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Chapter 101

Aemon XXXVI

"You sent for me, Your Grace?"

Aemon regarded David stolidly from behind his desk. The healer was standing with stiff formality, but his face was composed and unreadable. Aemon let the silence linger, cocking his head with curiosity as if he thought the new angle would reveal what he wanted to know.

Just as soon as he had made up his mind to ask David to snoop on Lord Varys, Daenerys had come to him to ask him about the healer.

Aemon frowned at her in confusion. "What about him?"

"I've seen him before," she said with quiet confidence.

He blinked at her. "Really? Whereabouts?"

"I think I mentioned that I was a guest in Magister Illyrio Mopatis' manse. I remember now walking through the courtyard and seeing Magister Illyrio seated at the table and David sitting across from him. They looked at me, but then paid me no mind. I didn't think much of it at the time, but seeing David brought it back to my mind," Daenerys said.

Aemon's frown deepened. "Passing strange that you would have a brush with him there. I know he's not particularly keen on nobility. Doesn't much trust them. Do you remember what they were talking about?"

Daenerys shook her head. "It was so long ago; I cannot recall." She sighed in frustration, "I just found it peculiar. I've had many people come into my life and pass out of it, never to be seen again. I think he is the first to make a reappearance."

Truly, what are the odds? Aemon thought, rubbing his chin. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll be sure to ask him about it."

She had then smiled at him and taken his hand to lead him out to the balcony where they could watch their dragons.

Despite the conversation being done, the news had plagued him. Were the Gods trying to tell him something? Surely they knew of his determination to reunite with Daenerys. It seemed a perfect opportunity for her to have been freed from marrying this Khal Drogo. So why hadn't they prevented the marriage? Then again, the Gods have not been precisely … present, he mused.

Aemon had thought the Gods had all but abandoned him on that fateful day when Jaime was condemned to be executed. Yet he had found a way. He hadn't thought much beyond it being a combination of blind luck and his uncle's loyalty. But was it really? His mind had started going around in circles trying to ponder it, so he had put it to the back, but it still lingered.

He had hoped even just seeing David would somehow illuminate the truth, but he seemed unconcerned regarding what reasons he had been called here.

"Healer David, Princess Daenerys tells me that you met in Magister Illyrio Mopatis' manse. Do you care to shed light on what you were doing there?" Aemon asked.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I did not 'meet' Princess Daenerys. I merely saw her in passing," David replied, but he otherwise appeared unmoved by the question.

"Noted. Well?"

"You know my history, Your Grace. The Shepherds survive on the patronage of the nobility. Lord Lannister is not the first patron I have catered to."

"You were there to set up patronage with Magister Illyrio?"

"Of course, for the people of Pentos."

"What happened?"

"I rejected the terms and we boarded a ship for Westeros," David said. "I didn't want to risk the Magister's ire by lingering."

"Why did you reject them?"

David's composure finally broke and he scowled. "The Magister was preparing to host a khalasar. A khalasar! Do you know how many people I've treated after those brutes finished sacking their town and murdering their loved ones? Far too many to count! I will not tolerate their presence, especially since it means the victims—what's left of them—will be sent to me to patch up. Filthy savages," David snapped, his face thunderous.

Aemon could tell that his anger was genuine, but he still watched him carefully. It was times like this he wished Jaime could be on hand to let him know if the words he spoke were the truth or if there was yet more he was hiding. Then again, Jaime's abilities had failed him at Tywin's trial when Tywin had declared Daenerys dead. Jaime could only see the truth in the words someone believed, whether it was true or not. He sighed, but became resigned.

"You do realize that there was no way to know that our paths would cross."

Aemon glanced up from his desk to stare at him. David's anger was gone and he was now giving him a knowing look.

"Even if I had known, I would not have dared attempt it. Magister Illyrio Mopatis is not someone to be trifled with. He is not the most powerful man in Pentos because of his generosity. I doubt my ship would have even made it out of port and the entire Shepherds would've been slaughtered. I wouldn't risk that for a single girl, even if she is a princess."

