Author's Notes: Good day, everyone! I have another exciting chapter for you! We're starting to get into the thick of things once more. I'd like to thank you all so much for your patience and understanding when it comes to writing for a monster like this. All of your kindness and warmth keep me going!
At some point, I hope to return to the every two weeks updates, but for now, I'll keep them where they're at. I have a bit too much on my plate and on my mind.
I have to thank my beta, Catzrko0l, not only for their work and dedication to this fic, but also for their patience and understanding. You're awesome! I greatly appreciate everything you do!
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Chapter 125
Aemon XLVII
It was important to keep eye contact with Drogon. As the largest and the most willful, he needed a firmer hand. The chunk of raw mutton Aemon held in his hand was also good persuasion. Though the dragons seemed content to fish the Blackwater, Daenerys had taken notice that Drogon enjoyed his red meat. A week prior, the dragon had burned down the wooden doors storing their food in the Dragonpit and eaten his fill; Aemon noted the mutton was the most depleted. Despite all of them being well fed morning and night, with unfettered access to the bay, Drogon somehow was even more rapacious than Rhaellon and Rhaegal. He was now as large as a horse and larger still than Rhaellon, if only by a hair.
With the excursion to the Westerlands looming, Aemon made it a priority to win Drogon's loyalty. Since Daenerys would be staying behind to manage the kingdom, he had to ensure that Drogon would follow him and listen to his orders. Perhaps with enough mutton, it might be possible.
A half dozen flimsy wooden figures with linen bags stuffed with hay served as the makeshift enemy. Aemon refused to look away for even a moment and pointed toward the figures. "Drogon, dracarys!"
The dragon considered him for a moment then reared back and spewed a fiery red and black flame toward the figures, reducing them to cinders. "Good work, Drogon! You've earned this," Aemon said, throwing him the mutton. The dragon caught it in its jaws, threw it up in the air, and spurted flame to cook it before catching it again.
Once Drogon was done crunching down the meat and bones, Aemon approached him and held his hand out. The dragon hesitated a moment, but finally dipped his head. Aemon scratched the short scales around the nose, which he knew the dragon liked, and let him go.
"Drogon, you will follow Aemon tomorrow when he leaves, won't you? You will listen to him when he commands you," Dany said in a soft voice.
The dragon quickly leaned his head in toward her to give him scratches. When she used her fingernails to rub the crevices between his scales, he made a rumbling noise that was a rough approximation to a cat's purr.
"Well, he and the other dragons have been doing well with their training. I'm sure he'll do fine," Aemon said, walking over to pat Drogon on the cheek.
Once Drogon had enough doting, he stepped back and made a running leap back into the sky in the direction of Blackwater Bay. They watched him until he was a mere speck in the sky.
"I wish you didn't have to go," Dany whispered.
"It's time we made our kingdom whole again," Aemon replied. He took Daenerys' hand and planted a gentle kiss on her knuckle. "I will be safer than I have been at any point. The Ironborn will not be in any shape to fight. I'm certain of it."
Daenerys looked pained. "Devastated for following the wrong man," she murmured.
"That's a choice they made; they have to live with that. But as long as they recognize our reign, they need not be further punished for it," Aemon said.
She nodded and they turned to rejoin their guard. The Kingsgaurd, bloodriders, and Missandei kept a healthy distance from the dragons when in their presence. They climbed atop their horses and turned back toward the Keep.
Aemon kept glancing over to Dany. Though she held her head high and her expression was serene, he could tell that she was troubled. Her smiles to the children were weaker than usual. The people did not need to know of their ails, so Aemon did his best to make up for her lack of energy with smiles and waves of his own. He dipped into a coin pouch and handed out a gold dragon each to the children who reached for him.
From David's last report, the people were most pleased with his reign. They loved him and his queen. She always made sure to dote on the children whenever she passed through the city. Varys and David both had reported the denizens of King's Landing were particularly happy for their marriage, the increase in trade, and their improved lives as a result of the healer. Aemon wished he could say that it was by the King's graces, but Jaime had the substantial coffers to afford David his supplies, something that the kingdom's treasury would otherwise struggle with. While Jaime had not seemed particularly keen on David, Aemon was glad they had both taken a chance now that it was bearing fruit.
Once they returned to the Keep, Aemon directed Dany back to their rooms. She had looked at him in confusion, since it was barely past midday. "I am to make an early morning of it tomorrow. I thought we might retire early today," he said to her, his voice becoming increasingly low and husky to the end of the sentence.
