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.

15. Back to the Sands, From Whence You Came

Sunspear 1 BC.

Visenya.

Visenya lay on the bed as the Maester looked her over. Her husband was standing there watching every single move the man made and Visenya almost laughed aloud at the looks that Aemon was giving the older man. She had wished to wait until they were back in Harrenhal or even Dragonstone, but Aemon had been insistent and once he'd involved her brother and sister in things, she lost the will to fight him on it. Aemon she'd found, much to her delight, did not play fair. While the Maester prodded and poked and Aemon looked on, Visenya began to picture what a babe of her and Aemon's would look like.

Would it have her hair and eyes?

Aemon's?

Be a combination of them both?

Was she bearing a boy or a girl?

A future Dragonrider?

Would she love the babe as much as she truly wished to?

The questions came thick and fast and yet there was one other that she feared the answer to. Aemon had told her much about the child she had borne for Aegon. Her husband had explained to her what Maegor had grown into and how he'd been remembered in history. As the Maester finished his examination and both Visenya and Aemon held their breaths, that question now begged an answer.

Would the fact that it was with Aemon rather than Aegon be enough to change the nature of the babe she now bore?

"Your wife is with child, my prince. I would wager two to three moons along, no more."

"And all is well? Both the babe and my wife are healthy?" Aemon asked as he moved closer to the bed she lay on.

"Both are as healthy as any mother and babe I've ever examined at this point, my prince."

"I thank you, Maester. Mayhap you'd give my wife and me some time alone. You can inform their graces of the good news if you wish."

"I'll do so, my prince."

Other words were then spoken. Visenya was told to take it easier and not to over-exert herself. To rest and eat until she was full. Then the noise stopped and all was quiet. Aemon had moved to the bed and was kneeling on the floor looking down at her, his smile a beaming one. Smiling back, she felt his arms wrap around her as his lips sought her own.

"I love you. With all I am, I love you." Aemon said the moment he broke from the kiss.

"I love you too, Aemon."

"You'll do as the Maester advised?"

"You'd have me rest and eat and do nothing else?" she asked, unsure if that was what her husband was suggesting.

"No, never. If you're tired, you'll rest, and eat if you're hungry. I'd not stop you from being you, how could I." Aemon said kissing her again. "I'd just…"

"Have me remember I'm with child."

"I doubt either of us will forget that," Aemon said, looking at her face and then rubbing her stomach softly.

"I…"

"Senya?"

"Maegor, Aemon. What you…" Aemon interrupted what she was going to say, his lip again seeking out her own.

The kiss was deep and long and she needed it as much as she needed air. As she did the soft fingers that caressed her cheek and those grey eyes that looked down at her with such love and surety.

"Will never exist. Our babe will be our babe, Senya. He or she will be what we make them. They'll have a mother and father who loves them with all they are and grow in a world that will never require them to fight the battles we have."

"We can't protect them from life, Aemon."

"No. But we can define the life they lead. Or we can to an extent."

With a nod of his head, Aemon rose to his feet and moved to join her in the bed. Thankfully her husband wasn't wearing his armor and Visenya welcomed the softness of his clothing as she snuggled up against him. Laying her head on his chest, she felt the soft stroking of his fingers through her silver hair. So much so that only Aemon was speaking or she could have drifted off into a most contented sleep.

"While I'd change some things about my childhood, see that the truth of me was something I at least knew, or that the lady of the House and I crossed each other's paths not. My life in Winterfell was at times an idyll. I had brothers and sisters, played childish games, and I was never hungry or cold even in the North." Aemon said and Visenya laughed a little as she too had felt the chill of a northern morning. "Other than who I was and what that meant, I knew joy and happiness far more than I knew sadness."

"Our babe will never know sadness," Visenya said determinedly.

"We can't guarantee that, mores the pity. What we can guarantee is that we'll do all we can so they don't know war, loss, pain, or suffering. We can't protect them from life, Senya, that's true. We can, however, make their life the idyll that I once believed mine own to be."

"We will."

"We will," Aemon repeated, his words spoken just as determinedly as her own had been. "Now do you wish to sleep or do you require something to tire you out and make you need your rest?" Aemon said wickedly.

"Hmmm….Sleep." she japed, sticking her tongue out and then laughing as Aemon rolled his eyes. He knew her far too well. Something that she was more than happy about as she kissed him and began to remove his clothing.

Sleep, when it came, was most needed. Aemon had been as good as his word and had left her exhausted. The dream she had was of a silver-haired grey-eyed young boy who grew into a fine young man. He was his father's son in most respects. Aemon's build, stature, and even his way of moving with a sword in hand. Yet when her son smiled, when he got that glint in his eye, he was all her and she loved the fact that he was clearly both of them.

She saw him ride a horse, fly on a dragon, beat a man in a spar, and even play the lute while singing a song. Not once did she see him be cruel or unkind which allowed her sleep and dream both to be things she was somewhat sorry to wake from. What she was very much not was seeing Aemon there by her bedside and hearing him speak to the babe she carried and to Ghost.

"We will love you with all we are. Your mother and I will give you the world and protect you from its cruelties. We'll teach you to be the Dragon that you are and let you know of the Wolf inside of you. I, Rhaegal, Vhagar and Ghost, and your own dragon when it hatches, for I know one will, all of us will be there for you my child. All of us will be there for you."

Visenya closed her eyes so as not to let Aemon see that she'd woken and heard him speak. How he'd said the last line had almost broken her heart as she knew it was with memories of the children he'd lost that had caused him to speak so determinedly. Waiting until Aemon rose to his feet, Visenya then feigned waking up and was relieved to find that Aemon had bought her mummery.

"You slept well?" Aemon asked.

"I did."

"Hungry?"

"Famished."

"You wish to eat here or…"

"No, I want to get up and get dressed. I need some fresh air and wish to see Vhagar, mayhap even go for a morning flight before telling her about our babe."

"She already knows, just as Ghost did before you or me, the dragons know."

"I still wish to share it with her, Aemon," Visenya said determinedly. "Besides, no doubt my brother and sister wish to see me hale and hearty."

"The Maester will have told them. He left by boat no more than a few moments after we sent him away."

"Can we trust him? Any of them?"

"No." Aemon said which sent a shudder down her spine "I'll find someone from Essos, someone I know I can trust."

Visenya looked at her husband and found his expression to be as odd to her as his words were.

"Who?"

"A red priestess," Aemon said confusing her some more. "We'll talk of it later, for now just know that nothing will stop our babe from being born healthy and you and they both coming through the birth unscathed. You have my oath on it."

"Very well, then I accept your oath, Aemon Targaryen," Visenya said playfully as she worried the conversation was turning to something she wished not to hear. Not yet at least.

"Now, clothes….ah here they are."

Being helped to dress by your husband was something that Visenya would recommend to any wife. It was almost as much fun as being undressed by him, or so she thought, as Aemon showed he had no sense of either what was fashionable for a woman to wear or what was practical. Given how slowly and attentively he removed her clothing on some occasions, she'd have expected more understanding of what women wore from Aemon. Though at some points during her dressing it was clear that he was trying his best to make a game out of things too. Eventually, she was dressed and they made their way first on deck and then to the cabin to eat their morning meal and break their fast.

Visenya wasn't truly hungry and yet she ate her fill regardless. Once done, it was back to the cabin so Aemon could gather their armor and then to the small boat that rowed them and Ghost to the shore. Their fleet was anchored just off Sunspear and while some ships were in the bay itself, Aegon and Rhaenys along with their own were not. They had wished for easy access to the dragons and so had found a cove that wasn't overlooked. Not that they feared an attack as Rhaegal, Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion would all ensure that none but them came too close. More it was much more convenient to have the dragon land on the beach rather than at the docks.

