Harrenhal 2 AC,
Visenya Targaryen.
The pain was bearable or to be more precise, she was more able to bear it once she knew her husband had returned. Hearing that Rhaegal had landed and knowing that Aemon was likely racing to their chambers, brought her a true sense of relief. Seeing him as he entered and then feeling his hand take her own, was enough to bring a smile to her face. One that would have lasted much longer than it did were not for the sharp pain she felt a moment later.
"I'm here, I'm here. We're together." Aemon said and her husband grimaced not when Visenya squeezed his hand tightly.
It was Aemon who rubbed the wet cloth on her face. He, who turned to tell Melisandre and Marla what was needed. Not that either woman had been slack in making sure that they had everything required to see her babe was birthed without issue, mind. Simply because her husband knew her mind so well and was well aware that these were concerns that Visenya had. Aemon understood that even though both the ladies present had no doubt already told her of such, hearing him confirm it would put her mind at ease.
Warm water was brought, towels were laid out and then the pain truly began. Aemon held her hand through it all and allowed his strength to fuel her own. His softly spoken words were ones of love and encouragement and Visenya welcomed every one of them. As she did when the worst of the pain began to subside and Melisandre told both her and Aemon that it was now truly time. Their babe was to be born within the hour and Visenya offered prayers to gods she knew not if she believed in, before then insisting on a promise from her husband in whom her faith was without limitation.
"Should I…" Aemon placed his finger on her lips to stop her speaking. Her husband shook his head before removing his finger when she shook her own. "Should I fall, if I don't make it…"
"You will, as cruel as the gods may be, they would risk my wrath and my judgment if they even considered taking you from me."
"Should I fall." Visenya said more determinedly. "Promise me that you'll look after our babe, Aemon. That you'll teach them to be who they should and not who Maegor…."
"I promise. I promise. I promise." Aemon kissed her as he spoke the words before whispering in her ear that they'd teach their babe together. That they'd be the mother and father their babe needed and that their child would grow to be as true a dragon as either of them.
Visenya needed the words to be spoken, however. The fear of passing in childbirth was one that all women knew and even Aemon's mother and his grandmother had met their ends that way. She knew too that her husband had suffered great and terrible losses already in his short life and the loss of her would only force him to become saddened and insular. With their child, for them to grow as she wished them, they needed at least one of their parents to be anything but. Hopefully, they would know both of them and her words would prove to have been for naught.
Once, twice, and then thrice Visenya called out and though she wished to look to where Melisandre was kneeling between her legs, it was again her husband she turned to. Aemon nodded and spoke words she heard not while Melisandre spoke some others that she believed named now as the moment of birth. Words too that bid her to push with all her might and so she did just that. Pain, relief, and then almost passing out from the exertion of it all was her only reward.
"All is well, my love. Just once more and our babe will be here." Aemon said and Visenya pushed again.
She lost consciousness, briefly or for some time, she knew not. Upon waking it was to the sound of a babe crying and Visenya was surprised that it was Melisandre and not Aemon who held the babe in their arms. Her husband spoke words that told her it was not because he wished not to that was his reason. Instead, he wished it to be her first before he then held their son.
"Son?"
"Aye, a healthy and beautiful boy, my princess," Melisandre said as she handed her a most precious bundle.
Her tears came when she looked at the tiny babe she now held in her arms. His eyes at first looked to be the grey of her husband's, but as her son blinked and took the world around him in, they seemed more like her own violet. Atop his head, his hair was as silver as her own and he had far more of it than Visenya imagined he would. Looking at him, Visenya at first felt slightly disappointed that there seemed none of his father in him. Then her son smiled and it was like looking at one of Aemon's rare and true ones. That smile alone was more than enough to show her that he was the best of both of them.
A gurgle, a breaking of wind, and then a hungered bite on her fingers were the third, fourth, and fifth things that her son did. Or at least that was how she counted them. Visenya was unable to look anywhere but at their babe's face and was it not for Melisandre bidding her to feed her son, then she may have stayed that way for the rest of the day. Hearing the Red Priestess' words was enough to break the spell for now. Visenya looked to Aemon who nodded and then back to her son before she moved her slip and bared her breast.
Her babe latched on to her teat quickly and unerringly. In less than a moment he was suckling away and Visenya swore she could feel her mother's milk as it left her breast and entered her son's mouth. Looking to Aemon, she was greeted with a smile she'd not yet seen him wear and she felt that it was more than apt that he now did so. Their son deserved a smile all of his own from his father and Visenya much looked forward to seeing this one aimed his way in the days, weeks, moons, and years to come.
"How long?" she asked, as she felt her son's feeding begin to slow.
"He'll let you know when he has enough, my love," Aemon said and a moment later, her babe did just that.
Visenya needed not to be told to bring up his wind and she felt truly accomplished when she managed to do so. Unwilling to let her son go, yet needing the sheets she lay in to be cleaned and even mayhap herself as well, she again looked at her husband. Aemon nodded and took their son in his arms and as he did so, her tears began to fall. Joyful, happy tears, for again she was shown yet another new expression by her husband. One so full of love that it showed there had been no need for her to get Aemon's earlier promise. For no man could look upon a child that way and not do all they could to give that child the life they deserved.
Having the sheets removed and being washed was uncomfortable and yet it was done so quickly that Visenya was more than able to forebear it. Not holding her babe as it was done, she was less able for and so once it was, she reached out her hands to Aemon. She heard it not when Melisandre and Marla were dismissed. Nor when Aemon bid her to eat to keep her strength up. Visenya even barely felt it when Aemon lay down beside her on the bed and was it not for his fingers brushing over their son's face, she'd have believed him still to be standing.
