Harrenhal 2 AC.
Marla Sunderland.
At first, she had no idea what to make of the prince and princess. That they loved each other was clear for all to see. As was the fact that they carried an air of something about them that few people did. Both were impressive in their own rights, to Marla's eyes. Aemon she believed was the singular most dangerous man in the realm. A man who'd brought Dorne to their knees and had then done the same to her brother and the fools who supported him. Visenya too had won her victories during the Conquest. Marla listened as Aemon proudly told the tale of how it was his wife's words and no deeds of his that made Sharra Arryn submit.
Yet if you were to think that all you needed to know about Aemon or Visenya Targaryen was there in the deeds they'd done, then you'd be sorely mistaken. Although daily Aemon sparred and proved just how true a swordsman he was, even Marla could see that most of it was done to teach his young squire. Even though he was a prince of the realm, Aemon's closest companions and those held highest in his esteem seemed to be bastards and second sons. Which showed that he valued merit and character far more than he did privilege and position.
When it came to the running of the keep or the Riverlands themselves, it was Visenya and not Aemon who seemed to truly rule. Something that intrigued Marla and would have had her name Aemon as mayhap being lazy, or would if she knew him not. Instead, she named them both as clever and hardworking as any. Each of them deferred to the other's strengths and never was this more clear than when organising the feasting of their Bannermen. Aemon almost completely stayed out of the preparations up to and including where everyone would be sat, who would be granted private meetings, and in what order. Marla still chuckled when she thought of the princess giving the prince his itinerary.
"Tully first?" Aemon asked with his eyebrow raised as Marla, Bethany Blackwood, and Sara Darry alternated between handing the princess or the prince a piece of parchment.
"Lord Edmyn sought to be Lord Paramount, Aemon, as well you know."
"Aye, very well, I'll sup with the Trout if I must." Aemon rolled his eyes to a chuckle from his squire that soon left Martyn Rivers' face when the princess scowled at him.
"Offer him something, Aemon, make him feel valued," Visenya said and Aemon nodded his head.
It had gone like that for the next hour, Aemon nodding along and accepting his wife's words and will. Something that again was she to but hear of it, would have her name Aemon as something he was not. A husband ruled by his wife. For it was far from that between the prince and princess and instead it was merely that on some matters, Visenya took the lead, while Aemon did so on others.
As for her relationship with the princess she now served. Marla had at first been stunned, then relieved, and was now very much excited by what Visenya had said to her during her first few days in the great keep. To be one of her ladies of waiting and serve a princess who was almost a queen. That alone had been enough of a reason to raise Marla's spirits. Being told that you were most definitely not a hostage and that in time, a true and good man would be found for you to wed, that had made her heart soar.
Hearing that her nephews were to be sent to the North, had worried her at first, however. The idea of both young boys among savage Northmen was not something that she cared for. Not even hearing that it would be among kin and those that Aemon named as close to such that her nephews would be staying with, had relieved her worries. A conversation first with the prince and then another later with the princess, eventually doing so. Marla was more than happy to find that while her nephews and others from the Three Sisters would be held hostage to their father's behavior. That it meant not that Aemon would allow them to be treated as anything but wards before then.
"That's not the way of the world, my prince," Marla said as Aemon spoke to her at the great Weirwood in Harrenhal's Godswood.
"No, and yet I would have it be so for those I believe will honor their word."
"You think my brother will honor his word?" she asked curiously.
"He knows the consequences should he not. While ambition led him down the path he walked and so could lead him astray once more, fear tempers even the most ambitious of men." Aemon said and Marla found she was beginning to believe that to be one of the keys to Aemon and the Targaryen's successes. Fear was a great motivator after all.
"And my nephews, will they be taught to be Northmen?" she asked worriedly to a shake of Aemon's head.
"Only the good and true things that a Northman brings to the table, my lady. The things I myself was taught." Aemon said smiling softly.
The princess had confirmed Aemon's words, or some of them at least. Visenya not speaking on who it was from the North who'd taught Aemon and what it was that he'd been taught. Instead, she'd simply said that long before Aemon sought her nephew's heads, he'd have taken her brother's. That both she and her husband wished not to see children pay the price for their father's or mother's mistakes. The princess' hand touching her somewhat swollen belly as she spoke.
"Aemon would fly to the Three Sisters and kill every man who he took a son from. He'd lay the islands to waste rather than see a child suffer so. It would take far more than a simple rebellion for my husband to see another child dead if it could be helped." Visenya said firmly and a little cryptically.
There was a story there, Marla felt. A tale that she wasn't privy to and she doubted that anyone other than the prince, princess, the king and queen, or mayhap Martyn Rivers were. In the end, it mattered not. Knowing that it would be her fool of a brother rather than his two innocent sons that would suffer should Steffon decide to pull on the dragon's tail, was more than enough for now.
As she walked around the keep, readying for her morning duties, it was her that the guards came running to. Marla worried at first that something terrible had happened, only for the look on Darron Waters' face to tell her it had not. The young man was one of the many similar young men who named themselves among Aemon's Bastard Boys. Bidding the man to take a breath, Marla heard what he had to say and hurried herself to the prince and princess's chambers. Nodding to the two guards who stood at the door, she knocked and waited for leave to enter.
Once inside, she found Aemon sitting at the seat behind Visenya's desk. The princess was in his lap and while they were not engaged in anything Marla had not seen before, she still felt as if she was disturbing them.