"Look at her, she's eager to see you," Aemon said as he pointed to where Vhagar almost craned her neck out to lean over the sea.

"As am I, her."

Soon enough they were climbing out of the boat and Aemon was helping keep her from getting her feet wet. Then she was standing in front of Vhagar who moved her giant head to brush her snout against Visenya's stomach.

"Kessa, mirrī zaldrīzes kessa aderī sagon āzma. Istiti mīsagon zirȳ ao se nyke. Hae kessa Āemon, tolīmorghon se Rhaīgal. Syt issi jorrāelatan se Olvie jeldan." (Yes, a little dragon will soon be born. We must protect them you and I. As will Aemon, Ghost, and Rhaegal. For they are loved and most wanted.).

Sunspear 1 BC.

Nymor Martell.

He'd been stunned to be released so quickly and unharmed. Nymor had expected to be tortured, mistreated, and certainly to be held for ransom for quite some time. Yet it had been merely days. Days in which other than being bound, chained, and having to face Aemon Targaryen's threats, no harm had come to him whatsoever. No, that wasn't quite true, his pride had been harmed almost irreparably.

Still, he'd been released and taken back to the Old Palace. His mother and Maron had asked how he'd been treated and Nymor had been examined to make sure he was truly unhurt. Then once it was clear he'd not been starved or beaten, his mother had bid him join her and asked what had happened to him and their army in the Prince's Pass. It was a tale that did not take long in the telling. One where an army was wiped out almost in the blink of an eye and where, according to Nymor, those not killed would never be the same again. Nymor had found that over time, he still reflected on the words he'd spoken then and since to his mother and her most trusted guard.

"Physically, the dragons broke them physically?" Maron asked so his mother did not have to.

"Some yes. More were broken in spirit."

"How so?" his mother asked keen for all the details.

"It's hard to explain, Mother. Unless you've faced the dragons it's hard to explain."

"Try Nymor, it's important."

"They are unstoppable, Mother. How they attack, the swiftness and the devastation they wrought so damn quickly. One moment we had an army, the next it was a broken mess. Any unlucky enough to get caught up in the flames would beg that they were caught by them fully."

"For why?" Maron interjected.

"Better to be taken in its embrace than kissed by a dragon's flames, Maron. At least that way death is quick and relatively painless."

"You escaped, how?" his mother asked.

"We were lucky enough not to be caught by any of the dragons."

"They attacked as one?" Maron asked and Nymor nodded before continuing with the tale of his escape, short-lived though that escape was.

"Wyl, his men, me, and some of mine own, it was pointless to stay and fight against things that outmatched us so easily. So we made for the caves. I know not what happened to Wyl, but I made it to a cave even though those with me did not. I fear now that I was allowed to."

"Carry on." his mother said when Nymor shook and shuddered.

"Aemon Targaryen stalked me as if I was prey, Mother. He knew where I was and found me even in the darkness." Nymor said and caught how his mother looked at Maron and did so with a worried expression on her face. No, more than worried, his mother looked for the first time he could ever remember, scared.

"Then what happened?"

"I felt a blow on my head and awoke chained and bound in a ship's cabin. I found myself face to face with Aemon Targaryen and his white wolf and for the first time I can remember, I felt true fear."

Nymor had told them both of the threats that Aemon Targaryen had made. How he'd been left in little doubt that should he not comply, then those threats would turn into actions. He had listened as his mother and Maron had spoken of the very same threats being made to them both. As well as certain other things which had sent a shiver down Nymor's spine.

How could someone know so much about them?

Were there spies in their ranks?

Was it just a lucky guess on Aemon Targaryen's part?

Was the man a sorcerer of some sort? And if so, how did you beat a man who wielded such magic?

They and other questions were things that Nymor and his mother pondered on for some time. Even as their army and their lords and ladies arrived at Sunspear at his mother's behest. In truth, there was little point in hiding from a man who knew exactly where you were. Even less point in fighting such a man, or so Nymor believed. Though the idea of kneeling and naming Aegon Targaryen as their king was still one that he sought some plan to avoid doing. As too did his mother.

Seeing Deria safe and well was somewhat tempered by the threats that Aemon Targaryen had made against his daughter's life. Nymor found that he bristled at the knowledge that he could not protect his only child from the danger they all now faced. That he'd failed in a father's most sacred duty was a hard thing for him to accept and only that he'd not failed completely and led Deria to her death, or he'd have been broken as much by that as he was by facing the dragons.

As for some of the other lords and ladies of Dorne, they bristled even more than he. Lord Yronwood would have lost his head for how he spoke to Nymor's mother, were it not for the fact that he was defending Dorne in doing so. Lords Fowler and Uller too were loud in their complaints and refusal to kneel to the dragons or were until his mother informed the Lord of Hellholt of the dragons' short sojourn to his keep. As well as the destruction that had been done to the towers and the scorpions that Lord Uller had been so boastful about just weeks earlier.

"One dragon, Ulthor. Just one and those scorpions you boasted would take them all from the sky, were no more. Read your Maester's own words and see how quickly and easily it was done. Speak to my son and ask him how our army fared against four of the godsforsaken beasts in the Prince's Pass." his mother said loudly.

"My prince?" Ulthor asked as he took the raven's scroll from Maron and looked his way.

"We were broken in moments, Ulthor. Wyl's head has since been shown to me and it had not been removed by any sword or ax."

"My prince?" Lord Fowler asked.

"Torn from his body, Garrison," Nymor said and saw the shudder that the older man made.

"Aemon Targaryen is like no man we've ever faced before, my lords, my ladies. Were it not for who he is then I'd name him Dornish, for he thinks as we do and knows our plans before we make them." his mother said while Ulthor read the raven's scroll, and the rest of the lords and ladies looked her way. "There is no place we can hide and nowhere we can run where he won't find us. And unlike any other man who wages war or makes threats, I've no doubt that the ones spoken by Aemon Targaryen are spoken in truth."

"What threats have the dragon made that have you cower so?" Lord Qorgyle asked dismissively.

"He spoke in numbers, Quentyn," Nymor said moving to the proud lord of Sandstone. "Not of men or armies, but of Houses."

"And that has turned you all craven?" Quentyn spat.

"Three," Nymor said looking at his mother. "Four," he said looking to Lord Dayne. "Five." he said looking to Lord Yronwood and on and on before he then turned back to Quentin "Four," Nymor said looking the Lord of Sandstone in the eye.

"Numbers, you spout numbers as me as if I know or care for such."

"Four members of your House, Quentyn. Three of mine own. Four of House Dayne and Five of House Yronwood. Aemon Targaryen knows just how many lives he needs to end every single House in Dorne. Ponder on that when you dare to name my mother or me as craven. Ponder too on the fact that you've yet to feel the warmth of a dragon's flames. Then take your miserable fucking arse to the Sept and pray to the Father himself that you'll never have to." Nymor said angrily, his voice loud and yet composed which was something his mother appreciated given the way she nodded at him.

"Dorne faces a threat that even I fear we're no match for. A threat that I'm loathed to say we are ill-prepared for. The dragons don't fight how we imagined they would. Aemon Targaryen does not fight the way a man without Dornish blood in his veins does. So we're left with but two choices."

"We fight," Quentyn said loudly, though no other voice joined his.

"Then we die." Nymor's mother said and Nymor looked around the room to see few if any wished that to be the choice they made.

