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Chapter 84

Aemon XXIX

He breathed in the cool morning air and smiled as Arya skipped ahead of him towards the training grounds. Olyvar was trying to maintain his dignity as he remained by Aemon's side, but he seemed equally enthused by Arya's high spirits. Ghost was silent and quiet by his side as always. Aemon had broken breakfast with his family, but he and Arya had hurried through it to make it to the grounds with enough time. This was going to be the best part of his day and he would not allow the formal proceedings after lunch to mar it.

The trials against those who had participated in Lord Tywin and Petyr Baelish's coup were to start. These were the minor knights and lords who had been accomplices to both of those men's terrible deeds. He did not expect the trials to take much time. Every single man had been arrested in the act of the coup or ambush except Ser Lyn Corbray. He doubted the people he was about to try had any means of escaping their fates.

Aemon should have slept soundly knowing that the most dangerous men in his kingdom were behind bars, but it had instead been elusive as he thought about Daenerys. He had managed to keep her from the forefront of his mind for a time, but now that her arrival seemed impending, he could think of little else. They had been brutally separated by hers and Drogon's death in the time before. He had been the king then, too, and he'd been forced to bury his emotions and continue to lead his men. There had been a quick ceremony to mourn their dead, but nothing elaborate. Bodies were burned if possible and they had not been able to find anything that looked like her.

His heart had throbbed at the acute feeling of loneliness and loss. It was not all that long ago that her death had left a hollow place in his soul. With the new life, the pain had eased, but the loneliness remained. He had thought that having his brothers and sisters returned to him would fill that void, but right from the beginning, he had felt apart. His siblings did not treat him differently, yet he could not shake it from his mind that they were not really his siblings. Although he had Stark blood and was steeped in the Stark heritage, it was both a blessing and a curse to know he was not a Stark. A blessing because his role as a king could give him the power to change the fates of everyone he cared about, but cursed that he would never be as close to his family as he had been before he'd known. He wondered if the memories of his past life also played a role.

Coming into the new life, he was not a boy of six-and-ten, even if he looked it. As much as he had tried to join Robb and Theon in their shenanigans, he found their petty disputes and raucous behavior childish at best. Despite all that, he had continued to hover around Robb and had done nothing to naysay him. Let him have his fun, he thought. It won't be long before these carefree moments will be a distant memory. For two months before Jaime had shown up with the king, he had still revelled in the time with his cousins. There had been little else to do otherwise. Now, his responsibilities dominated his life, so he'd enjoy what few opportunities he had to spend time with his family.

Arya went over to the wooden swords and picked one up before jumping back into the circle, having clearly found a favorite. Aemon smiled at her antics and sorted through the swords himself. Ghost situated himself in the shade against the wall and watched them from afar.

"C'mon! Hurry up!"

"Settle down. I need to have the best," Aemon shot back at her. He finally walked over to her with a short wooden sword. He was used to larger swords and sincerely hoped he didn't embarrass himself fighting with his cousin. "Did you learn any good moves while I was gone?"

Arya wrinkled her nose. "Not really. Lady Brienne, Lady Maege, and Lady Dacey mostly keep drilling us in the basics."

"Well, the basics are critical to success. A castle can't stand without a solid foundation. The same can be said for sword fighting," Aemon said, dropping down into a stance.

"But I know it already! I want to learn something else," Arya said as she fell into hers. He nodded in admiration that she did appear to be solid on her form.

Arya sprang at him. She was quick and agile but being so small, her swings were wide and she lunged forward too far to compensate for her reach. He merely sidestepped one of these lunges and Arya went sprawling in the sand. He opened his mouth for a quick lesson, but Arya was on her feet and attacking him like a wildcat. She drove him back, but he deflected her every attack. She chased him around the training circle. Her swings became wilder and her face grew red from the effort. Finally, her attack grew so weak that she couldn't bring her sword up in time and he got her in the chest. He hadn't put much strength into it, but it sent her falling back into the dirt.

Despite her panting, she scrambled to get up, but Aemon reached her sword first and picked it up. "Whoa, whoa, slow down there. You don't have to put everything you have into this fight. We have time yet."

"Buh-buh-but that's huh-how I always fuh-fight," Arya said, gasping for breath.

