Jon Snow and the Dragonverse of Madness Book One: The Conquest

by Alperez16

After failing to stop the Night King, Jon Snow is sent back to where it all began for House Targaryen. How does the conquest go when another king and another dragon play their part and what does this mean to the past, present and future. Book 1 of a series that will take Jon on an epic journey through the key moments of Targaryen history, starting with the conquest.

7. My Body is no Longer his Temple

Storm's End 2 BC.

Argella Durrandon.

Being a woman on the outskirts of a battle was to her mind just as hard as being a man and facing one, harder mayhaps. Unlike a man, she could truly play no real part in the fight that would define her future. She could wield no weapon, lead no charge or win no glory. If there was indeed glory to be won that was. Something that she wasn't as certain about as her father had seemed to be when he'd left some days earlier.

While he'd tried to hide the truth from her, she was no silly girl who was unaware of things. Argella had heard all the talk these last few moons, she'd seen the truth of things in her father's face when he was at his most unguarded. More so even than that, she'd heard the men speak about the threat the Targaryens and their dragons posed. Behind the walls of Storm's End and against those walls, that's where the battle should be fought, or so she'd believed until talk of what had happened at Harrenhal had become so prevalent. Not that she believed it, for she'd once seen the great keep herself and just like Storm's End, there was nothing in this world that could breach those walls to Argella's mind.

So while her father and the majority of their men marched, she waited like a dutiful daughter. Hours stretched into days with nary a word which only made her worries increase. She set herself to task making sure the keep was ready to withstand a siege should it come to that and had the men drilled on opening and closing the gates as quickly as they could. Should her father find himself in dire need of a retreat, then she wished for him to be given the chance to do so quickly. Something that could turn out to be the difference between life and death for him and their men.

In the end, there turned out to be no need for those drills to have taken place. For it wasn't her father's army that she looked down upon from the walls of Storm's End, and the sight of the one facing her was almost as terrifying as the sight of the dragon in the sky as it flew over her family keep. She'd not seen a dragon before. Nor had most of those garrisoned in the keep and to say it shocked and frightened her would be an understatement. Larger than a ship, its silver shadow loomed large over Argella and the men on the parapets when it flew over their heads. She felt a shudder run down her spine at the thoughts of its flames being loosed upon her and the men and for the first time, the tales of Harrenhal rang true.

"A parley, my princess?" Ser Robert asked.

"It seems we have but no other choice, Ser," she said trying to sound unaffected and not truly managing it.

It was not to be outside the gates that the parley was held much to her dismay. The silver dragon, its rider, and one other man, who was the one who dismounted after the dragon had landed in her courtyard, were to be those who she parleyed with. Argella understood the message that was being sent loud and clear and as the man moved to Ser Robert and asked for bread and salt, she wished to refuse and to order her men to fire at the woman upon the dragon's back. Only the thoughts of what the dragon may do should its rider fall were enough to stay her hand. Instead, she watched as the man took a piece of each for himself and then bore another piece to the silver-haired Targaryen. She tried to remember which of them it was that she was to treat with, Visenya or Rhaenys, and found to her annoyance she could not.

So it took until the woman herself stood in front of her, the man standing at her shoulder and looking fierce while the dragon watched each and every single one of them with a wary eye. Her own eyes were drawn to the golden ones of the silver dragon. Argella found herself almost entranced by them and she was certain that she saw the truth of the dragon in those eyes too. A truth that told her that was but one silver hair harmed on the head of the woman who stood no more than five feet from her, then she and every man, woman, and child along with Storm's End itself would face a dragon's wrath this day.

"Princess Durrandon." the silver-haired woman began.

"Queen." Ser Robert corrected "You stand in the presence of the Storm Queen Argella Durrandon."

It had been what she'd declared herself to be after seeing the army at her gates. The truth of her father's fate was known to her even though it hadn't been confirmed yet. He'd not surrender, it wasn't in his nature to do so which meant he had fallen and so as his heir, she had inherited his crown and his lands. Now she intended to keep both.

"Queen Durrandon. I am Queen! Rhaenys Targaryen." the silver-haired lady said, emphasizing that she too wore a crown that named her so "And I've come here to offer you my terms."

"I care not for your offer. Nor will I listen or accept it. Instead, I make you this offer, leave my lands, go about your business elsewhere for this is the Kingdom of the Storms not the Kingdom of the Dragons." she said firmly.

"Would that were so. Your father believed it and now he breathes no more. Your army believed it and they now lay defeated and broken. Those of them who breathe still that is. Your surrender is not requested, Queen Durrandon." Rhaenys said almost derisively "It is demanded. Kneel and see the morrow. Save your men and their families from what happened to their brothers in your father's army. Kneel and see the morrow, do not and you shall join your father and the good men of the Storm fool enough to follow him to his death."

The words were spoken not just to her, much to Argella's annoyance. Rhaenys Targaryen turned as she spoke, her words ringing around the courtyard and heard by one and all. They demanded a response and yet for now she could think of none.

"My army and my dragon will take this castle, Queen Durrandon, be it by words or deed," Rhaenys said after a few moments of silence.

"You may take my castle, but you will win only bones and blood and ashes," she said as she turned away from the Targaryen queen and her dragon.

"So be it," Rhaenys said.

A few moments later, she heard the loud roar of the dragon as it took to the sky, then she and those closest to her were made privy to a show of sorts. Flames lit up the air and they were a wondrous and terrifying sight. Argella closed her eyes and let memories of her life at Strom's End be what gave her the strength to move inside the keep. Once inside she called a meeting of her truest men and gave them their orders. Though in truth she deferred more to Ser Robert and Ser Richard to see to the practicalities of those orders.

As night fell, and with no attack seeming forthcoming, she retired to her bed. No sooner had she undressed than she was set upon. The guards turned on her and her pleas for them to give her leave to dress fell on deaf ears. Naked, she was dragged from her room, then she was chained and she looked hatefully at the two knights that she'd put her trust in. They gagged her when she spat curses at them both and named them cowards and craven. Argellawas led through the keep as naked as the day she was born, with only some of those she passed looking shamed or away from her as it was done. None spoke up for her, nor called the knights and the other guards out for their treachery, and was she able to show her true emotions, then she'd have given in to the tears that threatened to fall. She knew though that she could not.

To her relief, or as much relief as her situation allowed, she was placed in a cart and they rode to the Targaryen camp. Here there was no shame in looking upon her naked body. Instead, those who did not do so lustfully did so with mockery. Their words she forbore and soon enough the cart stopped by a large tent that bore the flag of the Three-Headed Dragon above it. She could barely make out the silver dragon to one side of the tent and when she saw Queen Rhaenys and the large man who walked from the tent, she readied for her fate. Death was preferable to more humiliation and she only hoped it was quick and not at a dragon's hands.

