Author's Notes: Happy Halloween! I hope you all are safe if you celebrate the holiday.

On November 1st, 2017, I first put fingers to keyboard and broke ground on the Prologue for The Dragon's Roar. I know many of you have been on this long journey with me for some time and I am so grateful for your patience! I can safely say that I am at least 2/3rds of the way through the story. We've made some real headway, particularly this year. I hope you all continue to read. Your support and your kindness mean so much to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. =)

CatzRko0l is an absolutely wonderful beta! She is a wonderful friend and she makes this work better. Thank you, Catz!

readers: Hopefully, the chapter will post this time. I am uncertain as to why is having such trouble displaying my chapter. I post simultaneously to AO3. If you really want to read the chapter as soon as possible, then I recommend going over there if is not displaying at the appropriate time.

Chapter 83

Aemon XXVIII

He glared at the dragon egg that seemed to mock him with its stillness. It remained as inert and unmovable as a stone. Was Daenerys the only one capable of hatching dragons? Under normal circumstances, that would not bother him in the least. But he was now a king trying to prove his Targaryen heritage and hatching the dragon would allay all doubts about his father.

Aemon had hoped that his very first order of business upon arriving back in King's Landing would be hatching the egg, but it had to be delayed. Yet again. Because Lord Tywin Lannister, Petyr Baelish, and a number of their lesser allies had made an attempt for control of the Seven Kingdoms, actively planning the assassination of not only himself and his uncle, but his cousin Robb. They were to be dealt with and he had no room in his heart for mercy.

His frustration only mounted as he pulled on a black cloak and adjusted his finery. Sweat was already beading on his forehead from the permeating summer heat of King's Landing. He drew in a slow breath as he gently set the crown on his head. As he looked in the mirror, he noticed the irritation in his own eyes and he tried to fix his expression into something less unpleasant. This was his moment of victory after he and his allies had staved off the coup. He was supposed to be thrilled! Victorious!

If only the court was capable of understanding my irritation, he thought. He would have preferred to hide away and go about his business without the spectacle of court, but Jaime and Tyrion insisted that there had to be as equally large an event as the one that took place in his coronation. He had to be seen bestowing rewards for those who were loyal. It didn't make him any happier. Only Jaime seemed to understand. Even despite that, Aemon felt a prickling hot jealousy that Jaime had been able to approach Brienne after the arrest of his father. He walked through the halls towards the throne room and looked out towards the ocean to find the sea serene and calm as if it were mocking him. Daenerys was out there somewhere. Potentially somewhere nearby if the timing could be trusted. She could be mere days away or still weeks. She had to come eventually and his patience for her unknown whereabouts was wearing thin. Jaime had worked hard to temper Aemon's impulse to put together another envoy to send to her, but he would not be able to stop him forever.

The least I can do is prepare King's Landing so that she may be safe upon her arrival, he mused to soothe himself. It was the only thing that motivated him in Dany's absence. With the advent of the coup, he would be able to—in some cases—permanently end his enemies' efforts. That had already happened with Baelish. While he had greatly wished to satisfy his own desire to take Littlefinger's head, he would be content with him no longer conspiring in the shadows. It was one less weight on his mind.

Jaime was waiting for him at the side entrance to the throne room. He was dressed in his Lannister armor, shining gold and red in the morning sunlight. He nodded at Aemon and said, "Your Grace." Both Olyvar and Podrick were dressed in doublets of their house colors and stood stiff at attention, bowing to their king.

"Not you too," Aemon grumbled.

"Protocol must be followed," Jaime said as a smirk grew on his face.

"I beg of you, all of you, when we're alone you may call me Aemon."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Aemon kept his exasperation to himself and turned to Jaime. "Are you ready?"

The growing smirk dropped from his face and a shadow crossed his eyes, but he gave a curt nod. They had spent the day before meeting with each of the individuals to discuss their reward. There had been much discussion about whether the Tyrells would be rewarded as a whole family or individually. Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, Ser Garlan, and Ser Loras had all had a part to play, varying in significance and importance. Arguably, Lady Olenna had orchestrated the plan and deserved the highest reward. Lady Margaery had done an admirable job of bringing the allies together in a timely fashion which meant the coup could no longer be a surprise. And then Ser Loras and Ser Garlan played their parts leading the forces against Lord Tywin's army.