"Forgive me, my prince, my princess." she began only to have her apology waved off as not being needed. "There is a woman and some men at the gates, I believe she's a Red Priestess from Essos," Marla said fearfully. She'd once read one of the Maester's books which spoke of them and named them as servants of fire.
"They've been escorted in?" Aemon asked and Marla nodded. "My love, shall we?"
"This is the priestess you were awaiting?" Visenya asked as Aemon helped her to her feet.
"Either that or R'hllor loves his japes and has sent another."
"Aemon?" Visenya said annoyed.
"Aye, 'tis who I sent for, who else could it be?"
"And you're certain of this?" Visenya asked as Marla looked at Aemon slowly bringing his hand to his wife's stomach, touching it softly as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
"I'd not have sought such help was I not," Aemon said before kissing Visenya's cheek.
Less than half an hour later, Marla stood on the raised dais that contained the two equal-sized chairs that served as almost thrones. Along with Visenya's other ladies, the Maester, Steward, and the guards, she awaited the entry of a Red Priestess. Her eyes split between the prince and princess and the door to the Great Hall as it opened.
Dressed all in red with hair the color of fire itself, the woman who walked in was striking and as beautiful as any that Marla had ever seen. Of an age with the princess and with two fierce-looking, but unarmed, guards by her side, she walked to the front of the hall and immediately curtsied. The two guards took a knee as she did so and Marla saw their surprise at the welcoming look on the princess' face as she looked at them. A much different look on the prince's and Marla knew not what she'd name it as.
"My Prince, My Princess, My Name is Melisandre and it is I who have been tasked to carry out your wishes. I present myself to you both and name myself as your most humble of servants."
"Arise Lady Melisandre and be welcomed warmly." Princess Visenya said while Aemon spoke no words and simply looked at the woman as if he recognized her.
Something that later that night she was almost certain could not be true. Aemon Targaryen may be well-traveled, but not once did he ever speak of setting foot in Essos. The North, Dorne, and even Beyond the Wall, tale had been spoken and confirmed by either the prince or princess that he'd travelled to such places. Never once was mention of Essos made. As for the Red Priestess, Melisandre herself confirmed that this was her first time in Westeros. So it had now become a mystery that Marla found she wished to learn the truth of.
Winterfell 2 AC.
Torrhen Stark.
It was ravens that brought the news from the South. Aemon telling them of what had happened with the Sistermen and how they'd sought to rise. A folly that had soon been dealt with by his kinsman. Reading that they were to play host to hostages was one thing. Even that one of the hostages was to stay at Winterfell itself, bothered Torrhen not. Hearing about the weddings that would soon take place, however, was a different matter.
Yet, Torrhen could see the value in those weddings too. Not that he liked the idea of Northern Houses being tied to Reavers, but if it allowed for better relations in the future, then so be it. Whether or not it would stop what Aemon had said happened in his own time, he knew not. For he was left under no illusion that the Iron Born could truly change. Not even given what had happened at Harrenhal.
The next message that arrived, arrived by letter, and this one caused Torrhen a much different concern. Again it was Aemon's words and had they come from anyone else, they'd be words he'd deny or reject. Instead, they were words he knew he had to take heed of. Especially if they wished to avoid the things he'd seen while on the Isle of Faces. A fate and future that the Old Gods themselves sought to change given that they'd sent Aemon back in time to do so. His kinsman's own words had long confirmed it was what Aemon himself believed.
"How such a thing is done, I know not, but then again, I'm not a god," Aemon said to some laughs.
Calling for his wife, Torrhen sat and read Aemon's letter. He hoped that it would be as he said, that Brandon too would be reaching out to the Skagosi. As he did that Aemon and Rhaegal would play their parts in sealing the accord. For should he not, then it would take much blood to be spilled and some of it would be blood they could ill afford to, or so Torrhen believed.
Prince Torrhen Stark,
I write to you to confirm that all Beyond the Wall is well. Your brother, Brandon, will soon have a crown of his own to wear. The King Beyond the Wall and the start of a line that I pray lives on until it's needed most. Hardhome is to be settled and other than some fights where he proved his mettle, your brother's words alone won him support. That and those he has with him who are helping him prove himself true.
In time, I pray the city he builds will be one that rivals White Harbor itself, another center of Northern trade that will serve both its people and your own well. For make no mistake, it will be with the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of White Harbor that the King Beyond the Wall first seeks out. After that, it will be those on Skagos and Skane, plans to be put into motion that will serve for now and very much for the future.
To that end, it is time to reach out to the men and women who name those islands home. Time to see what it is they seek for themselves and what price they require to name themselves as good and true sons and daughters of the North. Though it may not be what you expected or hoped for, and even be something that your lords and ladies name as folly, it's not something I ask without any understanding. In my time, they were a part but apart from the North. Broken somewhat and forgotten. Their lands were left to fend for themselves and their history was one of rebellion and bloodletting. Yet, those lands cannot be forgotten or left unattended and though it's a peace I seek you to make with them, I'm not unwilling to seal that peace with war if need be.
Reach out to them Prince Torrhen, reach out as King Brandon will reach out, as I will reach out. Between us, we shall bring them peace or show them war, between us we shall make those islands good and true and as much a part of the North as Last Hearth, Bear Island, or Winterfell itself.