"What is the meaning of this?" the large man asked angrily.

"We accept the queen's terms, our former queen did not." Ser Robert said and yet his words were not as welcomed as he may have hoped.

"So you treat a lady so? With such disrespect." the man said moving to her.

Suddenly she felt weightless as she was lifted from the cart, her eyes drawn to the dark eyes of the man who now held her in his arms. She didn't hear him ask for the key to her chains and barely felt them when they were removed from her. Instead, it was the feel of his cloak as it covered her and the look in his eyes as he tied it in front of her that she was concentrated on. There was concern there, disgust at she'd been treated, and restrained anger too. Yet there was more and she found she very much wished to find out the truth that those eyes showed.

"Forgive me, my lady. Her grace has some clothing you may wear until we can retrieve some of your own." the dark-haired dark-eyed man said, his voice almost lilting to her ear.

"I….Ser?"

"Orys, my lady, you may call me Orys."

"Orys," she said softly, the name sounding sweet on her lips.

Harrenhal 2 BC.

Aegon.

The damage was extensive. Towers had been melted and listed to one side, the stone had been burned and some of it turned to ash. Harren and his family had met their ends and the stench of their burned flesh had been different to others who'd fallen afoul of Balerion. They'd cooked from the inside out, had not faced the full force of the flames and so their bodies were a grisly sight because of it. Yet for all the damage he and the Black Dread had inflicted on the Hoares and their great keep, so much of it was still untouched.

There were enough rooms for not just his own most Leal and true men, but those who had sworn themselves to him on this campaign too. Good rooms, rooms of a quality that the Riverlords could find no fault in. As for his own quarters, they were on a par with those on Dragonstone in terms of luxury and decoration, if not in how they made him feel. Not just because he'd spent his first few nights in them alone either, though that hadn't endeared the rooms to him much. More though it was that he felt a sense of peace on Dragonstone that he'd thus far not been able to replicate. Not in the Aegonfort, not here and mayhap it was something that was only to be known to him when he rested on familiar lands.

His army had swelled with the Riverlords now under his command. As had the lands he now controlled with their fealty and Harren's defeat. From Harrenhal to Dragonstone, Riverrun to Maidenpool, the Lords who ruled over those lands now all named him their king. Yet it was other lands that his mind soon turned to. It was to the Vale and the Stormlands that his thoughts and heart were drawn. He had received no word as of yet about Rhaenys and Orys and their battle against the Storm King, nor were Visenya, Aemon, and Daemon's fates known to him. So while he reveled in his own victory, each hour that passed with no news of how his kin had fared, was an hour closer to him taking to the skies and flying to find out for himself.

He knew to where he'd fly too, to whose fate he'd seek to see resolved first and foremost and while he could say it was because Visenya had another Dragonrider alongside her, that would be a lie he'd not tell himself. Aegon would fly to Rhaenys not because he felt Visenya safer or not even truly because he felt she needed his help, he'd fly to where his heart bid him to, he'd fly to his love. Resolving to give it one more day before he did in fact take to the sky, he did his best to turn his mind to things that required his attention and that he could resolve more quickly. To the Riverlands and to his plans for it and its governance and to the next step of his campaign once word from the Stormlands and Vale had arrived. As he walked from his room, he heard the sound of Balerion's call and turned back to move to the window, the sight of the two dragons that flew over Harrenhal bringing a smile to his face. Even if he wished it was another dragon that he was looking upon.

"Your grace." Ser Corlys said rushing into the room.

"Come, Ser Corlys, I'm sure you're as eager for news of your father's victory as I am," Aegon said smiling at the young Velaryon knight.

He'd taken the time to look at those around him as they'd marched. The idea that Aemon had brought up about a select guard to guard him and his family had been one that had intrigued him greatly. A Kingsguard, seven men from around the Seven Kingdoms. Men of good character and skill. True and Leal. Aemon had spoken about the three who'd given their lives protecting him and his mother even after the fall our their house. Visenya had been even more eager for them to replicate such an order and though it was probably some time away in truth, he'd begun to look at those around him with such a thing in mind.

Ser Corlys Velaryon was a talented swordsman, he was a man whose loyalty could not be called into question and so he'd almost become the first member of the guard that had not yet been formed. He was not alone in Aegon's thoughts either, but he'd wait and see the minds of his sister-wives first before moving forward. Something that he looked forward to being able to speak to Visenya about now that she'd arrived. Though as he'd said to Corlys, it was thoughts of Daemon and events in Gulltown that his mind was now focussed on.

When they arrived in the open courtyard it was to find Aemon, Visenya, and Ghost all drawing the eyes and attention of the Riverlords and their men. Aemon was looking oddly at Lord Edmyn Tully and Aegon trying to remember what animus his kinsman may have with the fish lords. Putting those thoughts aside, for now, he looked to Visenya and was relieved to see her unharmed, as he was Aemon too. Briefly, he worried about Daemon, only to see that neither his sister-wife nor his kinsman seemed worried, upset, or in any way perturbed.

"You are well?" he asked Visenya as he went to kiss her, finding it to be her cheek and not her lips that his own made contact with.

"Most well, and we bring good tidings," Visenya said as Aegon looked to Aemon who was speaking to a smiling Ser Corlys.

"Then let's speak inside," he said.

As they walked, he saw Aemon look around at the burned towers and there was almost a look of remembrance on his face. Before he got to ask him if this was how the keep looked in his time though, Visenya spoke about the Riverlords.

"They joined you willingly?" she asked.

"They did. We faced a surprise attack near the God's Eye and lost some men though those who dared to do so ended up losing many more. As we then rode, Lord Edmyn and the other Riverlords came and pledged their fealty."

"You believe them true?"

"As true as any we wish to rule under us."

"Rhaenys? Orys?" Visenya asked and he shook his head, then offered her his hand to soothe the worried expression on her face, something that it seemed she accepted reluctantly.

They reached the rooms he'd taken for himself and he saw both Visenya and Aemon look to those he'd decided would be theirs were they arrive here before they marched again. Upon entering his own, he sent for refreshments and was happy to see the pleased look on Visenya's face when the food arrived. His sister-wife ate heartily, Aemon at first did not, until it seemed Visenya bid him to and then he did.

"All went well in the Vale?" he asked as he took his own seat across from them.

"All went well, your grace. We defeated the fleet that the Arryns had gathered to face us and lost none of our own ships or men in doing so." Aemon said.

"Daemon."

"Is at present making his home as the overlord of Gulltown. Lord Grafton was only too happy to kneel and swear fealty once we made it clear that we sought not his head." Visenya's tone almost seemed amused to him.

