Aemon the Dragonwolf

by Fennial

Arthur Dayne has killed Ned Stark beneath the Tower of Joy. With one last promise to Lyanna Stark to look after her only son, how will the Sword of The Morning raise the last scion of House Targaryen to retake the Iron Throne and restore the house of the dragon.

24. The Rose and The Dragon

Highgarden: 298 AC: 1 Week Later:

Margaery Tyrell

Margaery Tyrell awoke to the gentle caress of sunlight streaming through the delicate silk drapes of her chamber. The room, adorned with lush tapestries depicting scenes of blooming gardens and serene landscapes, felt like an extension of the verdant paradise outside the walls of Highgarden. The scent of roses—her favorite flower—filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the herb garden below.

As she opened her eyes, Margaery gazed upon the intricately carved wooden ceiling, a masterpiece of craftsmanship that showcased the Tyrell family's wealth and appreciation for beauty. She stretched languidly, feeling the softness of the silk sheets against her skin, a luxury she never took for granted. Outside, the sounds of the bustling castle grounds began to stir. Servants hurried to and fro, preparing for the day's activities, while the distant clatter of armor signaled the morning drills of the guards. The melody of birdsong, a natural symphony that accompanied every dawn in Highgarden, provided a soothing backdrop to the morning's awakening.

Rising from her bed, Margaery crossed the room to the large, arched windows overlooking the sprawling gardens. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking—rows upon rows of vibrant flowers in full bloom, their colors a riotous celebration of life and nature's bounty. The sun's rays bathed the landscape in a golden glow, casting a serene and almost magical aura over the scene.

With a contented sigh, Margaery turned back to her chamber, where her handmaidens awaited her. She smiled softly as they entered her chambers, their footsteps gently tapping against the polished wood floor beneath them.

"Good morning, my Lady," The prettiest of her handmaidens bowed respectfully, her voice quiet and charming.

"Good morning." Margaery smiled.

As Margaery stood by the arched windows of her chamber, her handmaidens busied themselves with the ritual of dressing their lady. The soft murmur of their voices, like a chorus of loyal confidantes, filled the room with a sense of serene companionship.

They began by allowing Maegaery to pick out a soft green and gold dress, the colors reminding her of her ancient house, one that she sought to represent. She allowed her handmaidens to lace a gold necklace around her thin and delicate neck. She smiled as she saw the golden rose dangle loosely atop her breast, a constant reminder of her loyalty.

Smiling at her handmaidens once more, she strode out of her chambers, her handmaidens curtsying as she walked by them. Walking through the halls and corridors of Highgarden, she passed smiling guards and respectful maidens, graced them all with her presence, and her mind turned to the tasks she had to do today. She first had a small meeting with her grandmother, Olenna.

Margaery adored her grandmother, and she knew she was her protege. For years, she had spent honing Margaery's mind into a fearsome weapon of intrigue to prepare her for the role she was bound to play in the game of thrones. Truthfully, she was thankful for it all, as she knew not what dim-witted girl she would be, swaying to the whims and wishes of those more powerful than her.

As she approached her grandmother Olenna's solar, Margaery felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Olenna, the formidable and wise matriarch of House Tyrell, had summoned her for a private conversation. She knew her grandmother's words would be filled with strategic insights and sharp wit.

As she knocked on the door, she heard Olenna's stern and heavy voice beckoning her to enter. Entering the solar, Margaery found Olenna seated by the window, her piercing eyes already fixed on her granddaughter. The room was bathed in warm light, and the comforting presence of her grandmother made Margaery feel at ease.

"Grandmother," Margaery smiled, as she sat before the Queen of Thornes, a name well earned.

"Margaery, we have much to discuss," Olenna smirked, her sharp eyes following her granddaughter. Margaery couldn't help but notice the two giant guardsmen that stood behind Olenna, both of whom were referred to as Left and Right by her grandmother, due to her being unable to tell them apart. Margaery knew that they would be here, as they never left her Grandmother's side.

"Is this about the betrothal to the Crown Prince?" Margaery asked. Her mind had weighed heavy on the recent news that Olenna was planning to betrothed Margaery to Prince Joffrey. She had heard terrible stories and tales of him, and his unimaginable cruelty, and she would be a mummer if she claimed she was not nervous about the prospect of marrying such a boy.

"Of course, it is, dear," Olenna replied, her frail and speckled hands holding out a piece of parchment for Margaery to take and read.

Margaery read the parchment, the words widening her eyes and causing her to quickly put the paper down on the table. "So soon?" Margaery gasped, her shock clear.

"Indeed, Margaery." Olenna nodded, as she reached over and took the parchment in her skeletal hands.

"But would Robert even accept such a proposal, Grandmother? Our history in the rebellion..."

"Don't be so stupid, dear. Times have changed and after House Lannister, we are the second most powerful house with an extremely beautiful bride for his son."

"But...I've heard stories about him Grandmother...Terrible things..."

"You mean to tell me you're afraid of him?"

"No. I'm not."

"Good. I understand your nervousness, dear, but you must learn to control him and his...appetites."

"I understand, Grandmother."

"You should. Now we will send this proposal right away. Once we go to the King's tournament, it'll give you a chance to get a truer measure of the boy."

"Of course, Grandmother."

Before any more words could be spoken between the pair, the air was suddenly filled with a low, rumbling roar that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of Highgarden. Both women paused, their eyes meeting in silent concern. Margaery turned her head slightly, trying to discern the source of the sound. "What in the Seven Hells was that?" she murmured, a mixture of curiosity and unease in her voice.

Olenna's expression hardened, her sharp gaze darting to the window. "Something's approaching," she said, her voice steady but laced with tension. "And it doesn't sound like anything I've heard before."

The roar grew louder, more insistent, sending a shiver down Margaery's spine. She moved to the window, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the mysterious disturbance. The usually serene landscape of Highgarden seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for whatever was coming.

In the distance, a shadow began to grow, a dark shape moving swiftly through the sky. Margaery's heart raced as she realized the enormity of the creature approaching.

Aemon Targaryen

As Aemon soared through the skies on Vaedar's back, the wind whipping through his hair and the world spread out below him like a vast tapestry, he felt an exhilarating rush of power. The black dragon beneath him moved with the grace and strength of a predator, its scales shimmering in the sunlight. He could feel the dragon's muscles tensing and relaxing with each beat of its wings, a rhythmic cadence that mirrored his own heartbeat.

Arthur, his steadfast companion, sat securely behind him, his gaze scanning the horizon. Their destination, Highgarden, loomed closer with every passing second, its sprawling beauty and vibrant greenery a stark contrast to the dark presence of Vaedar. Aemon smiled as he imagined the awe and fear Vaedar inspired in the people below, and he wondered if this is what Aegon the Conqueror must have felt when he first flew westwards to the squabbling Kingdoms of Westeros.

As they approached the fortress, Aemon could see the tiny figures below gathering en masse to witness his passing. He could see the mass groups of shining guards being formed into formations and marched out of the gates of the castle, whereas archers lined the walls, perceiving Aemon's arrival as a threat.

"There, Aemon!" Arthur yelled from behind. "Land there, in that clearing!"

Aemon nodded. "Tegon Vaedar, konīr, va se parmon!" He yelled, as Vaedar immediately began leering toward the verdant plains before them.

Vaedar landed with as much grace and decorum as a dragon of his size could manage, his claws and feet sinking into the soft soil beneath him. Aemon and Arthur clambered down the side of Vaedar, the dragon rumbling as they did so. Aemon could hear the gentle cracking of bones as he and Arthur walked to the front of the dragon, Vaedar's red eyes watching them both all the while.

"Getting old, Arthur?" Aemon asked, his smile now fully present.

"No. Just dragon riding makes me stiff." Arthur smirked as he stretched. "Are they coming?"

"I'd imagine so. It'd be hard to not take notice of us."

