Oldtown 113 AC.
Otto Hightower.
The raven arrived bearing the news Otto had dreaded receiving. A sham of a wedding had taken place and it did not bode well for the future of his grandchildren. Reading the words as he sat in his nephew's solar, Otto found himself on the verge of losing his temper more than once. Not only had the wedding been well received and warmly welcomed, but the King had done something that Otto truly bristled over. Only the fact that Viserys had not handed over the sword had given Otto something to work with.
To name Princess Rhaenyra as the Princess of Dragonstone, however, was a strong enough signal of Viserys' intent. The island was ever the home of the heir to the Iron Throne and Otto had always hoped to convince the king, or have Alicent do so in his stead, to place Aegon there. He had hoped that none would be named to rule over the island for some time. Otto had even believed that in this, and this alone, he'd find an ally in the Rogue Prince. Reluctant or unwilling an ally that Daemon may have been. Yet, he'd not taken into account that Daemon Targaryen saw his son and niece as his equals and so to him, it would be both Aemon and Rhaenyra that were named as heirs.
Given what his spies told him about the young prince and princess, Daemon was right to think of them that way. Both of them deferred to the other and would seek each other's opinion over anyone else's. Not only proving themselves truly united, but much to Otto's dismay, stronger together too. Something that would make them formidable should they ever be crowned as king and queen and yet another reason why Otto could not allow that to come to pass.
"Not if I wish to keep mine own head and see my fortunes prosper," he muttered.
It all could have been so different. Had the fools sent to kidnap or kill Prince Aemon managed to do so, then it would have only been a matter of time until Aegon was named as Viserys' heir. Their failure had set Otto's plans back moons if not years and the wedding now set them back further. Should Rhaenyra manage to birth a son, then their line would be secured and not even her or Aemon's deaths would see Aegon given his rightful due.
"No, it shall not be." Otto angrily rose to his feet.
Walking to the window, Otto looked out at what was certainly a most impressive view. Oldtown in all its glory and seen from up high was enough to leave most men impressed. To Otto, however, he found it most lacking as it was not the view he wished to be looking out upon or the one that he felt he deserved. That vista was reserved for the view from the Tower of the Hand.
"At least the smell is better," he said mirthlessly.
Standing at the window with his hands clasped behind his back, Otto began to ponder on the next steps he'd take. The idea of having Moon Tea slipped into Rhaenyra's morning drinks being one that he found himself more and more assured was the right one. Otto almost smiled proudly at the fact that due to his work with the Citadel, he'd managed to see the Grand Maester of his choosing appointed when that fool Runciter had finally breathed his last. Yet despite believing that Mellos was indeed his man, Otto wasn't certain enough of the Grand Maester to have him be the one to carry out such a plan. So once again it would be left to his daughter to see his wishes followed.
Moving back to the desk, he began to write out his instructions for Alicent. Firstly the excuse that she was to use to get Moon Tea from the Grand Maester. Otto may be unwilling to use the man fully in his plots, for now at least, he still believed him to be his man, however, and so for this, he could be trusted. Once he'd written down the why of Alicent needing Moon Tea, Otto took great pains to write down the how of her using it. His spies may not be as close to the princess as he wished them to be, but he did have some who could slip the Moon Tea into her morning drinks unnoticed.
Blowing on the page to dry the ink, Otto sealed the letter with a forged seal of House Targaryen. Not a single one of his messages to his daughter had been intercepted thus far and yet Otto still took every precaution he could when sending them. From the three people he put between him and the messenger, to the code he wrote with that only Alicent herself knew. A different code than the one he used when communicating with the spies themselves and one that he truly believed could not be broken easily. Even should it be, the words themselves would make little sense without the message in the raven he'd send to his daughter as well.
After he'd finished writing that message out, he walked out of his nephew's solar and made his way to the Maester's chambers. Had he still been Hand of the King, then it would have been Alfador and not Mellos that Otto would have seen named as Grand Maester. The annoyance that he was not and so could not had been somewhat tempered by the fact that he had much use of his Maester while in exile in Oldtown. A use he was once again to put the man to, as not only would a raven arrive bearing words for his daughter, but another would be sent on an even longer journey than King's Landing.
"My Lord." Alfador rose to his feet when Otto entered the chambers.
"Ravens, Maester, they are well fed and rested?"
"They are, my lord, to where am I sending them?"
"King's Landing and to our friends in Tyrosh."
"At once, my lord," Alfador said as Otto handed him the raven's scrolls.
He stayed not to watch the birds take flight, Otto in no doubt that they'd do so almost immediately. Which of them would arrive first, he knew or cared not. The one to Alicent was mayhap the most pressing and yet the one to Tyrosh was just as important. Their failure had led to the need for the first raven to be sent after all. Otto again cursed Aemon Targaryen and the skills he'd learned from both his father and Ser Criston Cole. Had he not spent as much time in the sparring yard as he did, then Aemon would now either be a hostage held to force his father to do the Triarchy's will or as Otto much preferred it, a dead man.
Given what his spies told him about the potential battles to come, there was still at least a small chance of the latter. However, if he was being honest with himself then Otto would name the Triarchs as doomed and living on borrowed time. It had made him consider cutting all ties with the men. Had even had him worried that his own part in the attempt on Aemon Targaryen's life could soon be revealed. Yet, in the end, it mattered not, as he was merely a player in the great game and Otto would do all he could to ensure that at the end of it, he, his daughter, his grandchildren, and his House would be the victors.
As for the battles to come, well, death came from many directions when you fought a war and while Aemon, Daemon, and others may be protected, their departures allowed for others to not be. Should he find that Rhaenyra was actually with child, then it may be another assassination attempt that House Targaryen would soon face. This one was to be handled by men of Westeros, not Essos. Men that would face not a prince with a sword in his hand or a wolf by his side when they sought to take someone from this world.
His grandson would be king, no matter who needed to die to see that come to pass.
Otto had he been thinking things through more clearly may have pondered more on the fact that should even a hair on Rhaenyra's head be harmed, Aemon Targaryen would unleash a wrath upon those responsible unlike any ever seen before.
King's Landing 113 AC.
Daemon Targaryen.
Daemon had no wish to take part in the tourney, so at first, he'd not put his name down on the lists. If it was not for how Laena Velaryon looked at him when he told her that he was not competing, then Daemon would not have taken part. Yet something in those looks stirred his heart like no other and so he had asked for her favor and had ridden out to take part in the melee.
Looking to where his son sat with his new bride, Daemon could see just how irked Aemon was that he could not take part. Though in this there were benefits too and each time Aemon looked as if the day was getting the better of him, Rhaenyra would whisper in his ear or kiss his cheek and Daemon's son would care not that he was not a participant. As for those who were, there were many men representing the Young Wolves. While none of them wore his niece's favor, Daemon had no doubt that should they win, it would be Rhaenyra they dedicated their victory.