"You didn't press further into the Vale?" he asked curiously.

"No, Aemon had…."

"A vision I think you can name it," Aemon said rolling his eyes which made Visenya giggle, a sound that he surprisingly could not remember her making often.

"A vision?"

"I saw the North rise and march, your grace. Saw them face off against your army and fall. Men on our side fell too and were it for just that alone, it would have made my task an important one. But in my time, the North knelt, they swore their fealty and fought no battle. I know not if my presence here has changed that, but I seek it not to." Aemon said and he looked at him wondering if it was the North or for him that he sought to change things for.

"You care for the North?" he asked, though not recriminatory.

"I am the end result of the House of the Wolf as much as I am the House of the Dragon. House Stark, House Tyrell, and House Targaryen, those three above all others and our House above all." Aemon said and Aegon nodded.

"Aemon wishes to fly and treat with the King in the North, Aegon. To see if he can right things and make it so they kneel instead of fighting us. It's what we both wish for is it not, to see them kneel without a fight?"

"It is. If I could get the entirety of Westeros to do so then I'd be most happy that this was how the Conquest went. On their knees and swearing fealty is what I seek from them, not their lives or their blood. Though if I'm forced to take both then I will." he said firmly.

"Then my task is even more important is it not?" Aemon said and Aegon looked at him and then Visenya before nodding.

"Do your best, but put yourself in no danger, Aemon. My wrath will be inflicted heavily upon the North should they harm my kin."

"As will mine," Visenya added even more truly than he had said it.

"I face no danger in the North, it's not there I'll meet my end," Aemon said as he rose to his feet.

Soon enough he and Visenya were left alone while Aemon went to bathe, change his clothing, and ready for the flight north. He listened as Visenya spoke of Aemon and Rhaegal bringing the fire to the Arryn fleet and of her and Vhagar doing the same. How it had felt right, good, and true to do so and he told her that he felt the very same when he brought the flames to Harrenhal. Both of them worried and yet did not about Rhaenys and Orys. More because of the lack of news than that they felt any true fear for either of them. Once again he went to kiss her and once again it was her cheek that he found rather than her lips. This time his annoyance at being denied must have been apparent on his face, for he saw a guilty look come over Visenya's own.

Aemon bid them his farewells some hours later and he watched from the window as Visenya herself escorted him to where Rhaegal and Vhagar waited together. For a brief moment he feared she would fly with Aemon once more, but it was the green dragon alone who took to the sky. Later they feasted somewhat and Visenya took a harder look at the men of the Riverlands and he knew they'd be speaking about them on the morrow. When the time came to retire for the night, Visenya left earlier than he and as he himself left, he did so with a smile on his face. It had been some time since he and Visenya had lain together, some time since he'd even considered doing so. Tonight he found himself very much looking forward to sharing her bed once more.

"Visenya," he called out as he knocked at the door and it took more than one knock for her to answer.

"Aegon?"

"I thought we may…" he began only for the expression on Visenya's face to stop his words in mid-sentence.

"Come in, there is much we need to discuss." Visenya said and he entered the room only to be stopped by her hand "Talk, Aegon. We will talk this night, not lay together, for never shall we do so again."

He looked at her, confused, angered somewhat, but mainly confused as she seemed firm in her words, and yet she was not annoyed or repulsed by nor was she angered at him.

"Visenya?"

"My heart and my body belong to another as does both your own."

"Who?" he asked angrily before it struck him that it could only be one person "Aemon?"

"I am his and he is mine, just as you and my sister belong to each other," Visenya said and this time she wore a smile, a smile he liked not.

Moat Cailin 2 BC.

Brandon Snow.

It had been the drink at first. Then it was being caught up in the words of the men around him. Finally, it was his own stupid pride that had made him shout long and loudly for the death of dragons. He'd gone against what Torrhen had wished him to do, all because he'd gotten caught up in the bravado that was being shown by the men of the North. They were fierce and proud and Brandon had reveled in hearing them speak without fear, even though he knew deep down they should be much afraid of what they marched to face.

So he'd shouted as loudly and as proudly as any, forgetting that his words carried more weight than theirs and that they looked to him to lead. He'd told tales of sneaking up on the dragons where they rested and using Weirwood bows, and of ending them while they were lost in their slumber. Of sneaking into the dragon's camp and like wraiths in the night bringing an end to Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives. Loudly he'd proclaimed that no army of the South was a match for the men of the North. That none could stand against them and when they truly saw them across from them, they'd shit themselves where they stood.

His words had been welcomed then added to and more and more drink had been drunk. At one point he was sure that words were spoken of the Marsh King and that mayhap Brandon should take either Visenya or Rhaenys as his wife as Rickard Stark, the Laughing Wolf had taken a daughter. Days later he still couldn't remember if he'd said he would take one or both or none of them. He hoped it was the latter. Simply because if it was either of the former he'd feel more shamed than he already did. Brandon had felt shame enough when Torrhen had berated him for not doing as he was bid, he still felt it today more than a week later if truth be told.

"What were you thinking?" his brother asked angrily, his voice sounding even louder through the pained head of the morning after the night before.

"I.."

"I bid you talk them down, explain the truth of what they and we marched to. I may not have wished them scared or frightened but I wanted them wary, not bloody eager for the fight to come."

"I.."

"You what? Is it silence I'm to face brother after you spoke so loudly last night?"

"I need to empty my stomach…" he said moving away from his brother and to the nearby privy.

After he'd done as he said he would, he felt somewhat better able to concentrate on what Torrhen was angered about, or he did a few moments later when he swallowed down the mug of ale he poured himself.

"You need to speak to them for true, Brandon. Let them know that you have concerns and that should this come to a battle, it is not one we're certain to walk away from with our lives, let alone a victory."

"I'll do so. I got caught up….."

"Aye, you did. See you don't do so again as we march. Drink and make merry, brother, but don't get too drunk so that you get caught up again."

"I won't," he said and with a nod of his brother's head, Brandon drank down another mug of ale and felt ready for the day and the march ahead.

It had still been hard for him to walk back his words at the feast. Not just because of his nature, but because of the men who joined them as they marched. What had already been an impressive army when it left Winterfell had been swelled by more men than he could count. As he looked at them, he found it hard to believe that any army could stand against them, yet his brother's words had resounded and so he spoke them though he wasn't certain that he believed them.

He told tales of the dragons, of what they may be able to do, and how while he felt they could be beaten, they had to consider that they may not be able to be defeated. Brandon spoke of what numbers Aegon Targaryen could possibly add to his army if people knelt willingly or not. When men around him used his own words that they'd be no match for the men of the North, he reminded them that this would be a battle fought in the South. Something that at least gave some of them pause.

