Volantis 301 AC,
Aurane Velaryon.
Any last lingering feelings that she'd not be welcomed back as fondly as she was, were soon gone from the princess' features. Her brothers, both her Goodsisters and her nephew and Goodniece, were all as happy to see Daenerys as Aurane had told her they would be. Compared to how happy her youngest niece and nephew were, however, they may as well not have bothered. Viserys' children were the happiest of all that their aunt had returned and even more so that she would not be leaving again anytime soon.
As too would be the people of Volantis, Aurane wagered. Daenerys was their true delight and even more so than the High Emperor or the Empress of the Sun, it was to her that they looked to at times. Not as a ruler or to take their lead from, as it was with the High Emperor. Nor as a protector and sword and shield as it had been to the Dragonknight. The princess simply far more encapsulated the hopes and dreams of the Empire's subjects. To them, she was as her mother had been, a sign that all was well and that the Empire thrived.
Allowing the family reunion to continue, Aurane spied Haegon out of the corner of his eye and moved to speak to Aemon's cousin. The two of them soon japing at the other's expense as they always had. Haegon was relieved to see Daenerys had returned safe and well and Aurane for once looked at the Dragon of Meereen with a much different eye than he usually did. An eye of a man who looked at a potential suitor for a girl he had much time and love for. Aemon's words rang even more true as Aurane caught how Haegon looked at the princess when he thought no one was looking. It wasn't quite a lust-filled expression that Haegon wore on his face when doing so, more one that showed signs of true affection.
"You are well, brother," Monford said to him later that day. Aurane had decided to take the time to speak to his own family before the inevitable conversation he would hold with the High Emperor.
"More than well."
"I had heard tale of the dragon and yet believed it not." Monford smiled.
"It was not something I sought nor expected."
"And yet it is something I welcome, brother. For far too long has it been since our House had a Dragonlord."
"Monford, I…"
"Aurane."
"My place is still not here, brother. My home is to be in lands far from here. The dragon may make a difference to some things and yet it changes others not."
"I know, brother." Monford slapped his arm and Aurane was asked to join him and the rest of his family for dinner that night.
Surprisingly to him, it was one he was able to attend without first having an audience with the High Emperor. The princess' words on Aemon and Rhaenys and her own presence, were more than enough to see that was so.
He spoke to his brother and his Goodsister about the city that Aemon had asked him to build. Monford listened keenly as Aurane told him that one day the city would rival any in Essos. Aurane added that while Harrenhal would be where Aemon and Rhaenys made their home, Dragon's Landing would be the center of trade in Westeros before too long. When he told Monford that he was to be wed to a woman that Aemon and Rhaenys had chosen for him, his brother seemed to like it not that it was to be someone from Westeros that Aurane would be marrying. Yet it seemed that Monfod understood it all the same.
"I had hoped to see you joined with someone else, brother. I'll not lie and say that a part of me had harbored hopes that it would be the Princess Daenerys that you wed."
"Rhaegar would never allow such a thing," Aurane said. Shocked somewhat that his brother had even considered him and Daenerys to be a viable match.
"Even had the Dragonknight or the princess herself suggested it?"
Aurane shook his head, laughing almost, and yet he wished not to make fun of his brother nor to name him a fool. Instead, he simply pointed out that while Rhaegar may consider the princess' feelings, Aemon would have no say in the matter. At least not directly that was. Monford simply nodded and agreed or disagreed not with his assertion.
After bidding his Goodsister and his nephew goodnight, Aurane did the same to his brother and slept a peaceful night's sleep. Upon waking the next morning and breaking his fast, he cried off the meetings that Monford wished him to attend. Postponing all of them until the next day at the earliest. The High Emperor may have been caught up in his sister's return the day previously, today he'd seek to speak to Aurane on all that had happened or was to happen in Westeros. Not to mention there were things that Aurane wished to speak to the High Emperor about too. Not least of these Aemon's words about Haegon and the princess.
His morning then went exactly as he expected, the call to speak to the High Emperor coming in mid-morning. Rhaegar gave Aurane just enough time to break his fast and speak to his family, before deciding that it was time for them to speak on his own. The two Dragonguards that he'd sent for him, left Aurane in no doubt that his presence wasn't just requested, but demanded. Not that Aurane wouldn't have gone had it simply been a request that was made of him. He could quite understand that even if the Princess had told her brother much of what had occurred in Westeros, Rhaegar would still wish to hear it from Aurane's lips as well.
Entering the room, he made his way to the balcony and found the High Emperor standing there looking out at the dragons as they flew. Arrax doing so quite close to the balcony itself and it made Aurane ponder on how little he'd ever seen the High Emperor atop his dragon's back. Aemon, you were bound to see atop Gaelithox daily. Rhaenys too would oft be found on Meraxes' back as much as she was on the ground. Daenerys loved few things as much as flying on Nightwing and in the short time that he'd been accepted as Darkfyre's rider, Aurane had followed Aemon's lead as much as anyone's.
Aegon, Viserys, and Rhaegar himself, rarely seemed to take to the skies and Aurane understood it not. Yet it was as he was contemplating this that Rhaegar bid him speak on Westeros. The High Emperor sighed when Aurane told him of Torgho Nudho's death and how much it had affected Aemon when he'd found out about it. There was much anger, restrained though it was when Aurane spoke of Rhaenys' injury. Pride and satisfaction when he told him of what had happened to the Old Lion and House Lannister. Not a single moment of doubt or recrimination was uttered or shown when Aurane spoke of Aemon's actions in Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Nor would any have been accepted by Aurane, even had it come for the High Emperor himself.
"My sister tells me that my daughter's injury was minor," Rhaegar said and Aurane replied that it was and that Rhaenys was back at Aemon's side once more. "And that she and Nightwing laid down their flames on the Lions of Casterly Rock."
"She did and won two great victories, High Emperor," Aurane stated truly. For none could deny that Daenerys had won the day against the two Lannister armies she faced.
"My son has taken his sworn shield's death badly I wager."
"They were always close, High Emperor," Aurane said sadly, before adding. "As were we all to Torgho Nudho."
"Let my son know that Volantis too mourns for a true son of the Empire. That his father mourns for the good and true friend that his son has lost."
"I will, High Emperor."
Aurane was then asked numerous questions about the men of faith who had turned their cloaks on House Tyrell and their king and queen. Of those who proved themselves true and who had earned Aemon's favor in doing so. He was asked his opinion on how Aemon was handling things. Not the campaign nor the plans the Dragonknight had, but his worries over Rhaenys' being injured, Daenerys' return, and the loss of Torgho Nudho.