Aemon raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised the ladies haven't corrected you."

"Beg pardon, Your Grace, but most of our fights last only a few minutes. We fight each other, not anyone else," a boy said from the side of the ring. He had pale blonde hair not all that dissimilar from Daenerys. Aemon hadn't any encounters with the boy, but he had been pointed out to him by Jaime.

"Lord Edric Dayne. Good morning," Aemon replied. "So, Arya, you haven't had much training with an adult?"

"No," Arya said, kicking the dirt. "And when we do have training with an adult, they're going slowly and showing us moves, not having a real fight."

"I see. If you'll allow me, it's not wise to chase after your opponent, especially with the persistence that you had. Being quick is an advantage, but your swings were not well-chosen and you were only hoping to get lucky. That's not likely to happen in a real battle. If you can, take your time. Or wear out your opponent like I did with you. You should be studying your opponent's eyes as much as his sword."

Their next fight was much smoother. He was pleased to see his skills hadn't rusted and had no difficulty battling Arya. Aemon even tried for a few light offensive hits that Arya was successfully able to bat away. Then Lord Edric had pleaded for a fight. As he was a few years older and already the squire of Ser Beric Dondarrion, he was able to hold himself for a time, until Aemon decided to end it and had no trouble sweeping Lord Edric's feet out from underneath him.

"I'd like to see you duel Lord Lannister," Edric exclaimed as he got to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes.

"Hardly. I wouldn't want to embarrass His Grace." They turned to find Jaime standing with Pod and Brienne on the sidelines. He wore his characteristic smirk and Aemon saw Brienne flick his ear, which only seemed to amuse Jaime more.

"Oh, don't you worry, Lord Lannister. There will be time enough to show you all I learned in Dorne."

"Looking forward to it, Your Grace."

"Arya, let's go to the godswood and let Nymeria out," Aemon said.

Her face fell a little at the lesson being over, but it shined again at the mention of Nymeria. She whisked away to put her training sword back and waved to Lord Edric Dayne.

At the kennels in the godswood, the dire wolves scratched at their doors and whined to be let out. Aemon felt a pang for them. Since Ghost was his, he hadn't had to suffer being locked in a cage. He pitied the wolves of his cousins, but his uncle had insisted that it was inappropriate to have the wolves in their quarters. They were simply too small. And now that the wolves were more than a year old, they were already the size of regular wolves with yet some growth ahead of them. The Starks' quarters had enough rooms for the family, but the space was otherwise limited. He couldn't imagine all seven of them squeezing in there.

"Should we let Greywind out?"

Aemon couldn't hide his smile that Arya blatantly ignored Sansa's wolf. "I wouldn't want Robb to get upset that we let his direwolf out without permission."

Nymeria immediately got down on her forelegs and began playfully snapping at Ghost who took his own play stance. Then in a sudden spurt of energy she leaped up and sprinted off into the trees. Ghost followed her. Arya giggled as they listened to Nymeria's excited yips and howls as she bowled through the underbrush.

"I wish Nymeria didn't have to be in a cage."

"I do too, but it can't be helped."

"You don't kennel Ghost," she said with a pout.

"I have the king's quarters which are plenty big for him and I." And nothing's quite as safe as having a direwolf at your side, he thought. "Arya?"

"What? Am I in trouble?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Why would you think that?'

"You have that look on your face."

He chuckled. "You're not in trouble. Jaime told me all about you having hidden during the coup."

She worried her lip. "It was the only thing I could think to do. I wanted to warn Robb and Sansa, but they'd never've believed me! I didn't have much time! I—"

"Whoa, whoa. It's okay! You did exactly as you should have."

"You think so?" Arya replied. As happy and carefree as she seemed, Aemon realized that this was something that had been eating at her.

"Of course! You protected yourself and that is what is important. Sometimes you can only look after yourself. You did well."

Her shoulders fell and she gave him a weak smile. They began walking through the godswood. The wolves had disappeared, but they could follow Nymeria's excited noise and the haphazard trail she cut through the bushes.

After a time, Aemon asked, "How did you know to hide?"

Arya immediately looked to the ground and she began to fidget.

He was quiet while he waited for her to speak. When it continued to stretch, he broke it. "Arya?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

Aemon scoffed. "I consider myself your brother. You can tell me anything."