When Quentyn stormed from the room, not a single man that wasn't sworn to or related to him joined him. Not one other voice was raised naming them as cravens as Quentyn had dared to do before leaving. Instead, all eyes looked to the spear seat and to his mother. Nymor and Deria who'd moved to join her, as well as the lords and ladies of Dorne all now listened as his mother spoke of the carrot they'd been offered for their kneeling. Each man and woman in the throne room was well aware by now of just how big the stick was. When his mother had finished speaking, only one lone voice spoke of a different option. Being that voice belonged to the Sword of the Morning himself, it was one they all listened to.

"My princess, I claim little knowledge of politics as I leave that to my brother as most of you all know." Ulrick Dayne said as he stepped forward, his brother Lord Davos watching as eagerly as all of them were "Yet I know much of war and battle. Of fighting. From what you said it seems that this Aemon Targaryen is the true threat to Dorne. That were he to fall then our original plan in regard to the dragons may yet still work?"

"You propose an assassination, Ser Ulrick, do my ears deceive me?" Lord Daemon Allyrion asked garnering some laughs at the mere idea that a knight as noble as Ser Ulrick would call for such a thing.

"No, Lord Allyrion, I propose a fight between Aemon Targaryen and myself. A fight for Dorne, my princess." Ulrick said turning back to face Nymor's mother.

"Why would they grant such a request?" Nymor's mother asked. "To what does it benefit them, Ser Ulrick?"

"Dorne must kneel, my princess. I, you, every man and woman here now knows that. We must if we are to survive, none of us are fool enough not to heed the words that you and Prince Nymor have spoken. Well, other than Lord Qorgyle that is." Ulrick said to some laughs "Yet, why not make it a condition of that kneeling, a last offer for our fealty? We lose nothing by failing, my princess, but we could gain everything by not."

"We risk losing you, brother." Lord Davos said moving to place a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"As we do by rejecting the Targaryens' demands, brother. At least this gives us an even chance. Far better I face a man with Dawn in my hand than face a dragon where not even mine own skills can be brought to bear."

"You believe you can beat him, Ser Ulrick?"

"I know not, my princess. I've heard little of Aemon Targaryen's skills other than he's a better sword than Orys Baratheon. Though I am too, or so I believe. Lose and you lose a man, one man. Win and they lose the man you and Prince Nymor say we should rightly fear. They lose Dorne, my princess. For that, I'm willing to die or kill."

"Then so be it." his mother said. "Those in favor of Ser Ulrick's suggestion."

Around the room, hands were raised and though Lord Davos Dayne's hand went up reluctantly, it did go up. Dorne would make one last stand, one last fight. Their fate now rested in the hands of the Sword of the Morning, and so it should make Nymor happy. Yet he remembered looking into those cold grey eyes of Aemon Targaryen and though he'd not seen him wield a sword, he would wager that in that he was just as accomplished as he'd thus far been in cowing them with words and deeds.

Beyond the Wall 1 BC.

Jojen Reed.

They sheltered in a cave from the winter storm. Wet and damp, Jojen thanked the gods that the fires at least stayed lit. Each of them had learned by now that the Lands Beyond the Wall were harsh and unforgiving. Yet there was a beauty to them that Jojen, Brandon, and most of those with them seemed to welcome. Though not quite as much since the storm had slowed their progress. How far they were from their destination, Jojen knew not. A few days, a week at most, or so he hoped. What he'd find once he reached there, on that he had a better idea as the dreams had come to him even more clearly on this side of the Wall. The Wall that was now far off to the south of them.

Jojen had only been to the Wall but once in his life and then as a young boy. Never, until now, had he been on the other side of it. After leaving Winterfell, they'd made good going to reach the Wall and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch had been pleased to see them, at first. Though once he found out he was getting only half the supplies and that they were heading out Beyond the Wall, he'd become somewhat less accommodating. He'd even dared to name Brandon a fool, which was not something most men would have the balls to do.

Brandon spoke with the weight of Winterfell behind him, however, the weight of dragons too. The threat of which had cowed the Lord Commander somewhat. Jojen had found himself almost smiling at the idea of Aemon Targaryen or one of the others coming here and dealing with Lord Commander Hoare. Given how Aegon had dealt with the man's brother and nephews, it would not be a fight that the Lord Commander would relish, Jojen would wager.

As for their future plans, the Night's Watch had been founded to protect the Wall from things far more dangerous than Wildlings, yet it was they that they mainly fought against. Should Brandon's plan be successful, then there may come a time when the Watch would need to make a difficult choice. Either accept that those Beyond the Wall and their new king were part of the North and the Seven Kingdoms or fight against enemies both north and south of the Wall. For Jojen had no doubt that with Brandon as King Beyond the Wall, Winterfell would side with him and not the Watch should it come to battle.

"By the Old Gods, 'tis fucking colder and wetter than a duck's arse here." Cregan Forrester said as the large man rose to his feet and wiped the wetness from his britches.

"The storm will pass soon enough, Forrester," Brandon said. Jojen looked to see that he was undeterred by the problems they'd faced with the weather.

"Thank fuck those Wildlings attacked us afore the storm hit." Rickard Flint said. The man from the Mountain Clans now bore a scar from the ax that almost cost him an eye.

"They were fierce but foolish to attack us so." Morgan Liddle scoffed.

"Aye, they were. Lucky we had the numbers." Gareth Long said as he spooned out a bowl of stew and handed it to his brother Martyn.

Jojen couldn't help but agree, the men who'd attacked them had fought fiercely and bravely. All but one had refused to surrender and the one who had, had only done so because he could fight no more. Even as he lay dying, however, he gave them no clue as to where the larger settlements were or whether or not there was a larger party of Wildlings out there waiting for them. That in truth had been mayhap the only good thing the storm brought them. For if there had been, then they'd surely not be now.

As day turned to night or possibly the reverse, Jojen found his way to where his bedroll lay and lay down upon it. Wrapped up in furs, he sought and soon found his sleep, and as he had since they'd left Castle Black, he found he was not alone in his dreams. The man with three eyes almost seemed to be waiting for him to drift off so they could speak once more.

"The storm will pass in two days, Young Reed. Two more after you will find me." said the man, who now looked much younger than he had the first few times that Jojen had seen him.

"Aye, and what will we find when we find you?" Jojen asked the same question he'd asked many times these past few weeks.

"The truth, Young Reed, the truth and the path you must follow."

His sleep was unbroken from that moment on, which allowed Jojen to be fully rested when he awoke the next morning. After telling Brandon about his dream and that what the Three-Eyed Raven had said, Jojen broke his fast, and once he'd eaten, he practiced his warging. As with his green dreams, his warging felt stronger on this side of the Wall, much easier for him to reach out and connect with a familiar. Already he'd taken a bird for his own, or as close to his own as he could. Now, once more, Jojen reached out to seek that bird out.

It took him little time to find it and when he did, the truth of both the Three-Eyed Raven's words and Aemon Targaryen's was again proved to him. The hill that was their destination, the Weirwood that Aemon had described and the sight of what looked to be small children, all naming it them as true. Allowing the bird to fly free from his influence, Jojen opened his eyes and again made his way to speak to Brandon Snow.

"The storm is clearing, Brandon, as the Three-Eyed Raven said."

"You've seen it for yourself?" Brandon asked.

"Aye, I've seen it."

Two days later they left the cave behind and though they were out in the elements, all of them seemed happier for it. They rode further north and soon found some good hunting which filled their bellies with fresh meat that was much appreciated. Setting up their camp that night, they posted guards, and yet their night's rest went by without incident. The next day, almost at dusk, they came upon the hill and the Weirwood.

