Author's Notes: Welcome back to the next chapter, everyone! It feels like I say this for every chapter, but we're getting into some exciting territory. I hope you all enjoy!

Catzrko0l is a wonderful beta and continues to have an instrumental with this project. I cannot thank them enough for their hard work. Thank you!

For those who are not following my social media, I thought you'd be interested in knowing that I've started to create a book-formatted PDF of the first book of TDR, The Targaryen King. This will make a cleaner read for anyone who enjoys reading on a Kindle, tablet, or using text-to-speech. I'll announce when it's ready. I expect to give the same treatment to Book 2 and Book 3 (when it's finished).

Discord: Invite in profile
Facebook: The Dragon's Roar (Fanfic)

Chapter 132

Aemon XLIX

"Your Grace, might I have a word?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Of course," Aemon said, turning to him, relieved for the distraction as they waited.

Knots were beginning to form in his stomach. He had enough experience with monumental conversations—such as the one occurring within Pyke now—and they rarely lasted more than half an hour, yet the position of the sun indicated that an hour had already gone by. He prayed to the Old Gods that he hadn't sent Theon to his death. Surely the Ironborn had similar taboos as most peoples did against kinslaying.

"Privately?" Ser Barristan said.

Aemon nodded and led him away to his quarters.

Once the door was shut and locked, Ser Barristan sighed. "I know you're not a green boy, but do you think it wise to lead Theon to believe you were willing to kill every man, woman, and child?"

"The idea repulses me," Aemon said. "And yet, that might be a large enough threat to work. What do you think I should've done?"

The old knight was quiet as he contemplated. "I would've preferred an attempt at negotiating. I understand why you didn't," he hastened to explain, "but it might have won you more allies than merely sending Theon Greyjoy to do your bidding."

"Perhaps. I know very little about the Ironborn's ways, but I do know that, much like the free folk, they respond to power or perceived power. I can't see endearing myself to them winning me any favors."

"I think they will see through Theon's presence. They'll see the strings attached to him."

"That's nearly unavoidable. I had hoped that an Ironborn with familiarity to the new king and so close to the throne would entice them. It could give them a seat at the table, so to speak," Aemon replied.

"Well, as you said, the Ironborn like strength. A firm grasp of politics eludes them," Ser Barristan grumbled.

Aemon couldn't keep from chuckling.

A hurried knock on the door interrupted them. Ser Barristan opened it. Olyvar peered in breathlessly, "There's a party coming our way, Your Grace."

They joined Lord Monford Velaryon, who was using a far-eye to see. "They've got the armor, but it's not Theon wearing it."

Aemon turned to the Kingsguard and the soldiers on board. "Prepare for battle. Flag the other ships. Have you seen any other movements?"

"No, Your Grace, only these twenty men," Lord Velaryon replied.

"Keep your eye out for an ambush. I'm going to meet with them."

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.

Aemon checked his armor to make sure it fit properly, checked that the knives on his wrist and in his boot were secured, and prepared to disembark. Ser Barristan and the Hound were first overboard and then he followed. Lord Velaryon stayed aboard, but he directed a dozen of his men to fill out the ranks of their own party.

"Be careful, Your Grace," Monford called out to him.

"To attack me at this parlay would be suicide. I doubt this one has a deathwish," Aemon said. He still approached with a hand on the hilt of Lady Forlorn.

They stopped several feet from the party from Pyke. The man wearing the Valyrian steel armor was not wearing the helm and smiled toothily at him. Though Aemon was unfamiliar with his countenance, he thought he recognized Theon's eyes and smile staring back at him.

"The dragon king Aemon Targaryen is not welcome here. Leave now or we will kill you!" the man said in an unpleasant tone.

The Kingsguard moved in closer around Aemon, their hands on their swords. Aemon stopped them from going further with a raised hand.

"Is Theon alive?" Aemon asked.

The man raised his eyebrows and seemed stuck between a smirk and a snarl. "That you actually care for that outsider disgusts me."

"We grew up together; he's like a brother to me," Aemon said, purposefully dragging out the encounter. He dearly wished he possessed Jaime's talent at seeing sounds and reading the intent behind someone's words.

"I don't think it matters. Again, you're not welcome here! I suggest you leave."

"The Iron Islands are not a sovereign nation, they are a kingdom of the Seven Kingdoms. You will pledge your fealty to me," Aemon demanded.

"Or what?"