Aemon huffed. "Of course, I'm aware!" But stranger things have happened of late, he wanted to say but bit his tongue. "Why wouldn't you tell me you had seen her?"

David knitted his brow in confusion. "Your Grace … what … how-how would that have mattered? We met many months after I saw her. It would have been only empty words."

"It simply would have been reassuring to know that her whereabouts were accounted for not all that long ago. That she was still alive at all would have been a comfort."

"Not if she ended up perishing alongside Prince Viserys," David said.

Aemon gave him a withering glare, but he knew the healer was right. David's words certainly would not have been able to counter Lord Tywin's when it really mattered.

"Will that be all, Your Grace?"

"No, I brought you here for another matter as well."

David raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Aemon slid the folded piece of parchment forward on his desk.

David pursed his lips but hesitantly picked it up and opened it. He closed it again, shaking his head and chuckling.

"Well?" Aemon asked.

"This will cost you."

"Name your price."

"Up front."

"You forget yourself, healer," Ser Barristan growled from his position behind Aemon, but Aemon lifted his hand to stop him.

"Name your price."

"Lord Baelish's brothel. I want it."

Aemon frowned at him. Lord Baelish had died with no heirs and an enemy of the crown, so it had fallen into the holdings of the king, but he had little use for brothels. "Is it empty?"

"No, the women working for Lord Baelish still run the business," David said.

"What are your intentions? Are you going to use it for your healing clinic?" Although Aemon did not altogether approve of the prostitution business, it curdled his insides at the thought of throwing those poor women out onto the streets.

"Perhaps at a later date. But right now, the guards in Lord Baelish's employ have abandoned the girls. This has caused them quite a lot of harm. There's been more than one nasty run-in with those pirates, but they have nowhere else to go. So I will take over the business."

Aemon's eyebrows flew into his hair. "I never took you for the type to run a brothel?"

"It's good money. I will no longer have to abide by patrons."

"Not keen to stay under Jaime?"

"Would you like to be subject to him? He's not the worst sort, but he only treats you and Lady Brienne, I suppose, with any sort of respect."

"He respects you."

"Grudgingly."

Aemon had to concede that point. Jaime was a prickly and pompous ass. His friend had told him it was bred into him, that he was expected to be haughty, arrogant, and ruthless to be taken seriously as Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. Aemon had his doubts, but he would not deny that Jaime's ability to savage miscreants with his words when he himself couldn't had served their cause well.

"The brothels aren't just something that I can give away. I have to bring it up with the council," Aemon said.

"I will not start work until payment is delivered," David said, crossing his arms and staring down his nose haughtily.

Aemon chewed his lip and felt sweat beading on his forehead at the thought. It was imperative that the council not know that the brothels were intended as payment, since Varys himself was on the council. David had already been rewarded for his efforts for the coup and it would seem odd to further reward him for seemingly nothing.

"Impose a tax on prostitution."

"Hmm?" Aemon looked up at him.

"As I said, prostitution is good money. I could be assigned as a custodian for the brothels, as long as I paid a certain cut towards the kingdom's coffers."

Aemon was silent. It would be rather uncouth for a portion of the taxes to be generated specifically from a whorehouse.

"Your coffers are near empty. I imagine the Mistress of Coin would leap at the opportunity to have the coin from a place other than her house's purse," David said.

"Very well, I will bring it up with the council. However, if the council decides not to give you the brothels …."

"I'll consider other options, Your Grace," David replied with a coy smile.

Aemon sighed and nodded.

With that David turned and left the solar.

"I mislike him, Your Grace. To serve the king should be its own reward," Ser Barristan growled.