After telling Rhaegar as much as he could or would without breaking Aemon's confidence, Aurane was then asked if it was true he was to be wed. Something he confirmed happily and which brought an odd contemplative look to Rhaegar's face. A look that made him think back to what his brother had said regarding the princess and him being a good and true match, and he now wondered if Rhaegar had ever considered it. In the end, it mattered not. His bride had already been chosen for him and not even an order from the High Emperor would get him to break his word to his brother by choice.
"I am most happy with my match, High Emperor. And I well understand the politics of it, as does King Aemon," he said when prompted to answer. Rhaegar simply nodded his head as he did so.
"It was more my daughter's choice than my son's if what my sister tells me is true," Rhaegar stated. A question and yet not one and yet one that Aurane decided needed to be answered.
"It was. Queen Rhaenys and Lady Margaery have become quite close friends, High Emperor. King Aemon sees much in the lady too, from what he's told me. Yet, had it not been for her grace…."
"My daughter was ever the romantic." Rhaegar smiled. "'Tis good to see she's not lost that side of herself."
Aurane wondered if now was the time to bring it up, almost not doing so, before finding a resolve he knew not he had. A dragon's resolve he'd name it later should anyone ask him where it came from.
"Haegon, High Emperor," Aurane said as Rhaegar looked at him curiously. "A match for the princess, one which King Aemon believes would give his aunt all she ever wished for and one of the few men he names as worthy of her hand."
"None are so." Rhaegar chuckled before waving his hand to stop Aurane from speaking further.
There was a silence that seemed to stretch on for an age. An uncomfortable one if he was being honest about it. Then Rhaegar asked him when he was to return and bid him carry letters to his son and daughter. Before asking him his own opinion on Haegon as a potential match for Daenerys.
"You spoke true, High Emperor. There are none worthy of the Princess' hand and yet, in Haegon I believe you find one of the very few who one day would be."
"And should I not wait until that day comes before giving my sister away?"
"The Princess is no longer a little girl, High Emperor. No longer is she sheltered from the world or unaware of what truly lies within it. The days when we were all sweet summer children are long past. Much though we all wished that Daenerys would remain so."
"Indeed."
"I believe the princess is not only ready for a match, High Emperor, but after seeing what her niece and nephew share in Westeros, she is most eager for one too."
"Yet it must be the right one," Rhaegar stated and Aurane nodded.
"Who is more right than kin, High Emperor?"
By the time he left to head back to Westeros, he believed it had been decided. Nothing had been announced, but Aurane had seen the princess spend much time in Haegon's company. Both of them had even shared a dragon flight more than once. In his pouch, he carried letters addressed to both Aemon and Rhaenys. Words written by a father, mother, brother, uncle and aunt. Yet it was the ones spoken to him by a High Emperor that bore the most weight and which he knew would be truly welcomed.
"Tell my son and daughter how proud I am of them both. That all they have achieved together fills me with such pride and joy that I have not the words to speak it truly."
Lannisport 301 AC.
Robb Stark.
Robb had never seen a fleet the likes of it before. He'd never even known there were that many ships in the Seven Kingdoms if he was being honest. From almost every corner of the Realm, they'd been called forth and none had refused that call. Some had taken longer to arrive than others. Those from House Manderly and the Graftons in the Vale, among them. Others had a much shorter distance to travel. The Redwyne Fleet, The Ships of the Westerlands Houses, those of House Mallister, and yet it was mainly those of House Velaryon that Robb found himself looking at most keenly.
While not much different than the ships of Westeros, at least in design, there were noticeable differences if you looked a little more closely. The number of men they could carry, the arms, and where those arms were situated surprised him greatly. So much so that Robb found himself searching out some of his cousin's men to seek answers to questions he now had. Answers he would have gone to his cousin for, had Aemon been in the mood to give them, that was. His cousin was finally able to truly mourn the loss of his sworn shield, and so Aemon was unavailable to any but his wife.
The questions brought him to one of Aemon's strongest supporters. A man who the Lords of the North looked at warily and who may have caused some issue with their acceptance of his cousin's rule, had Aemon believed as Thoros did. His cousin had however shown in the North that if there were gods that Aemon believed in or sought counsel from, they were the gods of the North and not those of the Fire Worshiping Priest. A name that the Greatjon had coined for Thoros of Myr and one that some had taken to calling him by. Robb was not one of them for reasons he'd yet to realize.
"I heard you were looking for me, Lord Robb," Thoros called out as Robb walked through the large encampment outside Lannisport. The army that still named the West their home and would soon be sailing to the Iron Islands, was much too large to stay in the city itself.
"I was, my…"
"Thoros, Lord Robb, there are no titles among me and my men."
"Are you not their commander?" he asked.
"I am and yet not even my prince names me as such and my men have been with me far too long to ask them to do so," Thoros said. His voice light.
"Why do you name my cousin a prince still? Is he not your king?"
"He was my prince long before he wore the crown he has now taken for himself. The Prince that was Promised to us all."
"And so your prince he remains," Robb added to a nod of Thoros' head.
"Come sit, I take it you have questions if you've been seeking me out. Though if they are about my prince, I'll tell you now I'd answer only some."
"No..I…I'd not ask questions about his grace."
The truth was he did have some and yet no answer that Thoros or any other could give would suffice. Only Aemon himself would be able to put Robb's, his father's, and his uncle's minds at rest regarding his condition and mindset.
"I've never seen a fleet the likes of this afore." Robb began. "Never even imagined such a thing was possible."
"You should travel to Volantis, Lord Robb. To Meereen or Braavos."
"They have ships in such numbers?" he asked with his mouth almost open wide in shock at the thought.
"Braavos is the most seafaring city in all the Empire. Meereen is the gateway to the lands at its very outskirts."
"Volantis?"
"Is the Empire's heart and all roads lead there."
"Roads, aye," Robb said to a chuckle from Thoros.
"And those who travel those roads need food, clothing, they need saddles for their horses, wheels for their carriages. Their weapons sharpened or made anew. Where do you think the goods for all of that come from, Lord Robb?"
He turned and looked at Thoros, surprised a little that the man knew so much about trade and yet it made sense that he did so too. Another question now forming at his lips and though he wondered if he should ask it or not, ask it he did.
"Does his grace mean the same for Dragon's Landing?"
"And Harrenhal."
"I don't understand…"
"All roads will lead to Harrenhal, Lord Robb and yet Dragon's Landing when it comes to trade will be as Volantis."