A red tinge entered her cheeks, but her lips curved into a smile and he thought he saw desire dancing in her eyes. They went back to their quarters all smiles, frequently glancing at the other. The last time Aemon had felt so carefree had been on their wedding night. That had been barely four months ago and yet it seemed an age had passed. There was something to even momentarily allow the burden of the kingdom to slide from his shoulders for even a few hours. He would have to make a point to do it more often when he returned. Starting tomorrow, he could only look forward to a long and dull road ahead of him without her.
Once the doors shut behind him, Aemon pulled her in for kisses. His were carnal and lusting, but hers seemed hesitant. He pulled back and blinked at her. "Is something wrong?"
She smiled up at him, but it was once more flatter than usual. "I'm fine," she replied.
"Dany, I know you're not. Was it something I did?"
"Nuh-no," she said, turning away, her look now troubled.
Aemon searched for the answer and then said, "There's no reason to be nervous. I know you will make a fine queen and the people will adore you in your rule."
Irritation flashed across her face. "It's not that…!"
"...What is it then?"
She was quiet for a moment, not quite meeting his eyes. When she did, he saw somberness more befitting a funeral. "When my last husband went into battle, he was merely scratched by a sword, and it killed him only a week later. I worry that the same will happen to you."
He chuckled lightly.
Dany shot him a stern look.
"I don't mean to make light of your concerns, but I assure you, I will be fine. I have my Kingsguard. Ser Barristan hardly sleeps when I'm outside the castle walls, and he'll be stuck to my side every step of the way. He is the most dedicated Kingsguard and I am honored to have him, as troublesome as it may be at times," Aemon said.
She gave him a wan smile. "Even so, be careful. I can't lose you too. Neither can our child."
"I will fight the Stranger himself to be by your side at his birth," Aemon growled, dipping his head once more to plant feather light kisses on the edge of her jaw.
He could hear a smirk in her voice as she sighed and said, "How are you sure it's not a girl?"
"Mayhap it is. That's up for the Gods to decide," he replied. He began to fish for an opening in her dress, but was rapidly becoming frustrated.
She giggled but she quickly became stern and slapped his hand away as he dared to try to pull her bust down to cup a breast. "I will not have you stretch the fabric. Not after how much work the good seamstresses put into this dress," she replied.
He allowed her to step away for a moment as she loosened up the dress so that it could be pulled away. Aemon approached her again with a flippant grin. She eyed him, but nodded in approval as he carefully removed the layers and tossed them to the side. After mere minutes, all that remained left were her underclothes. He reached to remove them, but he stopped when he saw his own hunger reflected in her eyes.
"You have me nearly naked as the day I was born and yet you still have so many … layers," Dany scoffed.
Aemon gasped in mock outrage. "How shameful of me. I shall divest at once."
"I should say so."
As soon as Aemon reached for his armor, Dany was already undoing the straps. When his breastplate fell to the wayside with an undignified clang, she nibbled her way down his collarbone, which caused him to throw back his head, his mouth hanging open. Her feather light touches drove him wild. So much of his existence was rough and heavy. Training in the yard was unruly, wearing armor was cumbersome, claps on the back while welcoming were boisterous. Daenerys had come into his life and became the epitome of light and soft—at least her skin and demeanor. There was nothing soft about her will or the dragons she mothered.
"How did I deserve you?" he murmured to her as she worked on his buckle and trousers. He released a sharp breath as she deliberately skated her teeth along the edge of the fabric his cock was tenting.
She chuckled but only responded by attempting to suck his cock through the leather of his trousers.
He groaned and locked his knees to stay afoot. "Pure torture. This is how you treat your king on his last night by your side?"
Dany pulled away, her lips pulled back into a smirk. "Perhaps," she said. With a deft hand movement, she undid the belt and his trousers fell to his ankles, revealing him fully naked. She reached down to gently grasp the head of his cock, which was already at half-staff, and softly massaged it between her fingers.
"I've been told men like to be led around by them," she said, her tone one of mock innocence.
"So they say," he gritted, tensing under her ministrations. "I've never allowed myself the opportunity."
"Let's see if it's as pleasurable as those make it seem," Dany said demurely as she slowly turned him around.
He moved with her as if in a trance. At no point was her grip cutting or painful, but he was drawn to follow her, like a moth to flame. She led him over to the bed and directed him to sit down. He did so, and the lusty trance lifted momentarily so that he could grin at her happily. She smiled back at him, but her eyes quickly drifted back to his cock. He recognized her intent to take him into her mouth, so he hastily grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto the bed with him.
She giggled, but her look was puzzled. "Do you not want that?"
"I do! Very much so," he replied. "But my impatience to take you will get the best of me. I think it better I help myself to you first, don't you agree?"