"Ser Barristan, I appreciate your loyalty, but David did not grow up as a noble, merely as a servant. He risks his life and that of his kin to do my bidding. I would not begrudge him chasing coin where he needs it. His loyalty may be more to the people than to me, but that is still a boon to my legacy," Aemon said. There was a gnawing feeling on his heart as he fretted about what other sort of payment might appease the healer if the first option fell through.

"Loyalty bought with coin can easily be lost by it," Ser Barristan replied.

"True enough, but I've never had the impression that David's loyalty could be bought or he would not have so much difficulty with Jaime," Aemon chuckled. Indeed, it was easy to see why David would not wish to be beholden to the likes of Jaime Lannister any more than he had to be. He could never imagine a maester sanctioning a brothel.

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Jaime XXXIII

"Are you sure you want me here?" Brienne asked him.

He stared at her like she had requested to become a whore in a brothel. "Of course I do! You're family now, after all. There's no escaping it."

She snorted and gave him a crooked smile. "I'm still not used to this sort of consideration. These kinds of talks have always been a man's domain." He could see an undercurrent of green in her reply.

"We're married and you're a fighter, so it's our domain," Jaime replied.

"Very well. I look forward to meeting your uncle."

"Don't be that excited because I doubt he's going to be happy to see you," Jaime said, frowning in irritation at the thought. His Uncle Kevan had returned from routing the Ironborn a week's past, just in time to watch their wedding ceremony. He could only imagine his uncle's dismay and it filled him with glee since this would be the closest he'd get to seeing his father's reaction to Brienne becoming Lady Lannister. Jaime had often wondered if his father in the life before had ever reached a point where he simply wanted his heir to marry, the Gods be damned whom.

Unfortunately, the wedding preparations and the wedding itself had squeezed out any chance for a meeting. Then Aemon had been focused entirely on the wight and making sure all the preparations were in order and that they had sorted out the announcement. As usual, Jaime was assigned the task to verbally nip at the heels of anyone who expressed doubts. He now had the opportunity to collect news from the Westerlands about the Ironborn threat and outline his plan going forward.

Still dressed in her armor from training earlier in the day, Brienne made to stand by his desk.

"Do you need anything? Wine? Water?"

She blinked at him. "I can retrieve it myself."

"Nonsense. You're my wife; it's my duty now to dote on you."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Water then."

He smoothly turned for the pitcher on the back bureau and poured her a goblet, which she sipped from. He poured his own goblet and allowed himself to indulge in the view. Brienne's eyes were bright and clear; there was still a lovely flush and a sheen of sweat from her training in the yard. She was guarded, but he didn't think he'd ever seen her so happy. She had also started to become a more active participant in bed, which only heightened his pleasure. She suddenly locked eyes with him and a flush spread to her cheeks as if she knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jaime chuckled and then a knock dragged his attention to the door. "Enter," he said.

His uncles Gerion and Kevan walked in. His father, Tywin, had always been a master of control, though always ever on the verge of anger. His Uncle Kevan had similarly mastered his expression; he was careful to be fully composed, his emotional weather unapparent. That mattered little with Jaime's abilities.

"Ah, Uncle Gerion, Uncle Kevan. I trust this day finds you well," Jaime called out with mellowed laziness, his voice blue and green. He thought he saw Kevan's mouth twitch, but he merely nodded.

"Well, indeed, my lord," he said. His words were stiff and reflected a muddy brown with wisps of orange.

He tries, but even he cannot hide his anger from me, Jaime thought, revelling once more in his uncanny ability.

Jaime stood and walked around his desk. "Uncle Kevan, I don't believe you've met my wife, Lady Brienne of Tarth." Brienne stood at her introduction and inclined her head respectfully.

Kevan frowned at her, but then held out his hand. She gave hers and Kevan planted a kiss on her metal gauntlets where her knuckles would be. "My lady," he said, his voice still brown and stiff, but his anger was better hidden.

"Lady Brienne, it's good to see you," Gerion cried and clapped her on the back. "Hard to believe you allowed this rogue to wrangle you."