It made some sense and yet not at the same time. Robb wondered if he should speak to someone like Lord Manderly who he knew would understand such a thing better than he ever could. Not even his father knew trade as well as the Lord of White Harbor. A different thought came to his mind and it was indeed one that he knew he'd have to speak to his father on. His future bride was set to be Lord Manderly's daughter rather than Lord Karstark's and he wondered if that had to do with trade too. Shaking that thought from his head, Robb asked the question that he'd come to ask.
"Your ships, Thoros. Those of House Velaryon."
"You wonder why they are different from the others and yet they seem to be the same."
Robb's head spun so fast that he felt a sharp jolt in his neck. He looked at the older man and wondered how he could know what was on his mind. The words spoken around the campfires that named Thoros and those who followed him as sorcerers of some sort now seemed to have more truth about them.
"Your interest and the attention you've paid to our ships has not been as subtle as you thought it was, Lord Robb," Thoros said and Robb let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. The truth was much simpler than he'd thought, as it usually was. As was the other truth that Thoros imparted to him. The one he brought back to his cousin, father, and uncle.
The other was one he later brought to Lord Manderly, and which changed the makeup of the weapons and their positions on the Northern Ships.
House Velaryon had faced many threats while they saved the eleven seas. Pirates and Corsairs from off the Basilisk Isles. Sea creatures that Robb both believed Thoros' words about and yet tried to deny them at the same time. Enemies that had believed that upon the sea they had a better chance of pulling on the dragon's tail than they had at land. Those who'd attempted to take House Velaryon or the Empire's ships for themselves and done so while the Dragonknight was far from their activities. Even Ironborn Reavers, much to Robb's surprise. His father's too when he told him the tale that night.
"I would have thought none so foolish." his father said after Robb had finished speaking on what he'd learned from Thoros of Myr.
"Are we not sailing to deal with such men now, Father?"
They were and his father and uncle could understand not why the Krakens not only wished to draw the Dragonknight's attention to them but had sought to provoke it. Robb in his limited knowledge of war and warfare had a better grasp on that, however. They sought it because foolish men don't know when they're being fools. Something that Aemon's Conquest had proved to every one of them. Harren the Black, Robert Baratheon, Tywin, and Jaime Lannister. All of them had found out to their cost what happens when you do such a thing. Yet, each of them had done so regardless. Robb did not doubt that House Greyjoy too would find out what their foolish actions had wrought down upon them.
"And I will play mine own part in seeing that is so."
The Conquest of Westeros LXIV
The Hound of Justice.
Losing his sworn shield had been a devastating blow for the Dragonknight. Torgho Nudho was always more than simply a protector or guard. So though he needed little protection in truth, a shadow was required. The Dragonknight knew too that his wife would relax more if he had someone watch his back. He, himself, would more than likely do so. So accustomed had he become to Torgho Nudho being there, that over the years his fighting style had adapted to it. Prince Aemon almost left that part of himself unprotected by his sword, knowing that Torgho Nudho's spear would be there if needed.
There was his sworn shield's counsel too. The Dragonknight would oft say things to Torgho Nudho that he would not say to any other man. Not because he had trusted the Unsullied implicitly, but for the mere fact that it was he and no other who was by his side the most. He who would be there when a thought would come, when a question would arise or a plan needed commenting on or to be changed. So it had been a great shock to everyone that rather than Ser Arthur Dayne, the famed Sword of the Morning, or Ser Barristan Selmy, known to one and all as the Bold, it was instead Sandor Clegane, The Hound, that the Dragonknight choose to fill Torgho Nudho's shoes.
Not simply because the man had already shown his loyalty to be in question, given just how quickly he'd abandoned the last man he served, but due to the actions of his brother as well. Yet, the Dragonknight looked past all that and saw something in Sandor Clegane that the man himself may not have even known existed. Prince Aemon saw loyalty where others only saw betrayal and from the moment he named him his sworn shield, it was the prince and not they who were proved right.
Later, after the man himself had passed and the Dragonknight had stood vigil over his gravesite, the truth of Sandor Clegane was known to one and all. The loyalty that had been seen in his eyes all those years earlier, had been something that none questioned as he was buried with all the honors that could be afforded him. Prince Aemon's words rang out loudly and none dared question them or deny them.
"I shall see you again, my friend. Until then, stand tall by Torgho Nudho's side, and know that I owe you both an equal and unpayable debt." Prince Aemon Targaryen.
A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
Lannisport 301 AC,
Sandor Clegane.
When he'd been asked to serve Aemon Targaryen, he'd not expected to do so at such close quarters. Nor had he expected to be so handsomely rewarded for doing so. The Targaryens had even more coin than the Lannisters had and they were not stingy with it either. Although some of that could very well be the fact they now controlled Casterly Rock and the mines as well as the vast treasury that Tywin Lannister had once named his own.
The first few days after the Rock and House Lannister had fallen, had seen Sandor kept somewhat at arm's length from the King of Westeros. Aemon Targaryen was grieving, or so the tales said, and so he was rarely seen and even more rarely in company when he was. So Sandor had taken the time to get to know those who had served the man longer than he. He'd spoken to them about what to expect and had been told that loyalty was always valued and rewarded by the House of the Dragon and by Aemon in particular. Seeing then how the man grieved over the loss of his former sworn shield, Sandor would name that to be true.
As for those he had once served, Sandor felt no shame over their loss or his abandoning of the Lannisters. He knew that some would name what he did as a betrayal, and yet he cared not. They'd have quickly abandoned him if the choice had been their lives or his and so he'd not accept scorn for doing the same. It was a slightly different matter when it came to his brother, however. Here Sandor was a little more conflicted. Gregor's death was something he'd welcomed and that he'd suffered greatly before leaving this world, something that Sandor believed his brother deserved. That his death came not at his hands, well that was where he still had unresolved feelings. Feelings that none but Aemon Targaryen seemed to understand or care about. The king spoke to him after a week's grieving and brought up his brother almost from the first instant that his lips moved.
"I know you have a history with your brother, Sandor. Even some of what that history pertains to and yet it could not be by your hand that he left this world. Just as it could not have been by mine own."
"What know you of my history, your grace?" Sandor somehow was able to not spit the words out as he may have done had it been Tyrion or another Lannister who'd spoken and not the man who'd put them all in the ground who did so.
"Enough to know you wished your brother dead, and that you wished to be the one to take him from this world."
"And yet I was not."
"And yet you were not," Aemon replied, repeating Sandor's words before seeming to take a moment to speak further. "It had to be House Stark and House Stark alone who took his life. My mother's family was owed a debt of blood by your brother and such debts can only be paid in kind."
"I was owed a debt," Sandor shouted.
"As was I and yet ours were smaller than those of House Stark and so we forego them and take comfort in the fact that your brother had naught left within him at the end. No way of paying either of us what was rightly owed."