Aemon hesitated a moment to gather his wits. He tipped his head back and stood up straight. With a final deep breath, he pushed open the side door and strode out into the throne room. The conversation instantly ceased, much to Aemon's surprise and pleasure. He ascended the stairs to the throne and sat quietly. He kept his expression neutral as he surveyed the crowd for a moment.

Jaime had followed him out and stood below, facing the crowd as well. His and Tyrion's rewards would be given later and until then Jaime had insisted on being at the front. What Jaime was looking for, Aemon could not say, but he imagined he was hoping to find more perpetrators. Or perhaps he was there to remind everyone that he would not tolerate liars at court. Whatever the reason, he appreciated that he was not alone standing and facing the crowd.

Podrick and Olyvar stayed on the other side of the door, preparing to deliver the rewards that had been decided upon. Apart from Daemon Sand, all of the Kingsguard were lined up on either side of the throne. They were close enough in the event someone attempted him harm, but far enough away to not be a focus for attention.

This promised to be a long day and he had set the servants to cooking up a feast that evening to celebrate the victory over the coup. The next few days would be spent putting his enemies on trial.

His uncle stood with the rest of his family on the left side of the hall. While his uncle seemed fatigued, he drew himself up and nodded at him proudly. His cousin, Robb, was giving him what appeared to be a perturbed smile. He should talk to his family shortly, especially Arya. Now that their father had returned, Arya was at court, dressed appropriately, and looking plainly bored and unhappy. Since Lady Margaery was standing next to Robb, the rest of her family had joined her to stand in solidarity together. Ser Garlan and Ser Loras Tyrell were looking serious, Lady Margaery was beaming as usual, and Lady Olenna wore a knowing smile.

As he swept the hall, a few more faces leaped out at him including Lady Brienne, Lord Alexandratos, and his wife Delphine. The bulk of the Shepherds were attending court as well. Any air of celebration had left them untouched as they all stared up at him glumly. David in particular looked unhappy and he was doing a poor job of hiding his glare. He and Jaime would have to find a time to speak with him as well.

Prince Oberyn and Sarella were positioned near at hand to the Shepherds. Even from that distance, Aemon could see Sarella casting yearning glances at them and, if he was not mistaken, sidling ever closer to them before shifting her eyes forward. He hoped the Shepherds would embrace her; he would be able to count that as another success in cementing Dorne has a reliable ally.

"Good morning," Aemon called out. "As you are aware, a few weeks ago, certain men, namely Lord Tywin Lannister and Master of Coin Petyr Baelish, sprung a coup they had been planning since I officially claimed the throne. Their goal was to assassinate me and the Stark leadership, beginning with my cousin, Robb Stark. They failed. It is in no small part that they failed because of the efforts of the people I shall be rewarding today."

Aemon nodded at the Master of Ceremonies.

"Ser Daemon Sand," he announced.

Ser Daemon Sand strode forward with a strut characteristic of Prince Oberyn Martell. He was already dressed in his kingsguard whites and he grinned. He dropped to his knee and bowed his head.

"Ser Daemon Sand, you have been chosen to become a kingsguard. Prince Oberyn Martell sings of your prowess in battle and you are said to have unmatched skill with the spear. Your mettle was tested and proven in the ambush by Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Leo Lefford, and Lord Corbray Penrose, slaying no less than ten people in defense of your king. Are you ready and willing to commit to the kingsguard?"

"I am, Your Grace," Ser Daemon declared, raising his head to look Aemon in the eye and then dropped it again.

Aemon stood and descended, withdrawing his sword from his side. Carefully, he set the sword on the knight's shoulder.

"Ser Daemon Sand, I charge you to protect the king and any future family members from harm." Aemon hesitated. Jaime had advised him from doing this, but it was a just cause and dear to his heart. For the sake of the future of the Seven Kingdoms, he had to make it clear that the king should be dealt with if he abandons his own duty to serve the realm. "...even from the king, if the king is attempting to commit injustice against your knightly vows."

A murmuring hum filled the throne room. Everyone knew the words by heart, yet these words were altered. Ser Daemon Sand actually faltered, glancing up at Aemon in confusion and curiosity. Aemon could only imagine Jaime's expression twisted in disapproval.

"I charge you to obey the king, to keep his secrets, to give him counsel and to keep silent when not, to defend his name and his honor. As well, I, the king, may not command you to commit a deed that will bring dishonor either to your title or your name."