Among the others, Daemon looked for and soon found Criston Cole. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had won the joust and crowned Alicent Hightower to some people's annoyance. Most of the crowd wished for and expected to see Rhaenyra crowned and yet Ser Steffon had fallen in the second-to-last tilt. While it could be argued that it still fell to Cole to name Daemon's niece the Queen of Love and Beauty, he was wearing Alicent's favor and so to name any other would be an even greater snub. Besides, had Cole even dared to name Rhaenyra as such then not even this being Aemon's wedding tourney would have stopped Daemon's son from seeking to put the Lord Commander in his place. A thought that brought a smile to Daemon's face as the herald finished his announcements.
"May the Melee Commence!"
The sword in his hand wasn't Dark Sister and so it slowed Daemon down a little. As did the fact he was fighting while atop a horse for the first time in more than three years. His battles to take and keep the Stepstones had all been fought atop the Blood Wyrm or on foot and it had been some time since Daemon had competed in a tourney. Something that his rustiness and distractions now almost proved most truly. Daemon barely managed to miss the swing of the Mace and it took him more than a moment to retaliate.
When he did, the strike was a thing of pure beauty. The horseman who'd tried to make a name for himself and House Lannister soon fell to the ground. With that defeat under his belt, Daemon turned to the rest of the field and began to seek out men he wished to test himself against. Ser Harwin Strong being the first of them. Daemon was sure he had the man beat in skill, he'd lose any battle of strength that the two ever engaged in. Still, what was life without testing yourself from time to time, Daemon thought as he smirked at the Strong Lad.
Wielding a Greatsword that Daemon would wager he himself could barely lift, Harwin cut an imposing figure atop his black destrier. Watching as with a half swing of the Greatsword, a man was taken from his horse by the Strong Lad, Daemon almost considered going after a different opponent, almost. He was the Rogue Prince after all and he'd not back down from any challenge, especially not one he'd set himself. So riding quickly, Daemon soon found himself face to face with Harwin Strong. The younger man gave him a once-over look before he nodded.
"My Prince."
"Ser Harwin."
They were the only words they shared. The fight soon removed the need for anything other than grunts and groans to be uttered. Daemon was barely able to block the swings of the greatsword and only his skills allowed him to deflect them away from him. Each time the two swords crashed together, the strength advantage that Harwin had over Daemon was yet again proven. So much so that it soon became clear to Daemon that the only way he could win this fight was to lay a trap for the younger and stronger man.
It took him some time to do so and when Harwin then fell into that trap, Daemon was more than relieved. The small shift in his saddle that he'd made, proved more than enough to unbalance Harwin and cost him their match. Daemon jumped down off his horse to place his sword at the unseated man's neck and force him to yield.
"The day is yours, my prince."
"You fought well, Ser Harwin." Daemon offered, unsure why he didn't instead mock the man as was his wont.
Mounting back up on his horse, Daemon saw that the field had diminished to less than twenty. Soon enough it was down to six and ten as Ser Daeron and Mychel Waters both won their respective matches against Ser Tyland Lannister and Ser Elmo Tully. Daemon chuckled knowing that both men would be wroth about losing to bastards.
Hearing the horn ring out, Daemon and the other remaining participants dismounted and the fight was now one that Daemon felt far more comfortable waging. He soon found a worthy enough opponent in Borros Baratheon, Daemon wondering if it was only to be men who relied mainly on strength that he was to face this day. If it was, then he'd mayhap have faced off against the two strongest in the lands, as Borros soon proved himself to be somewhat Harwin's match.
How long the two of them bashed their swords against each other, Daemon knew not. Of the two of them, only one was breathing heavily and it was not him. Daemon relied on movement, and skill and while he swung his sword with purpose, he never put the effort into doing so that Borros did. In the end, it was that as much as anything that won Daemon the day. Borros had tired himself out due to the strength he put behind each swing of his sword and as Daemon took the yield, he wondered if this was how Aemon had beaten the man too. His son had told him of the many spars he and Borros had engaged in when he'd visited Storm's End.
"I see now where your son gets his tenacity, my prince," Borros said taking Daemon from his thoughts.
"No, Lord Borros, that he gets from his mother," Daemon replied warmly.
He'd no sooner turned around than he saw it. The fight was happening some distance away and it was one that Joffrey Lonmouth was ill-advised to take part in. Moving quickly, Daemon was to find that it was not his sword that stopped the blow of the Morningstar. That honor fell instead to Ser Daeron who was now the last of the Young Wolves who remained on the field. How Ser Joffrey Lonmouth had managed to find himself in the last four, Daemon knew not, yet, somehow he had and in doing so he had found himself face to face with Criston Cole. The Lord Commander fought not as if this was a tourney to be won but as if it was a battle to the death.
"ENOUGH!" Daemon shouted. As Criston turned to swing his Morningstar at Ser Daeron. "This is a tourney, not a damn battlefield. Believe me, you don't want to know too much of the other."
"My Prince." Ser Daeron said moving a few steps from Criston Cole.
"My prince. Ser Daeron." Joffrey Lonmouth said. His relief at being saved from serious injury or worse, was clear in his tone.
"I meant no harm, my prince," Cole said, almost laughing. "I simply got carried away in the heat of the fight."
"Well see that you don't do so further, lest you find yourself fighting a man who has waged naught but war for more years than any of you have wiped your own arses."
With a look and a nod of his head to Ser Daeron, Daemon was happy to see him and Ser Joffrey turn to face each other leaving him and Cole to do the same. The fight they then had was more an exhibition than a true fight and it was one with a trip and a crashing of Daemon's sword that took the Morningstar from Cole's hands. A yield that was given far from happily was then followed by an angry stomping from the yard from the Lord Commander.
"Fucking cunt." Ser Daeron said from behind, him. Daemon turned to see that Ser Joffrey had been beaten and now walked far more happily from the field than Cole did.
"For why did he attack Ser Joffrey so?" Daemon asked curiously. Whereas to those in the crowd, it would look as if they were simply resting themselves before the final fight of the day.
"Who knows why that man does half the things he does, my prince? Shall we?"
"Very well, Ser Daeron. Though unless you've learned some new tricks since last we fought, we know how this will end." Daemon smirked.
"I've been fighting mainly with your son, my prince. Aemon is all about new tricks."
Never had truer words been spoken and the fight they had was one of the longest they'd ever engaged in. Ser Daeron had always been a decent sword and that was partly why Daemon had sent him to stand at Aemon's back. The knowledge that his son would be protected and even trained by such a man had been something that brought Daemon much comfort over the years. To see now that it wasn't simply Daeron who had taught Aemon but that Aemon had returned the favor was enough to bring a proud smile to Daemon's face. However, that smile grew only into a much different one when he took the victory and looked to see Laena cheering him on in the crowd.
"Your son will be most happy you won, my prince."
"And that you made it to the final too, Ser Daeron."
"He'll be less so with Cole's actions." Ser Daeron whispered.
"Then for now we'll make sure that Aemon keeps his anger in check."
"That we will, my prince." Ser Daeron said assuredly. "Now go get your plaudits, we all know how much you like receiving them." the laugh was loud as Daemon was left alone and walked toward the stands.