Your kinsman,
Prince Aemon Targaryen,
Lord Paramount of the Trident.
When Sara arrived, Torrhen handed her the letter from Aemon and she read it before frowning somewhat. Torrhen saw her smile when she read about Brandon being named a king. Something that had brought a smile to his face and yet he worried how some may see that too. For now, however, it was the words written regarding Skagos and Skane that caused Torrhen the most concern. His wife too, given how Sara now spoke.
"He means us to do this?"
"Aye."
"They're savages, husband. Never mind what those in the South say of us, the Skagosi are savages, truly."
"My brother traveled to treat with Wildlings, my love. Now they name Brandon their king. Are the Skagosi more savage than they?"
"Aye, they are." his wife replied. Torrhen bid her to continue. "We know not about the Wildlings, Torrhen. Oh, we believe them to be savages too, but in truth, we know not as other than when they cross the Wall, we deal with them not."
"We deal not with the Skagosi either." he retorted.
"Aye, 'tis true we have few dealings with them, but we know more of them, is that not so?" she asked and Torrhen nodded. "I fear they'll accept no offer of peace and worse than that, the men you send to make such will end up dead or worse." Sara shivered.
Torrhen rose to his feet and offered the comfort of his arms to soothe his wife's concerns. Happy to feel her relax as he held her tight. He missed the words when they were spoken, only hearing them when his wife repeated them.
"Aemon and his dragon, Torrhen. It'll take them to even bring the Skagosi to the table and only a dragon can keep them in line even should they speak the words."
"Yet he tasks me to make the move, my love. Would it not be shameful for me to then task him to do so?"
"Speak to Jojen, then to Brandon."
"To what end?"
"It should come from you all and if it does, Aemon will see the truth in the words more clearly."
A soft kiss to his wife's lips was followed by Torrhen commenting that he knew not what he'd do without her. Something that Sara chuckled at as she left the room. Her retort that it was for this reason she married him, brought a smile to Torrhen's face as he retook his seat.
He sent the raven to Jojen Reed that very day. Received one in return two days later and the Lord of Greywater Watch simply said that he'd send word to Aemon that it would need to be a joint approach. Though he wished to send word to Brandon, he knew not how to do so. A question he put to his Maester and others and yet found no answer to. At least not then.
A Moon Later.
Seeing Rickard Flint stand before him, Torrhen found his heart almost in his mouth. The man's smile and how he greeted him, along with the letter he took out from a small pouch, was enough for now to calm Torrhen's worries. A brief fear where he'd imagined being told that Brandon had fallen, was now replaced by an eagerness to read what was surely a letter from his brother and to hear words spoken by a man who'd traveled Beyond the Wall with him.
Warm food and good ale were called for and it seemed Rickard welcomed both. As he did the fire that burned in Torrhen's solar. Hearing the man name Brandon as his king was at first disconcerting, but very quickly it became something that mattered not. Instead, it was tales of his brother's accomplishments, of the city he was seeing built, and even more so, of the bounty they'd found Beyond the Wall. A bounty that his brother now sought to take advantage of and one that the North, Torrhen was happy to see, was to share in.
Brother,
I write to you to tell you tale of things that seemed but myth and legend. A Three-Eyed Raven who sees and knows all, that I've stood no further from than I once stood from you. Children of the Forest, that are strange and wonderful creatures, full of mischievousness and prone to pulling pranks, yet as good and true as the man we both name as kin. Magical little things that have done as much as my words or my sword in bringing the Free Folk to heel. I bring you tale of Giants, brother, thrice as tall as any Umber and yet as gentle as a newborn babe lest they're roused. Of a city that already hosts more people than any city in the north, nigh on twenty thousand I believe name it their home and more arrive almost every day.
I write to tell you of good wood, furs, and even gems of a like I've never seen afore. Decent copper and tin, even some gold, if you'd believe such a thing. A land filled with bounty, brother, far more than I believe even Aemon knew of, and a people that once you get to know them, you'll as I have, name them as good and true.
I now wear a crown and have people name me king, something I wished for not and yet was practically forced upon me. Both by the people I now serve and the kinsman whose tasks we've both agreed to see accomplished. To that end, 'tis time to speak to the men and women of Skagos, time to bring them into the fold, brother. To name them as good and true men and women of the North or to see them in the ground, for I know now it must be done.
Name a time, brother. Name a place and I'll meet you there. Let us ride and sail together, for our children and their children, for the future we both long for and which the Old Gods have sent Aemon to see is realized. For our wives, for aye, I too am now wed, and I long for you to meet the woman who stole me. Or who I stole, it matters not.
Brandon Snow,
The King Beyond the Wall.
Looking at Rickard, Torrhen took a moment to decide which question to ask first. Unsurprised when it ended up being about the woman that his brother had married. He was happy to hear that it was a love match as much as it was a political one. Surprised to hear that in this regard, Brandon had the good fortune to wed a woman who was the daughter of the Magnar of the Thenns. The most powerful clan North of the Wall, according to what Rickard said.
When he asked about the bounty they'd found, Rickard confirmed it was more than any had expected. As for his brother's future plans, here Rickard held his tongue. Torrhen chuckled when a man he'd known all his life, and who up to a couple of years ago had named him as king, now refused to break the confidence of another he named so. Only the fact that the other just happened to be his brother, stopped it from being other than a laugh he was met with.
