Author's Note: Wow, the response for the last chapter was explosive. I'm glad to see people so keen and excited for the coming parts. It was such fun reading your discussions and speculations! Thank you so much for reading and taking such an interest into the story!
Once more, I'd like to thank catzrko0l for being beta to this chapter. Thank you so much for your effort! I really appreciate it.
Chapter 56
Aemon XIX
He stared across the water in the direction of Essos. Ser Barristan had been at sea for a few months now. Is he in Qarth? Has he met Daenerys? Did they miss each other? Did Dany survive the Khalasar? Did she survive the witch who took Rhaego from her? Normally, he was able to stifle the barrage of questions by throwing himself into work, overseeing petitions and stamping laws into approval. However, here on the ship, there was no work to be had. Although he had books and pieces of parchment to read, he found the cabin stifling, so he walked the deck. He didn't want to be seen pacing, as though anxious, so he willed himself to stay put and simply try to enjoy the voyage. However, his eyes couldn't resist straying eastward.
Was Dany able to hatch her dragons? His thoughts also straying to the dragon egg resting in his room. He'd taken it out of the fire before he left. It was obvious it would take more than the flames to encourage the dragon to hatch forth and that was yet another worm burrowing into his mind. If Dany's dragons were alive, as he suspected with the arrival of the red comet, then they were growing. The dragons had been large in the end, so large in fact that Daenerys never looked like anything more except a silver dot on Drogon's back. But everyday that Rhaegal spent in the egg was one more day he wasn't growing. There was a very real possibility that he wouldn't be able to hatch him either. Would that prove to the realm that he wasn't a true dragon?
As if Ghost could sense the direction of his thoughts, he whined to jar them out of him. Aemon startled and petted him. He almost hadn't taken Ghost with him. Was it appropriate to take the wolf to Dorne? But he had barely spent much time with him since being crowned and constantly felt like he was foisting the responsibility of his care onto Robb, rather than taking it upon himself. Jaime had insisted that he take him in the end. Knowing him, it was for reasons of protection.
I have six Kingsguard. Well...five, he thought, casting his eyes about as though the errant Kingsguard would be able to follow his dark thoughts.
Just before Robb's wedding to Lady Margaery, they had received word from Vicente that Ser Meryn Trant was bought and paid for by Littlefinger. Aemon had been keeping him at arm's length as a precaution from the very beginning, but now he was certain Trant couldn't be trusted. He had guarded his words before, but now he knew there was one guard willing to share his secrets, despite his oath. Ser Meryn was standing by the entrance to the galley, looking irritated and uncomfortable in the oppressing summer heat that was only going to get worse the further south they went.
Aemon closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths. Worrying about Littlefinger and his plans was yet another thing that sent him into an endless circle of fretting thoughts. He did not envy leaving Jaime to handle the Red Keep alone. He feared for him more than anything.
Be safe, Jaime. He sent a quick prayer to the Old Gods to watch after his friend. He felt a little ridiculous. Jaime might very well be the safest person in the Red Keep. Few were brave enough to touch a hair on Tywin's golden son. Except for Baelish, he mused. Littlefinger had already arranged a kidnapping by Ironborn. There was no telling what else he was willing to do.
Aemon felt the vibrations of heavy footfalls and turned to see his uncle looking awkward and uncomfortable on the sea. He wished either Jaime or Robb had been able to accompany him on the journey. There would be no end of ribbing and, in Jaime's case, comical grumbling. His uncle was too serious for such japes with his nephew and would find it unseemly to have such a loose relationship with his king. From what he remembered, it had taken near constant cajoling by Robert Baratheon to get his uncle to so much as crack a smile.
He at least had Olyvar Frey. The boy had been nearly vibrating with excitement when he was informed that he'd be accompanying the king on his journey to Dorne.
Much like Ghost, he had been neglecting poor Olyvar's training. Just like the rest of the young children, he'd had to resort to attending the training sessions that Jaime and the warrior ladies held. At this rate, Jaime would train both Podrick and Olyvar up himself.
I need to take more time out of my day for training, he thought. He only trained about once a week, typically with Jaime. Otherwise he was poring over old tomes about dragon hatching and rearing. According to the books, there was a time when an egg needed only to be placed in a Targaryen child's crib for it to hatch. He remembered Dany describing the eggs as having exploded when she hatched them. Was that common? For an egg to simply hatch in the crib implied it was as delicate a process as a chick hatching out of its egg. The last attempted dragon hatching at Summerhall had ended violently with most of the Targaryen's at the time and Ser Duncan the Tall perishing in the ensuing fire. Perhaps the time of dragons hatching gently was over. He wasn't about to test it with his future children.