"By the Old Gods," Brandon exclaimed as at least half of their number stood there open-mouthed at the awe-inspiring sight.

"I take it this is the place we sought, Jojen?" Martyn Long asked.

"Either that or there's an even bigger one of those somewhere else." Jojen japed as he pointed to the Weirwood.

"So now what?" Martyn's brother, Gareth, asked as Jojen, Brandon and some of the others dismounted.

"Now we find the cave," Jojen said, reaching into his shirt to take out the map that Aemon had drawn for him.

Moving around the hill, Jojen looked and could find no entrance to any cave. Brandon, Martyn, Gareth, Rickard Flint, none of them had any better luck than him. They were just about to give up when they saw it. No taller than a child of seven or eight Namedays, with nut brown skin that seemed to have pale spots and wearing what looked to be a cloak made out of leaves, Jojen, Brandon, Martyn, and the rest of their party were finally face to face with a Child of the Forest.

All that he'd seen, dreamt, every word that Aemon Targaryen had spoken, all of it was proved by the creature of legend that stood no more than ten feet from them and looked at them warily. Holding his hands up and bidding those with him to stay where they are, Jojen moved closer to the child who had now titled its head and looked at him curiously.

"We mean you no harm, little one. I come to speak to the Three-Eyed Raven." Jojen said and the child seemed to stare right through him before turning to look at Brandon and pointing.

"You, he, none else." the child said in a voice that sounded like a melody. "Follow."

Jojen looked to Brandon and nodded, then together they made to move and as they did more and more of the Children of the Forest revealed themselves. One then moved toward them and bore a makeshift tray of sorts in its hands. Upon it were what looked to be some homemade bread and something that seemed to be fish of some sort.

"Guest Right." the child said and both Jojen and Brandon took a piece of each as other children moved to offer the same to the rest of the men with them.

Walking through the cave's opening, which had been hidden by snow and branches of trees and would have been unable to have been found by them alone, Jojen could hear some excited voices as Children talked to other Children. Though he couldn't make out the words, not for true, he did believe that he heard one sentence above all others. Or mayhap his mind was playing tricks on him. Still, by the time they were brought to a large open space somewhere in the middle of a system of tunnels and caves, Jojen was surer than ever that he'd heard the words spoken truly. What those words meant, he'd find out soon enough as they were now finally, face to face with the Three-Eyed Raven himself. It would not be the only question that he'd seek answered before they left, Jojen resolved. Looking at the man who seemed connected to the tree, Jojen heard the words once more.

"They are servants of our prince, sent by the Old Gods."

Sunspear 1 BC.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

Her sister was with child. Visenya was to have a babe and while Rhaenys was happy for her, she'd not lie and say she didn't feel a little jealous. Aegon was too, though he'd speak the words not. What was funny about the whole thing was that up to that point, neither she nor Aegon had even considered having children. Oh, they knew they must and would, but they'd not truly spoken of it or even given it much thought. Now, they would have to do so at some point. Though first, they had to deal with Dorne and an errant lord.

So, she, Aegon, Orys, Argella, and Visenya all awaited in the largest cabin on their flagship while Aemon did whatever it was that Aemon did. This warging thing of his that Rhaenys understood not and seemed like some unknown magic to even Visenya herself. As they sat around, Argella spoke to Visenya and Rhaenys looked at them both, happy to see they were getting along. Though none were happier than Orys in that regard. She looked at Aegon and could see that each time he looked at their sister, he wore an odd look on his face. Not quite regret, or at least not fully that, more a look of what could have been and was now not ever to pass.

Rhaenys had no fears that Aegon loved anyone as he loved her. It had been why he'd been able to give Visenya up so easily, after all. Yet, she did wonder if her husband could ever be truly happy for what Visenya and Aemon had found with each other. Especially now that they were to be gifted with a child of their own.

'I must speak to him, we must look to our own future and our line now too' she thought as the door opened and Aemon walked into the cabin.

The look on Aemon's face was one of determination and restrained anger. A look that Rhaenys would wager wouldn't take long to turn far more dangerous and deadly. Her Goodbrother had shocked her with how ruthless he could be and how willing he was to take a life should it be needed. The threats he'd made and had her, Aegon, and Visenya make to the Dornish were ones that chilled her to her very bone. For unlike Aegon or even Visenya, Rhaenys believed that should it come to it, then Aemon would carry out those threats. Yet she knew too that Aemon had made those threats so his hand could be stayed. Something that given the look on his face now, it certainly would not be.

"Aemon?" Visenya asked concernedly.

"House Qorgyle," Aemon said looking to his wife and nodding before looking to Rhaenys and then to Aegon and Orys. "They refuse to accept the carrot and so now must face the stick. Your grace, with your permission."

"What do you plan, Aemon?" Rhaenys asked before Aegon could give him the go-ahead to do what he must.

"To end them, my queen," Aemon said emotionlessly.

"End how many of them, Aemon?" Aegon asked as Rhaenys could not.

"All of them, your grace," Aemon said before he walked over and took a seat at the table, bidding them listen to his words. "I had hoped it would not come to this. That words and the fear of those words would be enough. But this is Dorne. Like the North, these are a proud people and while Princess Meria and others may see sense, I feared that some would not. When we made out threats, it was always with that in mind."

"They were simply words spoken, Aemon," Aegon said as Orys shook his head.

"If that is true, your grace, then we are lost. Words must have meaning else they are simply false promises or pointless threats. Dorne must fear us, your grace. They must look to us and tremble and wither under our gaze. For if they do not, then we will never know peace." Aemon said as Orys looked on with approval.

"You would end an entire House just to prove a point, Aemon?" Rhaenys asked.

"No, my queen. I would end an entire country to protect our House, however. For our House to know the peace it deserves until the only war that matters is upon us once again."

"A war that you'll play no part in, Aemon. One that you can't even be certain will come to pass as it once did." Rhaenys argued.

Aemon sighed and turned to look at Visenya before then rising to his feet and walking to where Rhaenys sat. To her surprise, he knelt down and reached out to take her hands in his own. Stopping them from trembling in the process and then waiting for her to look into his eyes.

"My queen," Aemon said softly. "My life is here now, my future is here." Aemon looked to Visenya "My family is here." he looked to Aegon, to Rhaenys, and even to Orys and Argella. "I know not if what I do here changes the future how I wish it to be changed. I'm but a man and only the Gods know such things. But I was sent here for some reason, to serve some purpose. 'twas not to help you conquer the lands that you, Aegon, and Visenya did without me. So it must have been to help conquer those you did not."

"How can you know such things, Aemon?" How can you be sure?"

"I cannot, my queen. Yet you've seen what is to come should I fail. I've told you all tales of what happened and everything I do is to stop the worst of it from ever coming to pass. Dorne must be cowed, my queen. They must be made to submit and if it comes at the cost of one House, then so be it. Far better they pay that cost than we do."

"Aemon speaks true, my love," Aegon said, as Aemon kissed her hand before rising to retake his seat and speak to Visenya. "Should it come to battle, then hundreds, thousands will lose their lives. Princess Meria is ready to submit, as are her lords and ladies. Were we to let House Qorgyle go unpunished…"

"Then we'd face a much truer war," Visenya said.

"I…"

Rhaenys rose to her feet and walked hurriedly from the cabin. Up the stairs and out onto the deck of the ship where she was greeted by the sight of Meraxes flying over her head with Balerion a little further away. Why she was having such difficulty dealing with the fact of the end of a House she knew or cared not about, was beyond her. They'd come to Dorne and waged war and had already killed hundreds of men in the Prince's Pass. Yet one House, the end of one line, was given her trouble and Rhaenys couldn't understand why. Hearing the footsteps behind her, Rhaenys didn't turn around and she welcomed Aegon's arms when they enveloped her.