As talk turned to other plans of action, of holding them at the Neck and using the Moat to break them against as they had many armies before, Brandon spoke of the wait and of the dragons again. How on one hand they could be left at the Moat for weeks or moons and how as focussed as they were now, in time they'd lose that focus and feel the need to return to their homes would they not? How the dragons couldn't be held back by the Neck and the swamps that surrounded it nor be forced to march through the narrow roads that led into the North.

"Speak to Beric Umber and ask him of the dragons he met on our lands, speak to him and tell me how we stop them from flying over our heads."

"You would have us do what then, the Brandon? Surrender, kneel?" Artos Flint asked.

"I'd have us think more clearly than we did when in our cups is all, to listen to what our king bids us to do and to remember that Torrhen is a far more clever man than me," he said to some laughs.

"We're all more clever than you, Brandon."

"Aye, 'tis not your wits that make us follow you, Stark. It's your balls. Big as a fucking horse's they are…"

He welcomed the good humor and more so later that night when he saw more contemplative looks on some of the faces of the men he'd ridded with. Torrhen too had spoken and had surrounded himself with some of the smarter and more careful lords. Brave men still, but not a fool amongst them. Over the course of the march he was sure his words spoken as they did so now carried more weight than his ones spoken in Winterfell's Great Hall while in his cups, he believed they had.

Seeing the Moat when it came into view, he was not the only one who welcomed the thoughts of a night in a warm room and with a fire that wasn't threatened by the cold winds of the North. While most of the men would still need to sleep in tents, a large number could be sheltered in the keep itself. Knowing Torrhen, his brother would seek to alternate who slept where so that none other than the Lords themselves would be seen to be treated unfavorably.

The first night in the keep was spent not feasting, though a normal meal with so many men of the North present was no quiet dinner. Drink and food were plentiful, but he'd been right in what he'd said as they marched, the longer they stayed here, the less that would be so. He slept in a warm bed, the fire burned in the hearth and his dreams that night were not of dragons or war, but of a giant white wolf the size of a horse and a dark-haired man who walked with it as if it were a dog and not a beast of legend.

After breaking his fast the next morning, he and others got their first glimpse of a dragon up close and he'd be a liar if he said it didn't send a shiver down his spine. The green dragon was as large as a ship and the shadow it cast over them as it flew over their heads was a large one. His eyes soon sought and found some of those he named friends and with a nod, he and twenty other men were soon riding from the Moat keen to see where the dragon had landed or if it landed that was. They didn't have to ride too far and seeing it on the ground allowed them all to truly appreciate just how huge the dragon was.

Brandon doubted there was a ship in White Harbor that was as large as it. Mayhap not one in any of the Seven Kingdoms, though he knew not if that was true. It must stand more than fifty feet from the ground to its back and with its giant head raised, even more than that. From snout to tail it was more than two hundred feet he'd wager and when it opened its giant mouth and roared in warning, it wasn't just the incredibly loud sound that Brandon found himself concentrating on. Its teeth were larger than the greatsword that Beric Umber wielded and there were far too many of them to count.

"By the Old Gods." he heard a voice say from behind him.

"Is that a fucking Direwolf." he heard another.

It was and it was one he'd seen before as was the man who stood beside it. His dreams had come to life and he looked on in amazement as the man first spoke to the dragon as if it was a horse and then to the giant white wolf as he stroked its fur with his left hand. His right hand was held close to the sword that he wore on his hip and Brandon saw what looked to be two knives attached to the other. The armor he wore was as black as the night's sky and the Three-Headed Dragon sigil could be seen clearly on the breastplate. He wore no helm, though Brandon could see one tied to the saddle that lay upon the dragon's back.

"He looks a Stark." were the only words he spoke as the man and wolf moved towards him.

Harrenhal 2 BC.

Visenya.

She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't nervous upon seeing Aegon again. The flight from Gulltown to Harrenhal gave her more than enough time to think about what would happen between them when they were alone together once more. A part of her almost prayed that Rhaenys would have returned and yet she knew that she wouldn't be done with the Stormlands as easily as she and Aemon had Gulltown. Something that was proved true when they landed at the great keep.

Knowing that Aemon would be departing not soon after they landed was something that prayed on her mind too. While he may feel that he faced no danger in heading north, she held enough fear for the both of them. After landing and seeking news on her sister and Orys, none of which was forthcoming, she and Aemon spoke firstly on what had happened with the fleet and how Gulltown and its Lord were now sworn to them. Then Aemon spoke on the North and what he'd seen in his vision, along with his plan to ensure that vision didn't come to pass. Once done, it was time for her and Aemon to say their goodbyes for now and so while Aegon dealt with other matters, she accompanied Aemon to where Vhagar and Rhaegal waited. Her bronze dragon looked eager to be in the sky once more and so it was to her that she moved so as to let her know that it would be Rhaegal alone that was heading north.

Once done, it was to Aemon she turned and she swore she felt eyes on her from inside the keep itself. Not that the feeling of being watched was what stopped either of them from giving in to their affections. More the propriety of what that would look like and how Aegon would feel about seeing it before either or both of them had spoken to him. Aemon looked unworried to her eyes, though he, much to her delight, seemed to wish he wasn't leaving her alone here too. Something that he confirmed when she moved closer to him.

"I…"

"Go do as you must, Aemon, return quickly and be safe is all I ask."

"I will."

"You truly feel no fear regarding the wolves?" she asked as Ghost turned his head her way at the mention of wolves.

"Throw me to the wolves and I'll return leading the pack." Aemon said with a chuckle, which despite her fears and thoughts of what faced her while he was gone, Visenya joined in with "We need to speak with Aegon, I'll return, and then we…"

"Be safe, Aemon," she said, not wishing to further that particular conversation or have that be what his mind focussed on.

"You too," he said and they briefly touched hands, the only contact either of them felt comfortable with in their current surroundings.

After watching Rhaegal, Ghost, and Aemon fly away, she turned and walked back into the keep. Thankfully for the next few hours, it was talk of Aegon's victory, the Riverlords, what they would do with them, and some of the men who'd sworn to them that she and Aegon were engaged. Aegon told her that Ser Robyn Darklyn and a knight named Ser Humfrey the Mummer had both showed promise and that he'd like to see their blades tested against Orys' or Aemon's. Visenya though found she could barely listen to his words and even as they ate dinner, it was with thoughts of the night to come that she found her mind had turned to. With Rhaenys elsewhere, she wondered if Aegon would seek to spend the night in her bed for once, and how she may react to it. Less than an hour after she'd retired to her rooms, she found she had her answer to both questions.

"I am his and he is mine, just as you and my sister belong to each other," Visenya said and the smile came to her face unbidden as she spoke the words aloud.

