As always I own nothing,

295 A.C

King's Landing

A crack resonated around the dark alley that Aemon had chosen to apparate in, just below the Dragon Pit. He quickly checked for witnesses but found none before quickly slipping under the invisibility cloak.

Aemon walked out of the alley and began to make his way towards the Street of Silk while making sure to avoid the few still awake at this late hour.

For over two weeks he had been trying to find the perfect moment to ambush Petyr Baelish. But the master of coin was not a negligent man, he took every precaution necessary and whenever out of the Red Keep, could always be found with several guards.

Not that they would be an issue, but in order to succeed, his intervention had to remain completely unnoticed.

That was why he had to do this one alone. And if all went well, neither Arthur nor the others would even notice he had left.

Despite his precautions, it was simply impossible for Littlefinger to account for magic.

And over the past fortnight, Aemon had taken notice of a single moment in which he would have enough time to learn all Baelish knew and modify his memories.

The master of coin had a side business, besides embezzling the crown, he owned quite a few brothels, most. located on the Street of Silk. As well as some that were in the shadier parts of King's Landing. And it was in one of those brothels he stopped every two nights, spending around half an hour there before leaving.

He quietly took position in front of said brothel and waited.

However, the wait was not long, and he soon spotted an escort of three gold cloaks, protecting the man he had been looking for.

As quietly as possible, Aemon followed inside, passing by the two guards who had taken post at the entrance. He had to resist coughing from the perfume that permeated the building.

It was one of the high-end brothels apparently, the furniture was of fine quality, and so were the whore and the clientele, judging by the fancy clothing. Some of the women were barely dressed at all, and whatever clothing they wore left little to the imagination. However, it appeared not only men enjoyed their services. Aemon clenched his jaw as he observed a boy, who could not have been older than two and ten, being led away by a masked woman with the chain on his neck.

Aemon had to remember himself of his mission, he was not here to save those who deserved to be saved. No tonight was about finding out the extent of Littlefinger's betrayal and how he could profit from it.

Though it did not stop him from taking note of this place, while he could understand the need for brothels, he knew that the second he ascended to the throne, he would order all the brothels in the city to be searched and those found to be using children would all be put to the sword, his own. It was one of the few topics he was not willing to compromise on.

Still, Aemon kept following the lithe frame of the master of coin as he followed one of the whores upstairs. Aemon made sure to keep up, lest he lost his target and had to weave around the various customers of the brothel, making sure not to touch a single one of them.

Baelish followed the red-headed whore as she entered one of the rooms, and Aemon quickly slipped inside as Littlefinger's last guard took position in front of the door and closed it, though a second too late.

With a flick of the elder wand, he silenced the room entirely. And before either could fully undress, two jets of red light had them crumple on each other.

A second later, both were bound in thick steel chains, and Aemon secured Littlefinger to a chair, he conjured a thirty-minute timer out of thin air before flicking his wand once more and brown eyes snapped open.

"Guards!" his prisoner screamed immediately, and Aemon could do nothing but chuckle.

"They won't hear you, Petyr," he informed the master of coin who finally took notice of him and his small, cat-like eyes widened.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Both important questions," Aemon smiled, "but given as you won't remember me, the first one doesn't matter, as to what I want, well that's quite simple Petyr,"

"I can give you gold," the man tried, "or whores, I have lots of them, you can have anything you want,"

Aemon laughed, he was not one to enjoy the suffering of others, but some people truly did deserve it, not that Petyr Baelish would hurt even close enough to what he deserved.

"Gold and whores, is that all you can offer?" he snorted, "You see, I care very little for those things, I prefer information,"

"Whatever you need, I'll tell you everything,"

Aemon raised his eyebrows, if he had not been gifted with magic, he might have believed him. "Everything? Well, it's not like you have a choice," he said, bringing his wand to bear, "Imperio,"

Immediately, a yellow-colored smoke erupted from the tip of the elder wand and Baelish watched wide-eyed as it slowly entered his mouth and nostrils, making his eyes take on a glazed look.

"What is your name?"

"Petyr Baelish," he answered in a monotone voice.

"Where were you born?"

"Misthaven Tower in the Vale,"

"And where did you grow up?" Aemon asked the final question to verify that Baelish was well under the spell's influence.

"Riverrun," he answered with the same flat voice.

"Good," he smiled, "now tell me what you know of Alton Waters,"

"He pocked his nose where it was not wanted and I had him killed," Baelish answered simply, and Aemon had to take a deep breath not to break his pathetic face. He had no idea how much damage he had done with this single murder, years of effort all for nothing.

"What did he discover about you?"

For the first time, the master of coin seemed to try and resist the imperius curse, only for Aemon to reinforce his will, "that the gold cloaks are paid almost twice as much as they are supposed to and that I have inflated the price of everything the Red Keep orders and pocketed the difference,"

"Who is aware of this?"

"Janos Slynt and I,"

Aemon frowned, trying to place the name before his eyes widened, of course, the captain of the gold cloaks would be in on it.

"But why?" Aemon asked, before realizing the question was too broad, "Why risk plunging the realm into chaos for gold?"

