Author's Notes: Another two weeks and another chapter for your pleasure! I want to thank you all so much for joining me on this ride. It's been such a joy to see your reactions to things that I've planned from the very beginning. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. =)

Catzrko0l has been freakin' amazing. I really don't know what shape this story would be in without their hard work. Thank you so much for helping me with this monster! You're too kind!

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Chapter 149

Aemon LVIII

The day dawned wrapped in a thick fog. The yellow light of the morning sun could be seen just overhead as the sky lightened. The dark trees on the edge of the forest swayed in a light breeze and the birds sang a chorus as they started their day.

He shivered in the chill, perturbed that even this far south he was starting to feel the tendrils of winter. I was told that it took some time before winter reached this far, he thought. Had they waited too long to send their armies north? Predicting the weather wasn't an exact forecast. In the early months of spring, the north frequently had blizzards that forced people to lock themselves indoors, out of the bitter cold. He'd relied very heavily on Grand Maester Brunal to steer him right about the weather, since he was unable to be in the North to feel it for himself. The Grand Maester had cautioned him that the weather was dreadfully difficult to predict but that he would do his best. He thought they'd hedged it on the late side of fall.

He shook himself of his worries. They had enough to fret about in the south. They were preparing to go into battle that morning. A pair of scouts had come racing into the camp on horseback the evening before to report that the Blackfyre had marched an estimated ten thousand men through the Red Mountains and were about to take their first steps onto the Dornish Marches, with Hornhill as their next potential conquest.

Aemon had immediately insisted on scouting from Rhaegal to verify. Though Jaime was concerned about his dragon being injured, he couldn't resist the temptation for information. Up in the sky, Aemon had swooped by, seeing hundreds of campfires in the settling gloom before night fell. He had stopped briefly to warn House Tarly of the impending fight before returning to give his report.

"Passing strange," Jaime said.

"He has more men than what the fires indicated," Aemon replied.

"Precisely. Why just ten thousand? No army can afford the loss of ten thousand men," Jaime said with a puzzled frown.

"Do you think his men are hiding in the Red Mountains?" Aemon suggested.

"But then Garlan would be free to take Honeyholt at the very least," Jaime said.

"Garlan still has to cross the Honeywine. Mayhap he hasn't received any ravens about the army's absence yet?"

"Does Garlan have any good vantage points from where he can see across the river?" Jaime asked.

Edric rifled through their maps and pulled one out. Aemon, Jaime, Ser Barristan, Edric Dayne, and Lady Arya Dayne fell upon it as they strained to see.

"Looks like mostly grasslands," Aemon replied.

"Hmm …" Jaime rubbed at his chin, his brow furrowing. Then he fixed his gaze upon David and asked, "Anything new?"

"Nothing that I haven't already mentioned," David replied.

Since reaching Highgarden, there'd been a flurry of letters to all of the armies. Given the Blackfyre's movements through the mountains, Lord Caron had retreated to his hold Nightsong to more easily defend it, though he was prepared to march at a moment's notice to try and pin the Blackfyre at the river.

"This is our chance to take the fight to him," Aemon declared. "I say we strike."

Jaime began nodding. "We'll have to be careful of more soldiers in the mountains."

"Rhaegal still hasn't joined battle. He can be the difference maker," Aemon said, thinking back to the rows upon rows of wights who disintegrated under the dragonfire when the dragons were still alive. It had been one of the few victories they'd experienced in the previous Long Night when the dragons thinned the lines and actually forced a retreat of the wights, if only momentarily.

"There could be scorpions, Aemon. The Blackfyre knows of your dragons," Jaime insisted.

"We haven't heard anything about war machines. Getting them through those mountains would be nigh impossible," Aemon pointed out.

Jaime had eventually conceded. They sent their messages to Lord Caron and Lord Blackmont about their plans and prepared for battle. The frontline was made up of several thousand foot soldiers layered ten deep. Behind them was another couple thousand calvary to be led by Jaime and Ser Barristan. Ser Addam and Lord Edric were to lead the front line. Aemon could see the annoyance on Jaime's face that he was not to lead the charge, but given that he was the commander, he had to stay back and keep a weather eye. David was to stay with the messengers waiting nearby.

They began their march. The Dornish Marches were quite large and would take hours to cross. Though the Blackfyre undoubtedly knew Rhaegal was nearby, Jaime still insisted on Aemon staying behind. He would take flight later and join the army in a matter of minutes.

