"I'm loyal to the idea that you've lost your mind, Jon," Aemond declared upon hearing his advisor's proposal.
The silver-haired man was seated in a chair in the middle of Haldon's tent, where Haldon was cutting his hair, which had grown so long over time. The three of them were alone, though the curtains were open so the semi-maester could see what was being done with the daylight.
"Your Majesty, it is the best way to reach Westeros while avoiding a massacre," he tried to reason with him, maintaining his always cold and expressionless demeanor that Aemond had always known. "This very morning, the queen agreed to purchase ten thousand Unsullied."
"What?"
"Ten thousand Unsullied against the Golden Company is a battle I assure you we will not win. And let's not even talk about the dragons. She is not like Aegon; she has two great warriors advising her…"
"And I have you advising me," he interrupted, now with an irritated tone. "You were the hand of the last Targaryen king; you've been through wars, just like most of my men. We've proven that we are superior to the Unsullied and the Dothraki if we just have a good strategy. There is no need for me to marry Daenerys Targaryen."
"Haldon, leave us," Jon ordered, fixing his pale eyes on Aemond as if he were a father about to scold his son.
The healer, who, like everyone else, feared Jon, left his tent without any complaint, closing the curtains behind him. He agreed with the knight.
"Aemond, as king, you must put the crown first, above your desires, resentments, or choices," Jon said determinedly, clasping his hands behind his back. "You are not above your duty as king. Remember that and you will make a difference from all the kings who have existed in the last hundred years."
"Jon, you're talking about putting my crown in a place where it is at risk, not above myself," he countered, standing up to face him. However, even in that manner, he couldn't avoid feeling uncomfortable under the other's cold gaze.
"I'm talking about an alliance that could break when they have the Seven Kingdoms at their feet… Or do you think you will do it alone?"
"I will marry Arianne Martell."
"Dorne does not have even half of the kingdom's forces, and Doran Martell is too cowardly to face the Lannisters again," Jon said, firm as a rock. "Oberyn need not find out about your union with Daenerys until you reach Westeros. At that point, we will know what to do."
"I don't understand, why do you yearn so much for my union with her?"
"Because a dragon must sit on the Iron Throne when the Long Night comes."
Those words left Aemond frozen, who took a few steps back to sit again in his chair. He had heard the story of the Long Night hundreds of times. He remembered that passage perfectly:
A cold and bitter winter more than eight thousand years ago brought with it the night of an entire generation, where kings died frozen, children suffocated, and mothers weeping ice. The Others arose, destroying everything in their path with their fine ice swords, capable of living through death.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused, to which Jon sat in another chair across from him, coming close enough so that no one could hear what he was about to say. His shoulders had relaxed from their erect position, but his eyes remained as cold as ever.
"The day Rhaegar found out everything that was happening because of him, he was thinking of heading south to meet Lyanna Stark," Jon began. "However, before that, he called me to the Great Sept of Baelor and, in front of the remains of his ancestors, told me about a dream his father had told him about, and his father before him. A dream that was passed from king to heir since Aegon I. The Conqueror had called it 'The Song of Ice and Fire.' It spoke of a winter so long and dark that it would awaken the dead themselves. Specters threatening the realm of the living and everything we know. The end of our world." He took a breath and continued. "When the time comes, a dragon, red or black, must unite the realm into one, sitting on the Iron Throne, and light the Long Night with its flames. Aemond, you are the prince that was promised." Aemond was silent, with a furrowed brow and his violet eyes lost. "You must not sit on the Iron Throne because it is your right or out of ambition. You must do it because you are the one who will save the living. It is a privilege, a duty, a responsibility that only you are worthy of."
"Why me?"
"I thought it was Aegon. Rhaegar also thought so," Jon replied. "He made me promise that I would protect him as the most precious thing in my life because he would be our savior. I did. In vain." He lowered his gaze from the other's. "Then I saw you, the best warrior I've seen, loved as feared, respected as envied. Capable of moving crowds with just your sword. At that moment, when you decided not to decapitate me, I knew that you were truly much more than a mercenary and that you belonged to your kingdom." The old knight smiled. "You are a dragon and Daenerys is one too. Their destinies are the same. They must be seated on the Iron Throne when the dead rise. Together."
They fell into silence. Aemond processed what he had just heard, and Jon gave him as much time as necessary. It was not easy news; even Rhaegar's life had changed upon hearing it. The prince, who had always been considered a scholar, became a man obsessed with his combat skills, delirious with the winter. Jon would say that part of his love for Lyanna Stark was due to his own interpretation of ice and fire, thinking that their union would bring the life the dead would take. What he did not know was that the life to be taken would be theirs.