"Because chaos is a ladder," the answer was delivered with the same flat tone.

"A ladder? What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Only the last war allowed me to rise as I did," Petyr answered. "And only another one will allow me to reach what I seek,"

"So you have no care for all those that would die in a war?" Aemon could not help but ask. "Never mind, don't answer that," he corrected himself, men like him believed themselves above everyone else, they would soon learn how wrong they were. "You think a war will happen?"

"It will," Baelish answered with the same flat tone, completely dispassionate, which only made it creepier.

"How?" Aemon pressed, what did the man know that he ignored?

"Because I will start it,"

His purple eyes widened at this. "How do you plan to start this war?" Aemon asked, with dread in his heart, this man was truly far more dangerous than he could have ever expected.

"With Jon Arryn's death," he answered flatly.

"How will he die? Who would kill him?" he asked, it was the inconvenience of the imperius curse, the questions had to be ultra-precise if you wanted precise answers.

"Poisoned by his wife,"

"And then what happens?" Aemon asked, surely it could not be all, Jon Arryn's death, no matter how much easier it would be, would not be the sole starting point of a war.

"Robert will ask Ned Stark to be his hand to replace him, and Lysa will tell her sister the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn,"

He closed his eyes, Lysa Arryn was the sister of Catelyn Stark. She would trust her blood, and in turn, Eddard Stark would trust his wife.

"Why would they do that?" Aemon asked. Despite how easy it was to happen; it would never be in the Lannister's interest to hurt a man so essential to seeing their blood on the throne.

"Because he will discover none of Robert's children are his,"

Aemon raised his eyebrows at this, others knew then, not that it was that hard to realize once one looked at the children, it was evident they did not have a drop of Baratheon blood in them.

"And then you plan for Lord Stark to discover?" Aemon tried to guess what came next.

"Yes,"

"What would happen then?" he asked, it was truly frightening that this unassuming man could predict people's reactions so precisely, given how quick his rise to power had been, Aemon was intent on believing him, especially when he had no choice but to tell the truth as he knew it.

"Stark is an honorable fool," Baelish began, "he will warn the Queen, to leave her enough time to flee, but she won't, and he will lose his head,"

Aemon sighed, was his uncle truly this clueless? If the woman had been willing to make a cuck out of her husband the king, it was unlikely she would abandon her power so easily, not when her child was so close to the Iron Throne.

"And what about Robert?"

"Cersei will kill him,"

Aemon could not help but chuckle at this, it seemed his enemies were intent on destroying themselves. It was fine with him, as long as he was ready to swoop in and claim his birthright. Littlefinger was right, it would be enough to start a war.

Stannis and Renly Baratheon would fight to ensure that no bastard ascended the throne. The Lannisters would fight to ensure that Jeoffrey did in fact take the Iron Throne. And it was likely the North would join the Baratheons to avenge their lord. Meaning already three of the Seven Kingdoms would be involved in this war, and with the North, came the Riverlands, making it four. The Reach would likely join the side that can offer them a queen, and Dorne would likely remain neutral unless they saw a sure chance to take revenge on the Lannisters. If Lysa Arryn was truly in love with Baelish and killed her husband, it was possible she would avoid the conflict altogether as regent for her son. The mountains of the Vale and the Blood Gate would allow her that.

And just like that, the continent would be thrown into war, they would be lucky if the Ironborns did rebel at the same time. But with all the major houses thrown into war, it was foolish not to expect it.

It would be an all-out war in Westeros. Not something he could allow, but something he could profit from. Aemon was well aware that starting a war to get the Iron Throne would alienate many lords, but the tale was completely different if he swooped down from the sky, riding Starfyre, and instead of starting a war, he ended it and restored peace to the Seven Kingdoms.

Alton might have died for him to learn of this information, but at that moment, he could not help but feel it was maybe for the best.

The buzzing of his wand alerted him to the end of the timer, half an hour had already passed and Baelish's guards would soon expect him.

With a few waves of the elder, Aemon canceled his charm work and ended the imperius curse before stunning him.

"Obliviate," Aemon whispered, and slowly but surely, he erased the memory of their encounter and replaced it with a previous one when Baelish had already been using the services of this particular whore. It was her turn next and as Aemon used a switching spell to undress them, someone knocked on the door.

"My lord?"

"Right," Aemon whispered, checking he forgot nothing, he dispelled the locking charm and turned on his heels, apparating to safety.

295 A.C

King's Landing

Aemon placed his hands on the sharp edges of the glasscandle and winced as he felt it cut into his palms, drawing the blood it needed to function.

"Daenerys Targaryen," he spoke quietly once it began burning, the flame began to shift, and began showing him an image of a girl. No, a young woman, approximately his age, with the silver-gold hair of the Valyrians of old and sharing the same purple eyes as he.

His aunt was no longer on a ship, which meant they had arrived wherever they were going.

She was standing on a balcony, overlooking a bay and Aemon did his best to burn every detail he could see in his mind. Ships from everywhere sailed the bay's azure waters, but what stood out more was the sprawling city occupying the coast, along with the dozens of manses that encircled the bay.