Daenerys smirked. "Hard to argue with such sound reasoning." They both moved at the same time. Aemon sat up with every intention to get between Dany's legs, but she placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back down. "I've always wanted to try this."
His look of confusion quickly transformed to surprise as she moved up and placed her knees on either side of his head. She placed her hands against the back of the ebony and gold filigree headboard for support and looked down on him expectantly. "Can we try this way?"
"My queen," Aemon moaned into her silver curls. He brought his hands up to hold her at the thighs and with a deep breath, he dove in, licking and sucking. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be enthralled by his senses. Her smell and taste was as sweet as the nectarines she had eaten for lunch. He felt more than heard her moans and gasps as the sounds reverberated through her skin into his heart. She squeezed her thighs to the point of it being uncomfortable and relaxed them, letting him know how he was doing. All of the sensations overwhelmed him and he had to fight to not spend his seed even as the sounds of her pleasure seemed to go straight to his cock.
When she finally lifted off of him, he breathed in the cool air deeply as if he'd been underwater. He turned and smiled at her. It quickly turned smug as he saw the glazed look in her eyes as he listened to her panting moans.
"Well?" He asked as he loomed over her.
"Ooooh, I think that's my favorite," she mumbled as she struggled to bring her breathing under control. She blinked lazily at him and patted his forearm like he was a dog. "Good boy."
Aemon laughed and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. They closed the gap for a hungry kiss that left them both breathless. Once more, she pushed him back, but slid down his midsection to where his cock was erect and waiting.
"I can go now," he suggested.
"I insist on returning the favor," she replied, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Aemon gave a bark of laughter. "You do that and I'm apt to spill in your mouth."
"See that you don't," she replied, the challenge leveled in her voice as she raised her eyebrows with a mischievous smile.
He gulped and nearly choked on his own spit as she took him in her mouth. This is never not pleasurable, he thought in blissful torture. His body was immediately flushed with heat as he writhed, clenching the sheets beneath his hands in a death grip. Even in the midst of his pleasure, he was careful not to thrust too hard at her, but he was once more shocked at how steady and firm she was in her attempts to milk his seed.
When it got to be too much, he growled and leveraged himself up. She gently let him go and he was quick to switch positions. Aemon put an arm one either side of her to hover over her, his eyes dark with lust. Dany looked at once vulnerable and welcoming. Her eyes were hooded alluringly and she sprawled out to grant him access to her breasts. He happily indulged in swirling a nipple around with his tongue and between his teeth.
He positioned himself at her opening and became fully sheathed in a single thrust. Daenerys threw her head back in ecstasy with a delighted gasp. It awakened something feral inside him and he began to thrust rapidly. She rocked her hips to meet him and their tempo increased with every moment.
With a final pleased groan, Aemon spent himself inside her and collapsed to the side. They both took a moment to catch their breath and regain their senses.
He let his gaze fall and he centered his hands on her abdomen. For a moment he marveled at it. Her belly had started to round and swell in the last few weeks. The protrusion was slight and otherwise unnoticeable beneath the layers of her gowns. He sincerely hoped he would be back before the birth so that he could further wonder at her beauty and the little being inside. The baby was barely more than a thought, yet was quickly becoming tangible. He yearned to see him or her delivered to the world. To think his cousin had crossed that milestone, already holding little Eddard in his arms. How Aemon envied Robb at that moment.
It'll be real soon enough, he mused. His heart pounded in excitement at the thought.
"How's the baby?" he whispered into Dany's ear.
She smiled. "Well, I presume. She hasn't given me too much trouble of late. I can already feel her," she murmured.
Aemon laid a hand flat against her stomach and concentrated, uncertain what he should expect. A moment or two passed and then he felt the tiniest of movements. He glanced at Dany, who nodded at him.
"I didn't think this day could be any better," he said, leaning down to kiss Dany fully on the lips. She returned it tenderly, but he could see her eyes fluttering with fatigue. She grew heavy in his arms as she started to go limp and snuggled into his chest. He pulled her in and ran a hand along her back in soothing motions. Despite the early hour of the day, she quickly dropped off to sleep.
Aemon breathed in deep the smell of lavender in her hair, though he could not fall asleep himself. All of the arrangements for their journey to Lannisport were ready, but he still felt restless. It annoyed him that in the midst of his journey, the negotiations with the freefolk were apt to take place. He still had every intention to be there and would have to make an unscheduled stop to manage it. Even worse, no one could know he was warging into his wolf to do it.