There had been a hundred questions he'd wanted to ask the king. Mayhap a thousand if he bothered to count. As well as another hundred or so statements that Sandor could have made that would have named Aemon Targaryen as somewhat of a liar. For it was by the king's own hands that almost the entire male line of the Lannisters had been put to the sword. House Lannister living up to their motto if not their House's words right to the end. They never truly had the chance to roar after all. Or had they done so it was drowned out by a much louder and truer roar. So it was left to what they'd always said about themselves to be their final gift to the world.
"A Lannister always pays their debts," Sandor said quietly.
Now, there were other debts to pay. House Greyjoy had decided to name themselves kings in a land where there was but one. They'd drawn the Dragonknight's gaze their way. After seeing what had been done in the West, and hearing what had been done in the East, Sandor would name the Reavers' actions as those of fools or madmen. Neither of whom would provide even the slightest obstacles to the Dragonknight adding their pitiful islands to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. The newly named Seven Kingdoms.
Truth be told, Sandor looked forward to the battles to come, not. He'd instead hoped they'd be fought in Dorne and against men he'd at least name somewhat worthy. The Ironborn were anything but and were anyone to ask it of him, Sandor would name them poor warriors on land. Slightly less so at sea, as long as they faced men who'd fought no true fights whatsoever. Against men who had, they were merely walking dead men whose time had not yet come.
Looking at the fleet that was being readied to set sail, Sandor thanked the gods that he'd been born on the mainland and not on those accursed islands. Had he been, then death was inevitable rather than only just possible. Not that he or anyone else could ever cheat death forever, mind, just simply that his own would be one he'd not be facing soon. Something that could not be said for Balon Greyjoy and his brothers and the Crow's Eye above all. The Dragonknight had promised Harren Hoare that Euron Greyjoy would meet his end either by flame or steel and at his hands or the Blood Wyrm's talons.
"Why promise such a thing, your grace?" Sandor asked after he'd been soundly beaten in a spar by Aemon Targaryen.
"Lord Harren says that Euron Greyjoy sent him to me. That the man has a plan to earn him his victory." Aemon began and Sandor scoffed, bringing a smirk to the younger man's face. "I do so enjoy fucking up other people's plans." Aemon chuckled.
Now, with his cloak of white and newly furnished armor, Sandor stood atop the deck of the Dragon's Breath. In front of him, his king and queen held each other's hand and to the side, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy stood guard. If he were to look to the sky, Sandor would see the Blood Wyrm and Meraxes flying overhead and resting at the feet of the king and queen, lay Ghost. The White Wolf acted as an unofficial Dragonguard and one that Sandor would wager a match for the other three combined.
He now served as Sworn Shield to the Dragonknight. A role that had been served by a man whom Aemon Targaryen named a true friend and who he had mourned much since his passing. Sandor may never be able to replace the man or serve the king as ably as he did. Yet for the first time that he could ever think of, he found that he was happy and content with his lot in life. That he believed he'd found a role that suited him. More than any of that, he felt as if he had mayhap found a home.
Pyke 301 AC.
Daario Naharis.
They had set out long before the other ships. Daario and the Second Sons were tasked with their mission and their orders were given to him directly by his prince. Aemon was still someone he named as such despite their falling out. The betrayal that he had always expected to be found out, had indeed been, and it had cost him much. Even if most of it was the good favor that he'd been held in by Aemon Targaryen.
Still, he'd not been dismissed from his prince's service nor had he been exiled from Westeros. Instead, he'd been rewarded as truly as he'd ever hoped to be. Given a seat and a keep that men now looked enviously at him because of. Daario had found as much wealth as he'd gained in all his years serving the Dragonknight and that wealth was just the beginning of the holdings he was now master of. The mines were still producing a large supply of gold and would do so for many a year. Enough for him to pay his Second Sons well and to see that those who wished it would have their own keeps and lands to name their own. Not all of them wished for it, however.
"What use have I got for lands or a keep?" Lucearon laughed as he asked the question. "Gold, now that I can use."
"Lucearon has the right of it, give me some coin and a place to lay my head and I'm more than happy," Jaedor said before taking a large swallow from his mug.
"I'll take some land, I could do with a rest," Valarr said, surprising them all. "What, I'm getting fucking old and it's long past time I had somewhere to call mine own."
That it had been some and not all who'd wished for land was a good thing. Daario may now be the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, but he would always be a Second Son. The favor that he'd lost with his prince would always be something that he'd seek to try and regain. While the fact that only the prince, princess, Thoros, and Aurane were aware of him losing that favor, would always be something he'd be grateful for.
So, he'd been most happy when Aemon came to him and gave him this assignment. Happier still by just how successful it had gone thus far. Their first stop not being Pyke, but Saltcliffe. His men were sent to get the lay of the land and to find if there was anyone of worth that could be taken hostage. The Rock Wife of Lord Sunderly was soon charmed enough by Lucearon that she expected it not when he'd taken her as his prisoner. To this day, Daario was still unsure just how the man managed to seduce almost any man or woman he'd set out to take for his own. Happy enough that it served them as well as it ever did and content enough about his own success rate with the fairer sex to not ever feel jealous.
From Saltcliffe, it was to Great Wyk. Steffarion Sparr, Greydon Goodbrother, and his sister Gysella all fell to Lucearon's charms and were now resting in their ship's hold. Old Wyk gave up Denys Drumm, while on Great Wyk it was a fight at sea that brought them Baelor Blacktyde. The Nightflyer too was now under their control which was a boon that even Daario hadn't planned for. Sailing the Ironborn ship meant splitting his men in two, but it allowed for easier passage to their next destination. Orkmont, they left unmolested and instead, it was to Harlaw that the Nightflyer sailed. Daario and the rest of the Second Sons played the part of prison guards while Lucearon and Jaedor went about their prince's business.
"You think them enough?" Valarr asked as they awaited the signal from the other ship. The night sky was thankfully clear enough that it should be seen easily enough.
"I know not, but other than those on Harlaw and our targets on Pyke, we've taken the heirs of some of the largest Houses on these pitiful islands." Daario had been left unimpressed by what they'd found on each of the islands he'd stepped foot on.
"How cutting a message will he send?"
"A deep one," Daario replied, smiling when the fire arrow flew low across the water and he pointed it out to Valarr. "One more island to go and then our task is done."
"Should we not try for the keep itself?"
"No, take the prisoners and await our prince's arrival. That's all he seeks from us and besides…." Daario laughed a true laugh, one that went on for some time.
"Daario?"