"He's so beautiful. So very beautiful," she said and Aemon spoke words that named that as so before a worry came over her that needed to be expressed. "We…we must name him, Aemon. He should not rest tonight unnamed."
"I had thought you'd wish to consider it more?"
"I do and yet I don't. I know not what I wish him to be named and yet I know I wish it now."
"Then now it shall be."
They had spoken on names but only in passing. Both of them agreed that Maegor would not even be considered. Aemon, and she too, may believe that their babe would not turn out as the one she'd had in Aemon's time had done, but neither were willing to tempt fate too much by naming a boy the same. Other names had been spoken and discarded and in a way they'd been somewhat lax. Both of them thought they had much more time than they had and now that it was upon them, Visenya found her mind refused to cooperate. Thankfully, Aemon's very much did not.
"Aerion," Aemon said and Visenya looked to her husband to see him nod. "Let our son be named for your father, Senya. Let him be known as the Bright Flame of our lives."
"Aerion. Aerion Brightflame." Visenya said and she swore their son smiled up at them both when she did so.
Tiredness eventually forced her to go to sleep. Aemon took Aerion from her and placed him in the small crib that he'd seen made a moon or more ago. Her dreams were of her son being trained with a sword by his father. Of flying atop her dragon with Rhaegal by Vhagar's side and with her babe in her arms. Visenya dreamt of watching her son grow into a man and then seeing him with sons of his own. Daughters too. Aerion smiling at his wife and arriving at Harrenhal with his family to be greeted by her and Aemon. Both of them were much older and greyer than her father had been when they did so.
There were other dreams too. These were forgotten when she awoke in the middle of the night. Nightmares she'd name them and yet she'd not cried out or called for her husband while in the midst of them. Instead, she'd awoken to find Aemon standing over Aerion's crib and speaking softly to their son. His words were enough to force away the memories of the worst of the dreams and allow her to concentrate only on the best of them.
"You will be loved, my son. By your mother and I, you will be loved and you will never know the dark days I've lived. All I do is for you, Aerion. All I am or wish to be known as is your father. For there is no greater accomplishment for a man than that."
King's Landing 2 AC,
Orys Baratheon.
Hand of the King. He barely understood the role and had always believed himself unsuited for governance. Orys had named himself a warrior first and foremost. He'd not had lands to call his own or Bannermen who named him their liege lord, that he'd left to Aegon or Daemon. True, now he was Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, but other than being his wife's sword and shield when it was required, it was Argella who ruled over her family's lands. His wife was far more suited for such than he.
Good fortune had truly smiled upon him when he and Argella had wed. Not only was the match political and practical, but they'd found much love with each other too. They were as true a partnership as Aegon and Rhaenys were, as Aemon and Visenya were, and because of that, Orys had not been overwhelmed by his new role. Argella was there by his side and she offered counsel and advice when he requested it and never did so when he did not. Or at least, she never argued with him about a foolish decision in public. As for their arguments behind closed doors, well there were advantages in those that made them all worthwhile.
"What has my husband smiling so?" Argella asked. Orys turned to see she was dressing and he had missed the sight of her rising from their bed unclothed.
"Our argument last night," he said to a mummery of a scowl and frown.
"I like it not that my husband smiles when we argue."
Orys covered the ground in two steps and the sound of his wife's shriek as he lifted her from the ground and spun around with her in his arms was like music to his ears. Argella slapped his shoulders and named him a fool, as Orys kissed her repeatedly and proved he very much was one for her at least.
"I was smiling about the making up, my love, not the argument itself."
"Very well, that I can allow." Argella laughed as this time she kissed him.
They spent far too much time kissing and japing with each other and only that there was much to do today, or once again Orys would be late to his duties. Not that Aegon or Rhaenys took issue with him being so, as both the king and queen could oft be late to start the day too. Orys well aware that it was their eagerness to bring forth an heir that caused Aegon and Rhaenys to be tardy. It was something he and Argella wished for too, yet unlike the king and queen, they were not somewhat desperate for a babe.
'Not that I blame them, given that Visenya and Aemon's babe will be born any day now.'
Allowing his wife to get back to her dressing, and moving to do the same with his own, Orys finally began to contemplate on the things he had to do today. The night before, he and Argella had argued both over Aemon's actions and what those actions were now to lead to. His wife was a far more faithful follower of the Seven who are One than Orys, Aegon, Rhaenys or Visenya was. While Aemon held to his gods and so in this regard at least, his actions were more understandable to Argella. Yet her fear that it was because of Aemon's faith and not a warning to the Faith, that fuelled Aemon's actions was something none could dissuade her from.
Orys knew however that it was not because he followed the Old Gods that Aemon did as he had done in Oldtown. His plans had been explained to them all long before they took place. The warning was one that Aemon believed needed to be sent and he had given both the Faith and the Maesters as much leeway as he was willing to. Aemon had simply provided the rope, those fools at the Starry Sept and the Citadel had been the ones to hang themselves with it. So he could find no fault in Aemon's actions and had done all he could to reassure Argella about them. In the end, managing somewhat to do so, yet then raised questions about the ones he and Aegon would take here today.
"You're truly going through with this?" Argella asked once they'd finished dressing.
"I must."