"Hm," Arthur grunted, as his deep blue eyes scanned the horizon before he pointed at the approaching mass of heavily armored soldiers approaching them. "There, Aemon."

The ground beneath Aemon's feet vibrated with the steady, rhythmic march of the Highgarden garrison. As the soldiers approached in well-disciplined formation, the clinking of their armor grew louder, resonating through the courtyard. It was a symphony of metal and determination, a testament to the Tyrells' readiness to defend their home.

Aemon's eyes flickered to the advancing troops, noting the precision of their movements and the resolute expressions on their faces. These were seasoned warriors, loyal to their house and prepared for any threat.

Beside him, Arthur stood tall and unflinching, as he unsheathed Dawn, its milk glass blade glimmering in the sunlight. Aemon noticed how Arthur pointed the blade at the ground, his firm hands resting gently on the iconic pommel as a sign that they were not a threat to the approaching soldiers. Behind them, Vaedar let out a low rumbling growl, his deep red eyes fixed on the approaching soldiers. The dragon's presence reassured Aemon as he knew that these soldiers would not be foolish enough to harm them with him standing guard at their back.

As the garrison drew closer, the leader of the formation rode forward atop a white horse, his gaze unwavering as he addressed Aemon and Arthur. "You stand before Highgarden," he declared, his voice firm and authoritative. "State your purpose."

"I am Aemon Targaryen. Son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen, and I am here to make you an offer. May I have the pleasure of knowing who I address?"

Aemon could see his words unsteady the dark-haired man atop the horse. "I am Garlan Tyrell..." Garlan replied, the nervousness almost present in his voice as his eyes took in the sight of the mighty black dragon that stood unwavering behind Aemon. "Who is this man with you?"

"Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning." Aemon proudly announced.

Aemon could hear the soft murmurs of voices emerging in the ranks of the Tyrell soldiers, Arthur's presence apparently having an effect on them all.

"Ser Arthur Dayne?" Garlan gasped. "But...the stories...you fled to Essos."

"And I have returned, Ser Garlan," Arthur replied, commanding respect.

"Why? What is your purpose?" Garlan asked, looking intensely at Aemon.

"I have come to reclaim my birthright stolen from me by the usurper that lounges on my throne. Your house fought for my grandfather during the rebellion, and I have come to see for myself if those bonds of loyalty are still strong." Aemon proclaimed.

"How do I know you're not a threat?"

"If I was a threat you would have known it by now, Ser."

Aemon watched as Garlan rolled his words around his head before he made a decision. "I'll take you to my father and Grandmother. They'll want to speak to you." Garlan sighed. "What of your...dragon?"

"Do not worry about him, Ser. He won't harm anyone so long as I am not harmed." Aemon smiled, as his words held a thinly veiled threat.

Aemon and Arthur walked in silence, surrounded by the imposing presence of the garrison. The path to Highgarden's grand entrance was lined with blooming flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, but the serene beauty of the surroundings was contrasted by the tension in the air.

As they made their way through the courtyard, Aemon couldn't help but admire the elegance of Highgarden. The fortress was a testament to the Tyrells' wealth and influence, a place where power and beauty coexisted harmoniously. Arthur, ever vigilant, kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential threat. The garrison led them with military precision, their movements disciplined and purposeful.

As they approached the entrance, the grand doors of Highgarden opened to reveal the waiting figures of Olenna and Mace Tyrell. The pair stood with an air of regal authority, their expressions a mix of curiosity and determination. Behind them stood Margaery, her presence and figure immediately attracting Aemon's gaze as he stood before them all.

Aemon's eyes were immediately drawn to Margaery. Her pristine beauty and slender figure outshining all that stood in the room with them. The same feelings he once felt with Daenerys began to bubble up inside of him once more as he continued to gaze upon her. If this was the girl he had heard so much about, he could do much worse than marry her.

"Who is this you have brought to us, Garlan?" Olenna asked.

"Aemon Targaryen and Ser Arthur Dayne, Grandmother," Garlan replied.

"A Targaryen? Here? Impossible." Mace blustered, becoming red in the face.

"Oh do shut up, Mace." Olenna spat, silencing her son in an instant. "I take it is your dragon we saw earlier, hm?" She asked, her weary but sharp eyes never leaving Aemon.

Aemon studied her a moment, as his grey eyes looked her up and down. The mighty Queen of Thornes he had heard so much about from Illyrio finally stood before him. He knew her frail and small frame was simply a facade for the powerful and cunning woman that lay within. "It was, Lady Olenna."

"And how do you know my name?"

"I wouldn't be so foolish to turn up on your doorstep without knowing who you were."

"You don't look like a Targaryen."

"True enough, but believe me, my Lady, I am every bit a Targaryen as my father, Rhaegar, was."

Aemon watched as a small smirk appeared at the corner of Olenna's thin lips. "And this is the legendary Arthur Dayne, I take it? Back from exile at last?"

"I am, my Lady." Arthur asserted.

"Hm," Olenna grunted. "You're not here to harm us?" She asked, looking at Aemon.

"I assure you, I am not, Lady Olenna. I come here with an offer."

Aemon wanted on as Olenna drew silent and began to look around the room. Around them stood guards and servants, all with prying eyes and listening ears. "Come with me, to my solar. We can talk there."

"Thank you, my Lady." Aemon nodded. "Sheathe your sword, Arthur," Aemon mumbled.

"Of course, Your Grace," Arthur smirked, as he slid Dawn slowly into the sheathe that lounged in his back.

Olenna Tyrell

Olenna led her two new guests through the corridors of Highgarden. Her son, Mace, followed closely behind, his bleatings all but silenced by Olenna's sharp tongue. She also noticed how Margaery lingered behind them all, her brown doe eyes hinting at a deep curiosity centered around the two new arrivals. Good, Olenna mused, she should be here to see how this meeting pans out.

Olenna remained as unfazed as she could when she greeted her new guests, but in truth, she was truly curious. Why have they turned up here, on the back of a dragon of all things? Why out of every house, have they been chosen? These questions darted around her head like summer dragonflies, as she kept her outwardly composure.

Aemon and Arthur, still bearing the marks of their journey, followed closely behind her, curious about what awaited them in the solar. The scent of fresh flowers from the gardens mixed with the faint aroma of parchment and ink, gave the air a faint hint of intrigue.

As Olenna opened the door to her sanctuary, she turned to her guests with a knowing smile. "Now," she said, her voice laced with intrigue and authority, "tell me what brings you to Highgarden and what this offer is." She said as she sat down with a heavy sigh. Behind her, Left and Right took up their positions by her sides, their attention fully on Arthur, as they knew what he was capable of.

Olenna watched as Aemon and Arthur quickly took their seats before her, as Mace and Margaery sat beside Olenna, their gazes fixated on the two men before them. "I wish to renew the alliance between House Targaryen and House Tyrell, as it was before the rebellion."

"My boy, you do understand that your house has been outlawed? Aligning ourselves with you would be precarious at best, and should Robert find out? I dare not think what would happen." Olenna sighed.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but did you fail to notice the dragon I rode here on?" Aemon chuckled. "Robert has nothing that could answer my dragon, let alone four of them. Plus, Dorne has already pledged themselves to my cause, along with the Lords of the Narrow Sea, under House Velayrion."

"Four dragons? That...How?" Mace blustered.

"Yes, Lord Mace, four dragons," Aemon smirked, ignoring the question posed by Mace. "My brother and sister both ride their own, as well as my grandmother, Rhaella."

"More Targaryens?" Mace gasped.

"Yes, Lord Mace. Our line did not end during the rebellion, despite the inactions of some." Olenna could see a small hint of anger come over Aemon as he looked directly at her son. She could imagine she blamed him quite a bit for his father's death.

"Rhaella lives?" Olenna asked, dispelling the tension in the air. She was, however, quite annoyed she was not privy to that information already.

"She does, Lady Olenna, and she awaits the day she can return home."