"Or you will be put to the sword," Aemon replied. "First Balon, then Euron, and now you, whoever you are—"

"Victarion. King Victarion," the man gritted.

"Whichever Greyjoy. Your family has led the Iron Islands into rebellion long enough. You will kneel or you will be killed and supplanted. Your choice. But I'm warning you, this is your last chance." Aemon placed his hand on Lady Forlorn again.

Victarion drew his sword, which was the cue for all of his men to draw their own weapons. The Kingsguard followed.

"You're on my land, dragon! You're at my mercy! This ends now! Fight! Fight to the death!"

"So be it," Aemon said, drawing his sword. He bowed his head to charge when a shadow fell over them. Drogon swooped and with nary a sound, he spewed black and red flames across the party. Aemon watched in horror as a few of the men stumbled around, feebly batting away at the flames in agony. Victarion crumbled immediately, the Valyrian steel armor appeared untouched, but steam issued from the opening in the greaves and his head looked like charcoal from fire, a few tiny flames licking at the lingering hair that remained on his head.

The black dragon landed and he grabbed a dead man and leaned back to swallow him down.

"Drogon, no!" Aemon shouted, rushing up to him. "Stop, stop! You need to listen to me!"

The dragon roared at him. Its putrid hot breath washed over him and he choked on his cough as he vigorously tried to wave the stink and heat away.

"Your Grace!" Ser Barristan shouted and slid partway in front of him.

"No," Aemon said, in a choked gasp. They both peered up at Drogon in mounting horror as the dragon reared back, opening its maw. In the depths of his throat, red and black flame started creeping up its mouth.

Green scales flashed in front of them as Rhaegal swooped in, putting himself between him and Drogon. Though he was half the size of Drogon, he drew himself up and roared like a lion. Drogon closed his mouth and the heat of its fire ran out the side of it in a pair of smoky columns.

Aemon steeled himself and pointed to the sky. "Drogon, go!"

An extended growl issued from the belly of the beast and then he turned and leapt once more into the air. Aemon's strength gave out and he fell to his knees, his very being trembling with fear. Rhaegal nudged him with his head like a cat.

"Thank you, Rhaegal," Aemon said, reaching up to pat the side of his dragon's head. "You did well."

His dragon drew himself up and preened under his praise and scratches.

He climbed to his feet and drew in a deep breath, sputtering a bit as his nostrils filled with the smell of the still burning dead. He looked over the horizon toward the castle of Pyke and noticed for the first time scads of men fleeing. Naturally, Victarion had gathered his forces and hid them for the parlay. It would be his one opportunity to try and kill Aemon before the rest of the royal army had a chance to make landfall.

He wondered: did Drogon see the trap and that's why he attacked or was he only thinking of his hunger? Given the dragon very nearly turned his fire on him, he wasn't convinced it was the former.

"Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked. He looked back at them and found the soldiers frightful. The Hound had slunk back, looking more haunted than Aemon had ever seen. Even Ser Barristan appeared shaken by the encounter.

"I'm not convinced that Theon is dead. We head to the castle," Aemon said.

"We'll need more men," Ser Barristan said.

"Then let's get them."

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

Daenerys XXII

My beautiful Queen Dany,

The Ironborn have pledged their fealty to the both of us. It was not all smooth. Victarion Greyjoy attempted to declare himself as king and attack us. Just as we were about to engage in battle, Drogon burnt him and his men alive. He very nearly burned me as well. I fear that he does not listen to me as much as he should. On the ride out, he pillaged farm animals. The Old and the New Gods only know if he left the people alive and unburnt as well. I pray that he will at least listen to you.

Lady Asha Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy's sister, was chosen to lead the Iron Islands as Lady Reaper of Pyke. Unfortunately, given Theon's distance for so long, he's still not trusted enough to lead as heir. An interesting development, but Lady Asha is forthright and intelligent. She reminds me greatly of you. There is little enough left of the Ironborn that the thorn in our side they have long represented should be lessened, but it remains in place. I wish to see how Lady Asha leads them before moving forward with plans to more appropriately integrate them into the Seven Kingdoms.

I will be departing in a week and will be back on the Gold Road in a couple of weeks hence. I dare not tarry. Say hello to the baby and tell it to wait for my return.

I know the kingdom is in good hands and I hope it's not giving you too much trouble.