Aemon wore a true smile on his face and yet Daemon could see how his eyes could barely hide the fire building up inside them. Beside him, Rhaenyra waved happily at him as Daemon offered his niece a bow. Looking at where Laena sat, rarely had he seen anyone look at him in such a way. Only Lyanna ever came close and for the first time that he could remember, Daemon now found that he considered another woman worthy enough to be mentioned alongside his wife.
There was no crown to be offered as the melee winner received no garland. Yet touching the favor that he wore clearly on his arm. Seeing the bright smile that Laena aimed his way as he did so, Daemon believed that in her heart this would suffice. As he walked from the field, his only regret was that he'd not taken part in the joust and crowned her for true. Something that he resolved now to do one day just to see her smile at him that way again.
King's Landing/Dragonstone 113 AC.
Rhaenyra Targaryen.
Aemon's mood had not been improved by what had happened during the melee. Not even his father's victory had been enough to see that so. Her husband had almost leaped from his seat when Ser Criston had begun his fight with Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. Rhaenyra not understanding the why of it until she saw her uncle and Ser Daeron both intervene. So once the melee was over and both she and Aemon had congratulated her uncle Daemon, Rhaenyra all but dragged Aemon to the Dragonpit.
Less than an hour later, they were in the sky and flying over King's Landing. Out into Blackwater Bay and from there to Driftmark and Dragonstone where they were joined by Silverwing. A glance from Rhaenyra to Aemon was enough to show that he was now wearing a true smile and when she bid him land, he did so immediately. After dismounting and then praising the dragons, Rhaenyra asked her husband to take her to the keep under the pretense of wanting to see how the works she'd ordered were progressing.
Hand in hand, they walked along the cliff top to the path that led to Dragonstone itself. While behind them, Syrax, Vermithor, and Silverwing once again took to the sky and flew out to sea. The dragons would soon be hunting in the fertile waters that surrounded the island before taking their catch to the caves under the Dragonmont. Though she occasionally glanced at Aemon as they walked, Rhaenyra found herself to be far more focused on the keep in front of them. Thoughts of the warm meal and the even warmer bed she'd find there soon brought a smirk to her face. One that did not go unnoticed and she was pleased to hear Aemon's playful tone when he spoke.
"And what amuses my wife so?" Aemon asked.
"Thoughts of having my hunger assuaged, Aems."
"Did I not see you eat a most hearty lunch not merely two hours ago?"
"Are you watching my figure, Aemon Targaryen?" Rhaenyra pretended to be affronted.
"I watch my wife as often as I can. There is no sight in this world that brings more pleasure to my tired eyes."
Aemon's words earned him a soft kiss on his lips and a whisper that it was not just her stomach that hungered for sustenance. Aemon then looked at her almost wickedly as he did a mummery of quickening their steps. Both of them laughed with each other as they reached the gates of the keep. With a kiss to her lips, Aemon led her in through the gates and they were quickly joined by two of the Young Wolves that Aemon had left to oversee the works here.
Less than a few moments later, they were joined by Ser Robert Quince and Maester Geradys, Both men were newly appointed to their positions at Aemon's behest. With the former to serve as Castellan instead of the recently dismissed from their service, Ser Alfred Broome. Aemon not liking the man for some reason or other and so he'd seen him taken into her father's service rather than their own. As for the Maester, while his father had said that Dragonstone's previous Maester was a man who could be trusted, Aemon had still seen him sent back to the Citadel. Only then accepting a man from a list that she believed he'd been given by Grand Maester Runciter before he'd died. Loyalty above all was what Aemon expected from those who served them both and so it had not just been Ser Robert and Maester Arwen who had lost their positions. All in all more than two dozen men and women had been dismissed from their service.
"We have enemies without and within, my love. So those who serve us must serve no other nor seek to sell their service for coin and position."
"People seek advancement all the time, Aems. We cannot root out them all."
"I wager we can and more than that, I promise I will."
Rhaenyra did not doubt that her husband would hold to that promise. Aemon could be single-minded when he wished to be, something the criminals of King's Landing and the men who served the Gold Cloaks had found out to their cost. A purging of the ranks of the latter, as well as the former, had taken place since Aemon was named the City Watch's Lord Commander. So to see him do the same to those who would serve them on Dragonstone had not come as any true surprise to Rhaenyra. She just hoped that they'd reached the end of the need for such a thing.
"My Princess, My Prince, we were not expecting you." Ser Robert said worriedly.
"An unexpected visit and one with no motive, Ser Robert," Rhaenyra replied putting the older knight at ease.
In some ways, she had been surprised that it was Ser Robert whom Aemon had asked her to name as their new Castellan. The knight was not the fiercest warrior and if anything his body had turned to fat over the years. He was an affable and good-natured man, however, full of cheer and easy to speak to. Aemon had told her that not only would he be grateful for the opportunity to rise as high as he just had, but he was Leal and dutiful too. Looking around at the works that had already been carried out on the keep, those words were proven more than true. It had been mere days since they'd made the changes and already the work was being carried out diligently.
"Do you wish to send a raven to King's Landing, my prince? To inform them of your arrival?" Geradys asked.
"No, Maester. We'll not be staying the night, only some hours. Should that change, however…"
"I'll ensure the birds are ready, my prince."
Aemon spoke to the two Young Wolves, both of them men from the North and who had served under Lord Roderick Dustin. Her husband had much time for the Lord of Barrowtown and he implicitly trusted any man who'd served alongside, Bloody Roddy. Especially if those men had done so while fighting in the Stepstones as Arnolf and Arthur Snow had. Rhaenyra listened not to what her husband said to the two men, instead she spoke to Ser Robert and was pleased that the first shipload of supplies had arrived.
She'd sent some of her private possessions along with some items that she and Aemon had purchased to help furnish the keep. Key among them was a new bed and when she heard that it had already been placed in what would be their chambers, Rhaenyra took her husband's arm and began to hurry him along. Aemon said nothing as he noticed her expression and soon enough, Arnolf, Arthur, and Ser Robert had been left behind and it was just her and her husband who walked together.
"My wife is eager to be somewhere, may I ask why?"
"It arrived, Aems. It's been placed in our chambers."
"And you're keen to put it to use." Aemon nodded and Rhaenyra slapped his shoulder. "As am I," he said huskily and so Rhaenyra quickened her steps.
Neither of them had wished to lay in a bed that her uncle had used. Aemon almost refused to do so and since Daemon was his father, Rhaenyra could well understand why. So even though it had been several years since Daemon resided on the island, the bed that was in the main chambers had been destroyed, leaving the room somewhat barren or so Aemon had said. Knowing now that it would very much not be, it was that hunger that fuelled Rhaenyra's thoughts, and the moment they entered the room, Aemon set to work to sate it as best he could.
Later, laying in their new bed, both of them exhausted, Rhaenyra was happy that Aemon had then sought to sate her other hunger. Her appetite had already been growing as it was. After their coupling, it was now almost ravenous. Aemon chuckled as he ate his food almost delicately compared to how she wolfed down her own. Something that he decided to speak on when he moved his own fuller plate next to her now empty one.
"I think my wife has spent too much time in the company of Ghost."