"I made him fight for it," she said, with a smothered smile.

"And you gave him one hell of a fight, I know," Gerion said with a wink.

"It was hardly a fair fight," she said, grimacing. "I never have beaten him."

Gerion snorted, clearly having meant something else but he just shook his head at Jaime in amusement.

"We're here now. What are your orders?" Kevan asked.

"We're waiting for Tyrion," Jaime replied.

"Very well."

"Wine, uncles?"

"Don't mind if I do," Gerion said, walking around the desk and pouring a goblet.

Kevan's lips curled into the smallest sneer and said, "That won't be necessary."

As they waited, Gerion started to regale Brienne with embarrassing tales from Jaime's childhood. She delightedly laughed through them while Jaime groaned. Kevan remained stiff and silent, choosing to remain standing.

Finally, there was a knock on the door and Tyrion came strolling in.

"About damn time! I was ready to send Pod to wake you up from your drunken stupor, wherever you were."

Tyrion feigned shock. "Brother, you of all people should know that my excess drinking is confined primarily to the evening hours. No, I got lost in a book. My apologies. That said, a drink of wine would not go amiss."

Once Tyrion was finally settled with his goblet in hand, Jaime began in earnest.

"You all saw the wight. It is a threat that needs immediate addressing," Jaime said. Everyone's heads nodded gravely. Even Tyrion was solemn.

When Jaime's eyes had swept over the crowd at the wight reveal, he had specifically hovered on both Brienne and Tyrion. She had been pale, her eyes wide with fear, but then her expression had become resolute as soon as Aemon had mentioned preparing for the threat. Though it was not something he wished for Lady Brienne to have to suffer fighting against, it gladdened his heart that she had quailed only briefly. Just as he hoped, the Brienne that he had come to love in the life before was certainly still buried deep within her; there would be time and experience enough for her to be unearthed.

Tyrion had locked eyes with him over the wight and had given him a curt nod. He had still been pale and shaky, but now that yet more aspects of Jaime's story from the previous life had come to light, Tyrion was beginning to accept. He'd been concerned about his brother's reticence, but Tyrion had always been like that. This was all that was needed for Tyrion to trust him on his account of the time before.

"The king will be sending me North, first to take Winterfell back from the clutches of Roose Bolton. From there, I will go beyond the Wall to treat with the wildlings," Jaime said.

Tyrion choked on his wine and spluttered, "Whuh-what? That hasn't come up in any of the small council meetings."

"I assure you, it will in the next one."

"How are you and the king so sure approval will be granted?"

Jaime only smiled.

"If it's not approved, you treat with the wildlings at your own peril," Tyrion said.

"I will do what I must," Jaime replied.

"Look, brother, I'm not saying I disagree with you or His Grace. Just that … there will be obstacles to such a decision and you should treat them seriously."

"I'll treat them as seriously as they deserve to be treated," Jaime growled.

Tyrion sighed.

"Now, Uncle Kevan, you have spent the last three months guarding the Westerlands and Riverlands' coast from the Ironborn. What news from the front?" Jaime asked.

"My lord, the Ironborn are ambitious and quick, but easily cowed. They often sailed under the cover of darkness and attempted to land in many locations at once. Lord Steffon and I were forced to divide our contingents into a multitude of groups to provide adequate coverage of certain wealthy but vulnerable spots. As soon as the Ironborn met resistance, they fled. None ever breached any castle walls," Kevan explained.

"I have little doubt that they could not overcome the defense of a castle. What of the smallfolk?"

"Perhaps a few deaths on the side of the smallfolk, a butchered farm animal here or there, but the towns in the area were well-protected from intrusion," Kevan replied.

"Is this before or after you arrived?"

"After, my lord. There was one village, Geraldine's Spring, that was damn near burned to the ground. Last we were there, the smallfolk were still rebuilding."