There were no more words spoken. A single kiss on his cheek was his wife's only indication that she accepted the need for him to do as he'd told her he would. Together they walked to join Aegon and Rhaenys in breaking their fast and for once it was to find they'd been beaten to the morning meal. The reason for why was soon shared with them both and Orys was happy to see that not only did Argella wear a true smile upon hearing it, but both Rhaenys and Aegon seemed just as happy too.
"A boy," he said raising his glass, one that was full of milk and not wine given the early hour. "To Aerion Targaryen, may he know naught but peace and goodwill."
"To my nephew." Aegon smiled.
"To the Bright Flame," Rhaenys added.
All of them drank a toast to the babe who'd just been born. Argella then asked about Visenya and her health and that of the babe.
"My sister is well. As too is her son." Rhaenys said happily.
"Thanks be to the gods," he said earning a slight frown from his wife. "Aemon's still show him favor."
He almost slapped himself after he'd spoken the words, though Argella simply nodded before repeating that they did. The nature of what Aemon had done, and what he and Aegon now would, was not enough to put a dampener on the good news that there was another Targaryen in the world. Nor that Visenya had come through the birth unscathed, something that he knew Rhaenys and Aegon worried about. While, the thoughts of what Aemon would do if she did not, had always been there hiding at the back of Orys' mind.
After writing out their own message of goodwill which was to be added to the ones sent by Rhaenys and Aegon, and sent to Harrenhal, Orys looked to his brother by choice. A nod of Aegon's head was followed by both he and Aegon placing kisses on their wife's cheeks. Together with Ser Corlys and Ser Richard Roote, they made their way to their meeting with the High Septon and the other senior members of the Faith that were based in King's Landing.
The heads had arrived by ship the day before. Each of them was now ready to be placed at various points in King's Landing. One on each of the hills. Another outside the Sept, with another two placed on spikes at the entrance to the keep itself. All to be witnessed being placed there by the representatives of the Faith and Aemon's message was one that would be heard loud and clear. Whether it went heeded or not, Orys couldn't tell. However, he'd wager it would be listened to and accepted for now at least.
"Your grace, Lord Hand." the High Septon said when he arrived. Orys standing alongside Ser Corlys behind Aegon's chair. Ser Richard meanwhile stood behind the Ugly One and those with him.
"You know why you've been called here this morn, High Septon?" Aegon asked firmly.
"I do not, your grace."
"You are unaware of what actions were taken in Oldtown?" he asked to a shake of the High Septon's head.
"I am aware of what Prince Aemon did." the High Septon said, managing to keep his expression schooled as he did so.
"And your thoughts?" Orys asked.
"Traitors need to be dealt with, Lord Hand. Though I'd wish it was done less publicly and with less bloodshed."
"So you agree those who fell to Prince Aemon were traitors, High Septon?" Aegon asked.
"I believe Prince Aemon named them as such and since I was provided no evidence to substantiate or refute the prince's claims, I accept them as true."
"Would you like to see such evidence?" Orys asked as he took out some of the most incriminating parchments that Aemon's Bastard Boys had found in their purge. The High Septon again shook his head and took the parchments not.
"I name it as good and true, Lord Hand." The High Septon shuddered, though he was not involved in any plots that Aemon could find.
"Very well. You will now bear witness to the fate of such men and women, High Septon. All of you will. Let this be a lesson to those who incur my kinsman's wrath and seek to usurp my wife's and mine own rule."
"Your grace, surely there is no need for such."
"I say there is, as does my kinsman. Be thankful that this particular lesson is one delivered at mine own hands and not Prince Aemon's, High Septon."
Four hours in total it took. The spikes had to be climbed and the heads placed atop them. Then they had to travel to each of the hills, to the Sept, and then back to the keep. All the while, the men and women of the Faith followed and stood stoically as the men and one woman that they may have known, were shown to be the traitors they truly were. Their names were read out loudly and the nature of their crimes heard by one and all. For it was not only the men and women of the Faith who bore witness to the heads being placed on spikes. Those who named King's Landing their home, all looked on too. Each of them watching silently and by the time they reached the keep, a very large crowd had gathered. Orys looked to his king and saw that Aegon felt the need to step forward and speak the words he now spoke.
"These men and women of faith and learning used not their positions to help the good men and women of Westeros. They sought not to enlighten those who wished to be enlightened. To teach those who wished to be taught. Instead, they plotted and spoke words of treason and believed those words went unheard.
Yet we hear all. Both the good and the bad. My Master of Whisperers, My Kinsman, listens and learns all. For the first and most important role of a king and queen is to see to their people's safety and well-being. To ensure that they have all they need and that the path they are being led down is a good and righteous one. Not one that is paved with treason and treachery.
These men and women walked that path and found to their cost that Prince Aemon knows every stone of it better than they could ever dream to. For those who seek to follow in their footsteps, this is the only offer we make to you. Death and Dishonour.
For those who wish to walk the righteous path, we offer our protection. Yet it is up to each man, woman, and child to decide which path is to be their own.
As your king and along with my queen, I bid you all to walk the path with us. For if you do not, then the last words you hear will be those spoken by Prince Aemon, The Stranger's Shadow will be the last face you ever see."
Even Orys felt a chill go down his spine at Aegon's words. Yet the crowd simply cheered for first the king and then the queen. Even Prince Aemon got loud cheers from those who had born witness to his wroth and listened to Aegon's words of warning. As for the High Septon and the men and women of Faith. Only time would tell which path they decided to walk.
Harrenhal 2 AC,
Marla Sunderland.
