborn had acted on the orders of a mysterious man. He had no proof other than the fact that Varys and Baelish were both the only men possible to have information of their then secret movements. When Jaime mentioned the Ironborn kidnapping him, Varys had remain nonplussed but Baelish had acted surprised at such news.

That suggested to him that it was indeed Baelish. He has some nerve coming back here when the Lannisters would want his blood, Aemon thought.

"I shall write to them this evening. Now, what else is on the table?"

There was a momentary pause and then David spoke up. "Your Grace, it has come to my attention that the less fortunate smallfolk of King's Landing dispose of their dead by dumping the bodies of their loved ones into Blackwater Bay. That may not be drinking water, but much of the fish they eat comes from Blackwater Bay. It can't be healthy. I propose we find a new way to dispose of their dead."

Aemon released a breath. His mind flew back to the massacre at Hardhome and watched in terrified awe as the Night King raised his arms and the bodies of those who had been living just moments before rose with the motion. He shuddered, feeling the biting cold and the hopeless despair "Burn them," he whispered.

"Pardon, Your Grace?"

"The dead need to be burned," he said.

Everyone had a stunned expression except Jaime.

"Your Grace, is that wise?" Baelish asked.

"Is that compliant with the faith of the Seven?" David asked.

"Mind your courtesies, healer," Pycelle bellowed.

David glared at him, but then said, "Your Grace, will the people accept that alternative?"

"They must. It is...it will be healthier?"

"As long as they're burned far outside the city, Your Grace, I don't foresee an issue," David replied, but there was uncertainty in his expression.

"Do you intend for this to apply only to the smallfolk, Your Grace?" Varys asked.

"It should apply to everyone," Aemon said, but he could feel the tension building in his shoulders. The followers of the Old Gods used to burn their dead, but even that tradition had long fallen off in the intervening years since the last Long Night. Most of the dead should be all bones now and there certainly weren't any skeletons that walked amongst the Army of the Dead. But they didn't want to give the Night King any more foot soldiers than he already had access to.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but the other nobility cannot just abandon their traditions for addressing their dead at your whim," Pycelle said with a terse frown.

He glanced at Jaime for help. He would agree with him. But he saw the way Jaime's eyes studied each expression and saw the reticence there. When they locked eyes, Jaime gave a small shake of his head and mouthed 'another time.'

Aemon scowled at him.

"Perhaps, Your Grace, we can suggest this as an option to the smallfolk who can't otherwise afford the full services the Faith offers?" Jaime said.

Aemon glared at him, but then sighed. If Jaime could be trusted on one thing, it was picking the right battles at the right time. "Very well. For the time being, the tradition of following the Faith of the Seven for honoring the dead shall be allowed. Lord Willas, David, I would like to see you work together in offering the alternative of cremation to the smallfolk."

"Yes, Your Grace," they responded. He saw Willas frown over at David and he wondered if the Tyrell heir was miffed at having to work with someone of no status like an equal.

After spending so much of his life with no status, it irritated him to see such familiar disregard. It took Tyrion Lannister in the other life to open his eyes to the fact that he had carried the same superior attitude despite being of the same status as those at the Night's Watch. There was no doubt he would not have survived even to be Lord Commander if he hadn't fixed his attitude. Even so, he recognized that changing minds about how to care for the dead would be like slaughtering chickens compared to trying to overcome eons of the nobility disregarding the smallfolk.

Patience, he cautioned himself. They still had a few years before the threat of the Long Night became truly serious, but it would be here before they knew it. He prayed once more for his Uncle Benjen's success at catching a wight. It would be the single greatest bridge across the chasm of misunderstanding that he and Jaime were eventually going to run up against.

Jaime XVI

He closed the door to his room and slumped against it with a heavy sigh. Another thrilling small council meeting, he thought dryly and rubbed his temple.

"How'd it go?"

Jaime opened his eyes to see Tyrion lounging in a chair by his fireplace, though the grate was unlit. He had a large book open in his lap, but his attention was on him now.

"Just the usual. It was dull, though Aemon has finally decided to announce his intent to marry Princess Daenerys Targaryen."

Tyrion grinned. "Trying to fend off our fine realm's most eligible maidens? Lady Lollys Stokeworth is quite fetching, don't you agree?"

"Who?"

"Plump lady, rather dull…"

A remember from the life before shot to the forefront of his mind as he saw Ser Bronn of the Blackwater walking along the beach with his betrothed, Lady Lollys Stokeworth. He shuddered upon remembering the woman, but a pang of longing accompanied it as he thought of Bronn. Where is that rogue now? He had been by the Crownlands when he assisted Lady Catelyn in kidnapping his brother. Perhaps he was just another mercenary lost in crowd of King's Landing with all of the other soldiers milling about, waiting for action. He'd happily elevate Bronn again, if he could be found.

Jaime smirked. "That does appear to be his motivation. He needs to grow a firmer backbone towards the ladies."

"He doesn't have as much practice as you do."

"He's too polite. I'm a Lannister. We're known for our arrogance after all," Jaime replied.

"And did you offer your proposals, like I suggested?"

"Yes. You didn't have to remind me about the Ironborn though. What I told you is true. It's how I ran into Uncle Gerion and the Shepherds."

"It's amazing you've kept that from father."

"It won't stay secret for long now. Aemon needs to do something before father takes justice into his own hands. Again." The Lannisters could not afford another Reyne and Tarbeck massacre, especially if it was directed at the Lord Paramount of another kingdom, even if no one had any love for the Greyjoys. It might give us the opening we need to make Theon Greyjoy the Lord Paramount, he thought, but then grimaced. Aemon had not been wrong that they couldn't just kill any lord that disagrees with them and prop up the heir with threats of retribution. With any luck, Balon Greyjoy would dig his own grave as he had last time.