Love,

Aemon

Dany frowned over his letter. It sounded rather fortuitous that Drogon would simply kill the men who stood in his way. Given that they were about to battle, Aemon was sure to fight this man to the death. It eased her heart that Drogon was looking out for him, however it troubled her that Aemon was convinced Drogon was set to kill him too. She knew he was a headstrong dragon, particularly in comparison to Rhaellon, but she didn't expect this sort of willfulness.

He must be mistaken, she mused. But she felt a prickle of fear on the back of her neck as she thought back to what she'd read of the Dance of Dragons. Plenty of Targaryen-tamed dragons killed other Targaryens. They were not any more immune from fire than any other man or woman. She was certain at least that Drogon would always listen to her. Perhaps it was time to be more strict with him.

It pleased her to hear that a lady had been picked to rule after seemingly all the other men in her family had failed. By that token, she hoped that the relationship would be cordial if not fruitful. I hope I can meet this Asha one day, she thought as she set the letter down at her bedside table and lightly stroked her belly.

"Your father will be home shortly, little one," she murmured. "It won't be long now." When she thought back to her pregnancy with Rhaego, it had been easy. There had been a little bit of nausea and discomfort, but mostly she had been at peace and excited for her baby to be born and placed in her arms. With this one, she felt like she was becoming more ungainly by the day. She also had trouble with swelling in her feet and one of her ladies-in-waiting had to give them a massage nearly every morning to ease her out of bed. Her back was sore and she struggled to keep certain foods down. Whether her ladies trained her or not, she rather doubted she'd manage to keep a raw heart down this time. She was grateful that it wasn't a ritual for firstborns in the Seven Kingdoms.

Though she would treasure her time in the khalasar—seeing all of the new places that it had led her and feeling a real sense of adventure and freedom—she did not miss sitting on a horse all day. It was further gratifying to return to the same bed every night, no longer having to wonder if it would be the last night she could enjoy such creature comforts. There were no more assassins. There was just peace.

Except for the Faceless Man, she thought begrudgingly. She had chided Aemon for being paranoid, but she did wonder about it herself. How could such a person simply appear and disappear, using the faces of anyone and everyone they could manage? Murders happened in the city almost daily, but Willas did not report anyone's face being stolen. Did the Faceless have more on hand or were they simply biding their time? Or were they gone as easily as smoke vanished into the air? She wished she would have news on that front for Aemon, but it was looking less and less likely by the day.

They hadn't heard any further news of the Blackfyre either. She was keyed up to search for answers, but Lady Olenna counseled patience. She and the healer had put out feelers in their vast web for any such news and, as far as she could tell, there was none.

She had declined to put it into her letters to Aemon so that he could concentrate on addressing the Ironborn. Now, though, after speaking with Willas, it seemed good sense to keep such sensitive information to herself. They decided that the whole of the small council would be addressed with Aemon.

"Do you need any more tea for the night, Your Grace?" Missandei asked.

"No, thank you. I think I will retire."

"Of course," Missandei said, "Wake us if you need anything."

Daenerys capped the candles and burrowed into her bed for the evening.

She was startled awake some time later by Missandei shaking her shoulder. "Your Grace, it's urgent."

Missandei helped her out of bed and wrapped her in a black silk robe. The nights had grown increasingly chilly, so she held the robe tight around her shoulders. When she opened the door, her bloodriders were immediately at her side.

They walked to Aemon's solar to find Willas and Olenna outside of it. They all glanced at each other, but Daenerys found their faces unreadable but somber. She let them in and turned to them, "What's wrong?"

"Someone tried to poison David," Olenna said. "One of the whores in the brothel brought him and a few of his kind tainted drinks. One downed the drink and died, but David only took a sip. He's alive, for now."

Daenerys gasped, glancing between the both of them. "What is being done to find the poisoner?"

"I've roused both the Unsullied and the gold cloaks. They're conducting a search," Willas replied.

"Who is suspected?"

Olenna and Willas exchanged suspicious looks.

Daenerys crossed her arms and waited.

"David is certain it was Varys," Willas replied.

Dany stiffened. "Where is he?"

"Not in his room. He is a spider, Your Grace. It is likely he was planning this for some time. He's apt to be long gone from the city," Willas explained with a tired sigh as he rubbed at his neck.

"Why does David suspect it was him?"

"Well, we did have our suspicions about Varys the last time the four of us met," Willas said cryptically. "I suspect David took it upon himself to probe Varys himself."

"It was a fool's move. Varys has had twenty years to perfect his game," Olenna grumbled with a shake of her own head.