The first few days after the birth of the new prince were carefree and joyful. Even Aemon's Bastard Boys celebrated and wore smiles more oft than not. As for those closest to the princess, both she and Melisandre did all they could to ensure that Visenya had everything she wanted or needed. Compared to how dutiful and attentive her husband was, however, they seemed almost lax. Prince Aemon moving to and fro and at times running through the keep to bring something or other to his wife and babe.
How it must have looked to the servants, Marla knew not. One moment they'd be asked to fetch something for the princess or the babe and the next, Aemon would beat them to it. Some of them came to her and begged her to speak to the prince on their behalf. The fear of being dismissed from the princess' service had raised its head because they felt they were lacking in their duties. Prince Aemon himself told her to offer them words of comfort and tell them that they very much were not.
"No matter how quickly they moved, it would not be enough for me, Marla. Mine own need to see that my wife and son have all they wish for would allow it not. So let them know they fail my wife or me not, and that in time it'll be them we seek to carry out the duties I most oft do."
Marla had done as she'd been bid and her words had been listened to, or so she believed. Yet as the days passed, the prince showed no sign of slowing down or allowing people to do the things he did. Had it not been for Martyn Rivers, then Marla would not have known what to do regarding the servants. Aemon's squire came to her and then bid her to give them a list of the things that the prince did each morning and to bid them do them first.
"Have them do them before they're even asked for, Lady Marla. Then and only then would my prince accept them as being done and that there is no need for him to do so."
She listened to the young man and took his advice to heart. The servants followed her wishes and requests and over the second week that the new prince was in the world, Aemon finally began to stop doing the servants' work. Instead, the water when it was needed, was already at the door. The food when called for, was already prepared and on the way. Her princess was most happy to see it was done and happier still to then have her husband stay even more in their rooms each day. Both of them only leaving to walk around the keep or go to the dragons and when they did so, Prince Aerion was always held protectively in the arms of one or the other.
As for the young prince, never had Marla seen such an inquisitive babe. His bright violet eyes were alight and alert and should he catch sight of you, he'd watch your every movement. Each action you took was yet another that the young prince seemed to file away in his mind and in this, he was much like his father. Aerion was wary at times like Aemon too. Around new people, he'd frown or even look at them with intrigue, or he would until the white wolf looked his way. Once Ghost had done so, the young prince welcomed you into his ever-growing circle and Marla was truly delighted to be someone he'd done so to.
Aemon's Bastard Boys, Lady Melisandre, and Marla herself, were all graced with a smile or two when the prince looked their way. Both she and Lady Melisandre were the only two people other than the prince and princess themselves to be allowed to hold the babe in their arms. Aerion always laughed away as she did so and the look he graced her with made his name even more apt to Marla's mind. The Bright Flame of her prince and princess' lives, Prince Aerion Targaryen was very much so.
"He's so very precious, my princess," Marla stated, holding the young prince in her arms while his mother dressed.
"Never could I have hoped or wished for such a thing, Marla. Nor could I have imagined just what holding him in my arms does to mine heart."
"Prince Aemon's too, I wager." she chuckled as Aerion bit her fingers.
"His too." Visenya smiled before taking Aerion from her, Marla feeling the loss immediately.
Once the princess was ready, it was to the Godswood that she, the babe in her arms, Marla, and their guards made their way. Ghost walking next to the princess and Marla would wager that despite the four members of Aemon's Bastard Boys that guarded the princess and young prince, none would match the White Wolf in its diligence or duty. Other than Rhaegal and Vhagar, or the prince or princess themselves, Marla would say that none were more invested in Prince Aerion's safety and well-being. Although she would name herself and Lady Melisandre as keen to see him protected, even if they were not physically capable of offering him much protection themselves.
"I would lay my life down for his, should it come to it. As I would the prince and the princess." Melisandre had said when they'd had this conversation. Marla was unsure if she could truly say the same, even though she dearly wished it to be so. Fear of death was still something she hadn't truly conquered as of yet.
'I would hope I would and I believe I would try, whether that is enough or not, I know not.'
They reached the Godswood to find Prince Aemon standing with Martyn Rivers. The other Bastard Boys who had earned their knighthoods had already sworn their oaths to the prince and were now part of the Household in even truer roles. Captains of Guards, Knights sworn to House Targaryen of Harrenhal, Heads of Cavalry, Infantry, and Archers, all had received more than simply the honor of knighthood and a name. Now it was time for Martyn Rivers to receive his own and Marla found herself keenly interested in just what the prince's squire's reward was to be.
That this ceremony was different was clear by the princess and young prince's presence. Martyn had earned much favor squiring for the prince and though Prince Aemon treated each of his Bastard Boys with much more respect than any of them had known before, he treated Martyn almost like family. Just as Marla herself was treated differently from the other Ladies in Waiting who served the princess, Martyn Rivers was different from his fellow Bastard Boys. The truth of just how different was now to be made clear to one and all.
"Kneel." Prince Aemon's voice rang out loudly. "Kneel and know in doing so that you earned the accolade that I am now to bestow upon you.
In the Name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.
In the Name of the Father, I charge you to be just.
In the Name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent.
In the Name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women.
In the Name of the Smith, I charge you to aid those in need.
In the Name of the Crone, I charge you to offer counsel,
In the Name of the Stranger, I charge you to kill only when necessary.
These are the knightly oaths as known by any man who earned his spurs, yet these oaths are sworn to the Seven who are One and they are not mine gods.
So, here on this day, in this most sacred of places, Martyn Rivers, I Prince Aemon Targaryen do hereby charge you to be the very best man you can be. To be good, honest, and true and to know that while it is no shame to fail to be so on certain days, it is very much so to seek to fail on all of them.