"I remember at times my husband having a fuller appetite."
"It pleases me to see your own is full, my love," Aemon said before he kissed her cheek gently.
With a glass of wine in hand, Rhaenyra leaned back against the pillows as Aemon moved the tray and the leftovers off the bed. She was naked as the day she was born and seeing Aemon stop at the end of the bed to take in the full sight she presented, was almost enough to see her hunger rise again. Their coupling had thus far proved to be very much this way. A period where both were sated, followed by the rising of a need to couple again. Sometimes that rise came on quicker than others as it was now. Though it seemed as if it would be allowed to go unfulfilled until they returned to King's Landing at least. Aemon instead, finally spoke on why he was so wroth with Ser Criston and how he'd have words with the man upon his return.
"First that palaver with the joust and then his actions in the melee." Aemon spat. "The man sought to shame you and I'll allow no man to do so. Especially not some jumped-up knight from the Stormlands."
"He could not have crowned me, Aems. Not only did he wear Alicent's favor and so it would shame her for him to do so. Had he even attempted to ask for mine own or had he brought that garland close to my hand, you'd have taken his head from his shoulders." Rhaenyra repeated the words she'd spoken to her husband after the Joust.
"By right, he should have asked for your favor and welcomed its refusal. That's the done thing, my love. Him not doing so was to let it be seen he was not."
"I care not that he sought not my favor. Nor that no man wore it during the tourney, Aems. Now was my husband to compete in the next one…."
"Oh, I'll bloody compete all right, of that you can have no doubt."
"Aems…." she said worriedly, only for her husband's wroth at Ser Criston to now be let out a little more.
"As for what Cole tried to do to Ser Joffrey, that will be answered for this very night."
"Aemon Targaryen!"
Her husband's rage was a thing to behold and yet never had it truly been unleashed. Rhaenyra had seen glimpses of it. The restrained version of it. Here now again, she saw how Aemon managed to get a hold of himself and force that rage deep inside of him. How he did so as quickly as he did, she knew not. To see him as he moved to her and whispered how sorry he was and to know that it had been her who'd calmed and soothed his fury, was something that made her more than a little prideful.
"Forgive me." Aemon kissed her. "I shall speak no more of Criston Cole."
"See that you don't." Rhaenyra smiled.
Their kisses led to a more leisurely and yet no less enjoyable coupling. Rhaenyra once again screamed out her husband's name as Aemon spent inside of her. Thoughts of the child they would one day see born to them soon filled her mind and as they lay there together afterward, she asked Aemon if he thought of such things too. Happy to hear that her husband did and that just like her, he too prayed that they'd be blessed with a little prince or princess of their own.
They flew back to King's Landing and arrived just in time for the night's feast. Ser Daeron awaited them in the Dragonpit and though Aemon promised he'd not confront Ser Criston that night, Rhaenyra found she cared not whether he did or didn't. Later when Aemon did speak to the man he once squired for, he did so in private. Her husband told her not what he said to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. However, Cole's glares in Aemon's direction were enough for Rhaenyra to know it was not a pleasant conversation.
"Cole, Aemon?" she asked as they made their way to the chambers.
"You bid me not to speak more of him and so I did not."
"Tell me." she sighed.
"We had words, angered ones and he knows that I'm watching him closely. Nothing more needs to be spoken of such, Nyra. The man is not worth a moment's of your time or thoughts."
"Aems…"
"No, I'll deal with Cole if the need arises. As of now, there is no reason for either of us to give the man a second thought. Should that change, I'll deal with him." Aemon said chillingly. Rhaenyra was ready to speak only to find herself kissed and held in her husband's arms, their room but footsteps away from where they stood. "Yet I'll speak to my wife before acting, and do so only with her permission and consent."
"Thank you, Aems," she said softly. Happy to be included even if she hoped never to need to be so.
"You are my wife, one day to be my queen. What I do, I do in your name and on your behalf as much as I do on mine own. We are together, my love. You and I against the world and the world will find itself seriously outmatched."
"It will," she said determinedly.
Myr 113 AC.
The Meeting of the High Council of the Triarchy
Racallio Ryndoon.
Racallio Ryndoon looked around the room and took note of the men assembled, he was the only one of them who wasn't a Magister other than the Archon and the Gonfaloniere. The only man among them who was a true warrior and who had spilled blood against Daemon Targaryen, something that this meeting would ensure would happen once more. However, unlike the last time he'd led men to face the Rogue Prince and take the Stepstones, Racallio would be far better supported this time around.
Almost the entire might of the Triarchy was to be brought to bear for the retaking of the islands. Not since the Crabfeeder had taken those islands for his own would there be as many ships and men involved in this endeavor. Even the thoughts of provoking a war with the Iron Throne hadn't been enough to dissuade the men in power from their current course. As events in King's Landing had so assuredly proved. Racallio still grimacing at the failure of that attack on Daemon Targaryen's son. While a small part of him shivered a little when he thought about what that failure could bring down upon them.
Still, he was a military man and he lived for the fight. Racallio welcomed the challenge of testing himself for true against the Rogue Prince. Up to now, it had been pitiful or poorly backed efforts that he'd been reduced to. This time, however, he'd have the means necessary to root the Rogue Prince out once and for all and Racallio would be a liar if he said he wasn't looking forward to doing so. To write his name among the legends of his homeland and in the annals of Planetos' history. A more than worthy fate for a man who had earned all he had through his skills and efforts.
"My friends, we come here today with but one goal in mind, the retaking of the Stepstones and the death of Daemon Targaryen." the Archon said loudly. Racallio was not the only man who listened with a keen ear.
"What of The Sea Snake?"
"The Dragon's Heir?"
"Will the Iron Throne give succor to The Rogue Prince and will Westeros come when Daemon Targaryen calls?"
Who said what, Racallio knew or cared not. What was said, however, was a far different matter. While the death of Daemon Targaryen would bring them all much relief, The Sea Snake would still be a formidable enemy to have to deal with. As for the Iron Throne and Westeros, should they fully commit to joining with the Rogue Prince's forces, then this was a battle and war that Racallio was not so certain his side could win. Yet it was thoughts of the Dragon's Heir that gave him as much pause as facing the Rogue Prince did.
Aemon Targaryen may be a green boy and yet he was not one whose hands had not already felt the warmth of freshly spilled blood on his fingers. Something that the men sent by the Triarchy to kidnap or kill him had found out to their cost. At merely six and ten years old, his uncle the king had put Aemon in charge of the City Watch, a role his father hadn't been given until he was much older. If that was not enough to make the question about the Dragon's Heir one that needed an answer, then the fact that Aemon Targaryen rode the Bronze Fury certainly was. As too was the certainty that should Daemon Targaryen fall, his son would come seeking vengeance and to reap retribution.
"The Dragon's Heir is but a boy." The Archon's voice was dismissive and Racallio liked it not. "As for The Sea Snake, without the Rogue Prince and the Blood Wyrm, Corlys Velaryon will return to what he does best. Being a mere trader on the seas."
"And the Iron Throne?"