It was clear that Aegon was angered by the words. She recognized the look in his eyes that named him as such. Yet he tried to restrain his anger and they stood facing each other for a long time with no words spoken between them. Visenya looked to the fire and at the two chairs that were in front of it and which other than the bed, were the only place that they could sit. Then with a not to him, she moved to take a seat in one of them. Aegon took much longer to move. To Visenya's mind, he was deciding what not or what to say. After some time, he joined her and she was happy to see him take a seat instead of standing over her.

"Have you lain together?" he asked sounding almost saddened by the thought which surprised her somewhat.

"We have."

"More than once?"

"I'll not put a number on it, Aegon, but yes more than once." she sighed.

"The first time?"

"When we flew North," she replied quickly.

He looked at her, his eyes ablaze before he looked away and seemed to compose himself somewhat.

"That was why things were strained between you," he stated.

"It was. Both of us felt some guilt over what we'd done. Not the act itself but over my vows."

"I'm surprised either of you cared." Aegon sneered.

"Enough, Aegon. You are not a petulant child and so do not sit there and lie to me by telling me that it's my affections that you are angered at losing. Were I my sister then I would believe that is what pains you, but I know the truth of you."

It shouldn't have surprised her when he rose to his feet, yet it did and she watched him as he paced a few feet from her before moving to look down at the fire that burned in the hearth.

"You think I'm upset simply because you're my wife? Or that I feel shamed that someone has taken what is mine? Do you know so little of my heart?" he asked.

"I know that while I hold a place in it, it's not as your wife but as your sister. I know that on the nights that you deigned to share my bed, despite what pleasure you may have gained for doing so, it was duty and not desire which led you to my room. My sister's words, mayhaps." she said and the way he turned from her proved her suspicions true "I know that you feel angered that Aemon has my affections and feel betrayed by us both. So I know some of your heart, Aegon. I know too that was my sister here then after I'd spoken the truth of mine own heart, it would be to her that these questions would be asked and not to me."

Again he looked away from her at her words and proved them true in doing so. She'd always known his heart, probably better than anyone other than Rhaenys. Her place in it was secure as a sister and very much not as a wife. Twice they'd lain together in more than five moons, and she'd taken no pleasure in their couplings, while even his own was muted. There was no affection shown between them outside of the marital bed either, not as it was shown constantly with Rhaenys. With Aemon while they kept their true feelings hidden from those around them, they were as affectionate as her sister and brother were when they were alone. Visenya to her delight had found that as well as the pleasure he brought her when they lay together, was now something that she could no longer forego.

"How am I supposed to react to this, Visenya? To Aemon, to you? How am I supposed to react?" Aegon asked sounding like the small boy he had once been.

"I know not, Aegon. This changes little…"

"This changes everything!" he shouted angrily "I am given the horns by my own kinsman, how do you think this makes me look?"

"That's what you care about? How you look? How do I look when you make clear that your affections lie only with Rhaenys? When it's clear that it's she who holds your heart and your favor? Where was your care for appearances then, brother mine?" she said rising to her feet "This looks however we wish it to look. You wished not to reward any of our allies with a Dragonrider, this ensures that is not to occur. Set me aside, wed me to Aemon, make it your choice and I'll forbear the shame of it if appearances are all that matters to you." she felt her anger as if it was a palpable thing and at one point, she even moved her hand to her hip to search for Dark Sister in order to fight that anger away.

"How am I to trust…"

The slap she hit him with was hard and the shocked look on his face took her aback for a moment, before her anger at him and somewhat at herself, rose again.

"Trust? You speak of trust as if other than with our hearts either Aemon or I would go against you. Speak such again and it won't be my hand you'll face, on that you have my vow. Were he to wish it then our kinsman could seek to take your throne from you, or do you think yourself and Balerion a match for Aemon and Rhaegal? Your dragon may be larger and more powerful than mine own, but do you think yourself a match for me in the yard?"

"You would fight me?" he asked with a dumbfounded look on his face that she hoped her now softened expression helped remove.

"No, brother I'd not, and nor would Aemon. What's he doing right now if not bringing another kingdom to heel for you? Other than in matters of the heart, has he once refused a command from you? Has he not knelt and sworn to your as his king?"

"Before then laying with my wife and committing treason." Aegon snapped.

"He swore to us all equally, Aegon. True he named you his king and it's to you he looks for his orders, but he swore to Rhaenys and me as well. Treason cannot be against one and not the other and he committed none such against me."

Her words were Aemon's own and were ones he'd spoken to her after they'd lain together. She'd asked him if that was why he'd sworn his oath as he had and he'd shaken his head and denied it.

"I swore to all three of you because while Aegon may be king, he didn't conquer alone. Without you and Rhaenys by his side, I doubt he'd have been able to."

"And that was your only reason?"

"No. I wished to name you both as my queens too. I told you, our family made mistakes and the biggest of those was in believing it was a man's right to rule above all. Had the law been clear from the start, had the right of succession been as it is in Dorne, then who knows how different things may have been."

"But it clears your conscience too does it not, over the things we do together?"

"My conscience is clear on the things we do. I may feel guilt over Aegon, but not over what we do, on that I swear. But Aye, if you wish to name this as that I'll not lie and say it cannot play a part."

There were to be no more words spoken between them that night. Aegon looked at her and though he was angered still, he was to her eyes, less so. She went to her bed alone and fell to sleep not with thoughts of Aegon but of Aemon. Upon waking the next morning it was to find that a raven had arrived from Dragonstone proclaiming Rhaenys and Orys' victory. Aegon's mood greatly improved now that he knew that their sister and his brother by choice were safe and well. Things between them were awkward and so they concentrated on less personal matters. Talk of the Riverlands and of naming House Tully as Lord Paramount of the Trident, which was then followed by her suggesting they speak to Aemon about his own feelings on the House of Trout before doing so.

At times during the day, she found both her own and Aegon's eyes looking at each other and more often than not the sky. Though it was ravens and not dragons that were the only things that flew above them. What they would do about the situation they were in, she knew not. Though speaking to the Septon who traveled with the Riverlords, she did find that Aemon was right and they misliked much that Aegon had two wives. Almost as much as they did that those wives were of the same blood. It gave her an idea, one she wished to speak to Aemon and to Rhaenys about, one if she was right about would resolve much and mayhap even bring the faith on board. For now, she concentrated on the next step of the conquest and as each hour passed, she looked to the sky and awaited Rhaegal's return.

Moat Cailin 2 BC.

Aemon Targaryen.