"It must be done, my love. Best it be done quickly." Aegon said and though she'd still not truly come to terms with it, Rhaenys nodded her agreement.

It was not to come that day, however. Instead, the message arrived from Princess Meria and called for a battle for Dorne's fealty. A fight between a champion of Dorne and a champion of House Targaryen. The Sword of the Morning against Aemon with Dorne as the prize.

"You cannot." Visenya declared when Aemon accepted without first seeking her approval.

"Yet I must," Aemon replied.

"It's the Sword of the Morning, Aemon. There are those who say he's the best swordsman in the known world." Argella said, surprising Rhaenys that she spoke so fervently and seemed so worried about the outcome of the fight.

"Then it's just as well I'm from the unknown world then isn't it." Aemon japed as Visenya glared at him.

"Will this remove the need to deal with House Qorgyle?" Rhaenys asked, her sister now glaring at her rather than her husband.

"No, my queen. That message must be sent loudly and clearly regardless of this one." Aemon replied.

"Can you beat him, Aemon?" Aegon asked.

"I will beat him, your grace. I say it not to be cocksure or with some false confidence. Though I am confident."

"How can you know, Aemon? How can you be so sure that he's not better than you?" Visenya asked worriedly.

"Because I never heard of him, Senya. I know naught about him."

"Then you should not face him, Aemon. Facing the unknown is too much of a risk." Orys said much to Visenya's approval.

"Aye, it is. But I meant it not as such, Orys. I…as a boy I dreamt of being a famed swordsman. To be spoken of like the names of legend. In mine own time, two men stood out and were far better than any, even me, or they were at first. Ser Jaime Lannister, the White Lion, and Ser Barristan Selmy, The Bold. Two Kingsguard and men I was happy to name as friends before they were taken from the world."

"I understand this not." Visenya sighed, as Aemon moved to her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Daemon Blackfyre, Cregan Stark, Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and Daemon Targaryen. oh there were many others I would dream of being and some I even did poor mummeries of. Ser Arthur Dayne, however, was the best of them, the very best. Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan both named him so and I trust no words on swordsmanship as much as I do theirs. Before he died, Ser Barristan told me that I'd give Arthur a decent match. It was a compliment I believe I'd earned."

"This still…"

"Other than Ser Arthur, the only other Sword of the Morning whose name was remembered was Ser Ulrick Dayne, a knight of much repute who isn't due to be born for another century or more. All the others faded into the legend of the title and the sword, Dawn, yet earned no glory and won no repute of their own." Aemon said stilling Visenya's complaint before it was spoken. "I will beat him, Senya, on that you have my vow."

Reluctantly though it was, Visenya gave her approval and the message was sent back to Princess Meria. Two days from today, Aemon and the Sword of the Morning would meet and Dorne's future path would be defined. Neither Rhaenys, Orys, Argella, Aegon, or Aemon himself had any doubt of the outcome. While Visenya's love, worries, and mayhap the fact she was with child, were the only reason why Rhaenys believed her sister held some of her own.

Sunspear 1 BC.

Martyn Rivers.

Traveling aboard a ship had not been to his liking, nor had the fact that for most of the journey to Dorne, it was not his prince or princess that he served. Upon reaching Sunspear, however, all that changed and Martyn was once again by Prince Aemon's side. Something that meant there was more lessons for him to learn and even though most of these were not in swordsmanship, they were welcomed lessons all the same.

Prince Aemon seemed to know as much about Dorne as he had about the Reach and the Citadel, which once again Martyn understood not. As, when he'd asked the prince if he had ever traveled there, the answer he got was a strange one, to say the least.

"I was born here, Martyn. Yet other than traveling through it as a babe and staying but briefly so Rhaegal and I could rest many years ago, this is my first true time in Dorne."

"I had thought all members of your House were born on Dragonstone, my prince? Or that you were of the North."

"Not all, no. My wife, Goodbrother and Goodsister, aye, as for me I am of the North, Martyn, make no mistake about that."

At times Prince Aemon could be a strange man to be around. He seemed far older than he truly was and far more experienced than he had any right to be. If Martyn hadn't come to know him as well as he did, then he'd name him a mummer or a liar, but he knew he was anything but. Which meant that the true explanation for how the prince was, was beyond Martyn's mind to understand. Not that it truly made any real difference, for Martyn cared not other than to learn as much as he could about the man he most wished to emulate. This was why when it came to lessons, there was no more diligent student than Martyn. Even going so far as to read books the prince recommended or left out for him.

Today though was not a day for lessons, or at least not in the traditional way. Martyn instead would bear witness to what already sounded like a fight for the ages. His prince was to face off against the Sword of the Morning. A test of swords to decide the fate of Dorne. It had confused him at first why his prince had accepted as Dorne was already beaten, something that was clear to any with eyes to see.

So why give them a chance to win their freedom in a one-on-one fight?

The answer was of course as simple as could be, they had no chance. Martyn would wager there wasn't a swordsman in Westeros who could match his prince. He would wager too that the king, queen, his princess, and all those who followed them already knew as much. So as he sat in the boat that rowed Prince Aemon and Princess Visenya to shore, he did so with an eagerness to bear witness to the fight to come.

When they reached the docks, it was to find that the King and Queen's ship had already docked and there were countless guards lined up and awaiting them to disembark from it. All four dragons were flying low and Ghost jumped from the boat and ran up the steps of the docks even before Martyn realized that their boat was now tied up and it was time for them to climb from it. The moment they did so, Prince Aemon began to help the princess put on her armor before he then put on his own and then moved to where Martyn was struggling to do the same.

"It takes some getting used to, Martyn. I've had much practice, and in time so will you." the prince said as he tied Martyn's armor for him and checked it was done securely. "Now come, we have much work still to do before the fight is upon us.

Martyn took his place behind Prince Aemon and Princess Visenya, Ghost then moving to his prince's side as they walked into what was a large open square. No sooner had they reached it, than close to two hundred men at arms moved at a nod from Prince Aemon, and the square was surrounded. Balerion and Meraxes landed and another two hundred guards hurriedly made their way to line the route from the square to the king and queen's ship and then Rhaegal roared out loudly to sound the all clear, Martyn believed.

The king, queen, Orys Baratheon, and his wife Argella. Daemon Velaryon and his son. Ser Corlys, who stood by the king and queen's side, and another large group of guards all made their way to the square and to where Prince Aemon and Princess Visenya stood. Martyn somehow hid his chuckle when the queen asked his prince if he was sure he'd brought enough guards. Though Prince Aemon simply pointed to the two dragons on the ground and the two in the air and said, that if it was not for their presence, then he'd have brought even more.

Tables and chairs were set up on opposite sides of the square while food and drink had been brought from the ships and were now laid out on top of the tables. Martyn looked on excitedly when the weapons rack was brought and placed to one side of the square and then stood to attention when the Dornish began to arrive. It was his first true sight of the great and good of Dorne and they did not disappoint. Colorfully dressed and that was just the men, they cut striking figures and even he blushed at some of the clothing that a few of the women were wearing. When he finally saw the white sword and falling star sigil of House Dayne, Martyn found himself trying to judge the Sword of the Morning by how he moved and carried himself. It was an art he was only just learning and yet another lesson that his prince had imparted to him. Though it let him down this time.