Every detail, tower, dome, and large building he could find was etched in his mind before the glasscandle could burn out.

"Sister,"

Aemon's eyes widened, he could hear them, this was new.

A second later, his uncle entered the flame.

"It has been decided," Viserys sneered.

He could see a tear rolling down Daenerys' cheek. 'What had been decided?'

"You will wed Khal Drogo and he will give me his men to take our home back,"

Aemon gasped and both turned their heads in his direction, and the flame flickered, before going out.

Not willing to lose any time, he quickly grabbed a piece of chalk, finding as usual no wound on his hands, and began to draw. From the manses to the lush jungle behind the large city.

Whoever this Khal Drogo was he could not let it happen.

"Oswell?" he asked, and handed his kingsguard the piece of parchment, "do you recognize it?"

"Pentos," The Black Bat answered, "no doubt,"

"Then we leave on the morrow,"

"Everything ready?" Aemon asked and everyone nodded. "Then let's go,"

He had no idea of the timeline involved in a wedding with a Dothraki horse lord, but he was not willing to let his aunt be sacrificed on the altar of his uncle's foolish ambitions.

He could not imagine how Viserys got into his head that it would be a good idea to ally with Dothrakis. Even if they did attack Westeros, and that was a big if considering Arthur had been sure they had never even come close to crossing the Narrow Sea ever before. It was bound to be a disaster; the horse lords are savages that rape and pillage their way through an entire continent. If they were to even set foot on this side of the Narrow Sea, the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms would raise their banners to beat them back. Did Viserys also want to invite the Wildlings to lay siege to King's Landing?

It seemed his uncle needed to learn a lesson or two, and Aemon was only too happy to oblige, but first, they needed to get there.

Once everyone was out, the trunk was placed on a horse-drawn cart and Aemon discreetly taped the elder wand against the door, locking it.

The streets were still relatively empty at this early hour, and the inhabitants of King's Landing had only begun to wake up.

As they turned to the next street, the horse stopped, there was a child, now older than seven, in the middle of the cobbled street, looking directly at him.

He approached the child, making sure to remain aware of his surroundings.

The young boy pulled out a small scroll and handed it to him, without saying a word. And as soon as he had let go, the child ran away and disappeared in one of the alleys before Aemon had the time to say anything.

"What the fuck…" he whispered and unrolled the parchment.

When night's cloak retreats and first light begin to crest, where waves greet the morn and ships lay at rest, seek the place where seagulls nest. There, by the harbor's bequest, our paths shall intertwine.

A spider that spins his webs

Silently, he passed the message to Arthur, waiting by his side as always.

The spider wanted to meet near the harbor, now, if he understood well, but who was the spider?

"Varys," Arthur answered his unasked question and Aemon nodded gratefully and gestured for them to continue.

They were going to the harbor anyway, and if the master of whisperers wanted to meet, then he would oblige. It was unlikely the man had contacted him if he ignored who he was, how? He had no idea, but then again, Lord Varys was supposed to be the best at what he did.

He needed to find out what the spymaster wanted, and that would only happen if he met him.

"Get on the ship with the others," he spoke quietly to Arthur, "and follow under the cloak,"

Arthur merely nodded in answer, they both knew it was likely they were being watched right now.

It took them less than fifteen minutes to join the harbor, thanks to the crowd-free streets, only to find it very active.

Sailors and fishermen did not obey the same schedule as the rest. Still, it took them just another minute to join the HMS Victory, whose crew was also busy charging its merchandise.

The large ship had arrived only a sennight ago and they had had the captain stay a few more nights, first for what he believed would be a trip to White Harbor but had now changed.

"Take the crate in my cabin," he asked and immediately, Jaremy and Roland set to the task, with Arthur following behind. "I need to meet with him," he handed the scroll to Oswell.

"Varys," the knight narrowed his eyes, "Arthur will be coming?"

"Under the cloak," Aemon nodded and Brienne frowned.

"The cloak?" she asked.

"I have a cloak that makes you invisible, I'll show you later," he explained, "I need you both to guard the trunk,"

"We will," Oswell said and the blonde warrior nodded, "be careful, Varys was the reason your father couldn't use Harrenhal as he meant, never trust him,"

"I know," Aemon nodded and he heard the wooden plank crack when no one was on it. "Tell the captain to be ready, we leave as soon as I get back,"

He turned around sure that his faithful kingsguard was following, and immediately spotted another child looking straight at him, only this one began to walk once he had caught his eyes, and Aemon quickly followed.

The child led them up a street and turned left almost immediately, Aemon had to quicken his steps to keep up.

He pointed to a door on their left, and without saying a word, was gone.

"Homenium revelio," he flicked his wand discreetly and two figures appeared, one standing much taller and prouder than the other one. "You can take off the cloak, Arthur," he said to the empty streets and his kingsguard reappeared. "I think Barristan is here,"

With Alton gone and the wedding of his aunt to prevent, he had lacked the time to meet with the Bold or even tell him he was in town. Aemon sheathed his wand back in his holster, and like Arthur, kept his hand closed on the pommel of his sword before entering the wooden building.