Daenerys clicked her tongue. "We should speak with Tyrion about this. Maybe he would have his own information."

"He is Lannister after all," Olenna said, "he has his own sources, I imagine."

Dany went to the door and opened it. "Greyworm, would you wake Lord Tyrion and bring him to the solar?" She then ordered Missandei and Jhiqui to bring them all tea.

Tyrion was surprisingly alert when he walked in. "What's happened?"

"David has been poisoned," Daenerys replied. "He's alive but only just."

Tyrion looked at them all in alarm. "How? Who?"

They all looked at each other and then they launched into the story about the Blackfyre and how they had their suspicions that Varys may have deliberately ignored or hid information with regards to this Blackfyre. As they explained deeper into the story, Tyrion became more enraged.

"You deliberately cut me out of this?!"

"The walls have ears, Lord Hand, as you well know," Olenna said. "We felt there were enough of us who knew. We were hoping to keep it close to our chest until the king returned, when we could inform him and decide our next approach."

"I am the Hand to the King," Tyrion declared.

"We made a decision, Tyrion," Dany snapped. "Perhaps it was a wrong one, but what's done is done. You know now even before the king. Should we write to the king about this?"

All of them, including Tyrion, shook their heads. "I'd rather not give Varys another opportunity to learn what we know. You think he deliberately controverted any information about the Blackfyre?" Tyrion said. "Does that mean you think he was working for him?"

"That might be a leap," Willas replied. "One does not need to be working with someone to wish ill of an enemy. If he truly wishes for the king to fail, he need only keep him ignorant of the true threats."

"I do believe the king has been pitting David and Varys against one another. I know my brother used David quite extensively when our father and Baelish were conspiring," Tyrion said, rubbing his chin together.

Olenna scowled. "David is more entrenched in this than even I thought. That explains a great deal."

"I hadn't heard this," Dany said, furrowing her brow.

Tyrion froze. "I'm not sure it was meant to be common knowledge. I think it's merely a holdover from planning the coup. I've occasionally seen David report to the king privately."

"As far as I am aware, he only reports on his clinic," Dany replied.

An awkward silence filled the room as Dany looked around at them all. They all shrugged and shook their heads.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Your Grace," Willas said, throwing up his hands.

Daenerys drew her mouth into a thin line. Is Aemon keeping things from me? He always assured me that we would rule as equals. How is this equal? She wondered. Then she drew in a deep breath. I haven't yet told him about the Blackfyre. I intended to wait until he returned. Perhaps it was that simple? It could be that he was waiting, but would pull her in eventually. Wouldn't he?

"How is David doing?" Tyrion asked.

"His protege is managing his recovery," Olenna said. "It seems he recognized the poison almost as soon as the wine touched his lips."

Tyrion raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"That's how the young woman put it. He's a healer after all. He'd be familiar with poisons."

"The taste of them?"

"He is, uh, rather abrasive at times," Willas said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"But enough to kill him?" Tyrion asked.

"Would your father have killed a servant who didn't show proper deference?" Willas asked.

Tyrion chuckled. "Of that, he would have no trouble."

"If that's all that needs to be said, then I'm done here. I don't look like this by sleeping only half the night," Olenna said, starting towards the door.

Daenerys locked up the solar once more and headed towards their rooms with her usual company in tow. Despite the early hour of the morning, she was wide awake and puzzling over what she'd learned. Aemon had been the first to tell her about the walls having ears and now she wondered whom he suspected of listening. Did he consider Varys or was it a general warning?

If there was one thing she missed about life in the khalasar, things were so much simpler. All the jockeying for position and maneuvering was done right out in the open and settled with a fight. Most often the loser was left dying. It was not pleasant, but it was forthright. It exhausted her to be on her toes, constantly wondering and waiting for when a sword might fall.

Was this Blackfyre a true threat? It was difficult to say with so little information and him being so far away. Unless he also had dragons, she had difficulty imagining the threat was more insurmountable than the Long Night. He was also in the middle of Essos, leagues from Westeros. It would take months if not years for him to reach their shores and in that time the dragons will have grown to a size that made them nigh unstoppable. To challenge her and Aemon in even a year's time would be suicidal.

But now also she was concerned about the little things she didn't know. Was Aemon keeping secrets from her? It's probably nothing, she thought. She doubted it was any worse than them having kept Tyrion in the dark. Despite her exhaustion, it took some time for her mind to settle enough to fall back asleep.