Author's Notes: Good day, everyone! I hope you've all had a wonderful week. Thank you, faithful readers, for staying true to this story! Your support means everything.

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Chapter 90

Aemon XXXII

Aemon's spirits were soaring so high that he felt like he was walking among the clouds. Far higher than Rhaegal could currently fly. His dragon was off his leash and flying in front of him at that moment. He still had the ungainly clumsiness of a puppy, but his flying had stabilized in the week since he had hatched. Aemon was still concerned about letting him off on his own, especially with Daenerys' dragons around.

He had yet to meet them and he eagerly awaited the prospect, though he harbored some misgivings. Would they attack Rhaegal? Dragons could obviously be aggressive when they wanted to be, but was that aggression ever exerted on their fellow dragons at all? He hadn't read any such thing in the scant passages Archmaester Marwyn had given him, but the maesters had little more than brief summaries about the dragons that lived before the Doom of Valyria. Marwyn had told him the Citadel harbored ill will toward the dragons and it seemed apparent by the clear lack of interest shown in the writings that were available; they had more information about direwolves than dragons

The dragons that survived Valyria were almost all Targaryen dragons. If dragons were born into the Targaryen family, did they consider their fellow dragons family? He thought about attempting to warg into Rhaegal, but he hesitated. He had not made an overt effort. He had drifted his mind much like he did to warg into Ghost, but when he prodded the sleeping dragon, he had found resistance. Or … less resistance and more like a shield between him and Rhaegal. It was impenetrable. Were dragons intractable to warging? Was he simply much more of a Stark than a Targaryen and that was why? These questions teased him, but the answers were out of his reach.

Daenerys had no ability to warg, but then she did not seem to need it. Her dragons had obeyed her every command. She had never expressed the desire to know the mind of her dragons, at least not to him. Was it simply because she didn't know such a thing might be possible? He would have to consider telling her, but for the time being he preferred to keep the truth of his warging under wraps. He was concerned enough as it was by the rumors Varys had made mention to him that were swirling among the common folk.

Enough of that. I have had troubles upon troubles up to now. I think I can bask in the recent turn of events. It had been over a week since the hatching and he still marveled at Rhaegal. He could not believe that he had managed to hatch the dragon. And then, almost immediately upon hatching, the news had come to him of Daenerys' arrival. After fearing her dead at Tywin's declaration, she was not only whole and alive with her two dragons, but also leading the same army of Unsullied that she'd had before. The Gods were surely good. He'd had to make amends to them after his foul thoughts leading up to the dragon's hatching.

His smile faltered when he thought about the assassins Ser Barristan had mentioned. They had to be the ones sent by Tywin's order. The Old Gods bless Ser Barristan for being there precisely when she needed him, he thought. It seemed Aemon's foreknowledge to send Ser Barristan to Qarth had worked out perfectly.

As far as he could tell, apart from receiving only two dragon eggs instead of the original three, little else had changed for Daenerys and he hoped that was a good thing. She was not any more open than she had been in the original life, but although she had a formidable force and her dragons, she seemed … lesser somehow. He thought perhaps it was the fact that her dragons had not yet reached the size of buildings and therefore she was not nearly as intimidating as she had been. But her formidable personality to meet every challenge head on was still clearly present. It pained him that she was not warmer to him, but Ser Barristan had made mention he had caught Ser Jorah badmouthing him at times. He would have to keep a close eye on that man. It rankled him that he had ensured Ser Jorah a full pardon for his crimes—of which the penalty was death—and yet the man still dared to say a cross word against him. Perhaps both Daenerys and Ser Jorah still needed time to know him. Ser Jorah was not the first to underestimate him and he might very well earn himself the same fate for it if he wasn't careful.

Ser Barristan had resumed his position as Lord Commander and they were currently introducing each of the Kingsguard and rotating them into Daenerys' ring of protection so that she could get to know them and become familiar with their presence. Ser Jorah and her bloodriders would ensure her protection if one of the Kingsguard's loyalties proved false, but Aemon was confident that the last of the untrustworthy bastards had been rooted out. He had faith in his Kingsguard, but he would continue to keep his ear to the ground.

Speaking of which, Aemon thought and his spirits dipped. He was heading toward the godswood to wait for Robb. Although Robb's ire had lightened, he was still terse around him. Aemon didn't understand what could have inspired such distrust, but Lady Margaery had given him a clue that it had something to do with the coup. But what? He had lived with Robb for years as a brother. It was one loyalty that he was certain was a solid foundation that could withstand any hazard, but the ground beneath it had cracked and the foundation had shifted. Something had gone awry and not even his uncle could get through to Robb.

Under normal circumstances, these meetings with Robb were a break from his duties. It was the one time he was able to cut loose and relax, but now it felt like another meeting with yet another lord who wished to broker a deal or ask for small favors. It kept Aemon on edge.

Robb was leaning casually against the tree nearest to the weirwood. He straightened himself up as Aemon approached. "Have you finally deigned to speak with the wolf? I thought you were a dragon only now."