"I see," Jaime said. "Well, the Ironborn are a loose end that His Grace is looking to tie up in the coming months. Uncle Gerion, I'm putting you in charge of the Lannister forces being left in King's Landing. Uncle Kevan, you will report to Gerion."

Kevan's face became shadowed and brooding, even as Gerion drew himself up and smiled down his nose at his older brother.

"May I ask why I am to be under Gerion? I have been your father's second this whole time. The army knows me far better than they know Gerion. He's been gone for too long."

"And that's just it, isn't it? You have been my father's second your entire life. You knew him better than anyone. So I have difficulty believing you didn't know his plans of committing treason," Jaime hissed.

Kevan reeled a bit. "I was not informed or aware of the attempted coup," he said. His voice was a mixture of red and blues.

Jaime was silent for a moment as he weighed his words. There wasn't any indication of the poisonous purple that he had come to expect from a known liar like Petyr Baelish. "I have difficulty believing you had no idea what he was planning. You had to know that by his very nature he would refuse to support the king."

"There is a difference between supporting the king and committing treason. Lord Mace Tyrell didn't support King Robert Baratheon, but he never committed treason."

"Mace Tyrell is an indolent fool. He has ambition aplenty, but lacks the motivation or the cunning. Something that my father never lacked. Be that as it may, I can hardly bring you before the king on suspicions. You were not party to the coup and you fulfilled your duties as I set them; however, you will have to earn my trust in your loyalty," Jaime said, settling himself back into his chair.

"What point would there be in defying you? You are Tywin's heir. This is all he ever wanted for you," Kevan said. The anger had leaked from his voice and he now seemed weary. "He only ever wanted what was best for this family."

"No, he wanted what was best for his legacy, not the family. If he cared about the family, he would not have flirted so dangerously with treason." Silence fell in the room until Jaime scraped the chair back as he rose and said, "That is all for now. I will inform you should any of what I have said change."

"Good day, Lord Lannister," Kevan said with a small incline of his head as he departed.

The solar was quiet for a few minutes as they all watched him go.

Then Tyrion turned to him and asked, "Do you really think he's going to betray you?"

"Not likely," Jaime said. "He has nothing to gain by it."

"I understand the caution, brother, I do, but this feels excessive, especially by you."

"I can never be too careful. I'm not convinced that my father didn't use Ser Osmund Kettleblack to thwart my desire for Lady Brienne. He nearly succeeded too."

"Father is dead. You are haunted by the actions of a ghost. He need not haunt you anymore," Tyrion said, pouring himself yet another glass of wine to sip.

"Father was a powerful man, there is no doubt of that. Although I did not agree with all of his methods, the fear and respect he gave our house is a boon. Those outside of House Lannister may think we are weaker for having executed our own patriarch. Don't give them that impression. We bow to the king and the king alone," Jaime said. He began to pace the room.

"Yes, I can tell his lessons imparted on you," Tyrion replied with a roll of his eyes. "I listened too, Jaime."

"You don't think I am still in danger, do you?" Brienne's eyes narrowed at him in suspicion.

"Of course not. You're under my protection and you can protect yourself."

Brienne sighed. "Good. Now I must take my leave. I have been cordially invited to Princess Daenerys' dress fitting," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't be so excited," Jaime teased.

Gerion chuckled. "I shall leave as well. A day with the Shepherds is never lacking for work."

Once both Brienne and Gerion were gone, Jaime's eyes fell on Tyrion's. "At the next council meeting, I'll be giving you this," Jaime said, holding out his Hand token.

"As well as these lovely quarters?" Tyrion said.

"I'll be gone soon enough. I think you can wait a few days."

Tyrion sighed dramatically. "If you insist. I have to speak with Lord Willas about lawlessness in the city. The sooner those pirates are gone, the better."

"It shouldn't be too much longer now," Jaime replied.

"Another month or two, I should think," Tyrion said. "Farewell, brother."