"Then why haven't you?" Olenna asked, her eyes narrowing. "If what you say is true and you have four dragons and the backing of Dorne, then what is stopping you from conquering Westeros as Aegon did?"

"To simply put it, I do not want to rule over the ashes of a Kingdom." Aemon began. "I understand that I can burn the Red Keep to the ground with Robert and all his family inside, but that will put innocents at risk, to say the least. Also, I'd rather not have to conquer seven Kingdoms and have the Lords of those Kingdoms stab me in the back the first chance they get."

"I see," Olenna smirked. "So you wish to make friends with us first?"

"I do. Your house fought with mine during the rebellion. I'm willing to extend a hand of friendship before the war starts."

"You're sure there is to be a war?"

"I am, my Lady, I see no other way. Robert will not give up his throne willingly and I will not allow him to live peacefully after what he did to my father. The man will die and I will win the war to come, believe me, my Lady. It is up to you whether you wish to be on the right side of that war."

Olenna's smile was fully present on her face. Perhaps she underestimated this boy when she first saw him, she mused, as he was every bit the dragon he claimed to be. "Very well. I take it you have some terms and conditions for this agreement?" She asked with one eyebrow raised.

"I do. To seal our alliance, I would ask your permission to take Margaery Tyrell, as my betrothed." Aemon said to gasps from Mace and Margaery. "I would not take her against her will. I will still honor our alliance regardless."

Olenna was surprised by this young man's forwardness and confidence, but she nevertheless could see the blessing that that been bestowed upon them this day. Olenna looked to her right and saw Margaery looking at her with eyes full of mixed emotions, as she remembered her words about Jofrey's cruelty and malice. "Is this something you would want, my dear?" She asked Margaery.

Olenna watched as Margaery turned her head and studied Aemon. He was a handsome boy with hazy grey eyes and curly black hair that dangled softly just below his ears. His figure was that of a warrior and had Olenna been a young girl, she may have swooned for him herself if she hadn't her wits about her.

"It does, Grandmother." Margaery nodded, a small smirk appearing at the corner of her lips as she did so.

"Mother, I must protest-" Mace interrupted, his face still red.

"Enough, Mace. Are you so blind to not see what is being presented before us? The boy is a dragon rider for Gods sake, the first in a century." Olenna chastised.

"But to go against the Crown?" Mace protested. "To declare ourselves rebels as Balon Greyjoy did?"

"Nothing has been declared. We are simply allying, that is all. Now do shut up." Olenna spat, as she turned her attention back to Aemon.

"If my Grandaughter is happy with the arrangement then so am I." Olenna asserted.

"Thank you, Lady Olenna, I promise you that you will not regret this."

"I hope so, otherwise it'll be all our heads on spikes." Olenna chuckled. "Now, shall we have this in writing?"

"Of course, my Lady." Aemon nodded.

Olenna, with her characteristic precision, reached into a drawer and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. The crisp sound of it unrolling echoed in the room, marking the beginning of another significant agreement. "This," she said, her voice both firm and gentle, "is the contract that will bind our houses."

She began writing terms and words onto the parchment, as the sound of the quill scratching into the parchment echoed around the silent room. Once Olenna was done, she handed the parchment to Aemon, as his gray eyes studied the words written before him. The marriage to Margaery Tyrell was not just a union, but a strategic alliance. He took the quill offered by Olenna and began to write his name, each stroke of ink representing a promise for the future.

Olenna smiled as she took the offered parchment back from Aemon and sealed it with the golden rose of her house, stamped in red. "You're usually supposed to seal it next to mine, but I presume you don't have one."

"Oh, um, no, my Lady." Aemon smiled.

Olenna shook her head playfully at Aemon's naiveness. He was still young, but if Arthur Dayne was standing at his back then he must have some brains about him and he was a dragon rider. In truth, Olenna was quietly excited about what was to come for the future of her house and to think she was about to marry that future off to an adolescent pup.

"Will you be staying long?" Olenna asked as she tucked the parchment neatly into the drawer of her desk. "I'd imagine you two would like to get to know one another."

"I can only stay for a day or two, my Lady, if you would allow it." Aemon sighed. "I have other business elsewhere that requires my attention before I depart for Essos."

"Very well, Aemon." Olenna nodded.

Olenna watched as Aemon suddenly remembered something, as a surprised look dominated his youthful features. "Before I forget, my Lady, I would ask of you something."

"What is it?" Olenna wondered aloud.

"I need you to send a raven to Lord Tarly of Hornhill. I would very much like to speak to him."

"Lord Randyll Tarly?" Olenna said with a surprised tone in her voice. "I'll do it, but I warn you, Aemon, he is not a man to be crossed with."

"Good. I need strong men such as him for what is to come."

"Of course, Aemon." Olenna nodded, as she pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from her draw and began to write.

"Will you join me for a walk, my Lady? Perhaps you could show me this marvelous home you have." Aemon smiled, as he looked toward Margaery.

"Of course, my Lord, I would be honored." Margaery smiled, as she stood up and walked from the room with Aemon.

Olenna watched as they left the room together, their arms linked. Arthur followed closely behind them and gave Olenna a reassuring nod before he left her solar. It put her at ease to know that her granddaughter was being protected by the finest knight the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.

Once Olenna was finished writing, she handed the sealed letter to her son beside her. "Give that to the Maester and with haste." She ordered as Mace trundled from her solar as fast as he could.

Letting out a deep breath, she lounged back in her chair, content with the unexpected but reassuring work she had done this morning. She knew how quickly the game she played could change and now there was a new player and he was more powerful than any that had come before him.

Margaery Tyrell

Walking through the verdant expanse of Highgarden, Margaery felt a sense of serene happiness envelop her. The garden's familiar sights and sounds—the blooming roses, the soft rustling of leaves, the distant hum of bees—offered a comforting backdrop as she strolled arm-in-arm with Aemon.

She glanced at him, noting his composed demeanor and the subtle strength that seemed to radiate from him. He is quite handsome, she thought, taking in the sharp lines of his face and the intelligence in his eyes. There was an air of mystery about him, a depth she found both intriguing and inviting.

"Aemon," she began, her voice light and engaging, "Highgarden is more than just my home. It's a sanctuary, a place where one can find peace and clarity. I hope you feel the same."

He turned to her, a warm smile playing on his lips. "It's truly enchanting, my Lady. There's a timeless beauty here that mirrors the grace of its inhabitants."

His words brought a soft flush to her cheeks, and she found herself genuinely curious about the man beside her. "Is Essos much like Highgarden?"

She watched as Aemon began to smirk before answering her. "Essos itself, no, not really. There are parts of it that are lush a full of verdant greenery but nothing like this. It's as much a desert as Dorne is in some places."

"So where have you been staying all this time then, my Lord?" Margaery asked, genuine curiosity appearing in her sweet voice.

"I'm no Lord, my Lady, please, just call me Aemon." Aemon chuckled.

"Oh, apologies, my...Aemon."

"It's fine, but to answer your question, I am staying in Pentos with Magister Illyrio. He's been housing us all for years now at great expense to himself and his estate. I hope to repay him for his kindness one day."

"I have heard of him. One of the most powerful men in Essos according to my Grandmother. Is the rest of your family with him?" Margaery asked, as they turned a corner and began walking through another section of the lush gardens that surrounded the keep of Highgarden.

"They are. My brother Viserys and my sister Daenerys are with him, as well as my grandmother, Rhaella."

"So many of you. I had thought you all dead along with-" Margaery stopped herself from speaking any more words, as she became aware of the immediate pain in Aemon's eyes. "I'm so sorry...I didn't think." She gasped as they stopped walking and stood facing each other hand in hand.

"It's fine, I've mostly come to terms with it all now. Besides, a man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor."

"That is very...profound, Aemon."

"I'd imagine so. It was something my father said to me in my dreams." Aemon sighed, his eyes looking to the cobbled path beneath them. "They visit me sometimes, as absurd as it sounds, my mother and father."