Aemon, David, and the messengers watched the army disappear into the thinning fog, leaving an eerie quiet in their wake. Only David stood close at hand, seemingly unafraid of the dragon. The messengers gave him a wide berth and eyed him warily. Aemon was past being concerned about what people thought of the dragons. After what happened with Drogon, a little fear was healthy.

"Be careful, Your Grace," David said next to his horse as he fed his raven a few seeds.

"Hmm? Don't turn into Jaime on me," Aemon replied.

"Everyone knows how overwhelming a dragon can be. The story of Aegon the Conqueror proved it. The Blackfyre wouldn't have come if he didn't have a plan for dealing with them," David said, flashing his eyes in irritation. "He is apt to make an attempt on Rhaegal."

"I know," Aemon snapped. "I know to be cautious!"

David seemed to want to say more but then thought better of it. He climbed atop his horse and said, "No use waiting here when we can't see anything. Let's get closer."

Aemon raised his eyebrows at him. "I'm not going to question your judgment; save any rash actions for fleeing. You need not risk your life."

"As master of whisperers, it behooves me to bear witness," he replied.

With that, Aemon was left alone with Rhaegal. It had been years since he had last been alone. Ser Barristan haunted his every footstep. He had resisted riding with the cavalry, insisting that he stay by Aemon's side as long as he was on the ground. But it would take far longer for Barristan to rejoin the army than Aemon on dragonback. Aemon was eventually forced to order that Barristan would accompany the cavalry. Barristan conceded grudgingly, but he had gone.

All night and all morning, Aemon felt the frenetic energy that took him before battle and he paced to ease the bloodlust building inside him. If he had one regret as a dragon rider, it meant that he would spend much of the battle above, everything out of reach. But Rhaegal was far more deadly than a sword would ever be; it was better that he be there to guide Rhaegal.

He followed the arc of the sun as it rose into the sky, burning the final remnants of the fog. He could see the backs of the cavalry in the distance, but they were hardly bigger than ants to his eye. He squinted to see, but could tell they were walking forward. He itched to boot Rhaegal into the sky and get an overview, but they were hoping to catch the Blackfyre off guard with Rhaegal's presence. Instead, Jaime was to give a single blow of a horn. On these open fields, the sound would have no difficulty carrying back to Aemon's ear. On the second horn blow, they were to attack, but not before Aemon and Rhaegal had already inflamed the front line.

Even if the Blackfyre's army didn't immediately fall apart, they had fifteen thousand men to their ten thousand. It was a dangerous prospect to follow them into the mountains, but the next plan was to attempt to herd them into a trap. Lord Blackmont's seat was located in the midst of the Red Mountains. The next step was to coordinate with him and attempt to hem them in on all sides. Up to this point, there had been only skirmishes and the Blackfyre had taken them all. It was long past the time since he should've been defeated.

Up to this point, Rhaegal had been lounging in the grass, idly flicking his tail like a cat. But at Aemon's growing anxiety, he began to stir restlessly. He got to his feet and growled.

"Whoa there. Sorry, boy. It's not time to go yet."

Rhaegal eased back down into a crouched position on the ground, but his eyes were fixed on the horizon where the army had fallen out of sight. Aemon absentmindedly stroked the scales of his neck, but he kept glancing from the horizon to the sun. It was just shy of noon when Aemon had enough waiting and decided to make his move. He had only just settled into the saddle, when the echo of a horn call reached his ears.

"Let's go," Aemon shouted. Rhaegal was on his feet, but he stretched out his claws like a cat, gouging the ground before he took a running leap and launched himself into the air. At first, he remained low, gliding barely two dozen feet from the ground as the grasslands began to blur together and whip by them. It took some time, but quite suddenly, he could see the mass of the cavalry sweep beneath him and it was mere seconds later that they left the army behind them.

There were still a few hundred yards between the armies. He and Rhaegal gained altitude, and then Aemon turned him to get a better view of the other side.

There wasn't anything close to the ten thousand men the messengers had reported. There were two lines of men, perhaps a couple thousand in total. There was nothing to indicate leadership was present.

He wants to test our strength. Let's not disappoint him, Aemon thought grimly, having Rhaegal wheel around and then he came in low, hoping to get both rows with a single fire blast. The entire first row went up in flames, but the back row had broken away almost immediately to flee.