Aemon felt the heat rise in his chest, but he reined it in. "I am and always will be a Stark. You know that. Besides, I still have Ghost. It's not like he has been put out to pasture."

"You could've fooled me," Robb said. His eyes were on Rhaegal who had alighted on the ground. The dragon was barely bigger than a cat, but when he started scrabbling over to him, Robb balked.

Aemon scowled. "Don't be like that. He's not going to hurt you. He's just curious."

"He's going to get bigger."

"Aye, that he will, but not for some time. It's best you become familiar with him when he's young. I want my closest allies to trust him." When Robb only glanced up at him with a cold look, Aemon spoke once more with a hard edge, "Whatever quarrels you have with me have nothing to do with Rhaegal. He's only a baby dragon, not a plotter driving us apart."

"No, you're doing that well enough on your own even before … he was around."

Aemon scooped up Rhaegal and approached Robb and then held out the dragon to him. "Please, just pet him."

Robb kept looking back from the dragon to him and back to the dragon. He sighed, but Aemon thought his anger had softened as he reached up to stroke Rhaegal's neck in the same way that Jaime had.

"Now, what has been troubling you? I know it has something to do with the coup, but you've been dodging it."

Robb bristled again. "I've not been dodging; you've had no time!"

"That conversation during the trials? While you are understandably concerned about Winterfell, that is not what has you so riled. So tell me."

Robb drew his mouth into an angry line and said, "Why does it feel like I was the last to hear about this coup?"

Aemon furrowed his brow. "How do you mean?"

"Lord Jaime had Margaery, my wife, sending battle plans through tea invitations and I was not privy in the slightest about it! It took Domeric growing a conscience and spilling everything in our private room before I even had an inkling. Margaery said that even you knew before you'd even left for Dorne. Am I not a Stark worthy of knowing about the growing threat against my family and my blood?!" By the end, Robb's voice had elevated until he was shouting. He was breathing hard by the end of his tirade and he seemed ready to punch a tree, but he restrained himself.

"Under normal circumstances, it would behoove you to keep your voice down," Aemon began, his own frustration boiling in his heart. He knew his chastisement would get under Robb's skin and he thought he saw a flush creep up Robb's cheeks. "These walls have ears. It's not often wise to speak aloud about secret things, Robb. How exactly did you expect me to tell you?"

"You told Lord Jaime," Robb muttered through gritted teeth.

"Jaime and I have our own ways of speaking to one another and sending messages in code. If it makes you feel better, I didn't even tell Uncle about the threat until we were a week into our voyage to Dorne."

Robb shook his head in frustrated bewilderment. "This is how you treat your closest allies?"

"What would you have me do? The more people who know the secret, the more likely it is to get out," Aemon snapped. "I had to make absolutely sure Lord Tywin and Petyr Baelish didn't get wind of my knowledge or they would've scrapped their plans and slunk back into the shadows. Do you think they'd be dead now if that happened?"

"They were plotting treason! Kings can kill for such things, as you clearly demonstrated," Robb shot back.

"Only if I have proof or everyone would think me as mad as my grandfather." Aemon glared at Robb. "You may forget that your father has told us that a lord or a king has obligations and responsibilities to those who serve under him. I am responsible for ensuring that justice is carried out, but justice can only be fair with evidence. I did what I thought would be the best way to catch these traitors."

"By dangling us as bait!"

Aemon frowned. "I couldn't know for a certainty that they would set their sights on you. I sweated enough over whether or not they'd know of my foreknowledge based on my own behavior. Ever since crowning myself king, I've had to keep one eye looking over my shoulder. I would sooner not saddle you with my burdens as they are mine to bear."

"We're family. We're brothers," Robb said earnestly. "We're supposed to look out for each other."

Aemon cocked his head. "I do consider you my brother, Robb. But you are a brother about to be thousands of miles away in the North. I cannot expect to see you riding over the hill whenever the need is urgent. I need to cultivate my allies here. I need you watching the North."

Robb sighed. "There's little enough of note in the North; we could stay here for a few months yet. Father can return and deal with old Roose Bolton."

Aemon shook his head. "No, there is little reason for you to remain in the south. You are to be Lord Paramount. Father still has much to teach you."

"He still has many years ahead of him," Robb snorted.

"I hope you're right. But you still need to be in the North. The Others are coming, lest you forget."

Robb rolled his eyes. "You spoke of it once in front of the northern houses and haven't spoken of it since. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a ruse."

Aemon glared. "It's not, and you will see for yourself soon enough."

Rhaegal squawked and flapped his wings in agitation. Aemon reached up to soothe the little dragon. "Are we done here? I must feed Rhaegal."

"You're always feeding that dragon."

"Have you seen his cousins? He is in a hurry to catch up."

They started out of the godswood. "Where are they?" Robb asked, looking around.

"Likely still fishing, but we should be careful. They've been staying here for the time being."

Robb was alarmed. "You could have said something!"

"This is still my favorite place to meet. But it's why I wasn't bothered by your shouting. No one's willing to snoop where there may be dragons."