As he had guessed, Ser Barristan Selmy stood in the middle of the room, cloaked, but recognizable enough the older knight's eyes widened as he spotted them, and he immediately fell to his knees.

"Your gr-," he began but Aemon stopped him with a shake of his head.

"I'm honored to finally meet you Ser," Aemon said, offering his hand, "but it is neither the place nor the time, and call me Aemon,"

"You- Aemon," Barristan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, "the honor is mine, I had hoped Alton would…"

"He was murdered," Aemon shook his head, despite the knowledge he had gained, his death was a waste, "I'm sure Arthur can tell you what happened," he nodded to his kingsguard.

"Lord Varys," he acknowledged with a short nod, keeping a healthy distance from one of the most dangerous men in the realm.

Warnings about the eunuch had been regular and numerous, either coming from his mother or his kingsguards. They all insisted he was not someone to trust, ever, but that he was also the best spymaster there was.

They said he had plans upon plans, schemes that went beyond a normal man's comprehension. And that much like the insect that gave him his surname, his plans always had too many layers to count.

"Your grace," The bald man bowed, keeping his hands tucked in his long sleeves. "Ser,"

"Spider," Arthur sneered.

"Aemon," he insisted, "for now, at least, I'm sure you and Barristan have a lot to catch up on,"

His kingsguard nodded and led his former brother to another room.

"Aemon," Varys nodded, his name rolling off his tongue. "But you do not deny it…"

Marwyn too had warned him off, saying the man's spy network was unparalleled and that to this day, he ignored how the eunuch gathered his intel. Though given the recent experience, he was starting to believe the eunuch used children to learn everything he did, and Aemon could not help but feel it was probably the smartest way to spy he had ever heard of, after all, who paid attention to children?

"You don't strike me as a man who would believe me if I did," Aemon snorted. "Nor would you have asked me here if you ignored the truth,"

Varys' lips twitched but he nodded nonetheless.

"And yet you have not brought any to arrest me," Aemon observed. "As a man loyal to his king should,"

While the spymaster had served his grandfather, he now served Robert Baratheon.

"You have yet to ask a question," Varys remarked.

"Am I not the one who was invited here, my lord?" Aemon said, raising his eyebrows.

Varys conceded his point with a nod.

"Are you fond of riddles, Aemon?"

Aemon narrowed his eyes, not particularly, but he could tell one was coming regardless, and as such, he nodded.

"Three great men sit in a room, a prince, a lord, and the second son of another lord, between them stand a beautiful maiden. The third man is her brother and the other two wish to marry her, who do you think should she wed?" he asked, sipping his cup as he finished.

Aemon narrowed his eyes, "Whomever she wishes to,"

"A peculiar opinion, wouldn't you agree?" Varys said and Aemon shrugged. While he was well aware that gender equality was not on most people's minds in this time and age, it did not mean he had to forego his beliefs. "But what if the maiden was betrothed to the lord?"

"Then to the second man," he answered, gritting his teeth, he knew where this was going.

"Even if she loves the first and is loved by that same person?"

Aemon clenched his jaw but nodded.

"And yet here you stand…"

"Love has a strange way of affecting the world around us, Lord Varys," Aemon answered, sipping some more of his wine.

"Indeed, it does,"

"Now tell me why I should not gut you for betraying my father's intentions to the Mad King," Aemon said, casually pulling out the dagger that never left his waist, his uncle had had many things to say about the Spyder. Including this part about Rhaegar gathering a host in the hope of overthrowing his mad father and his failure when said king had showed up flanked by the eunuch himself.

"You could," Varys bowed his head, smirking, "Or you could listen to the songs I have heard and sung myself,"

"Songs?" Aemon frowned.

"Indeed," Varys gave him a creepy smile, "There was a song in particular that had not spread beyond the walls of the Red Keep, the one of the king's madness."

Aemon raised his eyebrows, of course, the insanity of his grandfather was well-known, one did not get the moniker of Mad King without due cause after all.

"For you see, ever since the defiance of Duskendale, his grace had not left his residence, and thus, few had witnessed his slow decay into insanity. The prince, while well-intentioned had not accounted for this."

"So what? You sought to use the tourney at Harrenhal to have every lord and lady of the realm learn of Aerys' madness?"

Varys tilted his head, "I see you have a keen mind,"

"Flattery will not serve with me, Lord Varys," Aemon warned him, "I would rather hear what you have to say."

"Of course, your grace," Varys smiled and bowed, "you have guessed right, and I would have been successful had the prince not crowned Lyanna Stark as his queen of love and beauty,"

Aemon clenched his fist around the dagger, although he had proof Rhaegar had been granted a second marriage, he could not figure out why either Elia or Lyanna would agree to it.

The fact that his mother had been much younger than Rhaegar was not lost either. Having a child at that age was bound to cause problems, even more for twins, it was no wonder she had died in childbirth if he was honest with himself.

"And in one move, he insulted Dorne, the North, and the Stormlands,"

"The past is the past Lord Varys, I'm sure you would agree there is nothing we can do about it," Aemon leaned forward, his hand resting on his dagger, "how about you tell me the real reason for my invitation."