Rise Ser Martyn Rivers, a true knight of the realm and now Sworn Shield and future Castellan to Prince Aerion Targaryen. May you offer mine, son, the same true service you've always given me."
There were tears in the young man's eyes. Pride in the face of the prince who dubbed him a knight of the realm and Martyn was embraced warmly first by the prince, then by the princess when Aemon took his son from his wife. Then, at some words whispered to Prince Aemon by the princess, Marla looked on as Prince Aerion was handed to the young lad, who took a knee and closed his eyes. What words were spoken, only the Old Gods themselves heard. Though was she wager, then she'd name them as an altogether different oath being sworn. One that would see Martyn Rivers be added to the ever-growing list that would give their lives to see Prince Aerion Targaryen grow to be a man of substance.
Eastwatch 2 AC.
Torrhen Stark.
The raven that arrived from Harrenhal bore both good news and ill. His kinsman was now father to a son and Torrhen welcomed reading the words, especially given what he knew about Aemon's losses. However, because of the birth of said son, their plans regarding Skagos had to be put on hold. Aemon was in no mood or humor to force the Skagosi to their knees or to offer them a deal, for now at least.
Initially, Torrhen felt like doing so himself. Taking a Northern Army and along with Brandon and his own men, making the short journey to Skagos. Fighting the good fight if it needed to be fought or reaching an accord if that fight was needed not. He believed that together he and his brother may indeed be enough to see it so. Yet, deep down he feared that they would not be and that in trying to see it done, he'd ensure it never was. So that, along with the knowledge that should it turn to a battle with the Skagosi then Northern Men would lose their lives, was what stayed his hand. Torrhen was not fearful of the battle itself, but Aemon had made him believe that there were other paths to see their goals achieved.
'Best we walk those paths first.'
It left him in a quandary. Torrhen knew he could send word beyond the Wall to his brother and that Brandon would accept the need to wait. He knew too that his brother would find the extra time to prepare was much to his advantage. As in truth, it was to his own. Crops needed to be harvested and the weather would turn better were they to leave the voyage to Skagos to a different part of the year, or even an early part of the next. All of that didn't make him wish to see his brother less, however. Something that his wife suggested he do regardless and Torrhen named himself a fool for not thinking of himself.
Word was indeed sent Beyond the Wall. A message was sent to his brother to arrange a much different meeting at Eastwatch. One where a treaty between them both would be agreed to and signed. Where Torrhen would get to meet his new Goodsister and where he could judge the men and women that now named Brandon their king. It would be a meeting not simply between brothers either. For Torrhen knew full well that his Bannermen would need to see the truth of the Wildlings too. Only after seeing them and hearing them name his brother their king would some accept them as allies. Both now and in the future when it was truly needed for them to do so.
So arrangements were made, goodbyes were spoken to his wife and children and Torrhen set out on the long journey to the Wall. On the road, he was joined by the men from Bear Island, Deepwood Motte, and eventually the Dreadfort. Soon enough it was the men of the Mountain Clans and those of Last Hearth and Karhold who made their way to the road that led to Castle Black. Torrhen decided that he would need to speak to the Lord Commander first and foremost before meeting his brother. The words of the Warden of the North, its former king, and now prince, needed to be uttered to the Men of the Night's Watch. Words he now spoke of with Jojen Reed as they ate their nightly meal while around them others drank or took to their beds.
"You will lay down the law with the Lord Commander?" Jojen asked and Torrhen nodded.
"As I'm sure Aemon has or will."
"Yet it will mean more coming from you, my prince," Jojen said, the Lord of the Crannogs finding it easier to name him as such than some others had thus far managed. The idea that he was no longer a king took some getting used to after all.
"As for Brandon…."
"He will be most pleased to see you, and for the words to be written down."
"Has Aemon given him an agreement from the Crown?" Torrhen asked curiously.
"Only his word."
"Enough for those of us who know him, yet for the future…"
"I doubt anyone is more invested in the future than him, my prince. Especially now."
It was with that thought that Torrhen took to his bed. Torrhen was certain that Jojen was right. Aemon had already shown just how keen he was to change the future and the fact he now had a son, would change that not. If anything, he'd wager it would only make it even more so.
Sleep when it came was undisturbed, Torrhen waking early the next morning and feeling refreshed and eager for the day ahead. He soon found that he needed to be as the Lord Commander argued against any agreement with the Wildlings and only the threat of the Night's Watch being disbanded had stopped that argument from going further than it should. Angered words spoken by Torrhen that named first himself, then Brandon, and lastly Aemon's ire as being things the Night's Watch and its commander wished not to raise, eventually being listened to. Yet, he'd need those words spoken by both Brandon and Aemon too for them to truly be accepted.
They stayed no more than a night at Castle Black. Torrhen's eagerness to see his brother again, combined with the lack of true welcome he felt after he had argued with the Lord Commander, both shortening his intended stay. As for the march to Eastwatch, Torrhen found that to be both quicker than he'd expected it to be and yet to feel never-ending at the same time. Good and fair weather, easy traveling, and good humor were all not enough to lessen his desire to be there sooner than they reached their destination. A desire he believed was shared by his brother, as when they arrived it was to find Brandon already waiting.
"The King Beyond the Wall," Torrhen called out loudly as Brandon snorted and shook his head.
"The fool he names a brother." Brandon winked and the two brothers embraced as truly as they ever had.
"By the Old Gods, 'Tis good to see you hale and hearty brother."
"You too, brother."