But that might leave Euron Greyjoy in charge, he thought with a shudder. They could not afford to have him patrolling the seas and disrupting their trade routes, but the Iron Islands were on the other side of Westeros, too far from the seat of power for Aemon to devote much of their resources towards.

The most ideal situation would be to catch Euron Greyjoy and execute him before he can do much damage, he thought, but that was like looking for one particular fish in a school of them.

"Just more issues within King's Landing keep surfacing that need dealt with. The Shepherd brought up the fact that the poor folk, probably in Flea Bottom, are dumping their dead into Blackwater Bay. They need a better way of disposing their dead."

Tyrion grimaced. "Remind me forgo the fish that get put on the tables here. Were there any solutions?"

"King Aemon wants the dead to be burned, in the same fashion as the Old Gods of the North. And he means all of the dead, not just the smallfolk's."

Tyrion sighed. "I bet that went over well."

"As well as a rotting carcass of meat. I suggested a compromise: the smallfolk will have the option of burning their dead if they can't afford the Sept's services."

"You? Compromising?" Tyrion put his hands to his face in shock. "Will wonders never cease."

Jaime gave him a mocking smile. "Yes, brother, even I know when to compromise."

"I've taught you well."

"You taught me no such thing! I learned that less myself," Jaime shot back.

"I must've at least been an influence on you. You were never particularly sensible."

Jaime huffed and Tyrion chuckled. "Well, there is one thing you might be able to help me out on."

"And that is?"

"King Aemon has already sent Ser Barristan to try and find Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys and bring them back to Westeros. I am concerned about how Viserys...will take the news of a different heir."

Tyrion's face darkened. "You think he'll contest King Aemon's heritage."

"Prince Viserys was not particularly stable as a child and by all accounts, his delusions of grandeur have only gotten worse. He cannot be the king."

"King Aemon is Prince Rhaegar's son."

"Yes, but he looks nothing like Prince Rhaegar."

"You said you have more evidence."

"Of course we do, but if you were to compare the two together, I'm afraid people will dislike the fact that Aemon looks nothing like his aunt or uncle. He lacks the typical Targaryen characteristics."

"I can see your point. Prince Viserys will have to marry. Someone non-threatening"

"But who? There aren't anymore daughters of Lords Paramount of marriageable age."

"What about Princess Arianne Martell?"

Jaime froze. "What? Prince Doran Martell has a daughter?"

"He does. And she's the eldest. You know how inheritance works in Dorne."

"Right, but...doesn't he have a son?"

"Yes, one I believe. Prince Trystane Martell."

"How do you know this?"

"I like playing Cyvasse with Lord Willas. He doesn't spend all of his time working as Master of Laws. Anyway, he corresponds with Prince Oberyn Martell. Prince Oberyn relays the family news and Willas does in turn."

Jaime's eyes narrowed. "Any idea what Lord Willas says about us?"

"I don't get to read the letters, Jaime. He appears to be happy with his role and occasionally sings yours and His Grace's praise over our board games."

"Hmm...back to the issue of marrying Viserys. Is that a good idea? Proposing he marry into a family that still retains their titles of Prince and Princess?"

"He won't drop in status."

"They could challenge Aemon for the throne!"

"And who would back them?"

Jaime opened his mouth, but he couldn't find the words he was searching for.

"The Tyrells would not back them; they want the throne too. Father certainly can't back them because you're Hand of the King. The Stormlands are keen to avoid being on the opposing side of King Aemon again and everyone north of King's Landing is a strong ally to Lord Stark. They won't go against his nephew. It may be the safest proposal you're going to have," Tyrion said.

Is that enough? In all likelihood, they were planning the marriage of a dead man, but they had to think of every eventuality if Viserys happened to be alive.

There were other reasons to favor the match as well. Aemon had expressed disappointment that his feisty cousin Arya had not taken the suggested proposal to Prince Trystane Martell well. They now had another reason to object with a daughter now older than than the son. By marrying into the Martells, Arya's children would have nothing to inherit.

"I need to go tell King Aemon. He's supposed to be writing to Dorne today."

Jaime rushed out of his room before Tyrion could say anything else and hurried across the grounds into the Red Keep. He found Torrhen Karstark and asked, "Is the king available?"

"Yes, Lord Hand."

He knocked.

"Who is it?" Aemon's voice called out.

"It's Lord Jaime Lannister, Your Grace."

There was a lengthy pause before Aemon finally said, "Enter."

Aemon was scowling at him as he took his place and bowed for proprietary reasons. As soon as the door closed, Jaime asked, "I hope you're not too upset about the small council meeting. Your Grace."

"We need to burn the dead, Lord Jaime. You know that."

Jaime was simply quiet. Aemon knew very well that they couldn't make headway on the issue until they had proof of the Long Night and they still had no confirming word from the Night's Watch.

"I have some news that should cheer you up."

"Very well, give it to me."

"Prince Doran's eldest child is not male, but female. Her name is Princess Arianne Martell."

"And?"

"Offer Prince Viserys to her."

Aemon blinked.

"She is the last daughter of a Lord Paramount that remains unmarried. Your uncle, the Prince Viserys, should have a match of equal status."

"Do you think that wise? If she's a princess, then he'll retain his title of prince. He could challenge me."

Jaime nodded with a grim smile. "It's a risk, Your Grace, but I think it's worth it. Dorne would be foolish to challenge you when they have no established ties with any of the other kingdoms. Well, no alliances that are stronger than their alliance with you. If you're really worried, you can always fall back on your original plan. I'm sure Lady Arya will be delighted to know that you played it safe when you had the perfect chance to annul her match to Prince Trystane Martell."

The glare Aemon gave him was sharp enough to slice skin.