"Indeed, it is as you say, the past is the past," Varys said, "and yet it is those events that have led both of us here today, wouldn't you agree?"

Aemon conceded his point with a nod.

"At the end of the Rebellion, I heard many songs about the fate of Lyanna Stark, about how her brother, gone with six of his bannermen, only came back with one, the bones of his sister, and the bastard son of his dead brother, only for my little birds to sing of a certain Black Bat seen in many a city, a man whom honorable Ned Stark claimed to have slain, along with his brothers."

Aemon clenched his jaw, so this was it, how Varys had found out.

"And finally, imagine my surprise, when I heard songs of a young man with purple eyes meeting Marwyn the Mage, only to be next seen in Lannisport, days before Amory Lorch met his end…"

"I can imagine it would have been surprising," Aemon drawled, "enough with the riddles, Varys, tell me what it is you want,"

"Merely to remind you of your servant's continued loyalty," Varys bowed his head.

"Loyalty is proven, not reminded," Aemon snorted.

"Indeed," the spymaster smiled, "but I would assume you required my services, considering your recent loss…"

"You knew of Alton," Aemon stated with narrowed eyes. He could not say Varys was wrong, he needed a spy network, and he would never have the time to recreate the one Alton had, not quick enough for it to matter in any way.

"Many did," Varys answered, "though few could figure out his allegiance,"

Aemon hummed, "Few?"

"I would be wary of the Queen of Thornes, who has uncovered a most interesting diary of the previous High Septon,"

Aemon felt his heart sink in his stomach, had High Septon Maynard left a recording of his parents' wedding?

"And Littlefinger was the one to order his murder,"

"I am aware," Aemon smiled, if the eunuch truly sought to prove his loyalty, he would have to do better. Littlefinger was a threat, but now that he was aware of his plans, one that could be contained and turned into an opportunity. "But as you're offering," he smiled, "I would be interested in meeting the Mountain that rides,"

Varys bowed his head, "then I shall learn of his location, but I would also offer a warning for your next destination,"

Aemon narrowed his purple eyes, how did he know? "A warning?"

"About your uncle," Varys nodded, "I have heard naught but concerning songs,"

"He will be contained," Aemon nodded, he would not become a kinslayer, but neither could he allow another mad Targaryen to run around free to torment whomever he wished. "Why would you help me, Varys?" Aemon could not help but ask. "Who is it you serve?"

"Why I serve no one but the realm, your grace," Varys smiled, "and it is my hope that when you shall stake your claim, you will think of the realm first,"

"I already do," Aemon answered, there were lots of things he intended to do to improve the condition of the Smallfolk, who after all made up most of the realm, his first project would be King's Landing, the city was truly disgusting, and it was in high need of major works.

"And I do not believe it to be in the realm's best interest to have dragon blood spilled any further by the king's hired blades,"

"He sent more?" Aemon paled, he truly needed to get there as fast as possible.

"Continuously," the eunuch bowed, "his hate for your blood knows no bounds,"

"Then I'm afraid I must take my leave,"

"Of course," Varys nodded, "I shall contact you,"

"Until next time then, Varys," Aemon nodded and the master of whisperers walked back inside the shadows before disappearing.

"Arthur?" he called and a second later, both he and Barristan walked in.

Though he was old for a knight, Barristan the Bold looked no less formidable. And any man that deemed him not a threat because of his age forgot an essential fact, he had survived in a profession where men usually died young.

"Ser," Aemon began, "I am aware your current task is not to your taste,"

"It is fine, your..."

"Please, Ser," Aemon interrupted him, "I know it is not the best use of your talents, but with Alton dead…" he sighed, "I cannot trust Varys, and I cannot stress the importance of your role,"

"Anything you ask of me shall be my command," Barristan simply bowed his head, "I cannot wait to be by your side, but I understand,"

"I thank you, Ser," he smiled, "and I assure you that next time we meet, you shall take your oath and join your brothers once more,"

Barristan bowed deeply, and Aemon could not help but feel his heart swell at the loyalty shown by such a man.

"Farewell, Ser Barristan,"

"May the Seven watch over you, Aemon," the knight smiled and bowed once more before clasping Arthur's forearm and both men exchanged a few quiet words before Barristan took his leave.

"Come on, Arthur," Aemon urged him on, "time to find my aunt and uncle,"

295 A.C

Starfall

Mother,

I am well, and so are Arthur and the rest. We have just arrived at Oldtown, we will stay at the Quill and Tankard Inn first, but I want to begin searching the Citadel's library at first light, I hope we find something soon.

Love,

Aemon

Mother,

As always, I am well, do not worry, but someone has tried to have me poisoned. We took care of it, and they no longer pose a threat, but I fear something far more sinister is afoot, I think my father was right not to trust the maesters. I am waiting for someone, Marwyn the Mage, an archmaester, but one that I think might want to help me. I hope you and Alysanne are well,

Love,

Aemon

Mother,

We have made it to the Westerlands, and Arthur and I visited the Manticore's Nest last night. I gave Rhaenys her justice, I hope you do not think badly of me for this. I have also sent a gift to the Martells, I do not know if they will understand who it is from, but just in case, be prepared for a visit.

