Author's Notes: Welcome to another new chapter! Thank you all so much for your support! Your comments, kudos, favorites and such on this work is just marvelous. There are some seriously exciting chapters coming and I'm eager to reach them with you. =D

CatzRko0l continues to be a wonderful beta! Thank you so much for your diligence and your quality!

10/31/2020 - Apparently, none of the fics that have been updated today are actually showing the chapter. I have posted the chapter and I can access it through the subscription specific hyperlink, but it's not available through going the fic on the fandom page. I have heard varying success from people who use the mobile app. If you're still having trouble and wish to read the update sooner rather than later, then please find The Dragon's Roar on AO3. I simultaneously post my updates over there as well. Sorry for the trouble!

Chapter 82

Jaime XXIX

Jaime found himself back in the godswood in the early morning. He'd sent Podrick to rouse his brother from bed so that they would have enough time to speak before they broke fast and Jaime had to attend meetings later in the day regarding the rewards to those loyal to the crown and with Varys.

He had been ready to drag his brother out into the godswood the night before, but the darkness had been drawing in by the time he and Aemon left. It would've been much more difficult to ascertain if they were alone or not. He did not command Ghost and Aemon had better things to do than listen to a story he already knew.

By habit he did his routine scouting of the woods. He always made sure to vary up his route and occasionally stick his sword in to menace bushes here and there, stalking about like a predator looking for prey.

"Jaime!" Tyrion called out into the woods, but his summons went unheeded for the time being.

After several more minutes of rooting through the underbrush to find unwelcome birds, Jaime finally started his way towards the weirwood. When the tree came into view, he saw his brother once more staring up at the remnant of the rope still dangling from the thickest limb. It had been his brother's focus when they last convened under the weirwood tree.

"You appear to have a rather unhealthy fixation with that rope," Jaime said.

Tyrion startled and sighed, turning back to the rope once more. "I find it fascinating because no one seems to know where it came from. It's been here for some time. The bark has grown in around it, but it went unnoticed, it seems. It's merely a flight of fancy. Nothing more," Tyrion replied, turning to stare up at his brother in earnest.

Jaime smiled, but it was one that did not reach his eyes. "Do you want to learn where it came from?"

His little brother raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I never thought you'd know. No one seemed to take notice of this godswood until King Aemon and the Starks arrived. You and he favored the godswood for your meetings in Winterfell, so it seems natural for you to gravitate here too, but before then…?"

"What would you know about it? You spent much of your time before coming to King's Landing at Casterly Rock," Jaime said, though he hoped his brother recognized the slight teasing in his voice.

"Yes, it seems I missed quite a lot. You know how that rope got there?"

"I do. I put it there," Jaime replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Tyrion tilted his head in curiosity. "I don't understand."

"Not long after Julianna was born, I came out here to hang myself."

Tyrion's eyes widened, his earlier mirth morphing in incredulity. He had frozen where he stood, his eyes fixed on Jaime. For a rare moment, he couldn't seem to say anything as his mouth hung open in surprise.

"I wanted somewhere quiet. And there's no place quieter than the godswood in King's Landing," Jaime replied.

"B-but why? I," Tyrion cleared his throat and began again in a wavering yellow voice, "I n-never would have expected you to attempt suicide."

"There were a few reasons. But the main one was that the gods didn't seem all that concerned about me."

Tyrion shook his head as if he was trying to wake himself from a dream. "What? What is this? This doesn't sound like you at all." His voice took on an interesting hue of rosy pink in his confusion.

"It doesn't, does it? I am not the Jaime you grew up with, Tyrion. I grew up with a different Tyrion."

"Huh?" Tyrion was blinking dazedly and he was swaying where he stood.

"Perhaps you should sit down. You wanted to know my secret? You wanted to know what I've been hiding all this time? You want to know what my connection is with King Aemon, do you not?"

Tyrion tottered for a moment before falling to the ground. Even sitting, he still swayed as he craned his head up to watch his brother. He swallowed and said, "It's… all connected?"

"Yes, it's all connected. Please try not to interrupt, I need to think this through. But know this: every word I speak is truth. I am not having a jape. This is real." Jaime wasn't going to sit. He wanted to be able to pace at his leisure. It was going to be difficult enough.