"Swear."

"Hmm?"

"Swear you won't tell anyone," Arya demanded. She was uncharacteristically serious.

Aemon placed his hand over his heart. "On my heart, I will not let anyone in on this secret."

"Even Jaime?"

He smiled. She'd obviously noticed how much time they spent speaking to one another. "Even Jaime."

Arya regarded him for a long moment before nodding and turning away. They continued walking and she kicked at the grass and sticks in her path. "I was asleep, but I was dreaming. I was outside in the dark. There were bars like I was in prison. I heard voices. They got closer. They were chatting. They had been charged to guard the Starks' direwolves and made sure nothing happened to them. That's what they said. It annoyed them because they wanted to be doing something important." She ran her hand through her hair in frustration, grimaced, and began pacing. "There was supposed to be a battle that night, but they wouldn't be fighting in it. They considered ditching their orders to guard the direwolves and go to the battle once they heard it, but they were afraid Jaime would skin them alive if they did. That's when I woke up. My friends Lucille and Edric told me that if there was ever trouble that I should hide in the tunnels. I knew no one would believe me after that. But I felt I had to go!"

Aemon frowned as he tried to piece together what Arya had told him. At the same time, the wolves burst through, their energy spent for the time being as they loped towards them, panting happily with their tongues lolling out of their open mouths. Arya grinned and reached over to drag her fingers through Nymeria's fur as the direwolf passed.

Then he understood. "You saw through Nymeria's eyes!"

Arya shifted and turned away from him.

"You want to hear a secret from me?"

She turned to him, her face skeptical but nodded.

"I can see through Ghost's eyes too sometimes."

Her eyes widened and her own mouth fell open. "I thought I was going as mad as the Mad King," she whispered.

"No, you're not mad," Aemon said, grinning. "Don't you remember Old Nan's stories about how long ago people could warg into animals? It's an ability our Stark ancestors had. We've lost touch with it, but now that we have direwolves, we're starting to feel it again."

"Wow," Arya whispered.

"You have a special bond with Nymeria. Cherish it," Aemon said. He wore a wistful look as he watched Arya pet her wolf. Ghost sidled up to him and he rubbed his ears. I may be a dragon, but I still have Stark blood. Ghost is my wolf and I can see through him. But how near does Ghost have to be? He was quite some distance when he prowled the deserts of Dorne, perhaps even miles. Does the distance matter? An idea was forming in his head and he would have to experiment before he put it into motion.

"Come now. We best get back. I have a meeting I need to attend."

Arya wrinkled her nose. "Already?"

"I'm afraid being king waits for no one."

"Will we ever train again?"

Aemon chuckled. "I'm sure I will find the time eventually. We need to put the instigators and accomplices to the coup on trial first. They'll know better than to mess with us again."

"Are you going to kill anyone?"

For a brief moment, Aemon saw the Arya of old who had grown up bitter and angry… and bloodthirsty. "It depends on how the trials turn out. A king or even a warden does not kill simply to kill. It's about justice. These men who are on trial will have the option of going to the Night's Watch."

"They don't deserve it," Arya muttered bitterly.

"It's not about what they deserve. That is a time honored tradition and it would be remiss of me not to offer it," he said, but he could feel his own bitterness bubble up in response to hers. A haven for traitors, rapists, and thieves, he thought. He knew the value that could be found from the men in the Night's Watch… and the treachery. The Old Bear had been murdered once the disgruntled men outnumbered the good ones. He himself had even died to those traitors who couldn't stomach the thought of the freefolk gaining passage beyond the Wall. He had sent a lot of criminals to the Wall of late. How many more could he send before they outnumbered the honorable ones?

With luck, there will be good men who volunteer once they see the wight, he thought. That was yet another demonstration that would have to wait until after the trials. If he was being honest with himself, he also hoped Daenerys would arrive in time to show her the wight and impress upon her how important she and her dragons would be in the oncoming war. As much as he wished that she would rush to him with a ready smile and open arms, remembering what she was like, he doubted their reunion would be that warm. Even as powerful as she had been in the time before, her demeanor had remained guarded. He would have to exercise patience.