"Are as they ever were. Ruled over by a weak man with no appetite for war or battle."
Racallio was uncertain if that was truly the case. True, Viserys Targaryen had shown no appetite for war and had barely backed his brother during the Fall of the Stepstones. That support instead came from contacts that Daemon Targaryen, or if it was to be believed, his son, had brought to bear. Still, he was the Rogue Prince's brother and Daemon's son was to be wed to Viserys' daughter. Should anyone ask Racallio his opinion, which he knew these men would not, then he'd wager that this time it would be different. This time Viserys and Daemon would be far more united than they had been before.
"My friends, we will not be alone in this endeavor. Words have reached me from Prince Qoren Martell and Dorne too seeks to see the Rogue Prince fall." Magister Larxus Antaolas called out happily.
"To what extent?" The Gonfaloniere asked before clarifying his question even more. "We all saw how pitiful Dornish support was last time, did we not?"
"This time Dorne's support will be extensive, Gonfaloniere. The tolls they pay have bitten and bitten hard. As they have for each of us here." The Archon interrupted.
Racallio believed not in the Dornish Prince or the army he could bring to bear. Qoren Martell had spoken pretty words to his face and in the end, had delivered nothing that he'd promised. His men were craven as far as Racallio was concerned and they brought no real ships to bear either. Still, he'd use them on the front lines if they came through this time and they'd serve as distractions if nothing else. A benefit that would help him much when it came to the true fight, or so he hoped.
Words continued to be spoken and Racallio drank his wine and paid them no mind. There would be many more days of this. Days upon days where men spoke over each other and around the issue at hand. Where men who had never lifted a sword in anger, would talk of war and battle as if they were seasoned warriors. Other than the Gonfaloniere, Racallio knew that of the three and thirty men who made up the High Council, not a single one of them had even taken part in a skirmish, let alone a true fight. It would fall to him and his to win this war. Mayhap to him to bring an end to the Rogue Prince's life. So, leaving the room, Racallio made ready to sacrifice to the gods to see that was so.
A week later the decision had finally been made. Plans were to be put into motion and the true talk of war had finally begun. Racallio ignored the trepidation and worry he felt and dismissed the idea that it would be one he'd lose. His belief in himself was as true as it had ever been and so, unless his support was less than he had been told it would be, Racallio would earn a great victory for fat and wealthy men. At the end of the day, however, Racallio knew something that they did not. For none of them could see inside his mind and so none were aware that Racallio Ryndoon didn't just plan to see Daemon Targaryen dead, he planned to take his place.
"A king for a king." he laughed as his ship sailed to meet up with the rest of his fleet.
King's Landing 113 AC.
Corlys Velaryon.
Seeing Daemon Targaryen with his daughter brought up mixed emotions in Corlys' heart. On the one hand, the words his wife spoke about the agreement that Prince Aemon had made with her, would prove even more true should Daemon and Laena be wed. However, on the other, Corlys had never wished for his beloved daughter to be involved with a man such as the Rogue Prince. Thankfully, Daemon seemed to have curbed some of his wildest impulses and thus far had not shamed Laena even once.
Corlys couldn't lie either and not say that Daemon looked at Laena much differently than he did most of the women he'd known in his life. Other than how the Rogue Prince had been with Lyanna Stark, he'd never seen him act around anyone how he did Laena. Their morning flights atop their dragons had become a regular thing to see and in this, it seemed the father was much like the son. Just as Aemon and Rhaenys were oft to be found together atop their dragons and flying away from or back to King's Landing, so too were Daemon and Laena. As they were this morning.
"Come away from the window, husband," Rhaenys called out from behind him, Corlys taking a last look at Vhagar and Caraxes as they headed to the Dragonpit. The future queen and king had spent the day on Dragonstone and so had put off the meeting they were to have regarding the upcoming war. it had allowed Daemon and Laena even more time to spend together and Corlys knew that Rhaenys was much pleased about that.
Turning to walk back into the room, Corlys welcomed the feel of the cool morning breeze on his exposed backside. As he did the warmth of the blankets when he climbed into bed and lay down beside his wife. Rhaenys' shrieks when she felt his cold feet brush against her making her sound like a much younger woman. As too did the glint in her eye as she reached over and brushed her hand against his now stiffening manhood. The touch was, as always, merely a prelude to what was to come.
Watching his wife dress some time later, Corlys felt even more ready for the day to come. While Daemon would be the main architect for their battle plans and would lead their men, both Aemon and Laenor would play key roles in the battles to come. His son had proved himself much during the taking of the Stepstones and while Aemon had not yet fought from atop a dragon's back, Corlys would wager he'd show himself just as adept there as he was in most other things.
He and Rhaenys broke their fast with Laena and Laenor, his daughter just like Aemon and Rhaenyra, had only just arrived back from her morning flight. Corlys happy to see the bright smile that Laena could barely keep from her face as they ate their morning meal. What Laenor had done with his morning, Corlys knew not, but his son bore a determined look on his face that showed he knew the import of the day to come. Their plans would be laid out and soon enough the dragons would be going to war. Far more of them than had done so in many a year if Corlys was right.
A part of him both wished for and hoped that Rhaenys would take part in the battles come. While another, far larger part, prayed to the God of the Seas that she very much would not. He'd far prefer if she and Laena left it to Daemon, Aemon, and Laenor to bring the dragons to bear but as of yet he knew not if that was the plan. Eager to get to find out what that plan was, Corlys while not hurrying his eating, was finished sooner than usual. He then had to wait for his wife and children to be ready to join him and together they walked to Aemon and Rhaenyra's rooms.
"Has Daemon given even a hint of what it is he intends?" Laenor asked as he walked beside him, Rhaenys behind them with Laenor and speaking to their daughter about her morning flight.
"On this, he's played his cards close to his chest, son."
"And Aemon?"
"Makes Daemon seem like a braggart." he japed.
It was true, few men kept their plans to themselves as much as Aemon Targaryen did. Corlys would wager that other than his wife, the young prince shared not his thoughts with anyone. Not fully at least. He wouldn't be surprised if Daemon himself knew not of what Aemon wished to bring to bear against the men who'd sought to take him from this world. The Triarchs soon to pay dearly for both their attempt and their failure to do so.
'For had they succeeded then they'd have paid in blood by now' he thought assuredly.
Upon reaching Aemon and Rhaenyra's chambers it was the number of Young Wolves stationed there that at first showed just how seriously Aemon was taking this meeting. Other than Ser Steffon Darklyn whom Rhaenys had named as Rhaenyra's man more than her father's, the crown itself had no presence here. Even that of the aforementioned Kingsguard was outside rather than inside the room. Corlys smirked as when the door opened the white wolf moved aside to let them in and then moved back to the door to ensure that none followed.
Inside the room itself, there were but three people present. Daemon stood at a table and looked down on a large map, though he turned to greet Laena warmly once Aemon touched his shoulder. Rhaenyra stood next to her husband and looked every inch a happy bride. While Aemon wore both a friendly and yet closed-off expression on his face. However, the greeting he offered them was as warm as the one his father had offered to Corlys' daughter.