Love,

Aemon

Mother,

I visited the Ruby Fork a few days ago, a lot of things don't make sense to me, but I guess it doesn't matter, the past is the past. We've met a warrior on the road, one I think you'd like, Lady Brienne of Tarth, she's as tall as Arthur, though not as strong or skilled, yet. We should arrive in King's Landing in ten days or so, I hope you are all well.

Love,

Aemon

Mother,

Alton was killed, by Petyr Baelish, I've talked with him and he revealed his plans to me. We'll talk more in person but he offers an opportunity, a better one than I ever expected. Brienne won the melee, and Robert shamed her, she'll be joining us as we travel to Pentos, I think I'm finally going to find them.

Love,

Aemon

She had received frequent updates since her son's departure, it was more than her sister could say about her son, and yet it was not enough. Learning that someone had tried to have her son killed had made her blood boil with rage, one she had seldom known, and she had wished she could have been there to make sure they would indeed pose no further threat to her boy's life.

Ashara had wept when she read about what he had done to Amory Lorch, not out of pity for Rhaenys' murderer but for her son's big heart, who cared far more than most people and yet would be forced to act against people so vile that he had to inflict punishment on them.

And she had smiled at learning he was meeting new, worthwhile people.

Though the last message had perturbed her the most. Ashara could not pretend to have known the spymaster well, but his death meant years of effort had all been for naught. Still, what could Petyr Baelish have said that it would present an opportunity? She remembered the insipid little man at Harrenhal, leering at her like most men. The only noteworthy fact about him then had been that he was a ward of Lord Holster Tully. Then she could remember hearing about Brandon's duel over the hand of the trout of Riverrun, as she and Elia had taken to call Catelyn Tully. It seemed he had gone a long way since then, it begged the question as to how. People simply did not ascend to such a position from such a low station, and when they did, there was always an interesting story behind it.

Still, neither Petyr Baelish's ascension to the position of master of coin nor the opportunity he presented was the reason why she had found her way to the precious messenger book Aemon had gifted her.

No, it was caused by the sails bearing the Martell sigil that had been spotted as the sun was setting on the horizon.

And so, Ashara anxiously waited for an answer, praying to the Old Gods that he would have his book nearby.

The book glowed and Ashara sighed before flipping it open.

I trust you.

Her chest filled with warmth at reading those words. Still, the Martells could not be far, her sister would have gone to greet them, she quickly stashed the book, and as fast as she could in her silk, purple dress, joined the entrance hall, just in time to see the doors open, to reveal her sister, accompanied by people she had ignored if she would see them again.

"Ashara…" Oberyn Martell breathed out, his dark eyes widening in surprise. "You're alive…"

"My prince, my lady," she curtsied to the Prince of Dorne and his long-term paramour. She was taken by surprise as Ellaria hugged her, with tears in her eyes.

"How?" Oberyn asked, "We heard you killed…"

"Perhaps it is best if we move inside," her sister offered and Ashara gave her a grateful smile.

"Of course, my lady," Ellaria agreed, pulling on her paramour's arm.

"Sister, I'm sorry…" Ashara began once they had retreated inside the castle's safety.

"Please, I'm sure the Prince and you have a lot to discuss," she gave her a pointed look and Ashara nodded. She too was of the opinion they were better served with at least one of the Martells knowing the truth, but that was not something she could have decided on her own. "We'll have time to talk at supper, if the Prince and Lady Ellaria would join us, of course,"

"It would be a pleasure," Ellaria once more answered, giving her own pointed look to her paramour, which seemed to be enough to break him from his staring.

"Follow me," Ashara offered, "we should go somewhere more private,"

Oberyn only nodded and gestured for her to lead and they silently made their way to the topmost garden, the one that used to house dragons. Only nobody would be able to tell the difference with the incredible magic Aemon possessed.

"Dana," she called the woman Oswell had saved some three years ago.

It had taken some time for her to get over the experience, and since then, she had been most dutiful.

"My lady?"

"Could you bring some of our wine, and the letters in the right topmost drawer of my desk,"

"Yes, my lady, right away," she answered and quickly went to see to her tasks.

"What is this?" Oberyn asked, looking as tense as she could ever remember seeing him.

"Please, my prince," Ashara tried, gesturing to the chairs, "we should wait for Dana,"

Once more, it took Ellaria's intervention to have the dornish prince comply.

A tense silence ensued, with Oberyn all but glaring at her, and she felt incredibly grateful for Dana's quick arrival only a couple of minutes later.

"Thank you, Dana, you may go,"

"My prince, my ladies," she bowed and once more was quickly gone.

Oberyn crossed his arms and waited.

"I faked my death," Ashara sighed, "We found a woman, recently dead, with dark hair, and her body was thrown from the Palestone Sword Tower,"

"Why?"