"He truly is a king."
"Aye, and one that is well suited for the role. There at least."
"There?" he asked curiously.
"As you were here, my prince, so Brandon is there."
That Rickard Flint was traveling back beyond the Wall, was no true surprise. Nor even that he was doing so within the next day or two. Listening to him suggest Eastwatch as their meeting place and he too, saying that Aemon should be informed, however, very much was. Still, as they sat down to their evening meal that night, a raven flew south to Harrenhal.
"May we have the Old God's favor in what we're about to do," Torrhen whispered as looked out the window and looked to the far north before heading to his chambers and taking to his bed.
Harrenhal 2 AC.
Melisandre.
They arrived at what seemed to be the beginnings of a grand new city. A place which according to the captain of the ship they sailed upon, had not existed merely a year or two earlier. Originally, it had been Gulltown that had been their destination, but the sight of dragons in the sky and the fact of who she was, soon changed that. Melisandre mistakenly believed that this was where the prince who'd sent for her resided.
Instead, it was a king and queen who named this new city home. King's Landing, the newly named capital of the now-conquered Seven Kingdoms. A Seven Kingdoms that Melisandre found to her delight was now one where all religions were allowed to be preached and their priests and priestesses would be more than welcome. Something that the King himself told her when she and her guards presented themselves at the Aegonfort.
When she had spoken of who it was she'd come to see, Melisandre had noticed some wariness in the king's features. His wife then asked numerous questions before Melisandre and her guards were provided with horses, supplies, and a map to Harrenhal. Eager to be on her way, she declined the offer of chambers for more than the time it took to make ready to travel. Then, with a letter sent back to Volantis, Melisandre and her guards left the burgeoning city behind them.
"His majesty is truly wondrous is it not, my lady?" Carlax, her guard said of their god as they camped later that night.
"That it is," she replied, before looking into the flames in the hopes of being given further guidance.
It had been the sight of the dragons that had further instilled the wonder that Carlax now felt. The idea of them being sent out from Volantis to travel across the sea and to walk new lands in R'hllor's name had lit a spark not just in the older man, but in Melisandre herself. Seeing dragons as they flew close enough that you could truly make every aspect of them out, had been breathtaking. Yet, they'd not truly seen one up close and as she lay down to sleep that night, she offered a small prayer to R'hllor that she soon would.
Though they hurried through the strange lands they traveled to and kept to their own company, time seemed to drag and feel almost never-ending to her as they made their way through the Riverlands. They unsurprisingly faced no obstacles to their travels and if there were bandits, they saw them not. Days stretched into weeks and then finally, a sennight after leaving King's Landing, the massive keep first came into view. Harrenhal dwarfed every keep they'd seen before it and Melisandre was certain that not even the Aegonfort when it was finished would rival it in size. As for the dragons, she saw them both flying in the sky above the keep as she and her guards reached the gates, and deep inside of her, she felt at least one of them was watching her as they did so.
After some moments of worry that they may not be welcomed, they were granted entrance and soon enough she and her guards were led into what served as the Great Hall. Even this she found to be magnificent, another thing that put the Aegonfort to shame and she wondered why it was that the prince and princess, not the king and queen, named here as their home. It was not something she would need to ponder on for long. From the moment she saw the prince, saw the great white wolf by his side, and looked into his dark grey eyes, she knew. This was who had called for her. The man she was born to serve. No more than a few feet in front of her, Melisandre was finally faced with the Prince that was Promised. Azor Ahai had been reborn.
"The Prince wishes to speak to you, my lady." a young man called out as Melisandre stood looking out her window in search of the dragons sometime later.
"Lead the way, ser?"
"No, Ser, my lady. I'm the prince's squire, Martyn Rivers." the young lad said proudly.
The walk through the keep was silent, as had been Melisandre's walk to her chambers after she'd presented herself to the prince and princess. Then it was disappointment that had held her tongue. Melisandre had hoped to immediately speak to the princess, and especially the prince, only to find it was not to be. Now, it was excitement and eagerness that kept her silent. All the questions that she wished answers to, now rushed through her mind at once as the young squire led her out from the keep and into a large wooded area.
"What is this place?" she asked, surprising herself and the young lad when she spoke.
"The Godswood, my lady," Martyn answered reverently.
She was about to ask if the prince followed the Old Gods when the sight that caught her eye stilled her tongue. Half expecting to be taken to the giant Weirwood that she'd glimpsed, it was past it and to what seemed like man-made caves that Martyn Rivers had taken her instead. Yet it was what she now looked at and which stood at the entrance of those caves that had quietened her so completely. The green dragon and the prince that was speaking to it as if it were a babe or loved one. A sight that was quite simply the most magnificent one she'd ever borne witness to in all her years.
"My Prince." she curtsied when the prince looked her way.
"Lady Melisandre." the prince replied, his dark grey eyes now staring at her before seeming to find whatever it was they were looking at. "Do you like tales, my lady?" the prince asked with a chuckle.
"Some, my prince."
"Call me, Aemon, for after today you and I will be spending almost as much time together as I'd have you spend with my wife."
"Aemon," she said softly. The name sounded comfortable on her tongue, familiar even.
"First I'll speak on why I called for aid from a servant of R'hllor. Then on why it was you and no one else who answered that call. For the gods so enjoy their little ironies." Aemon chuckled.