Tyrion's eyes seemed to widen yet more, but he slowly nodded. "V-very well. I will listen, but… I will reserve judgment for now. This is…"

"It's more wild than you know," Jaime said. "This isn't my first life. I lived in another time. I grew up with another Tyrion. I loved you in that time. I loved… Cersei too." Jaime shuddered as he said her name.

"I'm sorry, what? Another life? What does that mean?"

"Listen and I'll tell you," Jaime snapped. "Cersei hated your guts in that time, just as in this time. We had an… inappropriate relationship. I fathered her bastards then, but not these ones."

"Y-yes, I know. I had thought—you were close when I was a child too. You did things… but Jaime? You fathered Cersei's bastards?" Tyrion was hissing like an angry goose.

"You don't need to tell me it was foolish. I know! I know it was! What I'm about to tell you will emphasize why it was such idiocy.

"In the other life, Cersei betrayed me. She betrayed everyone. It became clear that she did not love me as I loved her. Her one true love was power. She did not care what sacrifices had to be made for her to keep that great ugly chair," Jaime growled. He drew in a breath to bring his temper back in control and pressed onward. "She sacrificed even our children. And when the world needed to band together to defeat the Long Night, she refused to send her armies. I went alone. The war was hard fought. We just… barely won. But it didn't matter. Everyone I knew and loved was dead by that point. King Aemon killed me to rid the realm of the Night King once and for all. He died too, his family—including Daenerys Targaryen—had also perished in the war." Jaime noticed Tyrion's face twisting up in his confusion. "I've lost you."

"Lost me? You've gone off the map! The Long Night? Are you going to tell me that grumpkins and snarks are real?"

Jaime glared. "Given what I've seen they may well be. I will get to that. Stop interrupting me!" He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I know what needs to be said, but I'm not sure how best to say it. I suppose I should start in the beginning of what happened in that other life that brought King Aemon and I to this point."

He did his best to tell his memories in order, but it had been a long time since he'd had cause to go through them. Little details would slip by only for him to realize them later and try to jump back. Jaime could tell that Tyrion was trying to follow, but his eyes occasionally glazed over and he rubbed at his head as if he had a headache.

"Father went to war over me?"

"Yes. Father may have hated you even more in that other life, but he still razed the Riverlands on your behalf for Lady Catelyn's transgressions. Hell, he sent you back to King's Landing to take his place as Hand because Cersei couldn't control Joffrey. I heard that you did an admirable job. You also raised the defenses and led the soldiers into battle against Stannis, who invaded by way of Blackwater Bay."

Tyrion's eyes were the size of gold dragons. His eyes fluttered in a daze and he said, "I'll be damned."

"I besieged Riverrun. I didn't do enough to mind the ravens and Robb Stark ambushed us in the night and then captured me. You, of course, used your cleverness and found a man willing to fight for your life in a trial-by-combat with promises of Lannister gold. You were certainly smarter than me at one point. Still are, I think," Jaime said, his eyes distant as he thought back.

"You said Joffrey took Ned Stark's head? When was that? Before or after you were captured?" Tyrion asked.

Jaime squinted. "After, I think. It's hard to know when you're in prison. Hmm… wait, I think I vaguely recall Robb menacing me with his direwolf, Greywind, about it. He did that a lot, so it's hard to say. It's been so long…"

Tyrion gave him a confused look of sympathy. "It's a shame you couldn't have written it down."

"I did write it down."

Tyrion perked up. "Really? Where do I read?"

Jaime shook his head. "I burned them when Baelish arrived in King's Landing as Master of Coin."

"I… see." Tyrion deflated.

"I didn't want him finding them. He had his ways."

"But you thought you could hide them from Varys?"

"Yes. Why would he think anything extraordinary had happened? I wrote them in my time between shifts of the Kingsguard, weeks after I had been a recluse. It's a lot harder for his little birds to flutter around the White Tower without being noticed. I hid the books well, but… I didn't want to chance Baelish happening upon them," Jaime said.

"What do you think he'd glean from them? This all sounds so… fantastical," Tyrion said.

"I don't know!" Jaime ran his hand through his hair in mounting frustration. "I am not one for political games. But he would've known that I knew he couldn't be trusted. He would've… been able to learn about Aemon. That would've killed us both. Burning them was the safer course."

"I suppose it was," Tyrion said. "I sense there's yet more to this tale. The children are still alive."

"Far too much," Jaime replied.