Refreshments were offered by Aemon himself. Food and wine, though it was only the latter that Corlys or anyone else indulged in. Corlys happy to find it was one of the better vintages and he wondered if it came from Daemon's own cellar. A knock on the door took them all by surprise, other than Aemon Targaryen, and Corlys looked on as the young prince walked to see who had interrupted the meeting. Given the importance of it and the men outside, Corlys wagered it was someone of import. Surprised and a little shocked to find it was Mysaria of Lys.
"I thank you, my lady, we'll speak later," Aemon said. The only words that Corlys or anyone other than Mysaria herself heard.
"Aems?" Rhaenyra asked concernedly as Aemon looked at the note he now held in his hand.
"News from Dorne, Mysaria believes it could have a bearing on our plans."
"The lady works for you now, Aemon?" Rhaenys asked. Corlys seeing his wife look from father to son, only to find that Daemon was speaking to Laena and seemed to care not for the answer. Something that pleased Rhaenys greatly and him too if he was being honest.
"Lady Mysaria is a most capable woman, Rhaenys, and so yes, she serves my wife and me now."
Corlys was certain the woman served her new master far differently than she had her former one. There would be no sharing of a bed between this prince and the White Worm, of that he had no doubt. He knew too that there were few people more capable of finding out information than Lady Misery. So to find that she now served the son where once she had the father, raised Aemon even further in Corlys' mind.
"And the news she brings?" Corlys asked.
"Dorne once again seeks to join the fray and to offer aid to the Triarchy," Aemon said casually. "Which brings me to the first thing we must speak about on this day. My trip to Dorne and meeting with Prince Qoren Martell."
Rhaenyra, Daemon, and even Rhaenys all raised objections to what Aemon was proposing. None of their words were listened to and Aemon instead laid out why there was a need for such a visit and why that visit had to be done before they attacked the Triarchy. For make no mistake, it would be an offensive campaign they waged and not a defensive one. The Triarchs' actions had seen to that.
"We could simply destroy their ships as we will the Triarchs' own. We could even bring the fight to Dorne itself, for I've no doubt that should we wish it, even those hostile and unforgiving lands could be conquered by those in this room." Aemon said before chuckling to let them know he japed. Somewhat at least.
"Martell is a snake, Aemon, the man is not to be trusted and even were you and he to strike an agreement, I hold no hope he'd live up to it. " Daemon said before moving to his son. His worry and concern were clear for all to see as he placed his hand on Aemon's shoulder. "Yet my true concern would be for your safety, for I trust the man not to live up to guest rights or even to offer them."
"Even at the risk of bringing a Dragon's Wroth down upon him, father?" Aemon asked. Though he allowed no time for Daemon to reply. "I've learned much about Prince Qoren these past few moons. Sought out what it is he truly wishes for and just like any who pass the Stepstones and are now forced to pay a toll, he seeks his to be removed or reduced. For now, he sees only war as a way to see that so, I mean to offer him another, and yet 'tis not only for that reason I wish to speak to the man."
"Aems?" Rhaenyra asked worriedly. Though it was his father that Aemon replied to.
"I mean to judge him face to face, Nyra, Father. To look into his eyes and see who he truly is and once I've done so, to then plan accordingly. Not simply for the now, but for the future too."
"To what end, Aemon?" Daemon asked curiously now instead of worriedly.
"To see if Dorne can be swayed by peace or needs be subjugated by war, Father."
Corlys looked to his wife who seemed impressed if a little worried by Aemon's words, then to Laenor who listened more keenly to Aemon than he had even to Daemon, or so Corlys believed. Some of that was down to what had happened during the melee and the part the Young Wolves had played in stopping Criston Cole from going too far and turning a test of skill into a truer battle.
Turning to look at Princess Rhaenyra, he saw only love and pride in how she stared at her husband. Aemon's words promised much in the future and yet they were words that may yet cost much blood to be spilled. Corlys doubted that Dorne had changed its wishes and now wanted to be part of the Seven Kingdoms, not when being apart from them was something they'd gone to war to ensure.
Daemon just stood and looked at his son with a father's pride. Aemon's words and what they would or could mean, now taking on a new importance. The idea of adding Dorne to the lands that would be ruled over by his son and niece was one that Daemon greatly agreed with or so it would seem. As for Laena, all through the words that Aemon Targaryen had spoken, Laena had eyes only for his father. A match that at first seemed only to be one that brought them much benefit politically and practically, now looking as if it may be one that brought Rhaenys and him, a daughter's full heart too.
"Now let's speak on the actual war we are to wage, Father if you will," Aemon said as Daemon began to lay out their plans for the war to come. A war that Corlys was stunned to find would have even more dragons fighting in it. Laena and Rhaenyra would be taking part as well and though he raised his objections, Rhaenys saying that she too would fly her dragon was enough to quieten them down for now.
Later that night he heard that Daemon and Aemon had spoken in private to the king. An argument about Rhaenyra taking part that Aemon quickly and truly shut down. Whatever words he said to do so, were known only to Viserys and Aemon, with not even Daemon being privy to them.
Over the next few weeks, preparations were made and a ship was sent to Dorne, one that Aemon Targaryen departed on as did more than fifty of the fiercest fighting men that were in his employ. Above them, the Bronze Fury flew and though Corlys had not witnessed it himself, he wagered it was a most impressive sight. Compared to the one the Triarchs would soon see over their skies, however, it was a far less imposing and frightening one.
"May they shit their britches and beg their gods for mercy, for they'll get none from the Rogue Prince." Corlys chuckled. A part of him however believed that if anything it should be Aemon and not Daemon that they feared.
The Sea of Dorne 113 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
Being married to Rhaenyra was all he'd ever hoped it would be. Laying together, waking up beside each other, and simply going to sleep while holding her in his arms, all left the dreams he'd had of doing so, in the shade. The reality of doing one or all of those things deserved a bard to put them in words or song and Aemon, while being adept at many things, was no bard.
For more than a moon, that had been his life. His days were spent barely doing his duty as Commander of the Gold Cloaks, instead, they were mainly shared with his wife other than the brief moments that they would be forced to part. He and Rhaenyra would wake, dress, and then break their fast together. Most mornings they'd take a flight atop their dragons and find somewhere to land just so they could be alone with each other. Aemon had quickly found that making love out in the open was just as pleasurable as it was when they did so while in their chambers.
They'd take their luncheon with either his father or Rhaenyra's. Aemon would spar while his wife looked on and then they'd retire back to their chambers where their kisses and touches would inevitably lead them back to bed. Neither of them seemed to be able to get enough of the other and thus far there had been no lack of enthusiasm when it came to lying together. Rhaenyra had laughed truly as she told him that some of her ladies said that with married couples the thrill often wore off. It was something that Aemon very much doubted would ever be true with him and Rhaenyra, which was what made parting such sweet sorrow.