Even as Aemon felt a grim satisfaction in having destroyed the entire first row, it quickly turned to horror as he saw men flailing to beat the green flames eating at them. He wheeled back around, aiming for men in the second row. He tried to hold his breath as they went through the smoke, but the remnants caught in his throat and he coughed. It began to grow as a tickle, though he worked to ignore it.

Suddenly, Rhaegal cut off in the middle of his fire stream and jerked up. The dragon seemed to be heaving and when he struggled to get a better view, he seemed to be hacking as well. More coughing rattled his chest, but then Rhaegal reared up and began thrashing. Aemon had to hold on for his life as his dragon wheeled around.

"Let's go, Rheagal, away!" Aemon turned him back and pointed his nose away from the south, not entirely sure where they were going. As they crossed the field, Aemon could see them getting lower and lower. Rhaegal flapped his wings valiantly, but he was still thrashing and moaning in agony, spraying jets of green flame here and there. Aemon peered over his shoulder and saw a patch of forest ahead. He urged Rhaegal over toward it. Once over the treetops, his relief was short lived once he heard the cracking of limbs and he braced himself for impact.

Jaime LVII

He kept his eyes fixed on the row of green flames. The yellow grass of the marches burned merrily. He could see men flailing and screaming in agony as the flames consumed them. The lucky ones had been immediately incinerated, but the remaining batted feebly at the flames hungrily eating them with no end in sight.

"Something's wrong," Ser Barristan said.

Jaime was glad to be jarred from the vision, but then he affixed his eyes upon Rheagal and felt fear grow in his belly as Rhaegal thrashed. His wings were out of sync and spurts of flame were shooting out of his mouth. Then he turned away from the havoc he wrought and began flying back in a northeasterly direction, away from both of the armies. He pulled his horse out of line and trotted off in the direction, noticing movement as another horse rode in parallel. He caught a flash of gray hair, suggesting it was David vainly attempting to follow.

Ser Barristan rushed past him as well. Jaime locked eyes with two of the other messengers and pointed toward Rhaegal. "Follow them! Report back to me once the king has been found," Jaime barked. Every fiber of his being demanded he follow as well, but he turned away and rode to the front of the line, seeking Lord Edric, Lady Arya, and Addam.

"We're going to the king's aid. Watch our backs and fend off the Blackfyre should he make an attack. I will send for you when we find him," he commanded. He didn't wait for a reply before he booted his horse and ran the length of the frontline. Much further ahead, he could just see the tiny dot that was David as he galloped for the edge of a copse of trees.

He hurried his horse, Agro, to encourage her to draw even with Ser Barristan. "Did you see where he went?"

"He aimed for the thicket and disappeared into the trees," Ser Barristan called back over the sound of the horses' hooves.

They continued in silence, but Jaime's mind was racing. What happened? He had paid Aemon and Rhaegal little attention as they rained fire, trying to see beyond the flames to the waiting army. The dragon had laid down such a thick carpet of flames that it was impossible to tell, but he thought even he would've seen the bolt of a scorpion. He hoped there would be answers when they arrived.

He'd spent so long focusing his efforts on the Long Night that the Blackfyre was never more than a fly buzzing in the back of his mind. It certainly sounded like the Blackfyre had a death wish to invade Westeros when there were three formidable dragons to stop his army in his tracks. While they were not the size of Balerion the Black Dread, even Rhaegal had made short work of the Blackfyre's front line. A single sweep of his green flames had caused several hundred men to become instantly alight. Despite this step back, he expected the Blackfyre to have difficulty managing the morale of his soldiers given the likelihood of a horrendous burning death.

They rode for some time. Jaime kept switching his focus from David to the messengers trailing after him. David reached the copse and simply headed straight into the underbrush. The messengers followed suit. Just as they reached the copse's edge, the messengers returned.

"My lord," the messenger said urgently. "If you take this trail, you'll find them."

"Is the king alive?"

"He is, my lord. The master of whisperers is tending to him."

"Good work. Return to the army and guide them here. We need them surrounding in and around this place by nightfall."

"Yes, my lord."

When they reached it, Jaime allowed Ser Barristan to take the lead as they followed the trail David's horse left in its wake. After a few minutes of traveling the trees opened up to a newly formed clearing. The trees were skinny and snapped like splinters as Rhaegal crashed into them, toppling a dozen or more. They left their horses by David's and began picking their way through the debris.