"Your grace." an old, fat, and half-blind woman said as she, an incredibly beautiful young woman, and a man who had to be the young woman's father, all made their way over to greet the king, queen, prince, and princess.

"Princess Meria." King Aegon said as a way of greeting, his tone polite but friendly.

"May I present my granddaughter Princess Deria, my son Nymor you know."

"A pleasure princess." King Aegon said and while the princess repeated the greeting, Martyn looked into her eyes and could see she believed it not.

"So many guards, your grace. Do you fear we'll not live up to our word?" Princess Deria asked almost challengingly, only for Prince Aemon to answer, and though the princess kept her smile firmly in place, her eyes once again betrayed her.

"Dragons know no fear, Princess," Aemon said, his words spoken so firmly that even Martyn felt the chill from them.

"Let us get on with the day's entertainment, Princess Meria, your champion is ready?" Queen Rhaenys asked.

"He is, your grace."

"Then shall we." Prince Aemon said moving to place a kiss on his wife's lips before walking alone to the weapons rack.

While everyone took their seats, Martyn stood behind Princess Visenya who rubbed her hand through Ghost's white fur. Three dragons had now landed, leaving Rhaegal as the only one still in the sky, and in the square two men moved together. Orys Baratheon then stood up and called out in a booming voice to let any who knew not why they were here, now know the reason.

"Today we bear witness to a fight between champions. Representing Dorne, Ser Ulrick Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Standing as the Champion of House Targaryen, Prince Aemon. The fight is to the death or a yield, Ser Ulrick, Prince Aemon, in your own time."

Dawn to Martyn's eyes was a thing of beauty. Its blade was milky white and looking at it being held by the man who did so, Martyn was somewhat awed. Looking at his prince, his own sword, Longclaw, was no less an awe-inspiring sight. Though it took Martyn a moment to see the shield that Prince Aemon bore in his offhand. He'd never seen the prince use one even in their practices and it made him only keener to see the fight begin. Yet, he and those present had to wait for what seemed like an age as Prince Aemon spoke to the Sword of the Morning for some time before the two swords finally crashed together.

Ser Ulrick had the reach advantage as the Greatsword was, at least a foot or mayhap more, longer than Prince Aemon's bastard sword. Which was mayhap why the prince had decided to use a shield, or so Martyn believed. Whether or not that had been the reason for it, watching Dawn crash against the wood and almost cut through it, Martyn wasn't certain it had been a wise choice. From his vantage point, it seemed the shield slowed his prince's movements down, causing him to be struck three or even four more times than his own sword moved. Thankfully though, each strike thus far had only hit the shield and not the prince himself.

Glancing at the princess, Martyn could see how her hand tightened in Ghost's fur and how Ghost turned his head so he could lick that hand, relaxing her somewhat. King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys as well as Lady Argella seemed just as nervous as the princess was, but Lord Orys was very much not, nor was Ser Corlys. On the other side of the square, the Dornish were cheering loudly as Ser Ulrick swung Dawn and chipped away at Prince Aemon's shield. Some were even standing on their feet such was their excitement and then as one they groaned loudly.

"It's over," Orys said from behind him and Martyn was glad for the lessons he'd been given by Prince Aemon or he'd have turned and missed it.

His prince left himself open to the strike, he feigned tiredness and lowered his shield while Ser Ulrick accepted the feint as true. As the Sword of the Morning moved in to strike the killing blow, however, he found himself having to dodge the shield as Prince Aemon threw it in the air and at him. A moment, one brief moment where Ser Ulrick moved to dodge the thrown shield and at that moment, Longclaw's hilt crashed down on the man's wrist and Dawn clattered to the ground. Loud gasps came from the Dornish as Prince Aemon then took Ser Ulrick's feet from him with a leg sweep, the knight so stunned at losing his sword that he was unable to keep his feet. Then as he lay on the ground, Ser Ulrick was faced with Longclaw pointed to his neck and left with no other choice but to yield.

"We name Prince Aemon as the victor with a yield, is there any here who name it differently?" Orys Baratheon called out and no voice was heard as Prince Aemon held out his hand and helped the Sword of the Morning back to his feet.

Martyn's smile was only outmatched by the one the princess wore. While the king and queen both sat there almost shaking their heads at what they'd witnessed. Later, as they rowed back to their ship, Martyn remembered the lesson that Prince Aemon had given him back in Oldtown. It would now be a lesson he'd keep with him for the rest of his life as he'd just seen it proved through right in front of his eyes.

"When facing a man who thinks himself your better in the yard, you allow him to believe it's so, right up until you take the victory from him."

Sandstone/Sunspear 1 BC.

Aemon Targaryen.

He'd promised Visenya that he'd win the fight against the Sword of the Morning and he had done so. After a moment's pause upon hearing the man name himself as Ser Ulrick and so having to search his memory to make sure he had the right of things, Aemon offered the man the yield as a way out of having to kill him. That he'd done so in such a way as to almost make himself sound as if he feared death, was deliberate on his part. As was using a shield.

Lessons that were given to him by some of the greatest swordsmen that ever lived, and certainly those who lived during his own time, had been ones he'd lived and learned by. From Ser Barristan to his Goodbrothers, Loras and most especially Garlan, and from the White Lion, Jaime Lannister. Who other than a White Shadow, was the very best he'd ever gotten the chance to face, Aemon had been taught much and so he used it now and tried not to dwell on the fact that he'd not used it then.

"Appear weak when you are strong, my king. Strong when you are weak." Jaime said as they sparred. "If your opponent is stronger than you, evade him, if he is temperamental, irritate him. Most of all, attack him where he is unprepared and appear where you're not expected." Jaime added as he moved left, then right, and was inside his guard before Aemon had a chance to stop him.

So he'd looked more fearful than he was. Had bore a shield to make it seem as if he feared Dawn's reach advantage when in truth it was simply to allow Ser Ulrick to tire himself out by crashing Dawn's blade against the wood. Then at the end, he'd simply lowered his arm as if the constant assault had worn him down. It had very much not. A shield flew in the air, he moved inside Ser Ulrick's guard, and Longclaw's hilt crashed down hard on an unprepared wrist, all of which was then followed by a sweep of the legs.

"Yield, Ser, you fought well but the fight is done. It serves neither of us nor Dorne to see you die here today."

"I yield."

He'd helped Ser Ulrick back to his feet, had forgone rubbing Dorne's noses in their loss, and then moved to where he knew Visenya was looking on worriedly. Taking his wife in his arms, he'd kissed her and told her that he was unharmed, laughed when Ghost had moved to them both, and closed his eyes to let Rhaegal know that all was well. Then, they'd arranged for the kneeling to be done in a week's time and had gone back to their ship. Unfortunately, he'd not be staying there long and the arguments had begun as soon as he'd told Visenya that he would be heading to Sandstone.

"There is no need, Aemon. Dorne will kneel, now."

"There is still House Qorgyle, Senya. They must be dealt with, the threat must be real."

"Very well, we'll…"

The finger to her lips stopped her from speaking further and Aemon shook his head.

"I will. It must be me, Senya. I'd not put this on anyone else."

"I've killed people, Aemon. It left no mark on my heart War is war, I understand that." Visenya said angrily.

"Aye, it is. This…this is different," he said moving to her. "I beg of you to let me do as I must and let me do so alone. I'll return before the kneeling, two days, three at most."

"I like this not, Aemon," Visenya said almost pouting.

"Nor do I," he replied honestly.