"I don't think it's absurd, Aemon, but who was your mother?"

"Lyanna Stark. She and my father married in secret just before the rebellion. Everyone believed she was kidnapped by my father but it was not the truth. Robert's rebellion was built on that lie. A lie the usurper probably still believes to this day."

"I can imagine you hate him."

"More than anything, my Lady, but it bears not thinking about at this moment. I'd rather not ruin this morning with you by wasting words on him." Aemon sighed as he turned his head toward the white stone ledge of the garden. "Come, let me show you something." Aemon smiled as he led Margaery to the ledge.

Margaery rolled her eyes playfully but her breath caught as she looked down, and she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise and awe.

There, resting majestically below, was the enormous dragon Vhaedar. Its scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight, each one like a piece of armor forged by the hands of gods. The dragon's eyes were closed, its chest rising and falling steadily as it slept, exuding an aura of calm power.

Aemon, noticing her reaction, gently squeezed her arm. "Magnificent, isn't he?" he said, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and fondness. "Vaedar has been my companion for many years."

Margaery tore her gaze away from the dragon to look at Aemon. "He's... breathtaking," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never seen anything like him."

"He is one of a kind. None of the others even match him in size let alone ferocity."

"The other dragons? How do you have so many? I thought they were extinct."

"My grandmother tells me that Illyrio brought the eggs from Asshai of all places and gave them to us. She was the first to hatch her egg during a cloudless night, or so she tells me."

"It all sounds so magical and mystical. I'd love to meet them all one day."

"You will, my Lady, I promise." Aemon smiled.

As Margaery stood on the ledge, her gaze shifted from the magnificent Vaedar below to Aemon beside her as she felt a warmth blossoming in her chest. The way he spoke of the dragon, the blend of pride and tenderness in his voice, revealed depths of character that intrigued her. She had begun to see Aemon not just as a strategic alliance, but as a person with whom she could share her dreams and future.

In that quiet moment, with the garden's tranquil beauty around them and the soft afternoon light illuminating his features, Margaery realized that her feelings for Aemon were growing into something genuine and profound. It was a realization that carried both excitement and a touch of vulnerability.

Pentos: 298 AC: The Same Day:

Daenerys Targaryen

Daenerys sat in the serene garden of Illyrio's manse, a book open on her lap. The vibrant flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves did little to ease the turmoil in her heart. She tried to focus on the text, but her thoughts were a storm, relentlessly pulling her back to Aemon. He was in the Reach, being betrothed to Margaery Tyrell, and the knowledge gnawed at her like a persistent ache.

Jaime and Barristan sat across from her, enjoying their meal, but Daenerys could barely muster an appetite. Jaime's gaze lingered on her, his concern evident. He sensed her distress, though she kept her face composed, masking the confusion and pain that roiled within.

Why did Aemon's departure affect her so deeply? The question echoed in her mind, as she tried to untangle the knot of emotions. He was her brother, yet her feelings were complicated, wrapped in layers of duty, loyalty, and something she couldn't quite name.

Her fingers tightened around the book, the pressure a small outlet for the tension within her. She sighed softly and closed the book, the sound drawing Jaime's attention. Their eyes met, and for a moment, she considered opening up to him. But how could she explain what she herself didn't understand? She offered him a small, strained smile instead, attempting to mask her feelings even to him.

"What is it, Ser Jaime?" Daenerys asked, her violet eyes piercing through him.

"Nothing, Princess. You just look troubled is all." Jaime reassuringly smiled. "Are your thoughts still on him?"

"Am I that easy to read?" Daenerys scoffed, a small smile appearing on the corner of her lips as she did so. "They are in truth, Ser Jaime."

"It's normal, you know, to feel these things at your age," Jaime assured, as he cut off a piece of cheese from his plate and ate it.

"But why him?" Daenerys asked.

"Well, he's the only boy of your age and likeness that you've known. You also grew up together and have shared many experiences, so, it is normal I suppose. Especially for a Targaryen."

"Perhaps, it would do you some good to get out of here for some time, Princess, to clear your head." Barristan advised.

"And go where?" Daenerys asked.

Daenerys' moment of fragile calm was shattered by the sudden appearance of Viserys. His presence was as abrupt and unwelcome as a cold wind, cutting through the serenity of the garden. Jaime and Barristan paused their eating, their attention drawn to him.

"We need to go to Driftmark," Viserys announced, his tone brooking no argument. "The Velaryons need a reminder of their loyalty to us. It's not an emergency, but it's important that we maintain our alliances."

"Has Aemon asked us to do this?" Daenerys asked.

"Not exactly, no, but like with Dorne, we must meet with them."

"I'm not so sure that-"

"I have decided, Dany, now come." Viserys interrupted.

Daenerys felt a flicker of annoyance at his interruption, but she knew better than to question him openly. She drummed her fingers against her book and rose gracefully, her eyes meeting Jaime's for a brief, understanding moment. There was no rest for those of royal blood, no respite from the burdens of duty and expectation, especially in these trying times.

"Are you both coming?" She asked, looking at Jaime and Barristan.

"I...have never rode a dragon before, Princess." Jaime stammered.

"Oh, it's not that bad once you're up there, Jaime." Barristan chuckled, patting Jaime on the shoulder as he did so. "Come on."

Viserys strode ahead, his movements filled with purpose and determination as he led Daenerys, Jaime, and Barristan through the winding corridors of Illyrio's manse. The morning sun cast long shadows ahead of them, and the crisp air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city.

"Are you sure Aemon will be fine with this Viserys? He did say to-"

"Enough, Dany." Viserys sighed, interrupting Daenerys once more. "He'll be fine with it. Besides, all we're doing is speaking to them."

"What of mother, has she said anything?"

"No, she hasn't." Viserys abruptly answered.

Daenerys drew silent as they approached the enormous courtyard where their dragons were resting. She could feel a small connection in her mind to Frostfyre as she came closer to the entrance. She could feel her dragon begin to stir from his rest and as they passed the grand archway that marked the entrance of the courtyard, Daenerys smiled as she saw Frostfyre already awake and waiting for her. His piercing blue eyes seemed to mirror the concern in Daenerys' own, as Frostfyre looked to Viserys. Daenerys could sense the unease in Frostfyre as she ran her hand along his icy blue scales.

"Do not worry, my friend." She whispered as she pressed her head into Frostfyre's side, the dragon rumbling lowly as she did so.

"Are we ready, Daenerys?" Viserys called, already atop Clouddiver with Barristan seated behind him.

"One moment, Viserys!" She called back, turning to face a nervous Jaime Lannister. "Are you ready?" She asked.

"I...am...are you sure he won't harm me?" Jaime asked, the nervousness clear in his voice.

"He won't, Jaime, I promise," Daenerys smirked, as she climbed on the back and readied herself. She tightly wrapped the leather reins that bound the head of Frostfyre around her soft hands, before she looked toward Jaime. "Just do what I just did."

Daenerys watched as Jaime swallowed whatever of his confidence he had left and climbed the back of Frostfyre, the dragon almost humming impatiently as he did so. "Wrap your arms tightly around me." She said. "I wouldn't want any accidents to happen."

Daenerys felt Jaime wrap his muscular arms around Daenerys' slim waist as she looked toward an impatient Viserys. "We're ready!" She called toward him.

Daenerys watched as Viserys only nodded in response before urging Clouddiver to take to the air. The mighty golden dragon quickly took to the air, leaving behind only dust and wind. "Tolī zirȳ, Frostfyre." She ordered.

Frostfyre's reaction was immediate and breathtaking, and Daenerys could feel Jaime cling tightly around her like a newborn babe, desperate to not lose its grip on its mother. Soon enough they were in the air, following in Clouddiver's wake, her brother's dragon only mere moments ahead of her. She shook her head as she looked upon them, as she had no idea what kind of folly Viserys was leading her into. She only hoped that when Aemon found out, he wouldn't be too harsh on her like he was in the past.