They eventually found David tending to Aemon. The healer had already unraveled his bedroll and placed Aemon upon it, who was coughing and breathing heavily. The healer had his ear pressed against his chest and his brow was furrowed.

"What happened?" Jaime demanded.

"I-I don't know," Aemon sputtered, his voice an erratic yellow that set Jaime on edge. Aemon rolled his eyes toward him; his face was drawn and wan from the strain. "I, huh, I got a-a tickle in my th-throat when we wuh-went through the sm-smoke."

Jaime frowned and then glanced toward Rhaegal, who had similarly labored breathing. "The smoke? I wouldn't think a dragon would struggle with smoke."

"How bad is it?" Ser Barristan asked, his voice somehow the blue of a still pond, but the lines of his face seemed deeper somehow.

David cast them an annoyed look. "Impossible to say without knowing more. Your Grace, you mentioned the dragon started acting up after passing through the smoke?"

"I-uh-I think," Aemon gasped.

Jaime watched carefully and saw the light of suspicion enter the healer's eyes. He turned and began digging through his many pouches, pulling out ingredients. "What are you thinking?"

"I think," David began, his voice orange with his irritation, "there was something that burned and gave the smoke a sickness."

"I'm not following." Jaime scowled in frustration.

David ignored him as he examined Aemon, tilting his head back to peer into his eyes and then looking into his mouth. "I see some irritation. When I was first drafted for the war of the Ninepenny Kings, I was among the foot soldiers. There was a none too bright stablehand by the name of Elric who put a branch of fresh poison ivy in our campfire one night. It was miserable: itchy eyes, difficulty breathing, a rash on our lips and tongues. Another boy, Putnam caught fever and nearly died. Ole Elric was never allowed to do fire duty ever again. It could be something as simple as poison ivy or sumac burned.

"But that doesn't explain Rhaegal." David turned to stare at Rhaegal, though what he might be thinking Jaime wasn't sure. "Poison ivy or sumac or any number of flowers should merely irritate a dragon, not cause this. Hear that breathing? He's struggling much more than even Aemon. If you want me to save them both," and here David's voice shot red, "then you'll allow me to work without interruption!"

Jaime huffed but stalked off as bid. Since it was just him, he decided to do something about the fallen trees. They first started gathering loose limbs and stacking them in a pile to build a fire later. Every so often, Jaime would glance at Aemon and David. Once he saw David holding up a potion to Aemon's lips. Another time, Barristan was setting up a tent and David was using his mortar and pestle to make something. While Jaime never made inquiries, he often wandered close and could hear David muttering under his breath; sometimes he seemed to be considering his ingredients and other times he was griping about how he couldn't be expected to tend to a dragon.

Yet despite his grumbling, he showed no sign of fear toward the beast. He didn't slink around it like a timid prey animal or give it a wide berth. He quite naturally showed some hesitation when he approached its mouth and seemed to be trying to coax it to open. Jaime was surprised when Rhaegal actually did open his mouth and David turned away, pinching his eyes shut like he expected to be eaten. Smoke streamed out the sides of Rhaegal's mouth when he did open it, but that was all. David used tree bark to apply some type of medicine to the dragon's tongue before the dragon closed its mouth again.

The trees in that area were particularly skinny, so once Jaime finished stacking branches they went about trying to use rope to tie the trees to the horses to haul them away. While it wasn't particularly difficult work, it was time consuming. Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, the army arrived. Ser Addam ordered the men to assist. They abandoned the attempts to use the horses and half a dozen men simply tried to pick them up and move them.

Despite the dragon creating a clearing, it wasn't large enough to hold more than a dozen tents. Men began chopping down more trees around the dragon, by order of Jaime. He hoped that by surrounding Aemon and Rhaegal, they would be better able to protect them from any attacks. Ser Barristan and a few men moved Aemon to his own tent and was left to rest on David's recommendations. He commanded similarly of Rhaegal.

"How long will they need?" Jaime demanded.

"I don't know," David replied. "I think Aemon needs a day or two. His coughing has already lessened and he's sleeping peacefully. But Rhaegal? He had black spots on his tongue and in other parts of his mouth. Skin lesions could mean it's quite serious and will take time."

"We don't have time," Jaime snapped, his red voice striking like a snake.

"Tell the dragon that then. I'm sure he'll oblige by healing faster," David said, his voice turning into an orange tongue of flame.