Each time they parted it felt harder to do so. No matter that he tried to deny it, a part of him couldn't but help to think it may be the last time they saw each other. Memories of a different goodbye many years earlier were still held deep within him and though things were much different between him and Visenya, in regards to his feelings they were almost the same. He'd fallen quickly, mayhap too quickly, yet he'd welcomed the fall too. He'd needed it, needed her, as even though he'd set himself a goal upon realizing where he had been sent to, inside he was still a mere shadow of the man he'd once been. Thanks to Visenya, that man was coming more and more to the fore and so too were his worries, fears, and doubts.

Not that he feared anything for himself, mind. War was something he'd always been more than equipped to wage and to survive, it was only those around him that he risked losing to its horrors. Despite telling himself that this was different and that it was men and not monsters that he was faced with, each time they parted it would be monsters he'd see in his head. One monster in particular and that monster had cost him everything he loved in the world. Now years later, after so long thinking he had no love left in him, he'd found it again and so mayhap that was his true fear. That once more he had something he couldn't afford to lose and should he, then this time it would break him for true.

Feeling the cold wind of the northern air blowing in his face, he knew he was now flying over the Neck, and soon enough he could see Moat Cailin below him. Unlike when he'd flown over it with Visenya on their trip to the North, this time he took a keener look at it and saw it in all its glory. His family had been fools to let it descend into the half-wrecked keep it had become in his time, for this, this was how it should always look to those in the South. An unassailable, well-built, well-maintained fortress that would repel any who dared assault it, be they from the South or even the North. After he'd taken it in completely, he looked at the Northern Army that was camped in and around it, and it was an impressive sight.

It brought back memories of another march, another army. Robb had marched with fewer men when they'd taken his father prisoner. Aemon had then found a far smaller army awaiting at the Moat after Ned Stark had been executed and his truth had been spoken to the Realm. Be it his brother's haste in forming up a force to take to the South, or that the North had fewer men in it in their time than they did now, this army must be at least one and a half if not two times the size of the army he'd eventually been named as who they marched to crown. It brought a thought to his head and it was one he pondered on when he bid Rhaegal land. He and Ghost hurried down off the green dragon's back to be ready to greet the men who'd be sent to treat or fight with him. Aemon moved to Rhaegal's head to tell the green dragon that they would be on safe ground here, even if he wasn't completely certain that he spoke the truth.

"Sagon rȳ lyks, Rhaīgal, emi daor qrinuntyssy kesīr." (Be at peace, Rhaegal, we have no enemies here.) he said softly, and then he heard the men approach.

Aemon turned to face them, a group of ten or more men in total. One of them looked much like his uncle Benjen to his eyes and it brought a smile to his face as he thought of the man who'd done much to ready the Wall for what marched against it. He could see that they looked at him both warily and with suspicion, though most eyes were trained on Rhaegal or on Ghost, which brought an even fuller smile to his face. They stood there, ten or more men on one side, he, Ghost, and Rhaegal on the other, and the silence seemed to stretch on for some time. Eventually, the man who looked like Benjen spoke and Aemon found himself face to face with Brandon Snow.

"My name is Brandon Snow, brother to the King in the North Torrhen Stark, and you stand on sovereign lands, Targaryen," Brandon said loudly, there was a challenge in his words, yet not a full-on one as of yet.

"My name is Aemon Targaryen, I come to treat with the King in the North on behalf of their graces, King Aegon, Queen Rhaenys, and Queen Visenya of House Targaryen. I'll accept guest rights if they're offered, or we can both take our chances that should this turn unfriendly, then your men or sword are a match for me, my dragon, and my wolf," he said as he stroked Ghost behind the ears.

"Aye, we'll gift you guest rights, Targaryen," Brandon said and one of the men moved forward with some bread and salt.

The man was a guard from House Stark given his livery, and Aemon briefly wondered if he was related to anyone he knew from his own time. Most of the guards had followed in their family's footsteps and had served House Stark for years, some for hundreds of years in some capacity or other. Putting aside his curiosity which bid him to ask the tall fair-headed man his name, Aemon took a piece of the offered bread and dipped it in the salt, passing it to Ghost who took a small nibble from it, before he then ate the rest himself.

"You not giving some to the dragon too?" Brandon Snow asked almost japing.

"Rhaegal wouldn't accept it, unlike Ghost and me, he's not of the North," he said to some surprised looks.

"Aye, you have the North look about you, but that sigil you bear on your chest and the king and queens you serve, both show that you're no longer of the North."

"We'll see," he said cryptically.

With a turn of his head and nod to Rhaegal, the green dragon took to the sky and Aemon and Ghost moved closer to Brandon Snow and the men. They were no more than a few moment's walk from the Moat itself and it was one done in silence. Though Brandon and each of those with him seemed to search his features for some hints as to his ancestry. While those who looked not at him nor at Rhaegal as he flew overhead, stared instead at Ghost and did so with looks of awe and wonder on their faces.

When they reached the gates of the Moat, again the differences between now and his own time were immediately apparent. Even the wood seemed well maintained and walking inside, seeing the truth of the stone and the towers being habitable, Aemon again cursed his House for letting it fall to ruin. Had it been like this in his own time, then it could have saved many lives in the battle of the Neck. It could have given them a place to rally to and depart from. A holding once Winterfell had fallen. It was not to be and again, Aemon found his mind thinking not on today as much as it was many years from now and how to ensure that this was yet another wrong he righted.

"The king will wish to see you and hear what you have to say, my men will take you to a room where a meeting can be held, your wolf…."

"Ghost goes where I go," he said to a nod of Brandon Snow's head, and then he was led into the Gatehouse Tower, Aemon closed his eyes as he entered and was immediately transported to another time and place, and to a brother who'd knelt and named him his king before he'd then pledged his sword to his.

Opening his eyes, it was then and not now that he saw. Robb and the Greatjon, Howland Reed and Wyman Manderly, Ser Rodrik Cassel, Maege and Dacey Mormont. It was chants of King in the North and hard men and women who'd named him as such that he was greeted with and then in the blink of an eye, they were gone. The large stone-carved table sat empty. There was one chair on one side and three on the other and with a look to the men with him, Aemon moved and took his seat and waited for the current King in the North to make his way to speak with him.

It turned out to be a much longer wait than he'd expected. Aemon at first thought it was a power play of sorts, something that both his wife and his Goodgrandmother had enlightened him to as he ruled in King's Landing. Yet this was the North and they played few such games here. Instead, the reasoning for King Torrhen's delay in greeting him was much simpler and truer. He'd not been in the keep when they arrived and so had taken some time to find out about that arrival.