After telling her that he would be leaving Ghost behind, Aemon kissed his wife once more and allowed the thoughts that what he was about to do would be the end of it, to be what guided him. He said his goodbyes to Martyn and told him to stay close to his wife, to guard her as he had done him, and then took the boat to shore where Rhaegal awaited. They flew out over the sea, not yet keen to see and deal with House Qorgyle's lord and his two sons. Instead, it was to the other son and to Sandstone itself that Aemon flew to. All the while, he readied himself to do what would be no doubt the darkest act he'd ever inflicted upon someone. Especially a boy of less than ten Namedays old.

Try as he might, he couldn't but help to think of his brothers. Of Bran and Rickon. Were someone to do to one of them what he was about to do now, then he'd have scoured the ends of the world to see them pay, or so he told himself. Those words, however, were shouted down by louder and truer ones that Aemon cared not to hear. Not now, not ever.

Someone did, did they not?

Did you avenge them?

Did you bring their killers to justice?

Did you fail them as you did everyone else?

He had not. Aemon could not. For how could you avenge your brothers' deaths at the hands of things that were already dead themselves?

Night had fallen by the time he arrived at the sandy hills that overlooked Sandstone. Aemon had Rhaegal land on one of the higher hills, one of the few where the stone hadn't been covered over by sand. From there, he looked down on the keep itself and planned out his attack should those inside not immediately adhere to his command. Then taking out the scroll he'd written earlier, Aemon closed his eyes and sought a raven to carry it for him.

After he'd sent the raven off carrying its dark words, Aemon tried and failed to sleep. Instead, he lay his head against Rhaegal's own and spoke for hours to the green dragon. Even long after Rhaegal had taken his own rest, Aemon continued to speak. Telling the green dragon about the babe that Visenya bore and how that babe would one day need a dragon of its own, while at the same time, he told Rhaegal that what he was about to do, needed to be done. Though which of them he was trying to convince of that fact, Aemon knew not.

As dawn arose, Aemon broke his fast and went about his morning routine. Exercises and movements that both forced his tiredness away and readied him for the day ahead. It was almost noon when the party rode out of the keep for the parley and Aemon had Rhaegal fly over their head and roar loudly before he bid the green dragon to land. Once Rhaegal had done so, Aemon bid one man and one man alone to approach while he climbed down off the dragon's back.

"You are Prince Aemon?" the tall fair-headed man, asked.

"I am. You got my raven."

"I did." the man said gulping. "What you demand of us, what you seek, we cannot…"

"Then from here I'll climb atop my dragon's back and together we'll turn Sandstone to ash. One life or all your lives, that's my one and only offer."

"He's but a boy….please show mercy."

"One life or all lives, that's the extent of my mercy," Aemon said before turning to move to Rhaegal, his dragon guarding his back in the event that the man he'd spoken to was braver or more foolish than he looked.

"I cannot…We cannot."

"Have you seen what a dragon can do? What its flames can do to rock and sand?" Aemon asked to a shake of the man's head "Bear witness and then imagine what one can do to flesh and bone."

Climbing up on Rhaegal's back, Aemon was in the sky within two flaps of the green dragon's wings. Looking to the pile of rocks and sand that was no more than fifty feet from where the man he'd parleyed with now stood. Aemon directed Rhaegal to fly there and then bid him to let loose his flames.

"Dracarys," he called out as the rocks and sand were covered in a large wave of fire.

Landing a few moments later, Aemon moved to the man again and made him one final offer. One last ditch attempt to stop himself from having to take countless lives here today.

"It'll be a clean and quick end that's given to him. I give you my oath on that. You have an hour. One hour and then Rhaegal and I will do to Sandstone what we just did to those pile of rocks over there. We'll not stop until every man, woman, and child who names it their home has been kissed by fire. One life or all, that's your only choice. Choose well and know that I am well aware of what Lord Qorgyle looks like, so to play me false will only lead to the same result. Fire and Blood." Aemon said as the man, almost tearfully, walked away from him.

An hour later, the same man rode with a young and terrified boy bound by rope and held in front of him. Shamefacedly, the boy who bawled and cried like a babe was handed over to Aemon and after waiting until the man left, Aemon led the boy to where Rhaegal awaited. That the boy wet himself was no surprise, nor that he begged and pleaded for his life. Eyes closed, knife in hand, Aemon begged the gods for their forgiveness and drove the blade through the back of the boy's head and into his skull. Be it luck, fate, or that his prayers had been answered somewhat, the young Lord Qorgyle was dead almost instantly. Though Aemon then needed to take a moment to do what else he needed to do.

"Forgive me," he said, to the boy, the world, or to himself as he unsheathed Longclaw and removed the boy's head from his shoulders.

Aemon buried the boy in a grave atop the hill where he'd burned the rocks and sand. Or most of the boy at least. In a sack tied to Rhaegal, Aemon had placed the head of a boy he was now sure was no more than eight or nine Namedays and then he readied himself to take the boy's father and brothers from the world. Unlike with the people of Sandstone, those who rode with Lord Qorgyle and his two sons would be offered no parley or given no choice to surrender. Most of them, if not all of them, would die and yet unlike with the boy he'd just killed, Aemon spared them no thoughts whatsoever.

Atop Rhaegal's back, he steeled himself and closed his eyes once more. Soon enough he was looking through the eyes of the birds and marking out Lord Qorgyle, his heir, and his spare son and adjusting his plans accordingly. It was night when he and Rhaegal reached them. All told there were close to a thousand men at arms who'd refused to kneel and had set out from Sunspear in a vain attempt to return to their homes. Few if any of them would ever make it further than these few miles that they'd covered in the few days since their lord had sealed their fate.

"Dracarys," Aemon said and Rhaegal answered without hesitation or regret.

From the front to the back. Left side and then right. Over and over, Aemon had Rhaegal bring the fire to men on foot and horse. Only when the Lord and his sons went to make their escape did Rhaegal offer any respite. Then it was after them and not to attack the men who marched that Rhaegal was now directed to do. Though one quick look behind him as they left the shattered ranks of Lord Qorgyle's men to their fates was enough to tell Aemon that it was in the tens and not the hundreds that the survivors would be numbered.

Five and ten men rode fast from the fiery death that Aemon and Rhaegal had brought any who faced them. Soon it was less than ten and by the time Rhaegal had landed, it was down to five. Three of whom would feel no more of Rhaegal's flames as they met their deaths, while two would know naught but teeth and talons. A sweep of Rhaegal's tail was more than enough to unhorse all five and as Rhaegal made a meal of two of them, Aemon hurriedly climbed down from his dragon's back and sought the end of the other three.

He did Quentyn Qorgyle the favor of not having to live and watch his sons be killed. Aemon ended the man, who was trapped under his horse, with a thrust from Longclaw through the chest. His sons, one aged about twenty or so and the other no more than seven and ten, had both managed to get to their feet. Not that it served them any better than not doing so had served their father. One dying to a slash and thrust from Longclaw while the other fell to one of Aemon's daggers. As with their brother, the two boys lost their heads and so too did their father. All four of them were now reunited in death and in the sack that Aemon had placed them in. Unlike their brother, Aemon buried them and their father not. There wasn't really much of a point in doing so given the number of men he and Rhaegal had killed this day. Instead, it was Rhaegal's flames that took their bodies from the world.

Two days were all it had taken to end a House and sever a line that went back to the Andals' invasion. A House that had dared to stand against Princess Nymeria and now his own. They may have survived the one, but Aemon could not and would not have allowed them to survive the other. He needed their deaths for the message it sent and there was another reason he needed or wished for them too. A tale of scorpions and the death of a lord of House Tyrell. It had not been his reason for doing what he had and it in no way made him feel less guilty for what he'd done to a young boy, that stain would take some time to wash away, Aemon knew.