Yet, it had to be done. Aemon needed to travel to Dorne and speak to Prince Qoren and it had to be done in person. So he and Rhaenyra had their first argument when he told her what he must do and refused her leave to travel with him. His reasons for which, then led to an ever truer argument and while Aemon much enjoyed how they made up later that night, he liked not that they'd argued in the first place. He had felt somewhat stupid for bringing up the fact that what he was doing was too dangerous for Rhaenyra to be a part of. Especially since his wife would play her own part in the war to come.
"I cannot risk you or protect you as well as I would wish to, my love. Should Prince Qoren prove himself to be the snake that my father and Lord Corlys would name him, then I may need to make a hasty escape."
"If the danger is so acute, I forbid you to go, Aemon," Rhaenyra said determinedly.
"I must go, the offer must be made and I need to look into the man's eyes when I do so."
"And if he tries to take you prisoner, Aemon? What then?"
"Then he'll find that Vermithor's flames are true, Ghost's fangs are sharp and I and the Young Wolves are a match for any man of Dorne."
"Yet not enough to bring your wife with you."
"It's too dangerous, Nyra."
"As is war and yet I'm to play my part there am I not?"
"War is different. What we'll do against the Triarchy will be laid out and planned. Anything they respond with will be expected and so counters will be put in place. I've spent much time planning our attacks on them ever since their poor attempt to take me hostage or end my life, much time indeed. My father, Lord Corlys, they've fought and won wars against the Triarchs enough to know what tactics they may employ. Prince Qoren, his actions can't be predicted and so can't be truly countered until they're enacted."
"So you travel to a dangerous land without true knowledge of how to protect yourself, you would do this and make me worry so."
"I must do this and it pains me to see you worry, Nyra, you know this. Yet I promise I shall return atop Vermithor's back unharmed and with the answers I need."
His father too had argued with him, as had his uncle. Aemon had simply told them both that Prince Qoren would never harm a prince of the blood. That the man may have ambitions and be untrustworthy, he was not a fool, however. Should a drop of Aemon's blood be spilled on Dornish soil, then he'd reap the wrath of House Targaryen down upon him would he not? Both his father and uncle agreed that he would and then his uncle insisted that a raven be sent to Prince Qoren naming Aemon's visit as an official one.
It was not the only thing his uncle had wished to speak to Aemon on. The matter of taking a squire now that he was an anointed knight and Commander of the Gold Cloaks had been brought up once more. Aemon was though able to give a reason why that squire could not be Aegon and why instead it should be under Ser Criston Cole's stewardship that Aegon earned his spurs. That he had to name his own time with the knight as something it was not, well, some lies needed to be spoken at times.
Had it been Aemond that he was being asked to take to squire, then Aemon may not have been so against the idea. Other than the fact that he was soon to be flying off to war that was. The younger prince and the princess were much different than their older brother and both had found much favor with Ghost and Aemon too. Even with Shadow, while his cousin and his wolf were in King's Landing. Aemon knew too that had it been something that his father would have allowed, then it would have been Cregan that he took as his squire. The North however cared little for such things and so for now he was squireless.
"I'll find someone suitable once the war is won," he whispered as he stood on the deck of the Winter Dragon. A wedding gift from Lord Corlys and one that Rhaenyra had insisted be named thus. Aemon had wished it to be called Rhaenyra's Pride only to be overruled by his wife.
Feeling the chill in the air, Aemon turned to Ghost and together he and the white wolf walked down to their cabin. He passed the larger open room where he nodded to the Young Wolves inside. Mychel, Donnel, and Rodrik all raised their mugs of ale as he did so. Ser Daeron would hopefully still be sleeping, the knight having come down with the sickness of the sea. So Aemon moved quietly past the door to the knight's room, Ghost managing to do even better than he did. Entering his cabin, Aemon was immediately struck by just how empty it was. Or more truly by the fact that the one person he wished was awaiting him there, was instead many miles away.
Laying down on the bed, eyes closed, it was Vermithor first that Aemon began to think of. The Bronze Fury had been the reason why he'd gone to the deck in the first place. His dragon was eager to see that Aemon was well and only once he'd done so, did he then go in search of his food. Aemon had considered flying to Dorne. Arriving at the gates of Sunspear atop his dragon would have sent a powerful message after all. Yet in the end, his wife's worries and Aemon's wishes to have more eyes than simply his own had been what stopped him from doing so. Ser Daeron and others would learn not just what those around the Prince of Dorne thought of his visit, but what plans may be underway for the war to come. Aemon, however, would use words and offers to try to make that a war where Dorne played no part.
"My prince, my prince, Sunspear has been sighted." the young cabin boy said as he shook Aemon awake. Ghost lay undisturbed at the end of the bed and it was more than enough to show him that there was no danger.
"Vermithor?"
"Flies overhead, my prince."
"Thank you, Alam, you've broken your fast?"
"I…"
"Go eat and clean your plate, lad. 'tis the only way you'll be strong enough to be a captain of your own ship one day."
"I will, my prince," Alam said running from the room, Aemon smiling at the sight.
The young lad was from a good family on Dragonstone and had been recommended to him by Ser Daeron. Aemon was only too happy to take the lad into his service and surprised when it was at sea and not in the keep that Alam wished to earn his way.
Rising from the bed, Aemon dressed as befitted a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. The thin mail would be worn underneath his clothing and so would not make itself apparent to any who were unaware it was there. Tying his sword belt around his waist, Aemon unsheathed his sword and swung it once, twice, and then thrice in the air. The sword had been a gift from Rhaenyra and while it paled in comparison with the one Aemon had been gifted by her father, it was one he treasured just as much. Dragon's Bite may not be Blackfyre, but Aemon would wager that any who felt its blade would care not for the difference.
A glance at himself in the looking glass, a whistle to wake Ghost up, and then together with the white wolf, Aemon walked out from his cabin and up the stairs that led to the deck of the ship. No sooner had he reached the deck than he was handed some bread and meat along with a mug of milk to break his fast. Aemon chuckled as he took the food from Ser Daeron's hands.
"My father bid you feed me as well as protect me, Daeron." Aemon japed to some smirks from Rodrik and Mychel.
"No, my prince, I was bid do so by your wife."
It wasn't only Aemon who broke his fast on the deck. Ghost too eating the half leg of stag that Mychel had fetched for him. Aemon stood and ate as he looked at Sunspear come more into view. It wasn't a sight he found imposing or spectacular. If anything it was non-descript and a bit of a letdown, with only the Old Palace seeming to be a place of interest. The Shadow City which he'd built up much in his mind, was simply a series of buildings and houses built around the Old Palace.
"It's not much to look at," Aemon said through a mouthful of bread and warmed meat. Hurriedly taking a large swallow of the milk to wash the food down.
"No, yet it's imposing enough in its way, my prince. You'll see more as we travel through the Shadow City itself."
"Will they be expecting us?" Rodrik asked.
"My uncle sent a raven, no doubt they've been watching the seas ever since. They're expecting us, so be at the ready."
"Do you think they'd dare to try something?" Mychel asked and Daeron snorted.
"Not here and not while he flies overhead."