"Now where is the woman who stole my brother's heart and who has finally managed to get the Wild Wolf to stick to but one bed?"
"Come, she's keen to meet you, as am I you, her."
Rarely had Torrhen seen such a beautiful woman as he did when Valrine moved his way. If he knew no better, then he'd name her as a Targaryen, such was her beauty. Seeing the weapons she wore, the furs she adorned herself with, however, he'd name her naught but a warrior. A Spearwife and one who a simple glance to his brother would prove that she had stolen Brandon's heart completely.
"Long have I wished to meet you, Goodsister."
"And I you, Goodbrother." Valrine smiled, a light the world could very much do with, or so Torrhen thought as he was taken in by that smile. It reminded him somewhat of his wife's own, and he wagered when it was aimed Brandon's way, then his brother welcomed it as much as Torrhen always had Sara's.
"Now come, no doubt you're hungry and you've not truly lived until you've enjoyed a Free Folk feast." Brandon slapped his back and Torrhen chuckled as he followed his brother and Goodsister to their encampment.
That night his brother's words were proved true. There was some awkwardness between his Bannermen and the men and women who named Brandon their King. Most of it was waved away by his words, Brandon's, and by the food and ale they shared. Torrhen even dared to hope that there were the beginnings of some friendships being forged during the feast.
The next morning, he and Brandon argued over the terms of their agreement. Or they did so publicly at least. In truth, they'd long agreed to what the accord between the Free Folk and the North would contain and what it would not. So it was simply for show that Brandon argued against one thing or Torrhen demanded another. All so that in the end, when the treaty was signed and the accord reached, it would look as if they both had won concessions from the other. That both had gotten the things they wanted and both had lost out on some others.
As for the treaty itself. The North and the Lands Beyond the Wall were separate and always to remain so. Should either need aid, be it in men, coin, or goods, then that aid would be provided. An enemy of one was an enemy of the other and should the time come when the North marched to war, they'd march with a Free Folk army alongside them. As would the Free Folk should any threaten their independence or freedom. Other than against the Crown and the House of the Dragon, they would fight against any enemy the other faced. Their oaths to Aemon and House Targaryen superseded all others as per their kinsman's wishes.
Trade would be something they cooperated much on. Torrhen's Bannermen saw the advantages of that quickly enough and while some bristled that it would be good steel that the men and women Beyond the Wall would be equipped with, more did not. For no arms would be taken up against each other lest their accord was broken. With he and Brandon as signatories on that accord, as well as oaths sworn in front of the Heart Tree beyond the Wall, never would that be so.
In one swoop the North had gained an army of at least matching size. Should any dare threaten them, then other than with Dragons, they'd find themselves outmatched. Considering their kinsman was a Dragon himself, they held no fear that would ever come to pass. The Pact of Ice and Fire the North had signed would see to that too, or so Aemon had sworn. The future was theirs to do with as they wished and other than what Aemon was planning to forestall, it was one that both Torrhen and his brother named as a bright one.
"I'll see you in six moons, brother."
"Aye, six moons."
"Valrine, I am truly happy I got to meet you, Goodsister and I hope to welcome you and my brother to my halls one day." Torrhen smiled.
"As one day we hope to welcome you and your good lady wife to our own."
"I'll see it so."
He embraced them both. First his brother and then his Goodsister, Torrhen happy to see that the words he'd heard about Brandon and Valrine were indeed true. Then he said his goodbyes and began the long trek back to Winterfell. Six moons and he'd return, were it not for the fact that they may be heading to war, he'd do so with his wife and children alongside him. Torrhen smiled as he began to wonder just how long it would take them all to travel to Hardhome.
Harrenhal 2 AC,
Melisandre.
The future of a House, that's what the prince named children as. His, Aegon and Rhaenys', Orys Baratheon's, all those born now and in the future, her prince saw them all as such. No matter that it was a future son of House Baratheon who had taken his father from the world. Nor that it was a future descendant of House Lannister who had given the orders that saw his brother, sister and their mother murdered in their own chambers. Prince Aemon named children as the future of their Houses and named himself as the architect for that future.
"For if I'm not here to etch out that future, then what is my purpose."
When not with his son and wife, which was a rare enough thing these past few weeks and moons, it was to plans for the future that the prince's mind turned. The Realm was stable, the messages that Aemon had sent seemed to have finally been taken to heart. In the Reach, House Tyrell owed their rise to her prince and their loyalty was unquestioned. While the words that Prince Aemon had spoken to those who would be their Bannermen had been listened to and few now bristled to be ruled over by Stewards.
In the West, House Lannister had been brought somewhat closer to the House of the Dragon. Talk of potential future matches had been raised and given that there was now a new prince in the world, those talks would only become ever more true. Whether or not Prince Aemon or more so Princess Visenya would give up their son to such a match, Melisandre knew not. For it would not only be the Westerlands that would seek closer ties to House Targaryen. Dorne, the Vale, and certainly those in the Riverlands would too wish for such a match.
'Even if the Riverlands has already been gifted a most fortuitous one as it is.'
It had surprised her greatly. The lady herself even more so and yet, it really should not have. Marla Sunderland was well-liked by her prince and princess. She'd proved herself true even in the short time that Melisandre had known her to be in their service and the offer of a good and true match, was one the prince himself had made to her. Yet, the quickness and the nature of that match had taken all of them by surprise. Other than the princess, Melisandre would wager.
"Lord Mooton?" Marla asked, her shock at the name and the offer both made clear by how she did so.