"We don't want to end the war before it's begun. Where is the fun in that."
It was the second son of the Lord of Harlaw that Lucearon had captured and not the firstborn. Daario was slightly annoyed at that and yet in the end it mattered not. Despite the prisoners they now held having much value, they were not the true prizes that his prince sought and those prizes would only be taken once they reached Pyke itself. Lucearon's orders were to take the son and heir of Balon Greyjoy and his daughter too if he could manage both. However, if it was to be one then it was Theon Greyjoy that Aemon wished them to capture. Harren Hoare mayhaps even more so than his prince, Daario would wager.
Again it was the Nightflyer that was sent to dock, while The Painted Lady was at anchor some miles from the island itself. Daario was well aware that there were more ships around Pyke than any of the other islands and so there was more chance of being discovered here than anywhere else. Should that come to pass, it was for the best if they were some distance away and already in deep water, to help facilitate their escape. His men were skilled and a match for any man and even two or three, they were not a match for the entire might of the Iron Fleet. Even if that fleet itself was no true match for the fleet gathered by his prince.
So, they sat, waited and day turned to night, night to day and night again. Each of them was without a signal from the Nightflyer that their task had been accomplished. On the third night without word from or sight of his men, Daario bid his ship's captain to take them closer to Pyke itself. An odd feeling began to well up in his chest and he felt his stomach grow tight as The Painted Lady drew ever closer to the Kraken's Lair. A relieved exhalation of air from his mouth and a shake of his head, were his reactions when the Nightflyer was then spotted someway off in the distance. That relief quickly departed when Daario looked through the Myrish Eye and spotted the two ships chasing the one his men were on.
Torn between loyalty to his men and duty to his prince, it was the latter that won out. The knowledge that he held prisoners aboard his ship that Aemon wished for and that those prisoners could be used to barter for any of his men who were taken, was the one comfort he allowed himself. Or mayhap that was not quite true, for there was another that he tried to do the same with. His faith that his men would prove truer than their pursuers and that the Nightflyer would catch up with him once they'd lost them, while not absolute, was present enough to give him hope.
Three nights later, just outside Ironman's Bay, Daario and Valarr caught sight of their prince's fleet some miles ahead of them. By the time they reached the safety of the numbers Aemon had brought to bear, the Blood Wyrm had flown, and the two ships that chased after the Nightflyer, did so no more. Daario was finally able to let go of his worries and concerns, only for them to return a day later when Jaedor told him the tale of Lucearon's capture and his own escape.
"You left him," Valarr spoke angrily.
"He bid us to make haste and take the prisoners we'd already captured. He did so with the signal to leave him behind. Had he not…."
"Then you and those with you would have died pointlessly or be sharing his cell," Daario said, to a look of disdain and disappointment from Valarr. One that he had no intent of leaving on the man's face or accepting. "You know it's true, Valarr. It's what any of us would do. What we all agreed to do…."
"I like it not."
"Nor do I." he sighed. Moving to Jaedor to offer him a comforting hand on the shoulder and words that he hoped would prove true. "Our prince won't let it stand and Lucearon will be returned to us."
"I…"
"Do you think the Dragonknight would allow such a thing? Truly?" Daario stopped the words from being spoken that would express the true worries that each of them had over Lucearon. It was bad enough to think them without speaking them.
"No, the Dragonknight will see him returned."
Two days later, The Painted Lady and the Nightflyer both sailed back to and not away from Pyke. Should they be given the order, then he and his men would launch a rescue mission. It was an order that Daario knew would not be uttered. Aemon instead would use first the prisoners and then the Blood Wyrm to see Lucearon returned. After he'd done so, for any mark they found on Lucearon's body, Daario, and the Second Sons would inflict them tenfold on the men who'd dared to do so.
"On that, you have my vow," he whispered to the Gods of Death and the Seas.
The Conquest of Westeros LXV
The Rise of the Khaleesi Part One.
Forged in fire, never were truer words spoken than those when it came to Princess Daenerys Targaryen. When she did finally deign to roar, the once meek and quiet princess roared as loudly as any Emperor, Prince, Princess, or Dragonlord that came before her. Yet it was only those who knew her best who'd truly noticed how much she'd changed when she returned to Volantis. Her family, her goodfamily, and the dragons themselves all now looked upon Princess Daenerys with a far different look than they had once aimed her way.
Men from all over the Empire had sought her hand, even more so than they had sought the hand of Queen Rhaenys when they had believed that hand to have not been already taken. Some said that it was out of fear of the Dragonknight that held back only those but the most brave, or most foolish, of Queen Rhaenys' suitors. This was only partly the truth, however. Other than the incredible beauty which all those of the House of the Dragon were famed for, there had been different reasons they had sought out Princess Daenerys over her niece. The idea of a more compliant bride being one of them, or so some had wagered. While the belief that the High Emperor would be more willing to give up a sister than a daughter, beloved though she was, had played its part.
Within the House of the Dragon, however, a different truth was known. The High Emperor, if anything, was less likely to give up his sister's hand as he feared the princess to be too much like his mother. Rhaegar was wary of seeing Daenerys suffer anything like the same bad marriage that his mother had been forced to endure. Not that his children would have allowed such, as one word from Queen Rhaenys and any who dared cause her aunt even a moment's pain would soon find themselves meeting the gods. The death of Ser Gerold Dayne in Harrenhal at the hands of the Dragonknight had been proof enough of that.
So, be it worry, concern, or mayhap fate, Princess Daenerys' hand was never truly discussed or considered, until upon her return, it very much was. Would things have happened as they had if it had not been? Who knows. Did the nature of the betrothal and the man the princess eventually wed lead to the Rise of the Khaleesi? Mayhap. For just as Westeros had found upon the reunion of the Dragonknight and the then, Princess Rhaenys, dragons united are truly things to fear and wonder. Nightwing and Syrax. Daenerys and Haegon, The Khaleesi and her Khal. The seeds of the rise of the Khaleesi may have been sown in Westeros, the blossoming of those seeds, that took place in the Shadow of the Empire itself.
A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
Volantis 301 AC,
Daenerys Targaryen.
It was as if she'd never been away. Her family was the same. The city was as it had always been. Even her chambers were just as she had left them. Yet, there were differences too. Since she'd left all those moons ago, Viserys and Aegon had brought fire and blood to their enemies. Her cousin Haegon had taken up Aemon's role as Commander of the Second Army. Yet as she walked around the Grand Palace, it wasn't the changes of those there or those who had arrived after Dany had left that was the most stark of all. That dubious honor fell instead to the empty room and chair at the family dining table that had once belonged to her granduncle.