The hum of interest only increased, but Aemon paid little attention to the court. The heat of the King's Landing sun became unbearable as sweat soaked his clothes and the air burned in his lungs as if on fire.

"Do you accept these vows, Ser Daemon Sand."

"Yes, Your Grace. I swear."

"Rise, Ser Daemon Sand, Knight of Kingsguard." He did so. His face was now solemn, but there was still a curious spark in his eyes. "Join your brothers."

The audience began clapping upon Aemon telling Ser Daemon to rise. Aemon turned to climb to his throne once more and he glanced over at Jaime. His face was notably flat, but he appeared to be exasperated instead of furious. No doubt he was going to hear about it after court.

He settled himself on the throne and after giving himself a moment, he nodded to the Master of Ceremonies again.

"Ser Callum and Geoffrey of the Shepherds!"

They both walked forward carrying the Shepherd's sadness with him. Neither smiled as they knelt in front of Aemon. Geoffrey shifted and tilted his head a few times as if distracted.

"Ser Callum, Geoffrey. You both and your companion, the late Vicente, served Lord Jaime Lannister and, by extension myself, faithfully. Vicente put himself in peril every day in his work with Petyr Baelish. You all aided in the arrest of Lord Tywin Lannister and saved my cousin Robb from certain death."

Aemon rose once more and went down to their level. Olyvar and Podrick came forward bearing cushions. One boy had two medals and the other had one. One side of the medal had the engraved image of the Targaryen Seal and the other side bore a set of words that made them specific to the event:

Outstanding service to:

King Aemon Targaryen I

For standing against the attempted Lannister Coup of 299 AC

"You will both receive a new set of armor; you will all receive a Gold Medal of Outstanding Service to the King." Aemon picked up the silken tie used to hold the medal and placed one over each of their heads. "Rise." Once on their feet, Aemon picked up the last medal and held it out to Ser Callum who gently enfolded it in his hands.

"I am sorry for your loss. Vicente was a good man and his life ended far too soon. Did Vicente have a family he was caring for?"

"A sister," Ser Callum spoke too softly to be heard by the court. "She's here with the rest of the Shepherds. Her name is Sarisme."

"Does she wish to come forward?" Aemon asked.

They both gave the barest shake of their heads. "She's… shy."

"Very well," Aemon said. He raised his voice to the court, "For Vicente's kin, I will ensure that they are forever cared for, never lacking for food or a roof over their heads. May the Gods, the Old and the New, watch over you," Aemon said.

"Thank you, Your Grace," they both replied with a solemn tilt of their heads and then retreated back towards the Shepherds.

The medal had come about as a result of the Tyrells being so difficult to find anything to reward. What does one give a family who already have everything short of the gold of Casterly Rock? Favors. But they still needed something far more tangential to parade. They similarly had trouble rewarding Ser Callum because he had insisted that no reward was necessary. A mere token of appreciation was considered the compromise.

Prince Oberyn and Sarella were also called forward and rewarded the new medals for their valor on the battlefield. A handful of soldiers were raised to knights and half a dozen knights were rewarded the medal as well. The soldiers were given a choice of having a new set of armor or a new weapon. The arms and armor for the dead Lannister soldiers would be melted down and made anew to serve as these gifts. They were each to bear a unique engraving of the knight's name and the initials of the battles they prevailed.

After the various knightings and doling out of rewards, Aemon called for lunch. He and the rest of his family took it in the private dining room. Aemon hoped he might be able to get the proper conversation he was hoping for with Robb. Even as servants were placing the dishes for their meal, Aemon noticed Robb appeared distracted and not by Lady Margaery for once.

Margaery was the first to speak. "Your Grace, I must say I think the idea behind presenting a medal is ingenious. It readily distinguishes those who stepped forward as your allies and grace them with such a sign of respect. I think it will be a reward that shall become tradition in the future."

Always with the flattery. "Thank you, my Lady. I hope those who are bestowed with the medal will treat it with the respect you suggest." He was under no such delusions that a good portion of the knights in particular wouldn't sell it off immediately for a quick coin.

Once everyone had been served, Aemon kept a weather eye on Robb. He ate his meal, but he seemed to have to exert an effort and he was no longer smiling and exuberant as he usually was. "How's your meal, Robb? I thought you were partial to venison."