Driftmark: 298 AC: 1 Day Later:

Aurane Waters

Aurane Waters stood in the sparring yard of Castle Driftmark, his muscles tensed and his breath steady. The sun cast long shadows over the stone walls, its rays glinting off the steel of his sword. Across from him, the master-at-arms circled with a keen eye, ready to exploit any weakness.

With a nod, the bout began. Aurane moved swiftly, his blade dancing through the air with practiced precision. He could feel the weight of his brother Monford's gaze from the balcony above, a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon him, but also a source of motivation.

Monford watched silently, his eyes tracking every movement. Aurane knew that his brother's approval was hard-won, but he relished the challenge. Each strike and parry was an opportunity to prove himself and demonstrate his growth and skill.

The master-at-arms was relentless, pushing Aurane to his limits. But Aurane responded with determination, his focus unyielding. Every clash of their swords echoed through the yard, a testament to the intensity of their practice. As the session wore on, Aurane's confidence grew. He could feel the rhythm of the fight, the subtle shifts in his opponent's stance. He anticipated the next strike, countered with precision, and pressed his advantage.

Finally, with a deft move, Aurane disarmed the master-at-arms. The man's sword clattered to the ground, and a moment of silence followed. Aurane stood tall, his chest heaving, his eyes meeting Monford's.

"How was that, Monford?" Aurane boastfully called up to his approving half-brother.

"Yes, yes, you're very good at beating old men, Aurane," Monford smirked.

"He's not that old." Aurane chuckled, before turning to the master-at-arms who was picking his sword up from the ground. "How old are you again?"

"Nearly fifty name-days, my Lord." The Master-at-arms replied, his voice hoarse from their sparring.

"Nearly fifty...By the Gods." Aurane sighed, as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Looking up he could see Monford laughing to himself before he turned away from his disappointed half-brother.

"Clean yourself off and come inside," Monford called as he walked into the castle.

Taking in a deep breath, Aurane sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his aching palms, face, and neck before he walked into the salt-stained Castle Driftmark. As he walked through the damp and cold castle, he passed bowing servants and guards who all treated him with respect despite his low status of being a Bastard. He often wondered if it was his looks that made people treat him better than any other Bastard of the Realm, but maybe it was his brother's intolerance for anyone treating him anything less than a true-blooded son of Driftmark.

After walking for some more time, he arrived at the grand dining hall that comprised the center of Castle Driftmark. Aurane smiled as he looked upon the gilded tapestries that depicted his house's rich history. From mighty warships to fearsome dragons, every facet of his family's legacy lingered on the walls surrounding them. Looking at the long table that dominated the room, he found Monford sitting at the end of it, enjoying a succulent meal of rich cheeses and fine meats.

"Come, Aurane. Sit down." Monford bellowed across the hall.

Aurane nodded and as he drew closer he walked by the roaring fires that did their best to stamp out the customary damp and cold that permitted the air of Castle Driftmark. Sitting down next to Monford, Aurane helped himself to a small piece of cheese from Monfords full plate, which drew a disapproving look from his half-brother.

"You can get your own food, Aurane." Monford sighed as Aurane wolfed down the cheese.

"Why when I can just take yours." Aurane chuckled.

Before any more words could be shared the door to the hall burst open. A servant, wide-eyed and breathless, stumbled in. His distress was palpable, and he barely managed to get the words out between gasps.

"Milords! Two dragons! Overhead!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with fear.

The room fell silent, the weight of the servant's words sinking in. Aurane and Monford exchanged a glance, both understanding the gravity of the situation. Suddenly they both stood up and raced to the doors of the hall. Once outside, they looked up and saw them circling overhead like vultures on a battlefield.

"By the Gods!" Monford exclaimed, as his eyes watched them land outside the walls and battlements of Castle Driftmark.

"Are they wild?" Aurane asked, the panic in his voice clear.

"No, Aurane, I have a feeling I know who is riding them."

Daenerys Targaryen

Frostfyre touched down on the damp mud with as much grace as he could manage. She hated this weather, as the sun had become shrouded by thick grey clouds and a light rain began to come down around them, causing some amount of steam to begin rising from her dragon as the water sizzled against his hot scaly skin. She felt Jaime loosen his grip on her waist and clamber down Frostfyre.

She smiled as she watched him stretch before she climbed down herself. "It wasn't so bad was it, Jaime?" She giggled, causing Jaime to look at her and shake his head playfully.

"I do not want to do that again once this is all over." Jaime sighed.

Daenerys' smile disappeared, however, as Viserys walked over with Barristan following closely behind him. "Are we all ready then?" Viserys asked, his voice cold and commanding.

"Before we go anywhere, Viserys, I want to know what you plan to do here," Daenerys questioned, her arms folding across her chest.

"The same thing I did in Dorne. I simply want to ensure their still willing to fight for us after all these years." Viserys answered, his lilac eyes piercing Daenerys

"Why didn't you just say that from the start."

"I thought you would've known."

"I thought you sought to undermine Aemon." Daenerys accused.

"Undermine? No? Why would I do that? We seek the same ends, now enough of this, let us meet with whoever owns this bleak place." Viserys sighed, as the group walked past the dragons and toward the looming dark castle of Drfitmark.

Before they could make it to the castle itself, two figures emerged from the castle, flanked by a handful of heavily armored guards, their armor gleaming in the thin traces of sunlight that had broken free from the dark clouds. Jaime and Barristan instinctively stepped in front of Viserys and Daenerys, their protection their primary focus. As the groups drew closer to one another, Danerys could make out the color of the two men's hair, as it was almost silver like their own.

Soon enough, the two groups stood across from each other. Barristan and Jaime mirroed their opposite number and stood ready with their hands waiting patiently on the hilt of their blades, a soft warning to the men before them.

"Lord Monford!" Viserys called as he stepped out from behind Barristan and Jaime, his hand on the hilt of his own blade.

Daenerys watched as Monford stepped out from the group of guards followed by an equally mysterious but handsome man. "Prince Viserys." Monford sighed.

"It has been a long time, old friend." Viserys smiled as he walked toward Monford, his hand outstretched.

Monford shook his hand and gave Viserys a deep hug, before looking him in the eye. "You haven't come to visit for years and this is how you turn up? Unannounced and on dragon back?"

Daenerys looked just as confused as the very handsome man opposite her, both of them mirroring each other's bemused faces. "What do you mean 'old friend', Viserys? You never told me you were friends with the Velaryons?" Daenerys stammered.

"You haven't?" Monford smirked. "I'm disappointed, my Prince."

"No, I must have forgotten, but allow me to introduce my sweet sister, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen." Viserys smiled as he beckoned Daenerys to come closer.

Daenerys shook her head and offered her hand out toward Monford to which he kissed softly before turning to face the silver-haired man behind him. "This is my half-brother, Aurane Velaryon."

Aurane nodded his head and kissed Daenerys' offered hand, causing her heart to flutter slightly as his grey-green eyes looked into her own. "Aurane Waters officially, Princess, but I am charmed nonetheless."

Daenerys smiled as Aurane let go of her hand, her gaze lingering on him. "You never told me about any of this, Viserys." Daenerys scolded her eyes darting to her smug-looking brother. "Does Aemon know?"

"About my friendship with Monford? Eh, no, not really."

"I don't see why you would keep this a secret."

"I didn't want you to get me into trouble with Mother, as I wasn't sure you could keep silent if I did tell you I was flying to Driftmark every other week," Viserys admitted.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes and turned to face Jaime and Barristan. "Did either of you know?" She asked.

She watched as Jaime and Barristan both looked to the ground, the guilt etched on their faces. "I cannot believe you two." She sighed as she shook her head, before turning her attention back to the two Velaryons before her. "I take it then that this isn't about making sure they're loyal to us?"