"I believe in but one god, Aemon." she almost snapped back.
"Oh, believe me, I am living proof that there is more than one, Melisandre. By the time my tale is done, you too will know this to be true."
The prince's words were cryptic and yet, Melisandre felt there was no lie in them. Aemon Targaryen believed them at least, and he had not dismissed R'hllor as not being one of the gods he'd spoken of. Something others would have when their faith lay in a different direction. So she listened, firstly to the reason why the prince had reached out to R'hllor and then to why it was her and none other that R'hllor had sent to him. Melisandre was surprised and yet not that the first of those was because of the princess.
"My wife is with child. A child I would see born without issue and with no involvement from a man of the Citadel. I seek someone I can trust to be there by her side and I trust but few people, Melisandre. Given what I'm about to say and show you, and even more given who you are, I know I can place my trust in you."
"How, my prince?" she asked, not using his name. Such was her eagerness to know the answer.
"Because this is not the first time you and I have met each other."
Melisandre's questions were stopped for now by the raise of the prince's hand. The dark grey eyes that looked her way seemed to hold a power in them that she was unable to resist. A power that the prince himself exuded almost through every pore. If she was to give it a name, she'd name it as magic. Name the prince as magical. Which given who she was certain he was, made sense. For her god's chosen would surely be the most magical of all his servants.
"You know the Last Kiss?" the prince asked and Mel nodded her head. She'd never performed it and yet had read much about it. Then before she'd left the temple in Volantis, she'd been shown how it was supposed to work. Though not whether it did or did not.
"I do," she answered to a smile from the prince, a half-one at least.
"Should it be needed, then you will perform it upon my wife or my babe, Melisandre.
"Not you?"
"The Old Gods have use of me yet, they'll call me when my time is over and not before then." the prince replied, though Melisandre sensed there was some doubt in the words. "Now I promised you a tale, did I not? Or would you mayhap like to meet a dragon for true?" the prince asked as the Green Dragon raised its head from behind him.
"A tale would suffice for now."
Later that night.
She sat on her bed looking into the flames. Her search for answers had led to none and the words the prince had spoken, had shattered her view of the world and everything in it. Had Aemon not spoken them with so much conviction, then she'd have named him a madman. Something she almost still did. Yet, given how much he knew of R'hllor, of their ways, and even their secrets. Given how much he knew of her past, she could not.
Which left her with one undeniable truth. Everything that Aemon Targaryen had said was true. He was indeed the prince that was promised and yet that promise had gone unfulfilled. They had lost the Great War and in its wake, humanity had fallen. Then be it the Old Gods, R'hllor, or even them working in tandem, a prince had somehow been sent back in time with but two tasks. To prepare the realm for the war and to ensure that when that war came, there would be enough Dragons and Dragonriders to fight and win it.
Hearing the knock on her door, Melisandre rose to her feet and was surprised to see the prince standing there. Moving out of his way to allow him entry to her chambers, she closed the door behind him and watched as he walked to the fire.
"If I'm wrong then I'll just bleed for no reason, yet I know I'm not wrong." the prince said as he took out a small knife and cut his hand.
Melisandre watched as the blood fell from the prince's cut palm. As it dripped into the flames of her fire and then as the fire seemed to reach out for those blood drops. In less time than it took to blink, the fire had risen higher and the color of the flames had changed. From bright yellow to red, and finally to a shade of indigo that seemed to be reflected in the prince's eye color. The grey now looked much different in the light of the fire. Soon, however, it was the fire itself that Melisandre was paying all her attention to. That and the things she saw in the flames. All of which proved not only the prince's words to be true but that R'hllor had sent her to serve him and play her part in readying the world for what was to one day come.
"I am your servant, now and always, my prince."
"No, my lady. We are both but servants of our gods. Let us hope that we serve them well."
Laying down to sleep that night, Melisandre wondered if all the things she'd seen in the flames would come true. She'd spoken of some of them to the prince before he left her alone. Finding that only some of the visions were shared ones and so it had made her concentrate on some of the others.
In those, she traveled back to Volantis and to other lands. She saw herself wait for more years than she could count. Witnessed herself arriving on these very shores once again, only this time after many years had passed. King's Landing had grown into a truly impressive city while Harrenhal had seemingly become greatly diminished. Melisandre saw the sky filled with dragons and then the sky was bare for all but one. The Green Dragon was the only ever present along with its rider and the white wolf that stood by the prince's side.
Had it not been for the voice that she alone heard, then it would have been those sights more so than the ones of death and destruction that truly terrified her. Those and not the creatures of ice or the thing that led them. The voice was soothing and comforting, however. While the words it spoke filled her with the truest resolve.
"He is the prince that was promised and you will play your part in seeing he brings the dawn. By my will so shall it be done." her god's voice was eventually enough to bring her the sleep she so desperately needed.
Harrenhal 2 AC.
Visenya.
At first, she wasn't sure what to make of the red priestess. Especially when Aemon told her that he'd known her from his time. That the woman had been alive, well, and had looked exactly the same as she now did when Aemon first met her. Visenya could make no sense of it, as Aemon seemed completely certain that Melisandre, the red priestess' name, had not been sent back as he had.
"No, she lived those years, I know not how, but when I met her we were on opposite sides of things."