It wasn't long however that he came upon Brienne and mentioned her role in escorting him back to King's Landing. A knowing smile brightened Tyrion's face. "Aha! I did wonder when I first saw you interacting with her. You were looking at her as if she were the Warrior made flesh. I know you are far more generous with your love than you pretend, but even I was wondering why you appeared to have fallen for her at first sight."

Jaime nodded distantly, wearing a ghost of a smile. "I hated her back then. I was horrible to her. Called her names. 'Wench' was my favorite. Told her all about how I was waiting for Cersei." He grimaced. "I was a fool then even without hindsight. I was a plague upon her. I was the reason we were captured by the Brave Companions, they were going to rape her. I told them her father would pay her weight in sapphires to have her back untouched. They just humored me. Then they cut off my swordhand."

Tyrion's eyes went the size of coins again and his mouth fell open. Even with his hand still intact, Jaime still felt a sympathy pain as he recalled that time. He lifted up his right hand and flexed his fingers experimentally.

Jaime nodded to himself. "It was no less than what I deserved for being such a fool in enemy territory. Brienne took care of me even as I burned with fever. She urged me to keep going. She gave me the will to live."

"She is quite a woman."

"That she is."

He went on to describe the Red Wedding, which left Tyrion even more flabbergasted than hearing about the loss of his hand. His brother blanched upon hearing about his marriage to Lady Sansa Stark. "Absolute madness that he would marry such a sweet girl to a dwarf," Tyrion muttered.

Jaime considered himself fortunate that he hadn't arrived in time for his father to wrangle him out of the Kingsguard to marry her instead. But then it seemed his father likely thought Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock was too good of a title for a young lady from a traitor family.

Then he mentioned the Purple Wedding, Tyrion's trial, the botched duel between the Mountain and Prince Oberyn Martell—"I see now why you and King Aemon would have been as nervous as horses upon hearing that rematch was to happen again."—and then Jaime sprung him from prison where he then went to murder their father and the whore Tyrion had been sleeping with.

Jaime nearly laughed at the look of horror on Tyrion's face. "I'm not sure what I find more alarming. That I killed father or that he deigned to sleep with a whore that I had used."

"Disturbing, no?"

Tyrion shook his head. "I'm having difficulty with this. I cannot reconcile me in this… creature. I like a whore here and there, but to take one and only one as a lover for so long? I disdain Father, but up until he attempted the coup against King Aemon, I would never have thought of turning against him. Father does as he does. How… how could I have killed him?"

Jaime flinched and began to worry his lower lip.

"You're not telling me something."

"You… you and father did not get along for more than one reason. I, uh, Seven help me, I set you up to lose your virginity with a maid when you were five-and-ten. I arranged it so that she would scream she was being pursued by rapists. I rushed off to fend off her rapists and you took her inside to comfort her. You fell in love. You got a septon drunk and you two got married. For two weeks you lived in a cottage and… and you knew what real love was like."

Tyrion was transfixed. At first he had been amused by Jaime's antics, but his expression grew grimmer as the story went on. "I can see where this is going…"

"It's worse. It's more horrible than you can imagine." Jaime's throat went dry and he swallowed. "Father was furious when he found out. The drunk septon confessed. He immediately had your marriage annulled. Then he… then he gave your… wife to the barracks. He forced you to watch them rape her and they filled her outstretched hand with coins. Once they were done, he made you go," Jaime whispered. "I-I didn't know what he'd had planned. He made me tell you that she was a whore who never loved you, but it wasn't true."

Tyrion was quiet as he contemplated. He looked like a lost boy seeking reassurance when he locked eyes again. "That didn't happen this time," he whispered.

"No." Jaime shook his head vigorously. "I would never willingly subject you to that hell. That changed you forever. You were certain you could never be loved, but it's not true."

"Tell me her name."

It was just on the tip of his tongue when Jaime shook his head again. "No. You wouldn't be able to marry her. She was not a whore, but she was a farmhand. Nobody. Just… you can find someone. I have faith in you."

Tyrion looked downtrodden, but Jaime plunged forward with the story, in the hopes that it would be enough to distract him. It didn't take him long to become even more confused when Jaime said he found a position as Hand at Daenerys Targaryen's side.

"How did I manage that? You killed her father! I would think she would kill me just out of association."