"Yes, it is, in a way, Dany," Viserys smirked. "Can we talk more inside, Monford?" Viserys asked, as his lilac eyes looked at the darkening clouds above them.

"Of course, my Prince." Monford nodded. "What of your dragons?"

"Ah, yes," Viserys remembered, turning to face the two inquisitive Targaryen dragons who had been staring at the group the entirety of the time they had been speaking.

"Clouddiver, Frostfyre! Jikagon! Rest se ipradagon! īlon jāhor māzigon arlī aderī." He yelled before the two dragons took to the skies once more with a low rumble as if they were annoyed at having to move once more.

"There, now we can go inside." Viserys smiled, as he took Daenerys' soft hand in his own and followed Monford and Aurane toward Castle Driftmark.

Daenerys took the sights in as they walked. She noticed how the sea sprayed the castle walls as the waves battered against the cliffs. She also saw the port town of Hull, and how there were paths that snaked from one side of the castle into its dark sheltered depths. She noticed the lines of ships that lined up row after row in the port, the sight of it bringing to mind scenes of adventure and escape.

As Monford and Aurane led them through the walls and battlements that composed Castle Driftmark, Daenerys could not help but feel out of place. Nothing in Essos looked like this castle as she was used to the exoticness of the Free Cities and their Essosi architects. She supposed she would have to get used to it if they were going to retake Westeros from the hands of the Usurper.

"This way." Monford beckoned as they passed through two grand double doors, intricately carved with seahorses and dragons in its dark wood. Monfored led them into a grand hall, its wall featuring great tapestries that depicted the history of House Velaryon and its storied family. She had read up on House Velaryon and she knew they were the closest family to the Targaryens in terms of culture and blood. If anyone were to help them in the coming trials, it would be them.

"Please sit." Monford gestured, his hand pointing to the large table and its many seats.

Daenerys smiled as Aurane pulled the seat out for her, his smile charming her all the while. "Thank you." She whispered as she sat down, watching as Viserys and Aurane did the same beside her. Behind her, Barristan and Jaime stood stoically, their hands always on the hilts of their blades.

"Now, are you hungry? Thirsty?" Monford asked, his green eyes studying Viserys.

"Some wine, perhaps, Lord Monford, thank you." Viserys nodded, grateful for the offer.

Daenerys watched as the servants' steady hand filled the cups that were placed in front of them. She could smell the richness of the wine, its sweet and honeyed notes rising in the air like smoke from a flame. She sipped it slowly, tasting the sweetness for herself and she found she quite enjoyed it.

"So, why are you here, my Prince," Monford asked, as he leaned back in his chair, the light from the fireplace casting long shadows over his face.

"I wanted to make sure preparations are underway, Monford, as things are starting to become much more serious," Viserys answered, sipping his wine and leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table.

"Oh? How so?" Monford pondered aloud.

"I'm to be married soon, to Princess Arianne of Dorne and Aemon is pleading his case to the Tyrells as we speak."

Daenerys could feel her heart sink slightly at the mere mention of Aemon marrying the Tyrells. However, she took her mind of him by looking at the handsome man before her, whose pale green eyes.

"You're to be married? To Princess Arianne? How did you manage to capture such a beauty?" Monford chuckled.

"Being a dragon rider has its benefits." Viserys smiled. "Now, how are your preparations?"

"We began to rebuild our fleet a few years ago. Most of it got wiped out during the rebellion and during the siege of Dragonstone, but we're slowly rebuilding back to full strength. However, we won't be able to match the Royal Fleet, especially that war galley that stubborn mule Stannis Baratheon helms. We won't have the numbers and if things are moving as quickly as you say, we won't have time either." Monford sighed.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Lord Monford. If Aemon can secure the Reach then it'll bring Paxter Redwyne with it."

"Speaking of Aemon, when will I be able to meet him?"

"Soon, Lord Monford, soon."

Daenerys watched as Monford's eyes flickered with determination before he nodded assuredly. "I take it you'll be spending the night once more?"

"If you don't mind, Lord Monford." Viserys smiled.

"Of course not. I'll have my servants prepare some rooms for the both of you and your two knights."

"You're most kind, my Lord," Jaime said, his voice low and respectful.

"Nonsense, it's the least I can do for men of your grandeur."

As their discussion reached its natural conclusion, a small silence enveloped the room. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the distant murmur of the hall outside. Daenerys eyes met with Aurane's once more as she noticed his attention had been entirely on her during their discussions. She could see something within those exotic colors that framed his eyes, something much deeper.

"Would you care for a walk, Princess? I'd love to get to know you more, considering it is our first time meeting." Aurane smiled.

Daenerys couldn't help but become enchanted by him and his wry roguish smile. "Of course, my Lord, if it is fine with my brother."

"Do what you want, Daenerys, but nothing silly." Viserys maintained. "Ser Jaime, please be with her to make sure nothing happens."

"By your command, my Prince." Jaime nodded.

"Shall we, Princess?" Aurane asked as he walked beside her and offered her his arm which she happily took in her own.

As they walked from the table, Viserys and Monford watched them go, knowing that even in moments of quiet and simplicity, bonds were being forged that could be crucial for both their houses.

Highgarden: 298 AC: 1 Day Later:

Aemon Targaryen

Aemon stood on the lush, vibrant grounds of Highgarden. The gardens were a breathtaking tapestry of colors, with flowers in full bloom and the sweet scent of roses filling the air. The towering walls of the castle loomed in the distance, a testament to the Tyrells' wealth and power.

As Aemon wandered through the carefully manicured pathways, he couldn't help but admire the beauty and tranquility of the place. It was a stark contrast to the war-torn lands he had traversed to reach this point. Highgarden seemed to be a world apart, a sanctuary of peace in a realm beset by chaos and manipulation.

Beside him walked Arthur, his ever-watchful gaze upon Aemon. "Will they be here soon?" He asked, his eyes turning to the green horizon.

"I hope so. Lady Olenna tells me he set off immediately once he received the raven." Aemon replied.

"Hm," Arthur grunted. "How are things with you and Lady Margaery?" He asked, causing Aemon's cheeks to blush.

"Oh, she's...nice. I like her." Aemon smiled as he thought of her.

"She is. She's a sweet girl, Aemon, but you must be ready for what she comes with."

"What do you mean?" Aemon asked, his head turning to face Arthur.

"The Tyrells are grasping and will do anything to gain power, as they always have been. You must be ready for them when they overstep their bounds."

"But I've given them what they wanted? A daughter as a Queen."

"Not a Queen yet, Aemon, we still have to fight for that." Arthur reminded.

As they rounded a bend in the garden path, a soft voice called out to them. "Aemon, Ser Arthur, I hope I'm not intruding."

They turned to see Margaery approaching, her presence as graceful as the flowers that surrounded them. Her emerald green gown flowed elegantly with each step, and her warm smile was enough to ease any lingering tension.

Aemon inclined his head in greeting. "Of course not, my Lady." He smiled, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her beauty.

"Good." She smirked, standing in front of them both with her hands clasped before her. "Lord Tarly has arrived, I thought you might like to know."

"He has?" Aemon said bemused. "We didn't see him or his banners."

"He rode with a small guard, come, I'll take you to him." Margaery giggled, offering her arm for Aemon to take.

Aemon gladly took her arm and they walked together through the halls of Highgarden with Arthur following closely behind, his gaze never leaving Aemon. As they walked, Aemon steadied himself for his encounter with Randyll, knowing that he had never met a man such as him before. He had heard the stories of how he beat Robert at the Battle of Ashford and how he disowned his own son in fear of him being too weak to carry the Tarly name. A man such as him was not to be trifled with.

As they pushed open the heavy oak doors of the great hall, Aemon could see him standing in the center of it, his eyes immediately upon Aemon. "Lord Tarly." Aemon nodded, as Margaery let go of his arm and stood at the side.