"She's an enemy?" Visenya asked worriedly.
"Very much not and even then, not truly."
Despite Aemon explaining it to her, Visenya could still make no real sense of it and so she'd asked to meet with the red priestess privately. Once she'd done so and had spoken more in-depth to the woman, Visenya had been let in on a secret that almost shattered her view of the world. Had she not met Aemon, not set foot on the Isle of Faces, and been shown what she was there, then it would have. After those two events, however, finding out a woman used a gem to cover up her age and appearance, was mayhap a minor thing.
In her conversations with Melisandre, Visenya found out even more of the reason why Aemon trusted the Red Priests more than he did the Maesters. The woman's words proved that when it came to doing Aemon's will, both Melisandre and those who served R'hllor would be fully on board. Visenya later japing with her husband that there were many benefits in being the Prince that was Promised, only for Aemon to softly say that he wished it had fallen to someone else. That other than meeting her, it had only ever cost him far more than he'd been willing to pay.
With the red priestess and her guards settled and after a somewhat uncomfortable examination where Melisandre told her that all was well with her and her babe, Visenya turned her attention to the feast. The ravens had been sent out and within a week of Melisandre's arrival, so too did their Bannermen begin to. With Lord Tully surprisingly being the first to arrive, even before those Houses closer to them. Something that Aemon took note of even more so than she did.
After far too many greetings and with her pregnancy robbing her of much of her energy, Visenya left it to Aemon to greet the last of their Bannermen. Something that her husband adorably pouted over and gained a true laugh from her for his efforts. Aemon made it clear that this was always the thing he'd hated most in the world. Though as Visenya looked out her window at him doing so, she'd not lie and say he wasn't good at it.
"Will that be all, my princess?" Marla Sunderland asked and Visenya nodded, her head stuck in the book she was reading as she wiggled her toes and welcomed being barefoot.
Stopping the woman before she left, she bid her to ask Aemon to join her. She waved away Marla's concerns when she was asked if she was in distress. Soon she was trying not to laugh uncontrollably as Aemon came hurriedly through the door. Visenya was certain he'd used Marla's words to quickly make his escape from some boring conversation or other. Aemon's own words as he knelt in front of her and took her feet in his hands, proving this to be so. Though it was the comfort of those hands as they softly stroked her feet that Visenya soon welcomed even more.
"They speak of my absence?" she asked as Aemon moved adeptly from one foot to the other, his hands never slowing their movements as he did so.
"They'd not dare to do so, not in my presence." Aemon chuckled.
"Good."
"You feel well?" Aemon asked. The concern in his voice touched her deeply.
"I am well, just tired."
Be it his hands, the words he spoke and how softly he did so, or simply that she was alone with her husband, Visenya soon drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, she was lying undressed in her bed and beside the fluffiest of white pillows. Ghost too was sleeping, while yet serving as her guard and protector. Feeling hungry, Visenya rose and felt a pain in her stomach, one that had her clutching the sheet and which woke Ghost up. The second one was even stronger and almost caused a tear to fall from her eye as she struggled back into her bed.
"Aemon…"
No sooner had she said his name than her husband arrived at the door. Aemon helped her to her bed and both the Maester and Melisandre were being sent for. Just having Aemon there with her was enough to stop her mind from going to the worst of places. His words of comfort whispered in her ear as firstly Melisandre and then the Maester arrived. To both her and Aemon's relief, there was no issue with the babe and though she was told to rest even more, they were given more comfort than worries.
Still, that night Aemon was absent from the Great Hall and by the morning, Visenya was feeling back to herself. So much so that she met with the wives and daughters of their Bannermen that day for a private tea. Spoke to them about their concerns, their wishes, and hopes, and was pleased to hear so many of them seemed understanding of her condition. A few of them were even happy to see how far along she was, as thoughts of a potential future match were not the domain of their husbands alone.
Though she made few true friends among the women, that was more due to this being their first true time meeting each other than any reluctance on her or their part. Visenya instead used the tea to take note of those she felt would or could be friends and those she needed to be wary of. Lady Tully and Lady Darry, along with the ladies Blackwood and Bracken among the former. While Lady Mallister and Mooton seemed to be among the latter at first glance. Although there was some issue with Lady Blackwood regarding Aemon's squiring of her husband's bastard. Visenya's words about how Aemon surrounded himself with men of merit rather than birth seemed enough to quell the woman's concerns at least.
"The Tullys, Aemon?" she asked as they got ready for the night of the feast proper.
"A part of me wishes to treat them harshly. To cast them down and yet…."
"Your brothers and sisters," she said softly, knowing that Aemon thought of his Stark cousins as siblings and nothing else.
"I know not if what I do here can really lead to what I wish there. For all I know just my being here has removed the chance of Robb or Arya ever being born…" Aemon sighed and Visenya found herself thankful that he'd not mentioned his first wife or children. Something he rarely did anymore.
"Yet you believe it do you not?" she asked and Aemon nodded.
"Aye, it's why I had it written into the pact. Gods I even named them both." Aemon chuckled.
"Well a daughter of House Tully and a second son of House Stark may have led to a different match would it not?"
"Aye, it would. Still, I need them strong. So I've named Lord Tully as our second. A castellan almost, but of the Riverlands themselves and not Harrenhal."
"When would he serve as Castellan?" she asked not understanding how Aemon wished it to work.