Mayhap it would end all Dornish resistance though and the lives that would save were worth those Aemon had taken. Or so he tried to tell himself as he and Rhaegal flew and left the carnage they had wrought upon people who had wished only to be free.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Jojen is tasked by the Three-Eyed Raven, and Brandon is given gifts and help to name himself a King. In Sunspear, Aemon shows Dorne how those who refuse to kneel will be treated and Aegon and Rhaenys are named King and Queen of the Rhoynar.

For those following my other fics, Honor so High and My name is Daemon are up next.

Missed Reviews.

DragonLover: Chapter 7: Sorry to say but Visenya won't jump through time with Aemon.

Chapter 14 Reviews.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Dragonlover: Happy you're liking the pairing, the babe's sex is already decided in my mind, All I can say is that its name will not be Maegor.

Celexys: We'll see two of the dragons form an even bigger bond in the next few chapters, I think we can all guess which two, and it will play a part in one of the future stories in this series.

Princess of Greenwood: Hope you like it.

Dunk: Oh, there are definitely things he wouldn't do, but he needed to make the threat. One aspect of the series here that I may not have been as clear about as I could have, is that Jon partly because of all he's lost and the fact that he knows what the NK will do if he's not stopped, will be darker. As the series goes on, this is only going to be more true in certain aspects. Here, in this chapter, we see the first sign of that really, but when he jumps through time, during the Dance and the Blackfyre Rebellions, we'll see it even more clearly. In terms of actual battles, war, this is sort of the last chapter of that, from here on it'll be more world-building leading to the jump through time. I think I said about 20 to 25 chapters, so we're still on course for that. As for his time with the babe, we'll see. I also wanted to show that having time alone, lost in your own thoughts, has led Jon to truly embrace his warging powers, he's not on Bran's or the TER level, but he's going to be using them more and so by the time he gets to the endgame, he may well be.

Rhatch: So glad you liked it.

King Loren: Ghost has a big moment coming up soon, as does Rhaegal, we're getting a pov from each of them. As for the warging, We'll see a lot more of that before the end of this story.

Guardianofworld: Visenya won't be traveling with Jon, that's for certain. Only Ghost, Rhaegal, and Jon can move through time.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, glad you liked it.

SeaweedBrainisBlue: The Starks are now princes too, they get to name themselves as such as part of the pact, as for Dorne, it's a culture thing, so if they play nice from here on in, they'll keep the titles.

Pattyboy: So one aspect of things which I wanted to have Aemon do was that in his mind, he wishes to do all he can to ensure certain things come to pass, even though he believes he won't be around when they do so. So he thinks he'll die in this timeline, and wishes for House Targ to be stronger come his own, but he also wants certain other things to come to pass then. For example, he wants Margaery to be born, he wants Aegon/Rhaenys to be born and to live, he wants Robb, Arya, Sansa, Bran, and Rickon to be born and so while he may not like Cat, in his mind, she still has to marry Ned.

Now, in some ways, this is easier, as Ned is a second son, so if it's arranged, it can be done. Cat can't marry Brandon, for the reasons you say, at least in Jon's mind. Hope I'm making sense so far.

So in canon, we had Cat as the daughter of the LP of the RL, betrothed to Brandon, son of the Warden of the North, then obviously, Ned being made to step in when Brandon died. However, Ned as a second son, being wed to the daughter of a large House in the South, is not a huge stretch by any means. In fact, it's a likely match or at least an acceptable one. Jon too intends to almost make it so it has to happen, to force it to happen, or as much as he can given its almost 300 years into the future. Simply because he wants to have his brothers and sisters exist.

But basically, I want Jon to look at things in a certain way, to almost simplify them, and in actuality to make mistakes. We can't predict the future, and Jon here is trying to engineer a certain one in some aspects while making sure another one doesn't come true in others. He can't predict the ripples, nor truly comprehend the ins and outs of time travel, he shouldn't be able to. What he should be able to do is look at an outcome, see what led to that, and so try to force that outcome. Such as naming the Tyrells as Wardens of the South eventually leads to Margaery being born, whereas not naming them as such does not.

In regards to the RL accepting or not, well, they accepted the fact that House Targaryen raised House Tully to rule over them, so why wouldn't they accept that the second son of the Prince of the North weds a daughter of a large house in the Rl?

So I get your points and don't think I've not thunk about some of them Lol. Trust me I've spent more time going forward on plotlines here than on any other story. But there need to be some imperfections in Jon's plan, especially the first time around. He can't get everything right his first time doing it, he just believes he can.

Hyokage: It would be Dark Sister, as Longclaw goes with Aemon when he jumps through time. Without spoiling too much, Aemon, Visenya, and whatever offspring they have will retain the prince/princess title unless they ever gain a higher one.

Scarilla: So glad you enjoyed it.

Lannister: Other than Dorne, they'd have managed the conquest fine without Aemon too, they actually did. Aemon's presence has simply made it easier, he's more skilled as he fought for longer than they have at this point and he has some foreknowledge of events. But other than Dorne, his changes to the Pact of Ice and Fire and the Masters/Faith, Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys need him not.

Lady Octarina: It's why I was so keen to do the Dornish campaign with Aemon, so he could use the lessons he'd learned as a boy and his hero worship of Daeron to bring them to their knees. As for Meria, the funny thing is that Aemon is basically performing a mummery with her because he understands the Dornish, as he did the North. He does see her as family, as he does the Starks, well maybe not as much as the Starks, but he certainly understands that removing House Martell, not only stops Aegon/Rhaenys from being born, it stops him from being born too. So it's a part false threat and part the fact that he believes he'll die here, so if he has to do it, then so be it.

I know right, I don't know whether GRRM was trying to make it out that there were fertility issues with the Targs from early on or he just messed up on the math. As I researched this I was like, WTH, they were how old when the babes were born. I mean Rhaenys was 32/33 and Visenya 40 as you say. Hell by that age and that long married, both would have been set aside for not producing heirs, given how important they were. Both women were lucky they weren't married to Henry VIII, or they'd have lost their heads.

Anyway, it was yet another thing I wished to do with Aemon/Visenya, to have it be much quicker and even to have Rhaenys then go, Wait, Aegon and I need to do something too.

UKK472: You have to make enemies when conquering, Dorne though needs to be brought to its knees, otherwise they remain as enemies for what, another 150 years? Given all the things they did to House Targaryen and its allies until they were brought into the fold, they have to be dealt with now. As for the Dance, Aemon will be on Rhaenyra's side. I can't see any member of House Targaryen who looks back at the Dance and picks the side of the Blacks, it would be the same as them picking the Blackfyres during the Rebellion.

Whatever you may think of Rhaenyra and Daemon, Alicent and her children usurped her.

Ovcjkim5: Why would they reject a marriage offer? Hell, they fought against the Targs more brutally and more truly than anything Aemon has done here and did so for a century and a half, then accepted a marriage offer, so given that Aemon has killed less of them than they lost in all those battles, why would they reject one now. Remember, after Rhaenys' death, Aegon and Visenya launched the Dragon's Wroth and killed countless people. Armies marched and more died and when Daeron launched his invasion, again countless people died during it. Yet, literally a few years after it, House Martell married into House Targaryen, so never underestimate the power of a marriage to a king.

Lady Galactica: In Aemon's mind, House Targaryen comes first, followed by House Stark, then House Tyrell, but he also has much time for House Dayne, House Lannister, and House Selmy, among others. The Free Folk too.

Qwertyuiop123214685 : So glad you liked it.