"I take it you are Aemon Targaryen." Randyll bluntly replied, his voice gruff and heavy.

"I am, my Lord. You received my message?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did not."

"I see," Aemon said as he cleared his throat. "I have need of you, Lord Tarly, a need of a man of your talents. You were the only man to defeat Robert, were you not?"

"That honor belongs to my Lord, Mace Tyrell."

"Don't play the fool with me, Lord Randyll, we both know it was you who won the day."

As Aemon spoke he could see a small appreciative smile appear at the corner of Randyll's lips, as he shed his stoney expression for just a moment.

"How do I know you are Rhaegar's son, as you say you are? I don't see any silver hair in that blackness atop your head."

"That is because I take after my mother, Lyanna Stark, my Lord. A fine woman, I'm sure you agree."

"I do. Despite being a woman, her name was renowned the Realm over."

"I'm glad you agree." Aemon nodded. "In time, you'll see my dragon before I leave. If that does not prove I am what I am, then nothing will."

"The Lady Olenna told me of your dragon and enough people have seen it for me to believe it. Besides, I doubt a man like Arthur Dayne would be at your back if you were not Rhaegar's son." Randyll affirmed as he took a knee.

"My Lord?" Aemon asked surprised.

"I fought for your father during the rebellion. He was a strong and honest man and it was a damn shame what happened to him. I respect Robert but my loyalties come before my respect. My sword is yours, Your Grace."

Aemon shook his head in shock. "Rise, Lord Tarly." He smiled. "I had not thought you to come around so easily."

Randyll rose to his feet, his armor clanking as he did so. "I swore an oath that my family had kept for generations before the rebellion," Randyll admitted. "I see how the land bleeds under Robert's rule, and how he has grown fat and decadent." He spat, his eyes darting to Mace Tyrell who sat gleefully unaware on the high table.

"I understand, Lord Tarly. Fight for me and I'll see the injustices of his rule put right, I swear it." Aemon smiled, as he walked toward Randyll a placed a hand on his shoulder. "The Realm will thrive when I come to rule, I promise you, but we have war to win first."

"I'll be ready for when it comes, Your Grace." Randyll nodded.

"Good, Lord Tarly."

"If there's nothing else, Your Grace, I must beg my leave. There are matters at Horn Hill that I must attend."

"Of course, Lord Tarly, do as you please." Aemon chirped before his voice took on a more serious tone. "Be ready for when I call upon you, for the whole Realm will be at war soon."

"I will, Your Grace, I will."

Aemon watched Randyll bow solemnly to Mace Tyrell, mumbling 'my Lord' whilst he did so before turning and walking from the room, his head held high and proud. What a man, Aemon mused, before turning to face the rest of the room.

"Lady Olenna, might I have a word with you and Lady Margaery alone."

"Of course, Aemon."

Aemon smiled and walked from the room, Arthur following closely behind. As they stood outside waiting, Aemon could hear the slow shuffle of Olenna as she opened the door, her footsteps trailed by Margaery.

"What is it, Aemon?" Olenna asked, her voice curious.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave of your wonderful home." Aemon complimented, his eyes meeting Margaery's.

"So soon?"

"It seems so. Other things require my attention."

"If you deem it so." Olenna sighed.

"Will you all be here when I return? I should only be gone for a moon or so."

"We have a tournament to attend. Robert's name-day to be exact."

"Robert's name-day...I didn't know."

"Well, now you do, young man. We must keep up appearances, mustn't we?" Olenna asked, her frail eyes looking at Margaery. "Before you arrived, I was planning on betrothing this one to the Crown Prince."

Aemon looked to Margaery, a picture of slight jealousy etched across his youthful features. "I see. I take it you were to be seen with him at the tournament?"

"I was, Aemon, and it seems I must still be." Margaery solemnly replied.

"No matter." Aemon sighed, his hand rubbing his temple. "Such is the way of things."

"Where do you plan to go, anyway?" Olenna asked.

"Bravvos. The Iron Bank in particular."

"Smart. Robert's debts are long overdue."

"They are, in more ways than one. So is my departure, my Ladies." Aemon smiled. "I'll return soon and we can plan the wedding when I do."

"I hope so, Aemon, we're staking our future on you."

"As am I, Lady Olenna."

Aemon smiled once more and turned to walk away before Margaery grabbed his arm, his head turning around instinctively. He felt her soft lips press against his cheek before she looked at him with wide eyes. "Here." She smirked, as she pulled one of the many green and gold ribbons from her dress. "Wear this."

Aemon allowed her to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a constant reminder of her favor. "Thank you, Margaery, I'll wear this with pride."

"See that you do, Aemon." She playfully smirked before gracefully walking from him.

"Come, Arthur, let us leave." Aemon blushed, as Arthur smiled as he did so.

Arthur and Aemon walked side by side, leaving the grandeur of Highgarden behind. The sun cast long shadows as they made their way through the verdant gardens and out onto a vast, open plain.

The two men walked in comfortable silence, the bond between them needing no words. Arthur, ever vigilant, kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, while Aemon's thoughts were focused on Margaery, his grey eyes constantly looking at his wrist. The grass beneath their feet swayed gently in the breeze, creating a serene yet charged atmosphere.

"When did you last fight in a tournament, Arthur?" Aemon asked as they walked.

"Harrenhal, Your Grace." Arthur replied, casting his mind back to that fateful day.

"Hm," Aemon grunted. "I've always wanted to fight in one."

"You surely cannot be-"

"Shush, Arthur." Aemon chuckled, interrupting Arthur. "Of course not."

"I can not even begin to tell you how dangerous that would be."

"I know, I know, now stand back," Aemon warned, his eyes looking to the sky. "Vaedar! Rȳbagon issa!" He cried to the heavens.

Aemon heard nothing but the gentle breeze as it tickled his ears. "Vaedar! Māzigon!" He yelled once more.

The sound of a distant roar was the first thing he heard until Vaedar's black mass swooped low over them. The great dragon nearly blew Aemon and Arthur off of their feet as he passed by, roaring and crying whilst he did so.

"By the Gods!" Arthur exclaimed, steadying himself. "Does he have to do that?"

"I'm sure it's his idea of fun." Aemon sighed.

Vaedar landed before them, his weight allowing his claws to sink into the pliable ground. Aemon moved to his side, his hand running across his midnight scales as he did so.

"Ao jorrāelagon naejot sagon tolī careful hembar jēda, uēpa raqiros." Aemon laughed, as he climbed Vaedar's back.

"What did you tell him?" Arthur asked, saddling up behind Aemon as he did so, his arms wrapping tightly around the waist of his King.

"That he needs to be more careful," Aemon smirked. "Naejot se jēdar, Vaedar!" He commanded as Vaedar took to the skies once more.

As Aemon and Arthur departed the verdant expanse of Highgarden, the grand fortress receded into the distance, its rose-laden walls fading away like a setting sun. Aemon's thoughts lingered on Margaery and the tournament to come. How he had become so smitten by her he could not tell. He mused on her doe eyes or her sweet voice or the way she walked and entered a room with a grace he could not describe.

However, he had heard of the cruelty of the Crown Prince, and he silently swore that if he laid a finger on Margaery, he would burn him to the ground along with his father.

Kings Landing: 298 AC: 3 Days Later

Jon Arryn

Jon stood in the Tower of the Hand, his tired eyes watching the horizon. Robert was due back today from his journey to the North. Why he felt the need to go at such a tumultuous time, he could not fathom. Jon was however thankful to be away from Cersei and her irritating children. He had begun to grow wary of them, especially Joffrey, who had begun to show worrying signs of unwarranted cruelty and malice.

As Jon continued to muse, he heard a heavy knock on his door. "Enter!" He called out.

A servant entered, his head bowed low and respectful. "My Lord Hand, the King's banner has been seen only moments from King's Landing. He is due to arrive soon."