"When you and I are in King's Landing, or should we be tasked with traveling to Essos. At times when we simply wish to travel the lands themselves, visit the North or the lands beyond the Wall. Or at times when I'm forced to do the gods bidding and my wife refuses to allow me to do so alone." Aemon said as he moved to her, his kiss on her cheek soon followed by a truer one on her lips.
"And he welcomed such a thing?"
"He preened like a peacock." Aemon laughed.
They shared another kiss, this time a much longer one that almost led to them taking to their bed, and was only stopped because of where they had to go and why. Visenya took a final look in the looking glass to ensure she was as presentable as she wished to be and that both she and Aemon looked like what they were. A prince and princess of the Seven Kingdoms, Dragonriders, and the Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, the Wardens of the Trident. Then with a nod to her husband, they left their room behind them and along with their guards, Ghost, and with their arms entwined they made their way to the Great Hall.
Later that night, Visenya lay exhausted in their bed. Aemon had done things with his fingers and tongue which had wrung every ounce of pleasure from her that she had to give. Beside her, he lay sleeping peacefully, and never had Visenya felt as content as she now did. Looking down at her swollen belly. Thinking about the babe that was now but a few moons from being born. Visenya found herself praying to the gods of her husband and even those of the Red Priests, to let her know this feeling for as much of her life as she could.
Harrenhal 2 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
He understood not how it was possible and yet, she was clearly the same woman she'd been in his own time. Something which helped him greatly as it allowed him to trust that his wife and babe would have no better servant than Melisandre of Asshai. It made him think that it was not just the Old Gods who were invested in him too. That R'hllor too wished him to succeed in his endeavors. In some ways, it allowed Aemon to feel a little restoration of his own faith. Something that when he truly thought about it, he'd lost over the years.
Even the knowledge that they'd sent him back in time somehow. That he was being given a second chance to right the wrongs of his rule, hadn't made him hate the gods less than he did. Aemon blamed them, as much as he did himself, for all he'd lost. True, he named himself their servant, as how else could he have been sent back to this time. However, he blamed them for the loss of his wife, his children, his brothers and sister, and all those he cared about. He blamed them for all of it and even now seemingly working in tandem with them. Doing what he believed to be their will. They'd not even come close to paying him back for all they'd taken from him.
'Though with Visenya and the birth of our babe, they take another step in doing do."
After he'd spoken to Melisandre, and showed her the truth of things in the flames, Aemon knew she was fully on board with what he needed her to do. It helped him forget that at one point they were on opposite sides, that when they first met, she had named him a false king, and the one she served as the true one. Later, after Stannis Baratheon had been defeated. When Melisandre had first looked to the sky and saw Rhaegal, she had begged his forgiveness.
Barristan, Jaime Lannister, Margaery, and her grandmother, all had bid him to either take Melisandre's head or exile her from Westeros. The High Septon had named her heathen and willed her to be given to the flames she so worshipped. Then again, the fool of a man had named him a savage tree worshipper at one point too. Yet, despite the advice of people he trusted, Aemon had not only let Melisandre live, he'd allowed her to stay in Westeros and offer council when needed. In time, he'd watched her give herself to the flames along with men of the Fiery Hand. All of them sacrificing themselves to buy the living a few more days of life.
"A sacrifice that achieved little in the end," Aemon whispered.
Later when he'd heard tales of what Thoros of Myr had done, of what he'd been able to do for Beric Dondarrion, Aemon had cursed himself for allowing Melisandre and the others to give their lives so cheaply. During his long time in the world alone, Aemon had contemplated on who he'd have brought back if he could. Robb, Arya, Jaime Lannister, Barristan, Tormund, Davos, Loras and Garlan, and of course Margaery and his children. Not even the fact of how most of them had died not allowing access to their bodies, or even burial of them, enough to dispel Aemon's blaming of himself for not trying to do so.
Now, at least, he'd ensure that in Visenya and their babe's case, that option would remain forever open to him. As for his own, he'd given it much thought and while a part of him truly believed that when his time was done, the Old Gods would call him home, it was no longer something he sought. In fact, should they call him before he was ready, Aemon was now certain that not only would he not welcome it, but he'd fight them on it. He'd no longer go freely and quietly into the Long Night as he had once prayed to do. Instead, Aemon Targaryen would do all he could to grow old with his wife and to see this babe and any other babes they may be blessed with, grow to be the fine young men and women he believed they'd be.
"As was denied me with Rhaegar and Lyanna." Aemon whispered.
With Melisandre settled, Aemon had then turned his attention to the feasting of his and Visenya's Bannermen. First and Foremost among them being Lord Edmyn Tully. Thankfully the man looked nothing like the Tully's had in Aemon's time. True, he had the same red hair, but just like with Orys Baratheon not having the striking blue eyes of his future descendants, Edmyn Tully too had dark eyes. It was little but enough to not make Aemon ponder too much on Lady Catelyn. The old wounds of how he'd been treated by his uncle's wife, ones that he still carried the scars of to this day.
Given what he'd wished to see occur, Aemon had felt he had no other choice but to give the Tullys a prominent role and so he'd named Lord Edmyn as the second most powerful man in the Riverlands. Others he'd seek were brought closer through other means. Both as his wife's Ladies in Waiting, within his service, and in time, through advantageous marriages that Aemon along with Visenya would broker. Although if he had his way, it would be mainly his wife who did so.