While Brandon Snow had reminded him of his uncle Benjen, Torrhen looked nothing like his uncle Ned and yet he was clearly a Stark too. The long face and dark brown hair along with the grey eyes that were much like his own were all present. As was the seriousness in his features that he'd seen much with both his uncles over the years. Beside him was a smaller man with green eyes and for a moment, Aemon thought he was looking into the face of a true ghost. For while Torrhen and Brandon resembled Starks, the Cranngoman was the mirror image of Howland Reed. So much so that Aemon almost named him as such.

"How….Lord Reed?" he said correcting himself and the small man nodded his head and offered him a smile as he, Torrhen, and Brandon took their seats across from him.

"My brother tells me you accepted Guest Rights, yet you wear your weapons still?" Torrhen said, looking not at him or them but at Ghost beside him.

"A force of habit, your grace. My sword and daggers have been worn by me for so long now that they're a part of me, I'd feel naked without them and so it's rare I move about unarmed," he said truthfully.

"You have the look of my kin about your, yet I know you not, and given how you arrived here, it's clear you share a kinship with the Targaryens. So how is it that a man who looks to be from the North, and who bears a Direwolf by his side is able to fly upon a dragon's back?" Torrhen asked and Aemon saw both Brandon and especially Lord Reed look at him curiously as they awaited his answer.

"I'm just lucky I wager." he said with a small chuckle before turning serious "My story is a long one and one that would probably name me as mad and yet I speak only the truth. I am the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen…." his words brought some confused looks and yet it was his next ones that gained a true expression of shock "and his wife, Lyanna Stark."

When the shock subsided, it was Brandon who named him a liar and said there was no such person as his mother, Torrhen held his tongue but clearly agreed, while Lord Reed just like his namesake many years in the future, sat and held his counsel better than most men Aemon had ever known. There was a curiosity in his eyes though and unlike the other two men, there was no sign in them that he didn't believe the words Aemon had just uttered.

"You knew of three Targaryens did you not? Three dragons and three Dragonriders, that was all the news that the North and Westeros knew of my father's house." he asked to nods of two of the three heads "Until a few moons ago, that was the truth of things in this time." he said to confused looks "Then the gods saw fit to take me from mine own and to bring me here to join them."

"Take you from your own?" Lord Reed asked.

"I was born a little less than 300 years from now, in a tower in Dorne to a mother who didn't survive the birthing. I was born a prince, a king in truth as my siblings had been murdered and my father killed. Had it not been for my uncle, my mother's brother Ned Stark, then I'd most likely have joined them. To protect me, he named me his bastard son and for five and ten years I believed that to be who I was. I believed myself a stain on his honorable cloak and so sought to remove that stain by serving with the Watch, only to find out the truth of myself not long after arriving.

My uncle then lost his head after being accused of treason, though not on my behalf, and yet he named me true before they executed him. So after some battles, a war that I was more than equipped for and capable of winning, I finally wore the crown that had been denied to me, only to find that all was for naught. For it was not that war that I was destined to fight in and not those foes I was destined to face across the field of battle. There was only one war that matters, the Great War and that was a war I lost."

He'd lost them he knew, yet Lord Reed spoke in Torrhen's ear and the King in the North did the same to his brother. What words were spoken, he knew not, but it was clear to him that they were willing to continue to listen, and so he continued to speak. He shed tears as he spoke of the loss of Margaery and his children, and bore an expression that garnered some sympathy as he told of losing every single person he'd ever cared about to an enemy that didn't sleep or stop and was relentless in their goal. Then he spoke of the Old Gods, of the Three-Eyed Raven, and of how he believed it was they who'd sent him here. Aemon said that it was by their will that death had not been his to face. Those words may not have proven him more true to Torrhen and Brandon, nor even to Lord Reed who it seemed had believed him from his first ones, but they did at least buy him some patience.

"Say I believe all you say, then what would you have me do?" Torrhen said holding his brother back when Brandon went to argue.

"You've heard of Harrenhal by now? Mayhap even seen it for yourself?" he asked and Torrhen smirked as Aemon was later to find out that was exactly what he'd been off doing "The North cannot face the dragons and win. Were it to do so then the defeat inflicted upon it would be one that it'd never recover from. Even should you decide to shore up your defenses and wait for them to come to you, the end result would be the same. Mayhap even worse since keeps too would fall then."

"So what? You bid me surrender? To give up my crown and face the scorn of the North not just for the now, but for lifetimes to come?"

"I met a man once, a brave man, a good man. He asked me the very same question. Told me that were he to drop to his knee then it made him no king and his people would not accept it. That they named him and could see him unnamed just as easily." Aemon said thinking back fondly to Mance Rayder.

"And what, he knelt in the end?" Brandon Snow said almost sneering.

"All men kneel, the only question that needs to be asked is do they do so willingly or only after they've been brought to their knees. Is your pride worth the lives of those who named you king? Is not the first duty of a king to see his people safe? To see them prosper? Those were the words I spoke to him and they are the very same I'll speak to you. Kneel or be brought to your knees, either way, your paths lead to the same place and the same end. The only thing you need decide is whether or not those who you march with, the families they left behind, and the North itself can prosper with the losses we'll inflict upon it." he said almost pleadingly.

There was silence for some time, Brandon looked at him angrily while Torrhen was more contemplative. Lord Reed just sat quietly as if he already knew the outcome of these talks and Aemon wondered if he was a Greenseer or simply a warg, as he'd wager he was one of them at least. Eventually, Torrhen rose to his feet and Aemon held his breath.

"We'll eat tonight and speak more on the morrow. I bid you keep your words to yourself on what we've spoken on here, Aemon Targaryen. Should you not, then my answer will most certainly be to tell you to go fuck yourself."

"I've no wish to speak to any without your leave," he said to a nod.

"Lord Reed can see you quartered, be ready to be insulted and mayhap even challenged. You claim Northern blood and kinship with my House, so you should be more than used to our ways."

"Aye, and long have I missed them," he said as Torrhen and Brandon left him alone.

He walked from the room with Lord Reed who'd bid him name him Jojen. Aemon remembered then that Howland's son had been named the same in his own time, though he'd seen little of him and far more of his sister Meera. The looks he garnered as he walked through the courtyard with Ghost on one side and Lord Reed on the other were most unfriendly. No doubt each and every man here knew why he'd come and at the meal later that night, there would be some who'd seek to challenge him in word and deed. Yet that he looked forward to. He had warm memories of marching south and of nights spent in the company of such men. Men who acted far differently than those his future wife and Goodfamily brought to his side.

"The wolf, is he from the same time as you?" Lord Reed asked when they were alone and walking through what he believed was the Drunkard's Tower, but couldn't be certain because there was no leaning of it.