"Lord Jon is a good man, unwed, and Maidenpool a fine seat, Marla. Yet, this is not something we wish to force upon you and so we would like you to meet the man first and see if it is a match that pleases you." Visenya said, looking at her husband a little worriedly.
"Should it not, then we would seek a different match and even if it pleases you, we would not seek it to be sooner than a year or more."
"I…I know not what to say, my prince, my princess. I had not hoped for such a match, not dared to…"
"We hold you much in our affection, Marla, so dare to hope for much and more." Visenya smiled.
Lord Jon Mooton was of an age with Marla, handsome and a warrior of some repute. He'd proved himself while leading part of the king's army on the Field of Fire and though it had been the dragons who'd won the day, his actions had not gone unnoticed. Watching both he and Marla interact with each other at the feast to celebrate the birth of Prince Aerion, was to see at least the beginnings of a good match. An interest at first in how the other looked and one that grew stronger as they danced, spoke, and shared a glass of wine together.
Within a moon of meeting her potential husband, Marla was smitten, as too was Lord Jon. The Lord was able to look past the fact that Marla came from a lesser House than his own and brought with her no dowry from that House. Not that she'd be wed without one, as Prince Aemon and Princess Visenya would ensure that she was not. Yet, other than an attraction shared between them both, it was who Marla was that was the main reason why Lord Jon was eager to accept the match. The favor that the lady was held in by his liege lord and lady was more than enough to see that so.
"As too it was with Martyn Wolfswood's own." Melisandre chuckled.
Ser Martyn Rivers, sworn sword to Prince Aerion Brightflame, Commander of the Princeguard and future Castellan of Harrenhal. The young lad had come on much since he'd been knighted, even taken the name Wolfswood for his own when the offer of legitimization was made. Martyn seemed to be unaware that there were somewhat ulterior motives behind that offer too. A match with a lady of a Great House may not have ever been something that the young lad believed was to be his, with this Great House, it was not something that could happen while he was named Rivers.
'Although given the keep the lady comes from, the name was most apt.' Melisandre had thought amusingly.
She had been there when the offer had been made to Ser Edmyn Tully, only her and the prince in the room when Aemon had done so. The angered response was one her prince had expected and so that alone may have been why Martyn Rivers was elsewhere. For even though he was sworn shield to the young prince, he spent much time with the man he'd been squired to.
Melisandre had listened as Ser Edmyn rose to his feet and loudly declared that no daughter of his would ever wed a bastard. Not even was that bastard one of the Prince's own Bastard Boys, or so the Lord of Riverrun had stated. His words were allowed to be spoken until they were not and then he was bid to take his seat and shut his mouth lest the prince shut it for him.
"You speak of my son's sworn sword. The future Castellan of Harrenhal. Name someone more worthy of a match with your daughter than a man your prince names good and true, Lord Tully. Mind not the nature of his birth and what some Septon or Septa may say because of it. Instead, look how far such a man can rise with the favor of my House behind him. Look to King's Landing and the man who wears the pin as Hand of the King and see how far someone born on the wrong side of the sheets can rise."
She looked on as Aemon now rose to his own feet, cutting a dare she say it, far more impressive figure than the Lord of Riverrun had when he did so.
"This is not a punishment, Lord Tully, nor do I seek to shame you or your House with this match. A message is what I intend by it, to show that you are held in my favor as much as any and far more than most. I seek not your firstborn daughter, nor even your second, your youngest is of age and a third-born daughter's match is far more limited due to her having sisters who are older than she is, is it not?"
"It is, my prince." Ser Edmyn said. His tone was far more contemplative.
"I would not force the match upon you either, accept it, refuse it, but know that if it's the latter, I shall see the match made elsewhere. How people may see that once it's agreed, well….."
It was a master class in the wielding of subtle power. Ser Edmyn finally saw exactly what it was that her prince wished him to see. A simple concession was asked for concerning Martyn's status being changed and one that later her prince told her that he had always intended to see happen. As for the young lad himself, he accepted it without question and seemed far happier than the Lord of Riverrun had at first been. Something that Ser Edmyn's daughter Mina, seemed to share when she met her newly betrothed.
The prince's plans stopped not at matches, or in making new appointments to the ruling of the Riverlands, of which there were many. Work had begun on the Kingsroad, work that was being carried out through all the Seven Kingdoms and would take years to complete. Aemon sought first the Riverlands to be joined by a series of roads and then that road extended to King's Landing and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Bridges were being built too. Her prince sought for there to be far more than one crossing south of the Neck and Melisandre understood not why that was, at least at first. A conversation by the Weirwood with both her princes soon provided her with answers to questions she'd not spoken aloud.
"House Frey, in mine own time they were led by an irascible lord and the Crossing was one that always required a steep toll. During my war for the Iron Throne, it was one he sought to wring most heavily both from my wife's family and from mine own."
"So it's simply to forestall such an action, my prince?"
"Not simply, no. The lack of places to cross the river cost far too many lives in the One True War." Aemon sighed.
"So just as in all you do, it's to see such things happen not again, my prince."
"Aye, it is. With that in mind, I need you to send for some of your fellow priests and priestesses. To send for your best and brightest."
"My prince?"
"It's time Westeros had voices that sing as loudly and more truly than those from Oldtown."
"I had thought…."
"My lady?"
"In your letter to the order and your words to me, you bid us not to try and convert…."
"I am unconvertible, my lady." Aemon chuckled, playing some game with his son in his arms as he did so. "As for those who are not, well, I give them the choice of who to follow, not the illusion of that choice."