His loss was one that her family had still not recovered from and one which Dany now found she'd not truly grieved properly. So after spending a little time in what had once been her granduncle's room, it was to the family crypt that Dany made her way. To the statues that held within them the ashes of countless fallen members of her House. Her mother's the only one of them that Dany had ever truly visited over the years, while some distance away and far from where that statue stood, her father's was left unvisited.
Dany now once again paid her respects to her mother. Telling her of her adventures and of how she was now a Dragonlord in her own right. How she had helped her niece and nephew forge their kingdom in Westeros and how she and Nightwing had proven themselves true. Then it was to her Granduncle's statue that she moved to and just as with her mother's, she was stunned by the likeness. Or mayhap more accurately, the likeness of her granduncle's statue reinforced the words that Rhaegar had once spoken about her mother.
"I bid them to capture her as truly as she deserved to be."
"And father?"
"Him, I cared not how it looked."
Her brother had done the same for their granduncle. Aemon Targaryen had been a loyal adviser and truest friend to every one of them. His namesake may have always been his favorite and who he was closest to, but never did he not make time for each of them. Never did he fail to give them advice when it was sought and rarely if ever did that advice prove unhelpful. Dany now thanked him for each moment he'd shared with her and felt the tears fall from her eyes as she did so. The mourning she believed she'd not allowed herself to do while in Westeros, was now something she gave into freely.
"He would not wish your tears." a voice called out. Dany turned to see Rhaegar walking toward her.
"Yet he is owed them all the same," Dany replied. Rhaegar nodded his head as he moved to stand beside her. His hand reached out to take hers which she welcomed truly. "Was it quick? His death, did he suffer?" she asked worriedly.
"Those who took him from the world suffered. Both here and in Westeros as you helped see to."
"I…It was Aemon, he…."
"Had help from his fierce aunt." Rhaegar interrupted allowing her not to downplay her part in seeing that House Lannister had paid dearly for their actions.
Dany nodded her head and moved closer to her brother. Rhaegar allowed her to do so and wrapped his arm around her to offer her comfort and protection as he always had. The young and naïve girl that she'd been before leaving Volantis had always needed both. As for the girl she now was, she simply accepted the gesture for she needed little protection from anyone anymore. Her actions in Westeros had changed that aspect of her and showed her that she could protect not only herself but her House if need be. Something she now sought to do once more.
"Tell me of Khal Drogo." Dany said determinedly.
Rhaegar did not. Not then at least. Instead, he arranged for a meeting later that week and bid her to spend time with the rest of her family until then. When Dany went to argue with him and tell him that she needed not to be kept away from such things any longer, her brother told her that he very much was not doing so. That the words spoken both by herself and by Aurane as well as those sent in letters by Daario Naharis were more than enough to name her most capable.
"If anything, you have fought even more truly than I, little sister." Rhaegar winked before kissing her on her cheek.
So she did as Rhaegar bid. Spending time with her niece and nephew. With her other brother and Goodsister and with Rhaegar and Elia. The latter was even keener than the former to hear tales of her adventures in Westeros. Her Goodsister's worries for her daughter and Aemon were ever more than apparent in the questions Elia asked. Dany soon found out that there were worries about her family in Dorne too that plagued Elia's mind. Only some of which she was able to offer reassurance over.
When not with her family, it was in the sky that Dany spent much of her time. Nightwing wished for them to fly together and Dany had always welcomed doing so. The first and second times they flew alone over Volantis, while the third, fourth, and fifth they were joined by Haegon and Syrax. Her cousin was much like her and he too relished the freedom and tranquility that a flight atop their dragons allowed them. Dany, who was now missing Rhaenys almost as much as she had before traveling to see her and Aemon, was most happy for the company. As she was by the conversation she and Haegon shared one moonless night.
"I had always expected it would be you." Haegon began as their dragons ate their fill and drank from the cool stream.
"Expected?"
"That you and Nightwing would be the first to truly lay down flames on our enemies."
"But you're a warrior, surely…"
"I fought, true. Even atop Syrax's back. Yet when the Empire was at peril it was not me who was called."
"Aemon."
"Is it wrong that I wish it fell to him still?" Haegon said and Dany for a moment believed her cousin was fearful. Yet in truth, she knew he was anything but.
"I wish it too," she said softly. "Yet both my nephew and my niece are where they are meant to be and so it falls to you and I."
"Viserys, Aegon….."
"Are not the Commander of the Second Army nor have they waged war from atop a dragon's back, not truly."
Haegon looked at her curiously. Dany was unsure of what to name the expression on his face and for a brief moment felt a little angered at him because of it. She needed not his worries or concerns and yet, once she took a breath and relaxed, Dany found she welcomed them. As she did the small nod of his head that spoke far more truly than any other words her cousin could have said. A nod that was so reminiscent of Aemon's that it brought a half smile to her face.
Later when they held a meeting to discuss the Dothraki and their Khal of Khals, Dany expected pushback from one or even both of her brothers. She was certain that she'd hear some from Aegon and yet at no point did any of them suggest she sit out the battles to come or play no part in bringing the Dothraki to their knees. There were odd looks her way. Glances at Haegon when he said how much he welcomed having her and Nightwing to call upon. Then an odd conversation between her and Rhaegar once the meeting was brought to an end.
"You and your cousin seem more in step than I'd expected," Rhaegar asked. A question and yet not truly one all the same.
"Haegon is a warrior, just as Aemon is. A warrior knows better than any how best to use the forces at their disposal." Dany repeated something that Rhaenys had said to her about her nephew and Rhaegar nodded his head. Her brother, just as she had, saw the wisdom in those words.
"There was a time when I'd not have wished nor allowed you to fight. A time when I looked at you and saw only the little princess who held all our hearts in the palm of her dainty little hands." Rhaegar said, taking Dany's hand in his own.
"I am no longer a little girl."
"Yet always will you be my little sister." Rhaegar smiled before then kissing her softly on the cheek. "Do as Haegon commands, Dany, and do not argue with him over those commands, not in public at least."
"I understand the chain of command, brother." Dany rolled her eyes, winking the moment she did so which garnered her a laugh from her brother.
"Yet, you are no longer the little girl who'll do as she's been told, and I would have you be that girl a while longer if I could."
"I'll keep my arguments with Haegon to when we're alone," Dany said. Rhaegar chuckled as he understood that was the best he'd get from her.
"Be safe, well, and know that Mother would be as proud of you as I am, little sister."
"I…"
"Upon your return, we need to speak on your future, Dany. Both the man you should wed and what role is to be yours once you do so."
"You've chosen?" She asked curiously, all thoughts of war and Dothraki gone from her mind. For now at least.