"Aye. A few moons before I went to the Wall, we came across his mother who'd died after being impaled upon a stag's antlers. She had five pups who were still suckling at her teats or trying to. I had five trueborn siblings, cousins by blood but I'd named them brothers and sisters then and I still name them as such. I convinced my uncle that those wolves were meant for them. Convinced him that it would be wrong to kill them as he wished. As we moved away, something drew me to Ghost, the sixth pup who was alone and unwanted." he said as he rubbed his hand over Ghost's fur and Ghost looked at him with those blood-red eyes showing he remembered that day, as well as Aemon, did.

"Gifts from the Old Gods and a warning too." Lord Reed said catching him by surprise, Aemon turned to look at him "There is no doubt the white wolf is a gift from the Old Gods, his coloring alone would name it such, and yet I can sense the bond between you both. You're a warg and he's your bonded familiar is he not?"

"Aye, he is."

"The stag impaling the mother, that was a warning. How soon after it did your uncle lose his head?"

"Less than a year."

"Aye, sounds about right." Lord Reed said almost to himself.

He looked at the smaller man and found him to be as enigmatic as Howland himself had been. The things that he'd known in Aemon's time had helped him greatly. Howland had kept heirlooms that his uncle had wished destroyed, papers and letters that had been written and never sent. He'd spoken to him of his mother, her last moments, and the first ones that Howland had shared with her. When Aemon had grown angry and asked him why he'd not told him the truth sooner, Howland had spoken but a few words. Words that had angered Aemon even more and yet words that had proved themselves true.

"It was not yet the time for Jon Snow to die."

When they reached the rooms he'd been given, he felt a hand grab his own and it took him so by surprise that he almost jumped in shock. Few men could move towards him without him being ready for it. Even such a simple thing as a hand being raised to stop his progress or a touch to his shoulder had become things he could predict and yet Jojen Reed had caught him completely by surprise and not when he was lost in thought either.

"I had not wished to see the White Wolf in my time, Aemon. Prayed for it even. Yet it seems that it's not for me to face the fight that's to come. My descendants played their part?"

"Aye, a true part," he said to a warm smile from Lord Reed.

"You'll have my aid in convincing my king. What you seek to do is a true good, Aemon. The Old Gods wouldn't have sent you back were it not."

"You believe me?" he asked curiously.

"I believed you the moment I saw him." Lord Reed said looking at Ghost "I'll see some water is sent so you can freshen up and we'll speak more later. The North will need a reason other than the truth to kneel, Aemon, it'll require something more than my words. Think about that and have a true offer ready on the morrow. You've shown King Torrhen the stick, it's time to find a carrot too."

"I thank you, Lord Reed."

"Call me Jojen."

With that, he was alone with Ghost and as he took his seat on the bed, it was to thoughts of the morrow and the true negotiations to come.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: The North is told some harsh truths about the future and is offered a new way forward. Argella Durrandon is made an offer she can't refuse. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys, and Aemon reunite at the Stoney Sept where decisions are made that change the future of House Targaryen, and the largest army that Westeros has ever seen marches to face off against the dragons.

For those following my other fics. My Honor Goes only so High is up next.

Celexys: Really glad you enjoyed it, my friend.

Mrmcnasty: It is funny isn't it. You wonder if it's the name that makes them so or just makes them more memorably so as there are some Torrhens and Cregans too who certainly had Wolf's Blood.

Atp: We'll be seeing the Children/Giants/Free Folk all being addressed very soon.

Anja: So happy you liked it.

Dunk: Aemon is and will be more ruthless with certain people, less so with others. His ties to obviously the Targs/Starks are strong and so too to the Tyrell's, so were it to come to actually having to face off against any of those, then he'd be very torn. Others not so much and any that pose an actual danger to the Targs especially, or stand in his way of making things better, are not even considered as we saw here with the Arryn fleet. His goal is pretty much to make the Conquest and what comes after it works to its fullest extent, and since he knows that in the future all life will end, he's certainly not against taking a lot now to avoid that. So he sort of has a little of the mentality of would you kill one life to save a thousand going on when it comes to any he sees as enemies or in the way of the future he wants to set up.

The thing with the Arryn fleet in canon was that maybe the Targs and Daemon Velaryon were a little arrogant and they didn't use the dragons a lot of times as a first strike, but rather as a response to a strike. We see what Dany's dragons were able to do to ships a couple of times in the show, so really they are no obstacle at all once the dragons are let loose. As for the fighting on the ground, I was sort of going for a bit of the Drogon in the fighting pit, only with a larger more fully grown dragon.

We'll see the makeup of the RL and Aemon's thoughts on the Tully's as well as what's to be done with Harrenhal, Aemon trying to remember as much as he can about the House that took over that keep over the years, as certain things lead to certain other things. For example, if House Whent doesn't gain control at some point does that mean no Catelyn Tully? same with House Tully as LP's without it does it mean no Robb, Arya, et al?. Next chapter Aemon will tell Torrhen/Brandon all about the future and give them other reasons to kneel, so we'll see if you're right.

Keb: Thanks, I'm trying to show other viewpoints, but keep the main focus on the Targs where they belong.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, I felt I couldn't fit it all in one pov with the Northern Lords, so we'll get another couple next chapter, Aemon, and Torrhen for certain.

Aegon: One aspect of the Targ rule that people never seem to consider is that there were other reasons why certain Houses were raised not just that they knelt first or as a reward. The Reach it's always suggested was deliberately given to the Tyrells, not because they knelt and surrendered Highgarden so easily, but because Aegon/Visenya/Rhaenys didn't wish it to be held by someone who commanded the full respect of all the other houses, they didn't wish it to be too strong. The RL, could well have been sort of the same thing, however, Aemon's presence and actions will change House Targs own holdings too, as you'll soon see. With Dorne, one of the biggest mistakes the Targs made was not dealing with a strong house internally, they instead forced a ruler from outside on them and that didn't end well, here, they'll do something different.

Harry fan Got: Thanks so much for saying so, this won't be the end of Jon's journeys as he'll travel through other key points in Targ history. Though this story and each of the ones to come in the series will stand as stand-alone too for those who wish them to.

Woolfan: So glad you liked it.

Guest: It's sort of hard to do when they've not only done nothing wrong here but have knelt too. Also while Aemon/Cat had issues in his own lifetime, those issues were not as they were in canon and at least had some resolution, which we'll find out more about next chapter.

Lunus: Without spoiling too much, Aemon will be traveling through each of the key timelines. So we'll see him during the Dance, Blackfrye Rebellion, Robert's Rebellion, and back during his own timeline. As to what he'll face when there or what butterflies will play out, I can't say without spoiling, but we'll see it all through his eyes. Basically, this is set to be both a self-contained story that can be read on its own and has a start/middle/end and part of a series that all tie in together with Aemon as the main character in all and set through the various key timelines of the Targaryen history.