"She's not evil. She was just a girl trying to find her way and claim her throne back. The throne was all she had. Well, that and her dragons."

"I beg your pardon?" Tyrion said and he leaned forward with yet more wonder and eagerness in her eyes.

"Did I forget to mention she had dragons?" Jaime smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair.

"It sounds like it," Tyrion replied in a mocking tone.

"She had three dragons. In fact, the egg Aemon got is of one of those dragons."

"That's how you're certain it can be hatched."

"Exactly. We don't… really know how she hatched them. Aemon got the details, but I didn't bother. We weren't exactly on cordial terms. She tolerated my presence at best," Jaime said. He bit his tongue to keep from running off on another tangent and was about to continue when Tyrion interjected.

"The Starks have their wolves, Daenerys has her dragons... tell me, brother, do we get lions? I would surely love a lion. The biggest one. I could ride him into battle."

Jaime snorted with laughter. "No, we don't get lions. The Tyrells don't get some kind of killer rose either."

"More's the pity," Tyrion said with a mock sigh.

"Now, where was I?" He launched into another tirade about continuing to stay by Cersei's side even after she blew up the Sept of Baelor and being there when Aemon and his company had brought the wight south for Cersei to see. The subsequent preparing to march the army and then Cersei's betrayal as she threatened him with the Mountain.

Tyrion grimaced. "I see now why you would hate our sister so." He shook his head in sadness. "I must admit, I would never have thought she would go so far."

"If she was still willing to bear bastards instead of Robert's trueborn children, then she was just as capable of becoming that Cersei. Her death is no loss."

His brother looked uncomfortable with his callousness and so he continued on, describing the lost efforts in the North. How the Starks had managed to corner Petyr Baelish and execute him with Bran Stark, the Three-Eyed Raven. They were forced from Winterfell when the numbers became too much but managed to destroy Viserion, to deprive the Night King of his undead dragon. Then Rhaegal had died and finally Daenerys herself while riding the last dragon, Drogon. How Brienne had died escorting the Stark sisters to the Bloody Gate.

"On and on, so many people I knew fell before the Army of the Dead. You were with me until the end. You were the only reason I made it to the end. I'm certain you died in the last fight. I'm just glad the Night King never had the chance to turn you into one of his slaves."

Jaime was grim but he was surprised to see his brother trying to smother a smile. "It's difficult to see how an undead dwarf would be threatening. He probably would've passed me by given the chance." After a moment, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Jaime. I had always wondered how you could turn on our sister like you did. Why you were so grim and dark when previously you had been so full of light and laughter. I thought perhaps killing the Mad King had tweaked you, but your change seemed too severe even for that. And then in Winterfell, you fell into step behind Aemon so naturally, it was like you had been born there. I poked and prodded and became incensed when you resisted telling me your secrets. As has been the case lately, you had good reasons for keeping those secrets."

"Do you understand now why I tried to hang myself?" Jaime asked.

Tyrion was quiet at first. He seemed to be wrestling with something and he slowly began to shake his head. "I think you said you just… woke up in your younger self?"

"Yes," Jaime said with some hesitance, his eyes narrowing.

"How do you know it wasn't a dream?"

Jaime scoffed. "I knew you'd never believe me." He began walking away.

"It's not an unreasonable question!"

"After everything I said, you believe I could make that up?!" Jaime could feel the heat rising to his face and his insides twisted. He continued walking.

"Please, Jaime! This is too unreal to believe."

"I gave you all the answers that I had. I guess we're done here."

"Jaime…"

"You think I would make up losing my swordhand?!" Jaime rounded on him. "How could I have possibly known about Aemon's existence otherwise? Do you think a fucking dream would be enough to do that?"

"I just don't understand how you can be so sure," Tyrion said.

Jaime's face was thunderous. "Because there's an undead locked in a chest in a cell that I've had guarded night and day."

Tyrion's eyes widened and there was real fear. His mouth opened and closed and then he asked, "May I see it?"

"No! You'll have to wait and see with the rest of the realm."

"Jaime… this does explain some… of the peculiarities I've noticed in you. I had never, not once seen you take an interest in the role that father had prepared for you your whole life. But not only did you decide to enter that role, you went head-to-head with father. And you won."

Tyrion sat back against the tree, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and said, "To what purpose? You've kept me at arm's length all of this time, only asking for my advice. Have I proven myself worthy?"