In an instant, he saw Robb glare at him before he smoothed over his expression and said, "I would prefer it with a bit more flavor. I don't think it's quite as good as the cooks in Winterfell."

"It shouldn't be long now before you're returning to Winterfell," Aemon replied, cocking his head curiously at Robb.

"About damn time," Robb snapped.

"Robb!" Both his uncle and Lady Margaery were aghast.

His anger didn't soften. "I was beginning to wonder if you cared at all about Winterfell."

Aemon scowled. "Of course I care! But Winterfell is yet months away and will not be dealt with for some time! I am king, Robb. I have to bring all of the kingdoms in order, not just safeguard the North."

"Your first loyalty should be to the North," Robb hissed.

"Robb! You are acting out of line," his uncle snapped, his face actually reddening with anger.

"As soon as he became king, it all went to his head, Father! He didn't even make you Hand. You're his uncle!"

Aemon gritted his teeth and growled through them. "I did not make Uncle my Hand because he is needed in the North!"

"Then pick someone else! You don't have a single Northerner on your small council," Robb shouted.

"Robb, that is enough. You will defer to your king and apologize," his uncle ordered.

"Tell me, Robb, which Northerner do you think would be willing to damn near abandon their home and stay in the south to be on my small council?" Aemon demanded.

Robb opened his mouth, but his eyes drifted and the anger started to leave them.

"That's what I thought."

"Robb, apologize! Now," his uncle barked.

With a last grudging glare, Robb stormed out.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," his uncle responded curtly and went after Robb.

"My apologies, Your Grace," Lady Margaery said, looking meek and uncomfortable.

"You have nothing to apologize for and I would not expect for you to speak on Robb's behalf," Aemon said with a sigh.

"He has been wroth lately. I believe the coup upset him," she said imploringly.

Aemon narrowed his eyes. What message was she trying to pass to him? The coup had been averted after all, though Jaime mentioned that he'd forced Robb to hide with the girls underneath the Red Keep. That would injure anyone's pride. He would have to find a way to speak to Robb.

He turned to Arya. "I know you don't like the proceedings, but the feast tonight will be one of a kind!"

Arya sighed. "I just wish I could stand with Lucille and Edric."

Aemon grinned. "And allow your antics to interrupt the ceremony? I don't think so."

"I can be quiet," Arya cried. When Aemon gave her a knowing look, a blush came to her cheeks and she grumbled, "It's been so dull here. No one's doing anything! We haven't had a good training session in two days!"

"Tell you what. I'll find you first thing tomorrow morning and we can train for a little bit. I haven't been able to train in over two weeks," he said.

She perked up at that.

"Sansa?"

Sansa smiled sweetly. "It's lovely, Your Grace! I am so grateful to all of the men who stood by your side when it mattered. It is very generous of you to reward them so." Her smile faltered. "I am concerned about Winterfell. What of mother, Bran, and Rickon?"

"I told you, sweetling, your mother took Rickon to Riverrun with her to see her father. Bran is the only one who remained in Winterfell with Jojen and Meera Reed, and the Lannister bastards," his uncle said, looking as troubled as ever.

"But poor Bran," she said. Her face was stricken and he could see her lip trembling as though she were on the verge of crying. "He's unable to see and is being held prisoner."

"Yes, it's something to be concerned about. Roose Bolton will have to answer for his crimes. The most important thing is to get Bran and the other children back safely," Aemon replied. Sansa's answers reminded him very much of the withdrawn older counterpart he had met in his later life after all of her years of suffering. She was not, by any means, as menaced here, but he had a feeling that having to be woken in the middle of the night and stashed away for her safety while a battle raged would be frightening. Sansa had never had to endure a single hardship in her life.

The impending march to free Winterfell would mean another split in the Stark family. With Sansa betrothed to Willas, she would not be returning to Winterfell and would live in the Red Keep until her marriage. But what of Arya? Aemon was concerned for where she would fall. His uncle would be apt to take her back North, but only to have her marry into one of their northern allies. He and Lady Catelyn would not tolerate her reticence. Knowing that, would she want to return North? Or would she prefer to stay in King's Landing. She had friends here, so perhaps she would be more inclined to stay. But to what purpose?

Everyone returned to the throne room to continue the awarding announcements. There weren't all that many left, but they were those who had done him the greatest service. For protocol, Jaime left his spot in front of the throne. It was only Aemon and his kingsguard peering on. Aemon had to ignore the simmering anger he felt at seeing Robb being cross with him.