Ashara gulped, "It was necessary, to protect the Targaryen bloodline,"

"My niece and nephew are dead, they were slaughtered by…"

"Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch, on Tywin Lannister's orders, I know what happened to them," Ashara clenched her jaw, she still had nightmares of it. "But it is not them that I talk about,"

"Viserys and Daenerys?" Ellaria asked, confused, "you have them?"

"No," Ashara answered, "I am talking of a lie that was told to the entire realm, that Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her,"

A deathly silence followed her proclamation, but she kept going.

"You knew the prince," Ashara looked directly into Oberyn's dark eyes, "not well, but you knew him," he nodded, "and you think he would be the type of man that abducts and rape?"

"No, he would not, Rhaegar Targaryen was pretty enough that maidens threw themselves at him," Ellaria answered with a smile.

Ashara silently handed them one of the letters that had been contained in Lyanna's chest, the wedding certificate delivered by High Septon Maynard for the wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Both had their eyes widen as they read one of the most precious pieces of parchment in the Seven Kingdoms, well, a copy of it.

"Is this an insult?" He narrowed his eyes and began to rise from his chair when his paramour once more intervened.

"Please, my love, I wish to know the rest,"

"He took Lyanna Stark as his second wife, but he also made sure the line of succession was clear," she handed them another parchment, this one completely worthless, but proof the Martells were not to be robbed of anything. "But the reason why I faked my death is because Ned Stark came back from the Tower of Joy, with Arthur and Ser Oswell, and a baby, his name is Aemon,"

The tension could be felt in the air, and she knew from the glint in Oberyn's dark eyes that he was angered.

"And what do you want from us? Are we supposed to be grateful Rhaegar shamed Elia? That a babe lived when by right, another should have?"

"How dare you?" Ashara spat, "You shame her memory."

"You barely-,"

"I barely knew her? Is that what you were going to say, my prince?" She sneered at his title. "Was it not I who stayed by her side in that viper's pit? Or was it you who comforted Elia when little Aegon went from one sickness to another? Or when she realized she would never find happiness in King's Landing? As I remember, it was I, while you went off gallivanting across Dorne and Essos, spreading your seed as far and wide as you possibly could."

"I… I…" Oberyn seemed lost for words, "I am sorry,"

"Yes, you are," Ashara confirmed harshly, "Elia would have loved him, she would have cared for him as if he was one of her own. And if you doubt that, then you truly didn't know your sister,"

The silence felt overwhelming at that moment, yet Ashara knew it was time to hammer the nail a final time.

"So yes, you should be grateful for Aemon," She answered his question, "You should be grateful that cares so much that he calls them his siblings, in the five and ten years since they were murdered what have you done? Besides plotting and scheming? Nothing, while Aemon has already delivered you the head of Rhaenys' murderer, as soon as he was able, he did it,"

"Please, Ashara," Ellaria said, coming to the rescue of her now distraught paramour.

She stopped, feeling both bold and stupid for how she had talked to him, yet it needed to be said, but prouder men than Oberyn Martell had taken offense for far less.

"Can we talk on the morrow?" The dornish prince asked, looking emotionally exhausted.

"Of course, my prince,"

"Please, join me, my prince, my lady," Ashara gestured to the waiting seats, she had arranged for fresh fruits to be carried to the topmost garden, along with some bread and olive oil.

They broke their fast chatting about more common subjects and Ashara was happy to learn Oberyn had been blessed with many children, and that most of all, he took care of them. Despite the lessened stigma bastards suffered in Dorne, most lords still refused to have a hand in raising their illegitimate children.

"They are not all your daughters?" Ashara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, only four," Ellaria chuckled, "But I expect you know how it is, do you not?"

Ashara nodded, a small smile on her lips, "I do, without Aemon, I-," she took a deep breath, "rumors of my death would not have been only rumors if he had not arrived when he did,"

The prince's paramour lay a comforting hand above hers.

"I had a child," Ashara said, it was one of the only times she had raised the subject in the past decade and a half, "from Brandon Stark, he was stillborn,"

A tear rolled down her cheek at the memory of her precious boy, in some ways, Aemon had taken his place, and she hated to think about what would have happened if he had not.

"But Aemon," she wiped her cheek, "he's everything I could have ever wanted my child to be, he was blessed with the most gifted mind I have ever seen, and Arthur gushes constantly about his swordplay," she chuckled, of course, he did not do it while in Aemon's earshot. "He's sweet and caring, most of all for those who cannot care for themselves, but he's also ruthless when necessary, and he won't hesitate to do what is needed,"

"You want him on the Iron Throne," Oberyn stated, though she could not tell whether he was enthused by the idea or not.

"I do," Ashara confirmed shamelessly, she had heard plenty of what kind of king Robert Baratheon was, and while the seven kingdoms held for now, it was unlikely to continue in the advent of his death.

"And does he?" Ellaria asked.

She nodded, "Did you know the servants of the Red Keep call Joffrey Aerys reborn?"

Both Oberyn and his paramour shared a shudder at this, "Dorne is aware of the concerning behavior of the Stag's heir, but he would start a war over this?"