There had been some issues to deal with regarding Martyn's father and his wife. Lady Blackwood liked not that he'd taken Martyn to squire rather than her own son. While Aemon cared not for the woman's hurt feelings and did his best not to allow himself to think of Lady Blackwood being Lady Catelyn and Martyn, himself. He refused to bow down to the woman's request that he take her son to squire too. Instead, he simply pointed out that her daughter now served his wife. Something that could most easily be changed if the woman complained about her husband's bastard son too strenuously.
It had been enough and Lord Blackwood had thanked him for it. The Lord asked after Martyn and walked away as proud as any father once Aemon had spoken on the young lad. Aemon left him in no doubt that Martyn would earn his spurs under his stewardship or that once he had done so, that would be the end of his time in his service. Though what role he'd see the young lad play in the future, he knew not. Still, it had been more than enough for Martyn's father and Aemon wouldn't lie and say he'd not notice how proudly Martyn himself stood later at the feast.
In truth, however, Aemon was purely killing time. The letter that had arrived from Lord Reed had bid him to travel once more and Aemon knew that he must. His days had been spent between deciding if he could hold that travel off until Visenya had given birth, or would going sooner allow him to return in time for it. His wife's wishes to have him by her side, winning out over any others, for now at least.
"By her side is where I'm meant to be," Aemon said determinedly as he climbed atop Rhaegal's back and took to the sky. The flight was one for pleasure and to spend time alone with his dragon, and not one he needed to make for any pressing reason.
They flew over the Riverlands, past Riverrun and Stone Hedge. Over Raventree Hall and Seagard, Aemon's eyes looked to the sea and to where he knew the Iron Islands lay. A resolved decision came to his mind that required letters to be sent to House Greyjoy and the sailing of a ship to bring potential brides to Harrenhal. He may not be heading to Skagos for some time, but when he did so, he'd be bringing a bride as part of the offer he made to those who lived there. As he would to House Manderly too.
Atop Rhaegal, Aemon felt almost completely at peace. The Seven Kingdoms had been conquered without the cost of life that it had once taken. He'd changed the fate of Rhaenys and so Aegon. Of Orys too. In the North, he'd set things in motion that would only benefit the realm long term. A people that he had much time for, had been given a chance to know a different and better life under a king who would see them thrive The Realm was at peace and it was in times of peace that people prospered. Yet, by the time Aemon had landed, he no longer felt as he had while flying.
"The bloody-minded fools," Aemon said angrily as he moved to Rhaegal and looked into the dragon's warm and fire-filled eyes. "Aye, Fire and Blood, my friend, another lesson needs to be taught.
Later that night, Aemon called his Bastard Boys to a meeting. In his hand, he held a list of names and he'd had Martyn pass out different, smaller lists, to each of the men present. On Aemon's list was more than one man who was kin to someone in that room. Some were distant, while others were very much not. Looking out at the faces of those present, Aemon wondered if there were any among them who'd now betray him. If there was even one who'd put the fate of their kinsman above his wishes. Closing his eyes, he looked at them through Ghost's. The White Wolf sensed those who were worried, and distressed, and yet none who seemed ready to panic or sought to send word to a name on Aemon's list. In time, he'd find the truth of it. His eyes would be ever watchful and should but one of those men not be where they were meant to be, then Aemon may need to add more names to his list. Should they not, then it would simply be two and twenty men and women who'd die on his orders.
Maesters, Septons, and two Septas. Their sex would not be enough to save them from the wrath and rage that Aemon would bring down on their heads. The deaths themselves would be bloody and their bodies would be displayed publicly. Aemon seeking to send as strong a message to the Citadel and the Faith as he'd sent to Dorne. His anger at these men was true and righteous. Not only had he given them a chance, but they'd now be taking him from where he wished to be. Denying him time with his wife that he'd put off even events in the far north for.
"Fire and Blood," Aemon said quietly, as orders were given and his Bastard Boys were sent out to travel.
Some of them would meet him in Oldtown to deal with those on his list who named that city their home. Others would soon join up with him there, bearing with them a head, a body, or even the living breathing person that they'd been sent out to deal with. Either way, before the moon had passed, two and twenty would lose their lives.
The raven flew to Aegon and Rhaenys the next morning. Aemon informed the king and queen of what he'd learned and the actions he was now about to take regarding the treason. Visenya, much to his surprise, worried not about him leaving. His wife, instead, just bid him to return as quickly as he could. Aemon promised that he would as he kissed her softly while they lay in their bed. Before then speaking even more softly to the babe she bore within her.
"Ghost to me," he said as he walked from the room, he, Martyn, and the White Wolf would be taking flight that very morning.
By day's end they'd be landing outside Oldtown and by the end of the week, those in the city would learn that that treason had been witnessed by a thousand eyes and one.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Firstly let me wish you all a very happy Christmas and a wonderful new year.
Up Next: Aemon unleashes his wrath upon those who plot against the House of the Dragon. In the Far North, Brandon faces a challenge to his rule and Hardhome gives up more of its bounty. Aegon and Rhaenys make some plans of their own while Melisandre and Visenya grow closer before Aemon finds a need to hurry home and welcome the birth of his and Visenya's child.
For those following my other fics, The Last Wolf has one more chapter out before the new year as does Purple Deception.