You're the king, he lectured himself in a voice that sounded uncannily like Jaime's. You may do as you damn well please and no one will question it. Even so, it was yet another concern. He had visited Jaime just the previous night and received the same report that they still hadn't encountered the free folk. If Aemon wasn't mistaken, Jaime was getting snippier with each passing day as the weeks dragged on without a single sighting.
There were times when he stayed in Ghost for a little longer, wandering the woods and attempting to sniff out a trail that the group might follow. Much to his dismay, a persistent smell of death pervaded the air that wasn't usually present in the freezing cold. It suggested that the Night King's powers were growing.
Please, the Old Gods and the New, safeguard the free folk. It's too early for a situation like Hardhome, he thought morosely.
He ran his hands over his face in frustration and exhaustion. Before too long, it would be the morning and he would be parted from Dany. He prayed the Gods saw fit to reunite them in time for the birth of their first child.
|-The Dragon's Roar-|
Varys II
He watched from an upper window of the Keep as the king and his entourage left the city. A sharp whistle rang out through the courtyard and with that signal, Drogon and Rhaegal both gave answering bellows and took to the air to follow the king. As bid, Rhaellon remained perched on the roof of the Keep, watching her brothers' journey. When they disappeared into the slate gray sky, the cream-colored dragon gave a mournful cry, but then took to the sky herself and wheeled around toward Blackwater Bay to continue her fishing.
Once the king had disappeared beyond the archway, Varys noticed the rest of the nobility and servants started to break away from the crowd to continue their business. But he remained at the high window. He allowed himself to glare after the king in a rare unguarded moment.
His position in the palace had never been more precarious. Though the Mad King's halls had been particularly fraught with peril, Varys had a keen understanding of how to guide the madman's mind where he needed. It was always on a target carefully chosen away from him, and he had been relieved that there had been no end of candidates willing to throw themselves before the king's ire.
But here he was at a disadvantage and had been from the very start. The letter he received from Jaime after the king's coup in Winterfell had more than made that clear. If the kingdom had been a cyvasse board, Aemon Targaryen had entirely upended it and Varys had been forced to remake it. Even worse, he had been on his back foot ever since.
It was to his good fortune that the king was not the most ruthless player and lacked finesse in many of his moves, but he was otherwise quite bold. However, he appeared to have learned a valuable lesson that Robert Baratheon had refused to learn: no one in the Red Keep could be trusted.
He had merely been fortunate that Jaime had attempted to kindle an allyship almost immediately, a courtesy that had not been extended to Petyr Baelish. Though the king and Jaime Lannister had been suspicious of Varys, there was none they were more suspicious of than Baelish. Though they had made admirable attempts to hide it, it became obvious that Baelish was their chief concern. That allowed Varys to continue his machinations, mostly overlooked, though they continued to keep a weather eye on him.
The king and the Hand's focus on Baelish meant it took little to keep up appearances. It seemed, though, that he had grown too confident, for delivering Baelish's body had not redeemed any silence he kept through Baelish's plotting. He was the Master of Whispers, after all. If he didn't know that Baelish was a threat, then what use was he? He had made the excuse that Baelish was keeping too close of an eye on him and if he'd notified the king, the slimy whoremonger would have slipped away. Though the king proved himself a competent player of the game, he still struggled to cover his emotions and it was plain to Varys that whatever trust he had curated with the king was now gone.
To think I had given him an egg, Varys thought, grinding his teeth together with frustration.
A Targaryen had not hatched a dragon in over one hundred years. At best, Varys thought it might endear him to both Daenerys and Aemon to be granted an heirloom of their ancestry. The girl having them was little more than a token. However, Varys had hoped with the king's dark hair and dark eyes, that the dragon egg not hatching would fuel rumors that the new king was not a true Targaryen as he claimed.
And then it hatched at the very last opportunity that Aemon had, just before Daenerys had returned to King's Landing. Were Varys religious, it would seem an act of divine providence.
Now there were dragons to contend with. At the very least, the king and queen were not keen to use them explicitly for execution purposes. The king still preferred to use his sword, so should Vary lose in the end, he would not have to face down a dragon.
The little Varys knew about the Targaryens and their dragons did not suggest promising results. A Targaryen bonded with their dragon for life. Though the dragons would listen to more than one, it gave its entire loyalty to a single Targaryen. That only changed when a new Targaryen attempted to bond with an older dragon. Dragons were not easily tamed either. The dragon would sooner roast the usurping rider than change its loyalty.
But the dragons were too closely held as a symbol of power for the Targaryens. The one who usurped the throne could never hope to keep it without them as an ally.
The queen would make a fine bride, he thought. Since it seemed Rhaegal was bonded to the king, he might be open to bonding to another. Or not. He was the youngest and the smallest. Killing him would be trivial to trying to kill Drogon or Rhaellon. When the last dragons died, there was speculation that maesters had been feeding them poisoned meat to weaken them, but it wasn't quite enough to kill.