"I thought you had. Maybe that's not the case after all." Jaime glared at him.

"That's not fair. You cannot just spring something so… so… otherworldly and expect me to accept it as truth."

"I expected you would believe your brother," Jaime growled. "I will be sent North before too long. Aemon is going to need another Hand. I thought I would suggest you in my stead, but perhaps I was wrong."

Tyrion's eyes bulged again and he leaped to his feet. "Come again?"

"You were always better at these political games than I. Even now, with all of my knowledge, I barely kept the king's throne out of the grasp of our enemies. In court tomorrow, when Aemon is dispensing his gratitude and bestowing rewards, I am supposed to ask that he make you his Hand."

Tyrion groaned. "I should have known you had an ulterior motive." When next he looked into Jaime's eyes, he asked almost hesitantly, " Are you still going to do it?"

Jaime's lip curled. "I don't see what choice I have. I would trust no other at his side. But if you doubt me, then you'll doubt King Aemon. You need to be in lockstep with him, Tyrion, if you're to keep his reign from crumbling."

Tyrion sighed. "I may not know what to think of this… whatever this is, but I will do my best to bear this burden at King Aemon's side and keep him safe."

"Good." There was quiet again. Jaime's anger had yet to subside and he felt dread pooling in his stomach now at the thought of Tyrion thinking both he and Aemon were touched in the head. Quietly, hesitantly, he said, "We're to have a meeting with the king and Varys now. You may not be officially Hand, but I want you there."

"Of course. I'll meet you there."

They both started walking out of the godswood. Jaime was drained after the long conversation; he was not looking forward to the next one.

"Tell me, brother, do you intend to tell Brienne?"

Jaime staggered. "I had given it some thought, but considering you refuse to believe me..." He gave Tyrion what he hoped was a withering glare.

"You are to marry. You love her. It's as plain as day. But I doubt she understands the depth of your feelings for her. Give it some thought. You would know what's best."

Just when Jaime had removed one earworm from his mind, Tyrion put yet another there. Would Brienne believe his tale? If Jaime had been asked who was the least likely to believe the account of his past life, it would be Tyrion. But would Brienne insist he was making a jape at her expense? It seemed to be the first thought that had risen to her mind with many of their encounters. He found he had no good answers as they walked into the cool shade of the Keep.

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Aemon XXVII

He was surprised to find both Jaime and Varys already there. Instead of being at one end of the table, they simply sat across from each other. Varys, as always, had his hands hidden in his sleeves wearing a perfectly neutral expression. Jaime's hands were out on the table as he was pinning Varys with an unblinking stare. Varys was the first to break, rising to his feet and bowing to him. Jaime acknowledged him with a lazy turn of his head before settling his gaze back on Varys.

"You started the meeting without me?"

"Of course not, Your Grace," Jaime replied in an innocuous drawl.

"Are we ready to begin?"

Jaime frowned at him. "No? Did you forget?"

Aemon narrowed his eyes at him in confusion and then they widened as he heard a knock at the door and Tyrion waddled in. He winced. Of course, Tyrion needs to be here. We need him for these conversations, he thought.

"Your Grace," Tyrion said with a nod of his head, but his smile was wan. If he wasn't mistaken, Tyrion appeared uneasy around him and he wondered if it had anything to do with being let in on the secret. He had proven himself trustworthy, but expanding the circle of those who knew did little to calm Aemon's nerves.

Tyrion situated himself with a sheaf of parchment and readied his ink and quill. "I am ready when you are, Your Grace."

Aemon chose to remain standing as he walked up to the man's side. "Varys, Master of Whispers, although you have been rewarded for ending Petyr Baelish and by extension have permanently disrupted the web of conspiracies he was entangled in, we must question the quality of your work. You are the Master of Whispers and yet not a whisper was said about this threat. Explain yourself."

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace," Varys began with a bow of his head. "I was concerned about the loyalties of the Hand who was serving you at the time. It would hardly be appropriate or helpful if I had been imprisoned in my attempts to save your throne."

Aemon noticed the corner of Jaime's mouth twitch in amusement, but otherwise he was calm and continued to watch Varys silently and carefully. He waited a moment for the scratching of Tyrion's quill to stop and began speaking again.

"If you'd had doubts about Jaime's loyalty, you could have reached out to me."