"I will see it done, my prince."
"Some who know the same as you, Melisandre. I wish for some who know the Last Kiss and who have seen the truth in the flames. For the future I seek to avoid will have much need of those I seek to survive."
Later, as she wrote out the letter, she wondered if the prince's words were as cryptic as they seemed or if she was reading more into them.
Was he suggesting that he feared some would fall soon and so he wished to be ready for such? Or was it simply that as with all Prince Aemon did, he was making plans for events that may never come to pass? Melisandre knew not, only that she had her part to play in the world that Aemon Targaryen was shaping. A part she'd play most fully.
Harrenhal 3 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
Six moons, seven, time had gone by so fast that he knew not just how much had elapsed since he'd sent a raven to his kin in the North. All Aemon knew truly was that he had done as much as he could with those moons. He'd arranged several matches, both those that meant much to him and his wife personally and those that were even more so done for political reasons. Reasons that when he truly thought about them, sent a shiver down his spine, as Aemon pondered on whether those matches would have happened regardless or if they needed his intervention to come to pass.
Given that he'd set out in the Pact of Ice and Fire that one specific match was to always take place, it was not such a far-fetched idea after all. The future he wished to both avoid see much of occur, the one ever-present thing in his mind.
'No that's not quite true now is it.'
Flying atop Rhaegal, with Ghost lying in front of him, Aemon only needed to turn his eyes to his right to see what his thoughts were truly most full of. His wife and son. Visenya and Aerion were the true delights in a life that had known its share of but few of them. The sight of them atop Vhagar's back as they glided through the morning sky was enough to bring a true smile to Aemon's face. Though it had taken some time for that smile to not then lead to dark thoughts and even darker memories. Lyanna and Rhaegar were too held close to his heart and their fate was one he would ensure their half-brother never knew.
He named his son as such, even though time, distance, and the world Aerion lived in was far from the world Rhaegar and Lyanna had. Aemon felt it honored each of them equally to be named so and though he'd not spoken of it to his wife, he believed that Visenya would see it so as well. In his heart, he loved them all with the same fervor and to look upon his son was as it had been to look upon Lyanna or Rhaegar, a true joy and boon to his soul.
Aerion was as healthy as he could be and Aemon spent even more time with him than he had with Rhaegar and Lyanna. His duties allowing that to be so were with his children with Margaery, it had at times very much not. The difference between being a king and being a prince may seem not so great at first glance, but they very much were. Aemon found that he was far happier in the one than the other and very grateful for the time it had afforded him with his son. It had even been with Aerion in his arms that he had sung his first song in more than eight years. The memory of that song and where he'd sung it, now came to mind as Rhaegal turned to follow Vhagar back to Harrenhal.
A week earlier.
The time was drawing ever closer for him to fly to Eastwatch and then on to Skagos. Ships had been sent from Maidenpool and Driftmark. Daemon Velaryon and Jon Mooton were to lead the men that Aemon would be bringing to bear on the Skagosi. Half his bastard boys had already set sail and the other half would stay with his wife and son and offer them their protection. Aemon had wished for Ghost too to stay by Visenya and Aerion's side and yet the white wolf had made it clear that he was needed on Skagos. No argument of his would dissuade his truest protector and so Aemon spoke them not.
Today, he stood by the Weirwood, Aerion in his arms as Aemon had prayed for the Old God's favor in what he was doing and in seeing he returned most quickly from this forced absence. He may very well be the one who was forcing it, yet it was their work he was about or so he believed. It was after praying that he started to sing, the song not one he had ever done before and not even one that any had ever heard him sing. The writing of it had only taken place during the times he lay alone by Rhaegal's side after the Night King had torn all he'd held dear in the world from him. Aemon not even aware that he was doing just as his father had and putting his thoughts down as a song, to allow them to one day be sung and for the power they held over him to both be realized and not.
I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning, I sleep alone
Long for the streets I used to own
I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
Now the old king is dead, long live the king
One minute, I held the key
Next the Wall was falling on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
I hear King's Landing bells a-ringin'
Children in the street are singin'
Be my armor, my sword, and shield
My battles now fought in a lonely field
For some reason, I can't explain
Once they were gone, there was never, never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world
It was a wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let them in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
White Walkers wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Aw, who would ever want to be king?
I hear King's Landings bells a-ringin'
Children in the street are singing
Be my armor, my sword, and shield
My battles now fought in a lonely field
For some reason, I can't explain
I know the Old Gods won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
I hear King's Landings bells a-ringin'
Children in the street are singin'
Be my armor, my sword, and shield
My battles now fought in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know the Old Gods won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
Now.
Through it all, his son had looked at him and smiled and Aerion had then reached his little hand out. Not to him, or so Aemon had named it both then and now, but to his brother and sister. To Rhaegar and Lyanna, across the rivers of time, Aemon prayed that they felt their brother did so. He dared to believe that they had.
Landing back at Harrenhal, it was to his son and wife he went to after climbing down off Rhaegal's back. Aerion offered him that self-same smile he had done as Aemon had sung to him in the shade of the Weirwood. It gave him the strength now to do as he must. To part from them both and make his way to Eastwatch, to fight what he hoped would be the last fight he ever fought. Little did he know at the time that words once spoken to him by a bitter man, who liked not Aemon's acceptance of the Free Folk into his kingdom, were ones he was forever destined to live by.
"I fought, I Lost, and now I Rest. But you, your grace, you'll be fighting their battles forever."
A/N: This story will now be updated until it's finished, this week should see it complete.