Ashara breathed deeply, this would be the point of contention for many lords across the realm. The last war was a recent affair, and many had lost much, few would be willing to go to war once more. She suspected the presence of dragons would turn the tide for many, but that was not something she wanted to divulge now, they had to choose Aemon for himself, not for his dragons.

"It will not be a matter of whether or not he starts a war, not when the Usurper has no legitimate heir,"

Her sentence was followed by nothing but silence until Oberyn began to laugh, "Not one of them is his?"

Ashara shook her head, and her wavy-shoulder-length dark hair shook with it.

"How do you know?" Ellaria asked whilst Oberyn kept laughing louder and louder.

"Because Jaime Lannister was their father,"

"The fat stag is a cuck," Oberyn roared with laughter and Ashara could not help but chuckle along, it was ironic if nothing else, "this is your revenge, Elia," he spoke, looking up at the dornish blue sky.

"There was something else," she handed them the second letter, the only one that had not been unsealed, "for you,"

"What is this?" Oberyn asked, having calmed, but reluctant to take the letter, as he no doubt recognized the writing on top of it.

"It was left in a trunk, with Lyanna, along with the proofs of Aemon's claim," Ashara smiled sadly, she had been tempted to open it, but as in many cases, her son had been right, this was not theirs to open, no matter how tempting it was.

"You haven't read it?" Oberyn asked, voice thick with emotion, his fingers waiting to tear the seal open.

"Aemon was adamant it was for you or your brother to do so,"

It was enough to have the prince tear it open and begin to hungrily read what was likely among the last words his sister had ever written. His paramour mouthed a silent thank you as she held firmly onto his arm, ready to offer what comfort she could.

She kept silent, patiently waiting for the man to get his emotions under control, and soon enough Oberyn passed the letter to Ellaria, before wiping his cheeks clean.

"Thank you," he bowed his head, and she could only give him a small smile. Once his paramour was done, he handed her the letter, and Ashara did her best to mask her surprise, she had not expected Oberyn to wish to share it, and it would have been his right not to do so.

My dearest brothers,

I apologize for the shortness of my words, but Rhaegar must leave quickly, and I ignore if it will be possible to write another letter.

As the days go by, I think it is less and less likely we will come out of this war as victors. I dread to think what will happen to Aegon and Rhaenys should Rhaegar not return victorious. It is why it is more important than ever that you know the truth from my own hand. Aegon is getting sicklier by the day, even more than I ever was, and no matter how much I pray, I do not think it possible for him to survive to adulthood, much less to such a time when he will rule the Seven Kingdoms.

Rhaegar and I have made a decision, and he has taken Lyanna Stark as his second wife, the Targaryen bloodline must be secured, I do not have the time to explain this, but there is a reason why Aegon the First sought to conquer Westeros, one Rhaegar expects you will learn of in your own lifetimes.

Should my fears prove correct, and should we perish, I implore you, Doran, Oberyn, to see reason, and to rise above the slight you surely feel and know, that I would have loved their child as if he was my own, treat him as your own nephew.

With my eternal love,

Princess Elia Martell, a proud daughter of Dorne

Ashara could not help but shed a tear at the end of the letter, Elia Martell truly had a heart of gold, perhaps one too good for the cruel world they lived in.

"He intends to bring down the Mountain?" Oberyn asked with a fire burning bright in his black eyes.

"He and all those responsible for what befell his family, including Tywin Lannister," Ashara answered with steel in her voice.

"Then I would like to meet with him," Oberyn answered.

"As do I," Ellaria chuckled, "if he looks anything like his father, he will be candy for the eyes,"

Oberyn playfully swatted his paramour's hips at this and Ashara could not help but chuckle, despite the original tension, she was truly glad to see them once more, after all those years.

"And if he can truly deliver the mountain and Tywin to justice," Oberyn began, once more with fire in his eyes, "House Targaryen will have my spear,"

"What about the rest of the dornish spears?" Ashara asked, while one, especially as vicious and talented as the red viper was good news, there were over twenty thousand of them in Dorne.

"I must meet with him," Oberyn reiterated, "My brother will not be as easily swayed, he will look for what Dorne can win,"

"As he should," Ashara nodded, it was the role of any true lord or lady.

"And my niece is…"

"I remember Arianne," Ashara chuckled, remembering with fondness the small princes she had met once on Dragonstone, coming with her uncle to visit her cousins.

"The princess has changed a lot," Ellaria smiled, "in some ways it is more apparent than others,"

"I imagine she has," Ashara bowed her head, they had all changed. "As to meeting him, Aemon is traveling with Arthur and Ser Oswell, he was in King's Landing recently, but I will see what I can do if you can stay some more,"

"We will," Oberyn answered, "I had been meaning to visit Starfall for a long time anyway,"

"Then Starfall and House Dayne will be happy to accommodate you, my prince," Ashara smiled. It was not yet an alliance, but they were closer to one than they had been the day before, much closer.

I hope you liked it, don't hesitate to review or follow. As I said in earlier chapters, this will be the last of the weekly update as I'm running out of written chapters, the goal is to keep it to at least once a month though if I happen to write more and faster than anticipated, then I'll post. See you soon,