They put Nymeria away and Arya ran off. He turned his boots toward his rooms to prepare for the trials. Once he was freshly bathed, he dressed once more in his Myrish Mail with a night black doublet over the top of it, the Targaryen seal displayed prominently on his chest. The cloak he wore was black on top and red on the bottom. He glared at his crown but dutifully put it on his head. He considered taking his sword briefly, but he did not want to give the impression that he would take heads the moment guilt was declared. He strapped his knife to his side all the same and hoped the cloak would hide it.

Much of the court was already loitering in the throne room. The rumble of their discussion ceased momentarily as he walked unceremoniously from the side door. When he made no show of exacting authority, it started up again. A long ornate oaken table flecked with gold leafing and polished to a mirror shine had been placed in front of the throne.

"Lord Velaryon, Lord Willas," he greeted as he took his place. Both of them made to stand. "Enough of that now."

It had been difficult to find a neutral party to judge the transgressions. Lord Velaryon and particularly Lord Willas had been judged by their work on the small council as rational and dispassionate. He was unfamiliar with most anyone else and trusted that they could perform as judges. A sheaf of documents laid out in front of him. They were arranged in order to make it easy to understand. Jaime and Tyrion had spent the preceding weeks until Aemon had arrived, perusing the evidence and setting aside what was necessary.

He looked for them both. Tyrion was at the front, no doubt wanting a perfect seat. Jaime stood off to the side and Aemon noted with some amusement that he had decided to dress in his Lannister armor, complete with Brightroar at his side. He had no such compunctions about scaring the wits out of the prisoners.

Unlike in Dorne, he'd been given a gavel. The throne room of the Red Keep was quite a bit larger by comparison. He summoned Olyvar who hastened over to him from the first step up to the dais. "Is Jaime ready then?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Then we shall begin." Aemon picked up the gavel and took pleasure in the way the reverberating knocks sounded in the throne room and it fell silent. "Bring forth Ser Lyn Corbray," he commanded.

The far doors opened and Ser Lyn Corbray entered. He wore shackles at his wrist and glared sullenly at the Winterfell soldiers who escorted him down the aisle. The court hissed and jeered as he walked down the aisle. He paid them little mind, but his eyes visibly widened when they fell on Jaime standing off to the side. Aemon had to fight a smirk from his lips as Ser Lyn listed away from Jaime as he mounted the podium. Jaime saw it too and a leonine smile spread across his face.

Aemon allowed the rumbling of the court to cease of its own accord. "Ser Lyn Corbray, you have been accused of conspiracy to commit treason against the crown. How do you plead?"

Ser Lyn stood himself up to his full height. "Not guilty, Your Grace!"

"Very well. What is your defense?"

"I am a Knight of the Vale. Lady Lysa Arryn was concerned about the absence of so many of her Keep's soldiers. With her Uncle Ser Brynden Tully having left for Riverrun, she felt vulnerable in his absence, especially amidst growing reports that the mountain clans were harassing the smallfolk in the valley below and travelers on the road. With there having been no war, she wished to recall the Vale's soldiers to better protect our people. She sent me with full confidence that I would retain her armies."

There was no mistaking Jaime's sneer. Aemon and his fellow judges listened quietly. Willas had picked up a quill to scratch notes on an empty piece of parchment. All was quiet. Aemon would give it to him that his argument had a ring of logic to it. It was simple and… rehearsed. He was tempted to ask the guards if he had been seen practicing in his confinement.

"Sounds reasonable enough. Is there any evidence of these orders?"

Ser Lyn's face darkened. "There was a letter on my person, Your Grace, but it seemed certain persons destroyed it in a bid to find me guilty." He actually dared to disdainfully lock eyes with Jaime. If he expected to stir Jaime's ire, he was sorely disappointed by the amusement he found there.

"Do you have any witnesses you can call to verify?" Lord Willas said with a scrupulous frown.

"Only Lady Lysa. If you could—"

"No. Lady Lysa will be standing trial herself. I suggest you think of another witness," Aemon replied. The court let out a gasp and began muttering amongst themselves until they were brought to quiet once more with a knock of the gavel. "Is there no one else you can call?"

Ser Lyn Corbrary gasped for air like a fish out of water. "Whuh-why… no, what would Lady Lysa be on trial for?"

Aemon knocked the gavel. "You do not ask the questions here, Ser. Do you have any other witnesses?"