"Lord Varys, Master of Whispers," the Master of Ceremonies called.

Varys strode down the aisle at his usual measured pace, his face was carefully drawn into a neutral expression and his hands remained in his sleeves. He bowed.

"Lord Varys, you were able to trap and corner Petyr Baelish, who boosted a rather extensive list of crimes against the crown: treason, conspiracy, thieving from the kingdom's very treasury. You killed him, but I am willing to pardon you for your reasoning to deliver him on behalf of the crown. You shall be awarded a Gold Medal for Outstanding Service to the King."

"Lord Jaime Lannister."

Jaime swept brusquely up to the throne and sank to one knee with the fluidity of a snake. He wore a black cape of his own with the Lannister sigil on the back, wearing his red and gold armor.

Aemon could not keep the growing smirk from his face. He allowed the moment to linger in the hopes of ruffling his friend. He would give it to Jaime that he had made great strides towards controlling his temper and his restlessness. Jaime, as always, looked untouched and pristine.

"Lord Jaime. You have served as my Hand faithfully for a year. You stood up to your father. When he would not heed your good sense, you continued to champion my claim. You sent me letters with information and warnings, which saved my life and the lives of those in my company. On the night your father intended to make good on his threats, you were there to intercede and arrest him for his treason." Although Jaime remained stolid throughout Aemon's recall, the rest of the court erupted into hushed whispers. Aemon waited until the whispers once more quieted. He could only imagine the rumors that had been circulating about what happened that would make the son choose his king over his own father. "I can only imagine how difficult that was."

"For the realm, Your Grace, and for the peace that you have brought with your ascension," Jaime replied smoothly.

"Your loyalty is to be admired, Lord Jaime," Aemon said. He couldn't keep his eyes drifting over to his uncle who appeared a tad chastened at his words. "What can I do to reward you for it?"

"If I may, Your Grace?" He rose to his feet. "I wish to resign my position as Hand of the King." The court erupted.

The Master of Ceremonies tapped his staff and its sound boomed through the room until silence fell. Even despite their plan, Aemon felt his heart race. No matter how much Jaime spoke of his inadequacies, they had proven to be a formidable team. But as the political landscape had shaped up in the couple of days since Aemon's return, it was becoming clearer that Jaime would have to be sent elsewhere. The King and the Hand could not both constantly be gone if the kingdom had a hope of working.

"With my father having committed treason, I must now step up and take his place as Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock. I must return home to manage my house and its lands."

"It grieves me to hear you say that, but I must insist that you remain a member of my Small Council. I will henceforth create the position Master of War. In the event that a larger threat should ever visit these shores, you will have command of all Seven Kingdoms' armies and resources to direct as needed."

Aemon was surprised when his declaration was met with only stunned silence.

"I would be honored, Your Grace," Jaime replied with a short bow of his head. "If I may, Your Grace, I would ask for that favor."

"Name it."

"I wish for my brother, Tyrion, to take my place as Hand at your side." This declaration was met with a rumble of chuckles. Even Jaime turned to glare and the mirth was stifled. "He is intelligent and capable. I believe you will be more than pleased with him as my replacement."

"Tyrion, come forward," Aemon called.

The dwarf had taken a place right at the front to be able to see the proceedings and was by Jaime's side in a matter of moments. "Your Grace," he said and bowed.

"Tyrion, your brother elaborated to me that you had a role to play in stopping your father and the coup as well."

"I did what I could, Your Grace," he said.

"You shall also be rewarded for your efforts. It would please me to accept you as Hand of the King in your brother's stead. You will replace Lord Jaime officially as Hand when he departs King's Landing."

"Thank you, Your Grace. It would be my honor to serve," Tyrion replied, bowing once more.

Once they had retreated, the Master of Ceremonies called out yet more names, "Ser Garlan Tyrell, Ser Loras Tyrell, Lady Margaery Stark!"

Instead of going down the aisle one by one, the Tyrell siblings were in line with each other, with Margaery's brothers on either side of her as if they were a pair of guards. Ser Garlan and Ser Loras both had decided to wear their armor to court while Lady Margaery's dress was green with silver trimmings. Even Lady Margaery curtsied to the floor and stayed there with her brothers.