The sight of the Bronze Fury, as it flew over the ship, was a truly majestic one, while the roar it shouted out once it did so was one that Aemon wagered could be heard all through Dorne. He had no doubt that Prince Qoren heard it. Nor that he was well aware of the meaning behind it. Aemon's dragon had just made it clear to one and all that should any harm befall his rider, then Vermithor would see Dorne in flames. Given what Aemon believed he knew about the Prince of Dorne, it was a warning he'd expect the man to take to heart.
'Whether he will my words and my offer, however, only time will tell'
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Aemon attempts to find common ground with the Prince of Dorne while Rhaenyra has words with her stepmother followed by cryptic ones with a dwarf that sends her to seek refuge on Dragonstone. Daemon finds a rival for Laena's hand and deals with him in his own inimitable way. The Three Daughters ready to make their move only to find that Dragons outpace ships and never forgive an attempt to harm their riders as the Second War for the Stepstones begins in earnest.
For those following my other fics, Last Wolf is up next followed by Dark Prince, and a second Last Wolf chapter with Revenge is a Dish in the mix too.
Missed Review:
Chapter 4: Torhelm:
No, it's not to be a recurring thing, more it's a singular event. It's also not supposed to come across as Vermithor being political, understanding ramifications, etc, but is to harken back to Ghost doing the same thing with Jon at the Wall when he leaves to go to Robb's side. Obviously, with it being a dragon it's done differently where Ghost alerted them to Jon's ride, here, Vermithor refuses to take Aemon because he's not supposed to go there at this time, he's needed where he is. It's the dragon understanding the truth of Aemon's heart better than he did at that very moment in time. I thought that would come across given the hints I've been given about Aemon/Jon and the connection between them, apparently, it didn't. But no, it's not a recurring thing, just as Ghost only did this once in canon, so too will Vermithor here.
Do bear in mind, however, the thing people say about dragons being as smart or smarter than people at times too, which Vermithor was showing here as well. Aemon wasn't ready to fight in the Stepstones, one day he will be perhaps. For now, he's needed where he was, and that it benefits him politically is just a bonus
Chapter 8 reviews.:
Lord of Darkness: I hope to have people chomping at the bit to see Cole get his just desserts, let's just say that Aemon certainly will be.
Fireking: I'd love to answer that, but can't for now, other than to say, that Aemon will have a clearer insight into certain things very soon, a chance meeting that will open his third eye even more, I'll leave it at that other than to say, it's with a Northern Lord.
So I always try to make things as logical as I can when it comes to alliances, etc, and yet, I like the ripples of the story to play out and allow for changes to take place. There will be a Dance, it just won't be exactly the same as canon, I can say no more.
Rhatch: Yes, right now that's spot on, whether it will be so come the Dance, we'll see. But things happen, events force change, and allies can be bought or brought to bear in many ways. Actions have consequences, that's all I'll say.
TehStorm: Very much and to me it makes perfect sense that Viserys would promise it to Aemon over Aegon, given he's to be King Consort, but the fact he doesn't actually have the sword, may play into things. It's been promised, but he doesn't have it, so we'll see.
Irish Hermit: So I have plans for just exactly that, however, I don't want to give Aemon almost a free reign with powers, so in some ways they'll be helpful and in others not for the situations he faces himself in, if that makes sense. Soon he'll meet another character who'll help him clear things up, but a lot of it will be of things far off in the future, rather than things in the present, I think that's the best way I can put it without going too far. Well, you called it on the Moon Tea. Exactly, should Aemon wield Blackfyre tied to everything else, there will be very little for the greens to legitimize Aegon as the rightful ruler, he already has little tbh.
CEW: So glad you liked the wedding, and yes, the two are very well-liked and Aemon has proven himself. The Good Queen knew exactly what she was doing and it's just as well, as had she not, then who knows where we'd be now in the story. I do have names picked out for children, won't say which, but some should be easy to figure out. I hated Daemon/Laena in the show, by all accounts there was genuine affection there, love even, and the show made it seem very much not. It's the same with Daemon and his girls, there is much pride in the books and much love for his children, Daemon is a good father, a bad person maybe, but a good father. Here I wanted to show a little of that and we'll see it more when the girls are born. Thanks for saying that about the flight, it was a key moment to show them all together.
Exactly, no way Otto takes this well, and as you see, he's making plans already. As for Alicent, she'll be more than happy that Aegon isn't squiring for Aemon, and will do everything she can to keep the children away from him and Rhaenyra. Aemon will try some outreach with Dorne as he knows full well them joining makes things harder, but he's also thinking long term as you see. As for the Triarchs themselves, they are making their move sooner rather than later.
Dunk: It's not inconceivable to them, but it is illogical which is how they're looking at it, and Aemon tying up the realm only makes that even more so. In some ways he's sort of echoing his Stark ancestry and how they look at the Red Kings, he just doesn't see it the same way or recognize it for that. Events may make them reconsider, but in their mind, they're just laying the groundwork for an easy transition to the Throne. As Viserys' condition worsens, there will be more overt moves. Hope you liked Cole's statement, he tried to do a double one, but only got to do the one and it really isn't something that stands him well. You're right too, Alicent has less control here than canon, but Cole is arrogant enough to think that even were it to come down to it, he'd win a trial by combat, so in some ways he doesn't care.
Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, glad you liked it.
Thehive: Yes, Daemon learned his lesson regarding that, Aemon wasn't best pleased and I think Rhaenys or Corlys would be even less so.
WrysenseofHumour: Welcome back my friend. My main issue with it lately has been I have the chapter ready to go and it just hangs on the update page, not updating and staying there for a couple of hours, then it doesn't go in and I have to restart the process, which means I now have to put aside time to update when it should just take minutes. It's almost as if I'm using dialup for some reason, anyway, it just means I'm behind here and up to date on the other site, which is annoying.
Daemon I think got all the spine lol. Coryls being ambitious is acceptable, too ambitious is not, and as for Cole, god the show really screws around with him making him illogical, killing someone at a feast ffs. Yes, Aemon inherited certain of Jon's traits, while not getting others.
I thought it was a bit soon for Aemon to be on the SC, especially only as a prince, however now he and Rhaenyra are wed, given the war that's coming, afterward things would be different perhaps.
Glad you like the change with Lady Misery, I think she's a fun character underused too often and so Aemon has big plans for her. Yes, I tried to have Cole/Alicent more in line with their book characters, Aemon recognized Cole's lust for Rhaenyra from early on, he just couldn't name it for what it was, until he himself started having such feelings. Aemon would have many suggestions for KL in the future, we'll see if any come to pass. As for Daemon/Laena, again the show sort of downplays that attraction that was there, the genuine affection if not love he felt for her, so here I wanted to hint at that. Oh, glad you noticed that with the Weirwood bow, it was the intention to have it given to him, and will play a part in things to come. Aemon is sort of following some of the strategies you're laying out here, however, his one big failing may be that while he's doing it to forestall issues later, for now, he doesn't truly believe those issues will come up. So in a way, it's sort of like believing the Wall would protect you from the WW, in that, Aemon is taking steps to solidify support, but in truth, he doesn't truly expect a war to come, if he did, the steps he'd take would be far more ruthless.