Ser Lyn's eyes flashed and he lowered his head like a bull ready to charge and finally snarled, "No."

Aemon ignored the insult of not using his honorific and pulled out a document. "Unfortunately, Ser Lyn, though your defense may sound good, you lack any evidence beyond your word to back it up. Ser Jaime has already proven your word has no worth. Lord Petyr Baelish may be dead, but he wasn't quite fast enough to destroy all of the documents he had collected over the years. Right here, dated five months prior, a letter to him signed… by you." He held up the letter and despite themselves, Ser Lyn and the audience leaned forward to see.

"I shall read it aloud:

Lord Baelish,

Your terms are reasonable. The dragon has a soft heart and there should be no trouble slipping this past him. And should it be the lion instead, he's a brute. All posture and little sense. Once payment is sent I will be on my way.

Ser Lyn Corbray"

The silence that followed the reading was deafening as Aemon refolded the parchment. The blood had drained from Ser Lyn's face as he gaped. His eyes slid once more to Jaime. He swallowed and drew himself up. In a shaky voice he said, "I demand trial by combat."

"Very well. This will be decided by the Gods." He banged the gavel and the Winterfell soldiers began leading Ser Lyn away. Once the crowd was settled again, Aemon called out, "Bring forth Lord Leo Lefford!"

The lesser prisoners were being kept in cells with a modicum of light and comfort, so when Lord Leo Lefford was shuffling down the aisle, he was freshly bathed in clean clothes. However, his eyes were downcast and his was the very spirit of a broken man. When he finally met Aemon's eyes, there was fear and trepidation on his face.

Aemon leveled the same charges. In his defense he simply said, "The Rains of Castamere, Your Grace. I'm sure you're familiar with it."

"That I am. And yet, you don't see me cowering before Lord Tywin now."

"You are either brave or naive," he replied.

"Seeing as how Lord Tywin Lannister is currently sitting in the black cells, I would think it evidence that alliances are cultivated through mutual respect and not fear."

There was only one witness for Lord Leo Lefford. His daughter wore a sky blue dress to match the colors of her sigil. While the ladies in the Red Keep were always determined to dress their best, even Aemon noticed this was a step up in effort.

"I beg, Your Grace, mercy for my father! This was Lord Tywin's plan. My father was merely showing his loyalty to his lord paramount as is demanded of him."

Aemon took in a long breath to cool his temper. "You speak as though your father was merely a pawn in Lord Tywin's plans, yet your family stood to benefit enormously from the coup. The plans all along included the extinction of House Stark with the Boltons, your husband, and his father, being named the new Wardens of the North and taking Winterfell as their stronghold. It is because of Lord Domeric's good sense that you yourself are not up here on trial for your role in the coup." Her eyes widened and she trembled.

Aemon felt a pang at frightening a young lady, but he worked to quash that feeling. He hoped the ladies in the court today would learn that they were not above the law. Lady Lysa would receive her justice in due course as well.

"My lady, I understand that you only wish what is best for your father. However, he will receive the only mercy that is left available to him: he can take the Black. Let him find his honor at the Wall." His gaze fell on Lord Lefford, who was standing aside in a box. His face was full of stress and panic for his daughter.

He was pronounced guilty and his fate would be determined in a few day's time with everyone else. Ser Cortnay Penrose was next. To his credit, he remained blustery and defiant. Aemon had only just finished reading the charges before he demanded trial by combat as well. A pair of knights followed who also demanded their trial by combat. Aemon adjourned court for the afternoon with the expectation that it would restart in the morning, to go through a few more knights who were in the employ of Tywin Lannister. The great lion himself would be tried last.

Aemon faltered for a moment to look at Jaime before tearing his eyes away and hoping he didn't catch his thoughts on his face. Would Jaime be able to stand by and watch his father condemned to death? He couldn't imagine being in such a situation. He and his uncle—who was as close to a father as he could get—had their disagreements, but he would never want to see him dead.

I cannot grant your father mercy, Jaime. He made and slept in a bed of treason. His life is forfeit. No matter how it might pain you, I cannot let that sway me, he thought. Aemon retired to his rooms that evening to contemplate the dragon egg once more and pray for Daenerys' deliverance.

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