Daenerys had gotten it to work, but at great cost to herself and her loved ones. Surely there was a way to do it without human sacrifice. It was possible to bleed and not die. Was the blood enough or was an act of death the way life was imparted onto a dragon? Perhaps the hatchling required a soul to leave its body so that it could join with it.
That's a thought, he mused. He'd have to write himself a note to remember. It was obvious by now that he wasn't going to hatch it simply by fire, but it would have to be soon. Even though much of his family had suffered tragic deaths attempting to hatch eggs, he could still imagine the festering doubt in his heritage if he failed. If they wanted it in time for the Long Night, it would have to be hatched soon. Regardless of his responsibilities as king, he would make the egg his primary focus when he got back.
His uncle stepped up next to him and Aemon quirked an eyebrow at him. His uncle glanced around furtively, cleared his throat and said, "Your Grace, if I might have a word with you."
Aemon stared at him for a moment with a combination of exasperation and irritation. Could you make it more obvious that the discussion will be important? It was amazing that his uncle hadn't given anything away while in King's Landing. He contributed that mostly to the fact that, while his uncle was a prominent ally, he lacked a position of power in the small council.
"Certainly, Uncle, what were you thinking about?" Aemon asked in faux cheer.
His uncle swallowed, glancing around again. "This conversation isn't fit for such an open area."
Uncle! Yet there was no way to lecture him about his lack of care without making it obvious. "Why don't we retire to my room? I packed some Dornish Red in honor of our journey to Dorne. I would like to discuss the terms I was thinking of presenting to the Martells."
His uncle blinked, but at a pointed look from his nephew, he said, "You are too kind, Your Grace. I accept."
Aemon tried to keep a smile on his face, but he looked at Ser Meryn out of the corner of his eye and saw avarice. He hoped his uncle displayed more tact in their conversation. Once the door was closed, his pleasant facade dropped and he frowned at his uncle and put a finger to his lips for quiet. His uncle grimaced.
"Let me find that Dornish Red. Are you hungry? I could order a plate to be served."
"You are most generous, Your Grace, but that won't be necessary. I will take a glass of the Dornish Red," Ned said with a worried frown.
Once small glasses were poured, Aemon sipped at his. "Enjoying the water, Uncle? I've never had the opportunity to sail before."
"I still prefer the back of a horse and solid ground beneath my feet, Your Grace. The water is fine and I can appreciate that we'll reach our destination faster."
"Indeed. It's a shame that it's still so far away."
There was a pause as his uncle finally took a sip of his own goblet. He seemed to be wrestling with something and then he said, "Aemon, I wanted to thank you for what you did for Arya. I know she doesn't look forward to the future in store for her. And...I was concerned for her."
Aemon now found himself growing grimmer. "You thought she'd run away like my mother?"
His uncle looked away, but the guilt emanated from his very soul. "She and Arya are so much alike. I-I couldn't help but think of Lyanna as I was lecturing her over her trying behavior."
"Arya is one of the people that has most inspired me to encourage Jaime's new tact in the training yard. There should be more options for women of nobility."
"It's the way things are."
"But is it the way things have to be?" Aemon asked.
His uncle shrugged.
Aemon scraped his chair back and opened the door a hair to find no one in the hallway. With any luck, Ser Meryn walked away upon hearing the pointless turn of their conversation. He closed the door quietly and whispered, "I don't see anyone, but I caution you to be careful, Uncle."
Ned sighed in exasperation. "I know we have to be concerned about Lord Baelish's reach. That's what I wanted to talk with you about."
"Did he come to you again?"
"No. He has left me alone, but the conversation still bothers me. He is clearly planning something."
"Please tell me that you don't continue to doubt Jaime."
"It's not...it's not him that concerns me."
"Uncle, we're aware of who is likely to be the biggest threat. As should you be if you remember my tale."
"We left Lord Jaime alone. Is he capable of managing all of the necessary threats while we're gone?"