Aemond, for his part, stared at the ground, the sand beneath his feet. He was being told about a prophecy three hundred years old that fell on him. Generations and generations of Targaryens bearing the same weight, and it was he, a Blackfyre, whom the dream supposedly spoke of. Not only did he have to view his path as the promise to return his men's homes, but he also had to save them, to unite the Seven Kingdoms that constantly sought to destroy each other and convince them that darkness was approaching. It was overwhelming to think about the future. Now he only had to marry Daenerys Targaryen. Unite their lineages, their forces, and their claims.
"Does she know this?"
"I doubt it. If what Rhaegar said is true, the last Targaryen who knew it died at the hands of the Kingslayer in King's Landing," Jon replied. His voice had calmed, as had his eyes, which now looked tired.
"If I agree, I will lose Dorne."
"You will always have Dorne."
Finally, Aemond gave in, making it clear when he lowered his eyes in resignation. He couldn't stop thinking about what his camp would say when he announced his union with the Mother of Dragons. Not only would he have let go of a Targaryen for them, but now he would marry one.
They won't celebrate much. He thought.
"I will do it," said the silver-haired man, standing up. He removed the towel from his bare shoulders and threw it over the chair where he had been sitting. "But I want to speak with her."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," said Ser Jon before heading towards the port of Astapor, where the Balerion, the queen's ship, was moored. Obviously, no Dothraki rider allowed him to board the vessel, so he waited for Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan to appear on deck until they stood before him. Politely, the lord requested, on behalf of Aemond Blackfyre, an audience with the queen, who accepted, though not very gladly.
A few hours later, Aemond awaited at the port with Ser Jon for Daenerys's arrival, along with her knights and the young slave she had taken from the Good Masters, as she did not want the mercenaries to board her ship, probably for the safety of her still young dragons.
"Give us some space," Daenerys ordered calmly, folding her hands above her waist as they moved away from the port. Respecting her request, the three men stepped back about six or seven meters, following at a slow pace. "I imagine you know why we're having this meeting."
"I requested it," Aemond replied seriously, though not aggressively. Their hair shone under the burning sun of Astapor, so much so that people stared in amazement as they passed, which they simply ignored. "And I imagine you're as enthusiastic about marrying a Blackfyre as I am about marrying a Targaryen."
"You have no idea," she laughed, surprised by his honesty. "Years and years of disputes between our houses broken by a marital bond. We wouldn't honor our ancestors much."
"But we would honor our descendants by giving them the Seven Kingdoms."
"I haven't even said yes to the proposal and you're already thinking about our descendants," she said with a mocking tone.
"In my defense, I don't want to die fighting my own allies."
"Are you saying that I am your ally?"
"If you accept, we will be," he replied in a more serious tone. "And even if you don't, we still have to fight our enemies, which would be better done together."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "I'm interested. Explain to me, what's in it for me?"
Aemond didn't take his eyes off her. Despite her tone of voice, she wasn't being rude. In fact, she was attentive, and although she had just taken power, she had already managed to prove herself as a queen. It was very different from Arianne, who simply controlled the land of the desert. "An alliance against the Lannisters, the Golden Company, and the North. That will put your claim to the throne on a firmer foundation and give me the army I need to fight the traitors."
She studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "You don't have a good reputation, Blackfyre."
"Neither do you, Targaryen."
"A marriage would help," she replied after a moment of silence. "However, our only wedding would be if you agree to renounce any claim to the Iron Throne."
Aemond opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to stop him. "If you accept, you will be married to me, and your life will be completely different. You will never rule the Seven Kingdoms."
"And if I don't accept?"
"If you don't accept, I will have my Unsullied and Dothraki against you. You have no chance of winning, Blackfyre."
"If you don't agree to marry me," he responded, his tone becoming tense, "I will not help you against the Lannisters."
"That's a bargain."
"The only bargain," he declared firmly.
Daenerys sighed. She knew he was right, and the only option was to accept or risk losing everything she had gained, including the lives of her dragons.
"I accept," she said finally, surprising him. "However, if you betray me, I will make sure you die."
"I don't plan to betray you," he said with a slight smirk. "And if you do, I will not hesitate to kill you."
The two held each other's gaze for a moment, and Daenerys gave a small nod, signaling the end of their meeting. They would be married, and both knew the future would be a challenge, but for now, they had one less obstacle to overcome.
Daenerys turned on her heel and walked away with her entourage, leaving Aemond and Jon to contemplate the future they were now bound to.