"You were receiving letters from Lord Jaime, Your Grace. You trust him in such a way that you do not trust me. I doubted my words would be taken for the unvarnished truth. It also would've made apparent to your enemies that I was onto them. I knew very little about Petyr Baelish, but I did know that his own web was as vast as mine." Despite his carefully schooled expression, Varys did smile at his own words.

Aemon flicked his eyes to Jaime again whose amusement had vanished and he was eying Varys like a hawk. "I'm sure you're well aware that we will know if you lie to us. Your words better ring with truth." He felt his frustration mount when Varys' expression never once wavered.

"I remain steadfast, Your Grace."

The silence stretched for a moment as Aemon sized him up. "And your letter?"

"Which one, Your Grace?"

"The letter you sent to the Northern and Riverland forces before the coup. The one with my name signed to it," Jaime growled.

Varys actually looked surprised. "Aha, I had by then figured out where your allegiances lay and knew of your attempts to waylay your father. However, while you made good use of your resources, you lack the necessary little birds to spread your message undetected. I wished to prove my good standing and sent the letter out on your behalf. The North and the Riverlands are bound to trust you now more than ever."

Jaime ground his teeth together but said nothing. There was silence once more until Aemon said, "Are we done here?"

"I think so, Your Grace," Tyrion said. Jaime hesitated, but then gave a nod.

"Lord Varys, you will maintain your position as Master of Whispers. You are not to take matters into your own hands and kill perpetrators. Everyone is to be brought to me for justice. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Your Grace."

"You're dismissed," Aemon said. All eyes followed Varys out the door. At a nod from Aemon, Ser Torrhen closed the door. Aemon turned to Jaime. "Well?"

"He did not lie. He was supremely confident," Jaime replied, an undercurrent of frustration in his voice.

"But he spoke his words very carefully," Aemon acceded.

"I can usually tell when someone is hiding something. It's in their voice. But I think Varys deliberately relied on half-truths so that it would ring like truth."

Aemon narrowed his eyes at him. "Do you think he knows your secret?"

Jaime gave the barest shake of his head, making sure to meet his eyes. "I can't see how. I haven't uttered a single word about it since we arrived in the Red Keep."

"Aha. I thought I had learned all of your secrets, but you're keeping yet another one from me?" Tyrion said with an undercurrent of irritation in his voice.

"And you will continue not to know about it," Jaime shot back.

"That's the way it has to be, Tyrion," Aemon said apologetically, his eyes flicking towards the walls.

Tyrion heaved a sigh, but continued to dutifully take notes. His brow was furrowed as he seemed to look over the notes.

"Anything to add?"

"This letter Varys sent to the Northerners and the Riverlands. It had a dual purpose. If the coup failed, your own treachery towards you father would've been widely known. The Northerners and the Riverlanders are able to give you the benefit now because it worked, but you would have been a source of their frustration. It would have put you in quite the difficult spot, brother."

"Mmhmm," Jaime said, tapping his fingers in irritation. "It would have exonerated Varys and covered him for offering his services to my father then."

Half truths indeed, Aemon thought with frustration. But what could he do? Whether Varys maintained his position as Master of Whispers, his little birds still infested the Keep. Where were they going to find a replacement with an equally established nest, but who could also be trusted? David had been useful, but his web was tiny by comparison. He also simply did not have enough time between healing the citizens and teaching new recruits to be effective. Could he recommend someone? Should they rely on him? Despite the inroads Jaime had made with them and even after paying his respects to their fallen member, he still did not particularly trust the healer. While Aemon hadn't been able to yet spare a moment for a private conversation, he noticed that David kept his distance and he radiated frigid anger.

After the trials, I will seek him out, Aemon told himself.

"Well, it's nearly lunch. Shall I call a meal?"

"Apologies, Your Grace, but Tyrion and I are to dine with Lady Brienne," Jaime said, standing tall and looking smug.

Aemon felt a pang at being reminded of Daenerys's absence, but he smirked. "Very well. Still no word back from the Evenstar?"

Jaime's face did fall. "No, not yet."

"Give it time. I'm sure he'll approve," Aemon said.

"It might've been better assured if I had remained Hand."

"Ah ah, brother, you've already confirmed it with the king. I'm Hand fair and square," Tyrion said playfully, having gathered his materials and started walking towards the door.

Author's Notes:

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