Jaime looked back the way they came, thinking about the Blackfyre's army. His own men had said that while the green fire was still burning, there was a possibility that the Blackfyre was either putting it out or marching around it and he hazarded to guess that it wouldn't take long, even down several hundred men.

"Write to Lord Caron and Lord Blackmont to send their armies to our aid," Jaime demanded.

"Very well. I'll send them before I retire tonight," David replied, his voice as blue as a still pond.

He sent the scouts out to make sure that the Blackfyre wasn't able to sneak up on them. Though it had been a long day, he was still antsy and so stayed up to patrol the camp. When Jaime did finally climb into bed, it was in the early hours of the morning and he was still up by breakfast to make sure.

As the second day drew to a close, Jaime headed out to the southern edge of the forest, walking past the many tents of the army. In the deepening twilight, he surveyed the fields and the mountains, searching for any sign of movement. It was flat enough that the Blackfyre would struggle to position his army more favorably without being spotted. Though he didn't see anything, it did nothing to soften the edge of tension.

"Stay alert," Jaime barked to the men in the area, his voice a burnt orange cinder. He then returned to Rhaegal. He once again saw David applying some type of mixture to the dragon's tongue with a sheaf of bark. Jaime didn't dare draw closer, so he accosted David once more. "Well?"

"My lord, if the dragon hasn't died yet, then it's unlikely that he will. He just needs time more than anything," David replied, his voice still an infuriatingly calm blue.

"How much more time?"

"That remains to be seen."

"What are you giving him?"

"Something that I hope treats the symptoms. Without knowing more about what affected him, it's impossible to fully counteract it. If it was a poison, he inhaled a mild dose," David said.

Jaime turned away in frustration. As soldiers returned to bed and the camp quietened, Jaime once more patrolled it like a caged lion. As the crescent moon approached its zenith in the sky, he decided to retire to his own bedroll.

A horn blast rent through the still air. Jaime leaped up, snatching up Daybreak and charging out of his tent.

"Attack! Attack! We're under attack!" someone bellowed.

Jaime felt a thrill of fear and ran toward Aemon and Rhaegal. He found David and Ser Barristan both half-carrying and half-dragging Aemon into his saddle. They threw rope around him and David haphazardly tied Aemon to the horn of his saddle.

"You must leave, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. "You're too valuable and the dragon's too vulnerable. Fly, fly far away."

Though Aemon looked groggy, he nodded.

Rhaegal looked more alert than he had the day before, but he still stumbled weakly to his feet. He was a little ungainly as he ran, but he flapped his wings and only just brushed the tops of the trees as he left the copse.

Jaime breathed a sigh of relief. He then turned his attention to the west. The Blackfyre had attempted to surprise them by coming from an unexpected direction and given the darkness of the sky, they waited until the darkest part of the night. It was going to be a tough fight.

He took two steps toward the fracas when he felt a blow hit him in the head and stars erupted in his eyes as he fell to his knees. He blinked groggily before he felt himself hauled upright. A strong arm wrapped around his neck and there was a sting of a sharp blade as it dug into his skin.

"Throw down your weapons or I will kill Lord Lannister," David barked.

Jaime saw red and he clenched his teeth as he grabbed the arm, hoping to get into position to bite. But David had him in such a powerful vice that it belied his age and stature. You sneaky, son of a bitch. When I get my hands on you, I will tear you limb from limb and scatter them. Then salt and burn the field in which you lay, he thought savagely. It had taken years, but he'd finally bought David's trustworthiness. But it seemed everyone was susceptible to the treachery that being master of whispers brought with it.

"What in Seven Hells are you doing?" Ser Barristan bellowed.

"I said surrender," David barked, "or he dies."

He delivered another quick blow to the head and this time, Jaime fell limp. His mind swam, but he couldn't seem to orient himself. Jaime's eyes fluttered and he saw Ser Barristan and Olyvar standing there. Shame-faced, Olyvar had already thrown his sword to the ground, but Ser Barristan steadfastly kept it in his hand.

"Dnddt doitch," Jaime sputtered, attempting to shake his head in the ironclad grip. He couldn't keep from groaning in pain as David stabbed into his upper thigh.

"The next blow will be fatal."

Even through his own squinted eyes, Jaime was vexed that David's voice was icy blue. Still calm but with a deadly edge.

Ser Barristan had an apology in his eyes, but he reluctantly threw down his sword and then commanded that everyone else do the same. Then Jaime felt another hard blow and all went black.