"I have someone in mind. Someone worthy of you."
"See that he is, brother," Dany said in a mummery of fierceness and determination. Rhaegar saw right through it and for the next few moments they acted and played as if they were both children and not the grown woman and man that they truly were.
As she went to her bed, Dany found herself contemplating more on who it was that her brother had chosen for her than she did on anything else. At one time she would have gladly accepted someone like Rhaenys' former betrothed to be her own. In Westeros, she'd been somewhat enamored with Garlan Tyrell and thought him both handsome and charming. Now, as sleep claimed her, Dany found herself picturing someone like her nephew. Someone unyielding when that was called for, yet loving and caring when it was not. In her dreams, she dreamt of a Dragon and only a Dragon. For no one else was worthy of a princess of the blood and just as Aemon or Rhaenys wouldn't accept someone unworthy of them, neither would she.
Iron Islands 301 AC
Asha Greyjoy.
It had fallen to her to be the voice of reason. Asha was the only member of her House or even the Kingsmoot to suggest they reach out to Aemon Targaryen and swear fealty to the new King of Westeros. Her brother, uncles, and most of all, her father, all named her as craven for suggesting such a thing. She in turn named them as fools for not doing so. Yet in the end, it was her father's will that won out. So no envoy was sent to Lannisport and Aemon Targaryen was called a craven Greenlander who'd not set foot on the Iron Islands.
'Fool's words and a challenge to the Drowned God himself.'
Asha understood the Dragonknight far better than her father and those around him seemed to. He was a conqueror. A warrior who'd thus far found no equal. King Harren may have fallen to the men of the North, but Asha had no doubt that it would have been Dark Sister or the Blood Wyrm that ended him had he not. It was Aemon Targaryen who'd taken Harrenhal and who'd killed more of their men in one single day than had fallen before then. Not even the Battle of Riverrun had seen such a loss of life as what had happened at the entrance to the Neck.
The Dragonknight had then taken on the might of Westeros and had proven it to be anything but mighty. He'd personally killed the King of the Storm, Robert Baratheon. Had then seen to the Old Lion and the rest of his House. A warning that had gone unheeded by those of her own. Asha's words that Aemon Targaryen had left not one Lion alive by the time he was done taking Lannisport and the Rock for his own were shouted down. Louder words were then spoken about how Pyke was far from Casterly Rock in terms of its defensive capability, and yet they were listened to not.
Even when the first of his men had made their way to Lordsport, her words of warning were ignored. Asha, coming damnably close to being taken hostage after falling for sweet words and a pretty face. The torture they'd then put the Dragonknight's man to may not have revealed any of his plans, but Asha needed them not to do so. She again spoke words that went unheard and so it was to the Black Wind and the seas that she took herself.
As she lay in her bunk, she tried not to think of or picture the man she'd wished to bed. Her fingers, however, cared not that said man had turned out to be there for another reason altogether. They caressed her breasts and moved down between her legs as she imagined the night that she and Aemon Targaryen's man would have spent together. However, before they could bring about her release, it was the sound of his screams and the sight of the marks on his skin that resounded in Asha's mind.
"Fool of a man, we could have had such fun together." Asha sighed.
After he'd been discovered and once Asha was done listening to her nuncle Euron's nonsense and words of contempt and disdain, Asha was refused leave to chase after the Nightflyer. Had she been allowed to do so, she may have faced the fate of those poor souls who had. None of them arrived back and the Nightflyer and those aboard it had sealed their escape.
"Let them scurry back to their king and do so knowing that it was our own who sent them back to him with their tails between their legs," Theon called out loudly.
"The Iron King."
"Balon."
"Balon."
"Balon."
Asha had corrected them not. True it had been an escape. The ship and those aboard it had turned tail and sailed away in haste, but the fact it was that ship gave Asha pause. She knew Baelor Blacktyde and while she named the man a cunt, she named him capable too. Her father and uncles may say he now rested in the Drowned God's halls, but Asha wasn't quite as certain. Given who he was and the men he commanded, Asha wondered if there was more going on. So she'd gone to see the prisoner and had found no answers given nor no broken man. Instead, he'd simply smiled at her, bid her forgive him for not keeping his promise over the night they had planned, and asked her to let him know when his prince arrived. The last of those and how he said it, was still enough to send a chill down her spine.
"Do please let me know when my prince arrives, my lady."
"You think Aemon Targaryen can save you?"
"Oh 'tis not me I'm worried about, but it would be far better for you to be here by my side when my prince comes to call upon you family. You're a much prettier girl than you believe yourself to be and I'd hate to see such a fair face as yours after it's been kissed by fire."
They were just in sight of Harlaw when the alarm sounded. Asha raced to the deck and was handed the Myrish Eye the moment she reached it. The sight she saw was soon joined by an ever more worrisome one. Which given there was a fleet of ships heading her way, was no mean feat. Ships, she could outsail, however. Dragons she could very much not and after seeing the fearsome sight of the Blood Wyrm and the other dragon in the sky, Asha almost dropped her Myrish Eye.
'Calm yourself, woman. You're not a Green Summer Child.'
Asha somehow managed to do just that. She calmed herself and after taking a deep breath, she looked at the dragons once more. Relief soon washed over her as she saw they were flying without riders on their backs. That relief only intensified when rather than toward them, the dragons flew away from them and dropped down into the sea below. Their hunt proved successful and the flesh they burned turned out to be that of large fish and not her men's or her own.
"Set Sail For Pyke!" Asha commanded. Ignoring the part of her that bid her sail somewhere else.
Looking back over her shoulder, Asha thought about warning the Reader and yet she could not. The fact that Rodrik was on Pyke not allowing that to be so and she thanked the Drowned God for that. For if he was on Harlaw, then there would be naught she could do to help him avoid his fate. Besides, right now she had enough trouble avoiding her own.
As for her family, Asha worried that their fate was unavoidable.
The Iron Islands 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
He'd tested the Hound as best he could. Naming the man not as that but as Sandor and Aemon found he hated the Lannisters a little more simply because they'd refused to do so. It was a strange thing for him to come to realize as had anyone asked him, then Aemon would have said he could hate them no more than he already did. That not even after all but wiping their House from existence, did Aemon feel sated or name Torgho Nudho as truly avenged.
"All the deaths in the world itself could not even begin to make up for his," Aemon whispered.
After testing Sandor, he'd spoken to both Rhaenys and Arthur about the man. Before then speaking to Thoros to ask him to look into the flames and see if R'hllor wished him not to do as he intended to. Only Arthur out of the three of them had come up with a reason why he shouldn't name Sandor as his sworn shield. Aemon somewhat agreed with him in his assessment of Ser Barristan's skills and yet Sandor had him beat in age and so he won out in Aemon's mind.