"Ser Garlan and Ser Loras, you actively led Tyrell forces against Tywin Lannister's at the coup and in the ambush at Salt Moss cove. Both of you were instrumental in ensuring that Tywin and Petyr Baelish did not succeed.

"Lady Margaery Stark." Aemon paused for a moment as he considered her. She had initially left a foul taste in his mouth in their first conversation. She had been coy and careful, but he felt her attempt to insinuate herself into being his queen had been unmistakable. It had certainly made him wonder if he could ever trust their motivations. Perhaps even now he was being foolish for letting his guard down, but his continued suspicions would only serve to make him appear as paranoid as his grandfather.

Whatever his initial feelings about Lady Margaery, he had made a token effort to smooth any ruffled feathers before her marriage to Robb. He had left for Dorne immediately after their marriage and hadn't been able to see how the two got along. Jaime certainly hadn't mentioned it in any of his letters because it was hardly of concern with his father and Baelish committing secondhand murders and sowing doubt into his claim. His dinners with his Stark family showed there to be genuine affection between the two. They continued to remain close to one another even after having been wed for months now.

And now Aemon had to confront the fact that Lady Margaery specifically had been integral to catching Lord Tywin and killing Baelish.

"I understand you made a valiant effort in preparing the North and the Riverlands for the eventuality of a coup. It made it impossible for Lord Tywin to catch the whole of the Red Keep off guard. It saved an innumerable number of lives, including my cousin and your husband, Robb Stark.

"You will all be awarded the Medal for Outstanding Service. I will also bestow upon you one favor each that I will fulfill to the best of my abilities," Aemon proclaimed. They were not really open-ended favors that could net any of the Tyrells anything they wanted. Aemon, Tyrion, and Jaime had spent some time hashing it out and making clear the stipulations to the Tyrells so that they would refrain from asking for half of the kingdom. As it was, neither Lady Margaery, Ser Garlan, or Ser Loras knew what they wished those favors to be and would save them to be called upon later.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lady Margaery said, rising to her feet. "Your magnanimity knows no bounds. It was and will continue to be an honor to serve you."

They departed.

"Lady Olenna Tyrell!"

She was the last person to award. They had decided to reward her separately from the rest of her family to put emphasis on her role as the key person who brought about the downfall of Tywin and Baelish. She walked down the aisle at her own sedate pace, but her head was tipped back and there was no hiding her superior smile. She barely dipped when she reached the front and did not sink to the floor like her granddaughter, not that he had expected her to.

"Lady Olenna, you made an effort to fool Lord Tywin and Petyr Baelish into believing that they had your support, to which you then turned on them and made sure that they would be caught in a trap of their own devising. You showed loyalty, patience, and diligence in making sure the two were caught and that my family was secure."

"Thank you, Your Grace," she said, giving him a slow nod and peering up at him keenly. "I did what was necessary for the realm and its stability. I knew they would never stop trying to undermine you. Their scheming would have served their purposes and would have caused the realm to fracture. For the sake of my grandchildren and the safety of their children, they had to be stopped. And it was fun outwitting that old lion."

Aemon had to struggle to keep his face straight at her grandiose speech. He rather doubted that she had such ideal notions at the time, but he would thank the Old Gods that she appeared to have been deflected from that path. No matter her reasoning, she had done the right thing in the end. He would make sure she was properly awarded for it.

"And stopped they have been because of your efforts," Aemon replied. "Thank you. This kingdom is in need of individuals with such intelligence. I would offer you the position of Mistress of Coin on my small council."

The court actually erupted into shouts of indignation. The ladies were shocked and much of the men were outraged.

"Your Grace, you can't—"

"Scandalous!"

"Women do not be—"

"Silence!" Aemon roars, leaping to his feet from the throne. The noise died, but the court was shifting and the atmosphere had turned volatile. Lady Olenna had stood silently through it all, never wavering.

"There is no law that prohibits a woman from serving on the Small Council. I have confidence that she can serve as intelligently and as faithfully as any man. Petyr Baelish was Master of Coin after all and he showed his true colors as a traitor." A few people dared to shout their rage but they fell silent when Aemon raised his eyes to them again. "Do you find that acceptable, my lady?"

She smiled. He thought that much of her superiority had disappeared behind true gratefulness. "I do, Your Grace. It would be an honor to serve as Mistress of Coin."

Aemon nodded. "I look forward to working with you and bringing the realm to a stronger place. Court is adjourned!"

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

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