Gods, I hope he is, Aemon thought. He trusted Jaime. He had no doubt that Jaime would ever betray him. But that didn't mean that there weren't concerns. His Hand was a man of action. While certainly not as stupid as his sister seemed to believe he was, he lacked the head for politics and scheming. Not to mention that Jaime had only just gotten over learning about the existence of his son, which had set him back nearly three days. Jaime couldn't afford to be out of commission for that long if something as jarring cropped up. He didn't blame him for his distress, but it was a liability.
"It will be fine, Uncle. It has to be. The Gods' willing."
His uncle shifted uncomfortably and seemed stricken.
"Has there been any news about Bran?"
Ned sighed. "The day before we set sail, I received word that Bran is awake. However, he is now blind and will never see again."
Aemon felt his heart plummet. Why must Bran suffer so?He'll be able to walk at least. He shouldn't be without protection this time either. I need to tell Uncle. He had been putting it off for too long. Could he reasonably expect to not be overheard? They were keeping their voices low already and Dorne would likely not be any safer.
"Uncle, there's something I need to tell you," he whispered.
Ned looked up from where he had been studying his hands. His face was lined with grief and there was a shine to his eyes.
"Do you remember the story I told you about before?"
"Of course, Aemon. How could I forget?"
Aemon's face fell. No doubt keeping the truth from him would injure their relationship, but he did not regret it. He was certain now that the old gods had been acting through him. He was not supposed to be able to lie in front of the weirwood and yet he'd had a strong impression to gloss over Bran's role in the war. Surely there was a purpose to that.
He dragged in a shuddering breath and continued, "I wasn't entirely truthful, particularly about Bran's role in the story."
His uncle narrowed his eyes at him. "What happened?"
"When Bran fell, the injury encouraged a power that had been sleeping inside him to awaken. His third eye. You see, warging runs in the Stark bloodline. I can't say for sure about either Robb or Sansa, but Arya could warg. I can warg. But so could Bran. Except Arya and I required a close bond with our wolves to warg. Bran was so powerful, he could warg into almost any mind, human or animal. He could even use the weirwood trees to see the past."
His uncle was staring at him in disbelief. He could only imagine what he would've looked like if he'd told him the first time around under the weirwood.
"But Bran needed training to understand his power and use it. Jojen and Meera Reed, with Hodor, took it upon themselves to take Bran north of the Wall so that he could receive training from the Three-Eyed Raven."
Aemon could feel sweat beading on his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest, causing heat to flush through his body, and his mouth grew dry from the nerves. If he was not mistaken, he could already see anger in his uncle's eyes.
"Bran drew the attention of the Night King while training with the Three-Eyed Raven known as Bloodraven. Bloodraven died, the last of the Children of the Forest perished, and Hodor, all died protecting Bran. He was one of the keys to ending the Long Night. Only I failed to protect him."
There was a long pause. Aemon tried to keep his uncle's eyes, but wilted until he was staring at the floor.
"You...held this from me?"
"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. I'm sorry, Uncle, but I don't regret it."
When he looked up again, his uncle's eyes were casting wildly about, his jaw working. He had rarely seen his uncle angry, but now his face was flushed red and he trembled.
"You could have spared Bran this injury. But you didn't?"
"I couldn't, Uncle. It's clear to me now that he was fated to be injured. Jaime didn't even do anything this time and he still suffered a catastrophic injury. We went out of our way to make sure he was not climbing that day and Jaime was the one who got injured."
Ned cast his eyes about the room frantically before settling on Aemon's again. "You are supposed to protect your family."
Aemon felt the heat rising further into his face. "I am supposed to save the world from the Long Night," he gritted, trying to desperately to keep his voice down. "Nothing is more important than that. Not even family."
Ned stood abruptly. "I overthrew my best friend for you. My children were bartered away for you!"
Aemon jumped to his feet. "You did those things as much for me as for yourself. It was the right thing to do, Uncle, as you are so honorbound. Why do you think I was all set to betrothe Arya to a Prince across the world? In spite of my love for her, in spite of how much I knew she would hate the idea, I was prepared to suffer her loathing for the rest of my life if it meant the world survived."
His uncle backed away shaking his head, disgust and anger in equal measure on his face. "You're not a Stark. You're not a Lannister either. You and Lord Jaime both are of your own kind. That you make these manipulations as easily as…" He bit his tongue, but Aemon knew full well the name that was on his lips. He turned and fled, slamming the door, not even waiting to be dismissed.
Aemon sank back into his chair, his heart aching. It was the right thing to do, he told himself. Gods, it better have been.