The king had been aware of how vulnerable his dragon was, particularly when he'd been newly hatched. It had barely left his sight after all. Though Rhaegal was only the size of a large dog, it was still formidable. Worse yet, Drogon had an affinity for the little dragon and they curled up together at night.
Varys had originally intended to find a way to poison their food. But given that they spent the majority of their time fishing the sea, it had been impossible to find an opening when they were vulnerable enough. He also learned that a good number of poisons burned away when subject to the dragonfire. With Rhaegal gone for the next several months, he had missed his window of opportunity to remove one potential threat.
His energy was better focused on removing another, far more insidious threat: the Healer. Given how many times both Jaime and Aemon had seen the Healer privately, he was their preferred spider over him. Not hard to see why. Despite his rough edges, the Healer's primary concern was the people of King's Landing. By keeping the people happy, he kept the king happy, and the Healer enjoyed the favor that Aemon bestowed upon him.
Varys was aware that he had been invited into the king's solar a fair few times, though the reason still escaped him. While Aemon was good at guarding most of his conversations, he took extra care with the Healer. Neither one ever stated the goal out loud, so Varys had a feeling those had largely been exchanged in burned notes.
For a time, he'd turned his attention to the Healer's men. They were a cautious lot, but he had expected to catch them out in the local taverns. Unlike any other soldier, though, they never drank to excess and there were always two or more people. He had been on the brink of drugging all of them when he rethought his strategy. Would the Healer even tell them anything? Given that the Healer had moved straight into Baelish's old brothel, it had been easy to find the same nooks and crannies and listen to the merry singing of his birds.
But the Healer had never spoken of his conversations with the king where mortal men or women could hear. Varys wasn't so foolish to think that he wasn't aware of Varys' presence and kept the same eye out for him that Baelish had. Given that the Healer was not one to stoop to murder, Varys was willing to bide his time in sussing out the details of what he was doing.
But that had all changed. The most alarming news was the evidence of a Faceless assassin in their midst. Though he had played it cool to the king, he shivered at the way this Faceless Man had disappeared from the streets. They came with the fog and left with it. More like a ghost than a Faceless Man, Varys mused, his heart pounding with fear. Made worse still that they had been bold enough to leave Lucia's mask carelessly down an alley. While, yes, it was useless as a mask now that her death was a certainty, it was unlike the Faceless to leave the bodies or the mask itself simply lying around. They were bold. They were cunning. There had been neither hide nor hair of the assassin since. Were they merely biding their time or had they simply slipped away unnoticed? His sources had followed up on every lead and had nothing to show for their efforts. But Varys had his doubts that the Faceless Man wasn't still lurking in the shadows, stalking his next prey.
That prey could very well be him. It seemed he had finally overstayed his welcome, but he wouldn't leave just quite yet.
So many called him a spider in jest, yet he was just as acutely aware of every strand of his web. He kept his feelers out waiting for any tug and pull to catch his interest. And one had. Someone was skirting the edges of his web, testing it, seeing its responses. Though Olenna was feisty and well-connected, she wouldn't waste her valuable time on the likes of him. She would bestow upon him a cursory glance at most.
No, the slight vibrations he felt had to be the Healer. A former little bird, Cessely had started making regular visits to the Healer's clinic and the words that trickled back to him chilled his very blood. Like many of the smallfolk, Cessely couldn't read. The Healer had been forced to make do with whispered conversations, and thus his other little birds could listen. The words, or rather names, that made their way back were ones like Rhaegar and the Mad King.
It seems the king has been doing some digging in the past. He couldn't imagine the Healer having much interest in the decades before. Tsk, I usually let my birds live but this won't do. Given that most of his little birds were children, it simply wouldn't do to kill every single one. If he had, word would get out and then no one would flit around getting the information. It was because they went unnoticed that they were so valuable. Except the Healer noticed them.
But Cessely had long grown out of her role, married, and produced a veritable brood of children. She was among the poorest denizens of Fleabottom, having lost her servant position in the Red Keep for pilfering items. She spent far too long in the taverns with her husband getting roaring drunk. Varys had threatened her to keep her quiet, but that didn't seem enough anymore. It was time to slip poison in her drink.
It was also time to give the Healer the same consideration. With the king gone and the fresh-faced queen left to rule in his stead, he had all of the time he needed to make his move before the Healer learned too much. Varys was under no illusions that it would be easy, but if he could trap Baelish, it would be only a matter of time before he ensnared the Healer too.