The simple and inescapable truth was that it would take him much time to come to trust anyone even half as much as he had Torgho Nudho and by the time he did, Barristan would be long in the ground. Or so Aemon believed. As for Arthur, Aemon would only ever rest easily if it was by his wife's side that Arthur stood. Dawn to be wielded in protecting that which he held most dear in the world and it was not his own life that he named as such.
With his sworn shield taken care of, it was to plans of battle that Aemon turned his mind. Harren Hoare told him much of the Iron Islands and while the man wished not to give up all their secrets, Aemon had found fear to be the best motivator to make someone do so. Not fear of what would happen to themselves, mind, fear instead of what would happen to those you loved. The family that Harren sought his aid in seeing rescued. Aemon had not lied to the man and had told him that without telling him it all, he could not guarantee their safety or see them freed.
"Yet you guaranteed that the Iron Islands would be mine to rule over once again?" Harren asked.
"Victory is not in question, Lord Harren. What that victory may look like, however."
That was the truth of things. The Iron Islands would be conquered and it would not take him much to do so. Aemon already knew what strength the Ironborn had to call upon and it was much lesser than it had been at the start of his conquest. His uncles and their Riverlands allies had beaten the might of the Ironborn beneath the gates of Riverrun. They'd done so with fewer men than Aemon now brought to bear. They did so without him and the Blood Wyrm. Now the Ironborn would face both.
So, no, victory was not in question. Even despite Harren's warnings about the Crow's Eye having some plan that he knew not. Aemon had faced men with plans before and at the end of the day, he alone stood tall and breathed still. It would be no different with Euron Greyjoy or with his brother who named himself king.
Would victory free Harren Hoare's family?
Would it see Lucearon released?
Would Aemon need to be the man he'd been at Lannisport or Casterly Rock or would the man who'd forced the Vale, Stormlands, North, and Riverlands to their knees suffice?
Thus far he had found no answers to those questions and it would only be as the battles themselves were fought that he would. Battles that Aemon had taken steps to see were fought on his terms and yet it had cost much to see that was so. Lucearon's capture had been an unwelcome surprise and while Aemon had promised he'd do whatever it took to see him released, he'd not been able to guarantee that release. Just as he could not guarantee Harren that he'd see his family returned to him, he'd not guarantee Daario and the Second Sons that he'd see the same with Lucearon. The wars he'd fought had cost him much already and Aemon knew not what price this one would wring for him.
"Aems, come back to bed," Rhaenys called out and Aemon moved from the table he'd been standing over. The maps, books, and messages were all still scattered atop it and he'd been reading them not.
He needed not to. What cared he that Dorne had been righted and would need no war to be fought to see it so. Or that Prince Oberyn wished to meet with him and Rhaenys and would bring his niece with him when he arrived at Harrenhal. Dorne's governance was not something that Aemon truly concerned himself with as long as they'd knelt and named him and his wife as their king and queen. After that, Rhaenys would decide who ruled in their name and it needed not his attention for her to make that decision.
'Not when that attention is needed elsewhere.'
Removing his clothing, Aemon climbed into the bed and lay down beside his wife. Rhaenys had been feeling unwell ever since they'd set sail and so they'd taken to the sky more than once. Little islands and rock formations in the sea had been utilized to allow them to do so. Just as Aemon suspected, atop Meraxes his wife felt a thousand times better than she did when they sailed.
"You feel better?" he asked, reaching his hand to touch her forehead and feeling the warmth that showed she very much was not.
"I'm better, I feel well enough to…"
Aemon silenced her with a kiss to her lips. Again feeling the warmth of what at first he'd feared was a fever. He'd cursed himself for not having Marwyn here with him and had taken some comfort from the fact that it was only in the mornings and only aboard the ship that his wife's illness showed itself.
"We have all the time for that once we reach dry land, my love."
"I…it's been…"
"Rhae?"
"We've not lain together for more than a week, Aems…."
He moved on the bed and helped Rhaenys to move with him. His wife soon rested her head on his chest as Aemon spoke softly to her and rubbed his hands over her back. The words he spoke were ones that he felt there was no need to and yet they were ones that Rhaenys needed to hear. Her fears that she was letting him down or not doing her wifely duties were ones that he quickly assuaged and eventually, she accepted what he told her.
She was less accepting when he said that he wished her not to take part in the battles to come and that he wanted her to stay in their camp atop Meraxes. Only that he said that if she was needed, Meraxes would bring her to him, allowing her to agree to his wishes. Aemon named it as her illness and the poorness of the Ironborn as the reason he wished her far from harm. In truth, he wasn't certain that was why he did so, but he believed it enough to name his words as the truth rather than a lie.
"When it's done?" Rhaenys asked. "When the Greyjoys have been defeated and Harren is Lord Reaper, what then?"
"I know not, for other than spending time with my wife at Harrenhal I have no plans. No lands that need my attention nor enemies to vanquish."
"Peace." Rhaenys smiled. "How long is it since you've known such?"
"I know it each night I hold my wife in my arms. Each night I lay beside her and see her in mine dreams. You're my peace, Rhae, you've always been so."
She kissed him deeply and passionately. Then once she was happy and content, his wife laid out their plans. A meeting with her uncle and her cousin to see Dorne accepted truly into their kingdom was to be followed by a wedding and a tourney. One that was to be held at Harrenhal so that the great and the good of Westeros could travel and be accommodated. His wife wished for Aurane and Margaery Tyrell to be seen as close to them as any and more so than most if not all.
Aemon simply accepted her will on this. Rhaenys knew such things better than he did after all and he found he looked forward to ruling in peace for as long as it lasted. He'd no doubt that at some point another enemy would seek to show their hands and try their luck and there was still the Faith to deal with too. Their part in offering up a challenge to his and Rhaenys'' rule was not forgiven nor forgotten. He knew too that when his end came upon him it would be violent and bloody. That death when it welcomed him into its cold embrace would do so only after it had taken its pound of flesh from his body first.
Until that day was upon him, however, Aemon would know more days such as this. More days of peace and contentment by his wife's side. For without them, he'd have only existed and never lived. The Dragonknight may be a man forged in war, Aemon Targaryen he'd found was only truly happy when he was at peace.
A/N: Continuing bringing things up to date and trying not to whine more about my issues with this site, I'll be posting other chapters from Last Wolf, Dragonwolf Danced and Dragonverse over the course of the week and will then get back to the reviews once I'm up to date.