Jon looked the servant up and down, his eyes scanning the young man before him. "Good, good. Send word to the rest of the small council, I want everyone ready for when he arrives at the Keep."

"Of course, my Lord." The servant bowed once more before leaving the council chamber.

Jon pondered the implications of their return for a moment and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The political landscape of King's Landing was already fraught with tension, and the presence of Cersei and Joffrey would only serve to complicate matters further. Furthermore, he still had to provide updates to Robert on the whereabouts of the Targaryens, to which he had none.

Drinking down the last of his wine, he straightened out his blue and white gambeson, the colors a reminder of his proud house and home. Walking from the tower of the hand, he navigated the spiral staircases that composed it, the sounds of his footsteps echoing around him as he did so. The corridors of the Red Keep stretched before him, filled with the rising of servants and guards all eager for the King's arrival.

Navigating through the myriad of people, Jon found himself at the doors of the throne room. His hand lingered on the oka that composed them for a moment as he took a deep breath to steady himself to meet his peers. Pushing them open with a labored breath, Jon =entered the throne room, his eyes immediately set on the small gathering of councilors.

Before stood his ever-loyal friend, Petyr Baelish. Beside him stood Stannis, Renly, and the much less desirable, Pycelle. Jon smiled at them all as he approached them, immediately setting any lingering tensions at ease.

"My Lords, Grand Maester." He nodded at them as he stood to their side.

"Lord Hand." They greeted in unison.

"Is he nearly here?" Stannis bluntly asked, his voice thick with impatience.

"He should be, Stannis" Jon replied.

"I can't wait to hear of the North." Renly chuckled. "Of the honorable men and buxom women he likes to talk about."

"Do you not like to talk of buxom women, Lord Renly?" Petyr politely questioned to which he received no answer.

"Silence all of you." Jon hissed. "The King comes."

The grand doors of the throne room swung open with a resonant creak, drawing the eyes of all present. Robert Baratheon, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, strode in with his usual commanding presence. His broad shoulders and confident gait spoke of his days as a warrior, a stark contrast to the weariness that often marked his face now.

Behind him, Cersei Lannister moved with an air of calculated grace, her sharp eyes scanning the room with an ever-watchful gaze. Her golden hair and regal bearing made her look every bit the queen, yet Jon Arryn knew all too well the manipulative mind that lay beneath.

Following them were the royal children. Joffrey, with his arrogant smirk and piercing blue eyes, walked with an air of entitlement that belied his youth. Jon couldn't shake the feeling of unease that Joffrey's presence always brought. Tommen and Myrcella, the younger siblings, trailed behind with more subdued expressions, innocent yet caught in the web of power and intrigue that surrounded their family.

Robert's booming voice filled the hall as he greeted the assembled court. "Ah, Jon!" he called out, his tone a mix of camaraderie and authority. "It's good to be back."

Jon Arryn bowed slightly, acknowledging the king's words. "Welcome back to King's Landing, Your Grace. We have much to discuss."

"Discuss? I've only just damn returned."

"Of course, Your Grace, but there are things that have required your attention whilst you've been away."

"By the Gods...fine." Robert huffed, as he turned to Cersei and their children. "Take Myrcella and Tommen away. Joffery I want you to come with me. It's about time you learned a thing or two."

Internally, Jon was screaming. He couldn't stand the boy and now he had to watch him make a mockery of the sacred customs of the small council as he huffed and sighed and was gifted the honor of being in attendance of one. Instead, Jon swallowed his pride and offered a smile to the boy, hoping he wouldn't be as big of a pain as he believed him to be.

Joffrey Baratheon

"Come on, son." His father called to him as he looked at the old and lackluster faces of the small councilors.

"Yes, father." Joffrey sighed, following in his father's slow wake.

Why he wanted him to attend such a boring and uneventful meeting, he could not fathom. He had tutors and teachers for this sort of thing and he never once had to attend a small council meeting before. As they walked, the only thing that caught his attention was the tapestries of battle that lined the walls of the Red Keep. How he longed for the slaughter of battle, and to revel in the defeat of his enemies. To him, to watch a man who wronged you bleed, there was nothing more satisfying.

Rounding a corner, he arrived in the small council chamber, the old men around him instinctively taking their seats, each vying to be closest to the King except for his Uncle Stannis. The expressionless man was happiest sitting alone and further from anyone else which suited Joffrey just fine. He found him disgusting after he heard the stories of how he survived a siege by eating rats and dogs. Why he didn't just fight harder and break out was beyond him.

As he stood in the warm glow of the sun that pierced through the stained glass window that dominated the back wall of the chamber. He looked down to see the light radiating off his fine red and gold silks. His dagger's jeweled pommel reflected the light as it bounced around the room in a kaleidoscope of color. He almost thought it was beautiful before his father caught his attention.

"Sit here, next to me, son." His father sighed, as he sat down.

Joffrey slowly walked over to his father's side, passing the sunken eyes of the old men watching him. Taking his seat, he leaned forward. If he was going to be here, he may as well listen. It might even make the time go by faster.

"Is Lord Varys not joining us?" His father asked. Why would he want that strange bald man here? Joffrey pondered.

"He is on a personal mission, I believe, Your Grace," Jon replied.

"Personal? His duty is to serve the King, not himself. Tell him to return. Immediately."

"I have already sent men after him, Your Grace. They shouldn't be too far from him now." Petyr interjected.

"Good." Robert huffed. "What is first then?"

"This tournament will cost a fortune, Your Grace, and the crown is already in enough debt as it is. Perhaps, we could lower the prize money just ever so slightly." Jon advised.

"I want the greatest knights from all the Realm competing. I won't attract them with a paltry sum."

"You're the King, Your Grace, to fight before you is attractive enough."

"Ha!" Robert laughed. "You think that when I was fighting in tourneys, I was doing it for the mad cunt that sat on the throne? I did it for glory and gold and the fucking that happened after the fight."

"Your Grace, if you'll please-"

"Enough." Robert bellowed, interrupting Jon's bleatings. "I'll hear no more talk of lowering the prize money, now, will everything be ready for my name-day?"

"Most certainly, Your Grace." Jon nodded.

"Good, now, what else requires my attention."

"I have heard more rumors of dragons, Your Grace, this time in the Reach," Petyr announced, his eyes darting around the table.

"Commoners and their superstitions. It was most likely a large bird." Renly chuckled, before quieting down when he noticed Robert staring at him.

Joffreys ears perked up upon hearing the mention of dragons. He was fascinated by them and the destruction they could wrought. But they've been extinct forever now, surely these are just the tales of some stupid farmer or fishwife.

"Dragons? This is the first I have heard of it." Robert questioned.

"I did not think it important, Your Grace, with it being preposterous that such a thing could be seen." Jon nervously laughed.

"My spies say otherwise, Lord Hand. This is the second time we have had such reports." Petyr explained looking toward Robert. "First in Essos and now in the Reach. It bears some investigation."

"Hm." Robert grunted. "What do you think, son?" Robert asked.

Joffrey shook his head in confusion. He had hardly heard a word that had been said as he had been daydreaming of dragons and what he could do with one.

"Dragons, father?" He asked.

"Yes, dragons. What do you think we should do?"

"Are they real?" He smiled, his voice almost bursting with excitement.

"We do not know."

"Most certainly not, my Prince," Pycelle added.

"Maybe...send someone...to look?" Joffrey stammered trying his hardest to think of a reasonable solution.

"There," Robert exclaimed. "Send someone to look. I'm sure you can handle that, Jon. Now, if there's nothing else, I am going to get some rest."

Joffrey watched as his father stood up and stretched, his large belly appearing from under his garments as he did so.

"Go find your mother, Joffrey. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear of what you learned today." Robert sighed, before walking away.

Joffrey happily jumped from his seat and walked briskly from the small council chamber. He did not know what he was supposed to tell his mother as he learned nothing from those withered old fools. However, he was intrigued by the prospect of the dragons and he filled his head with images of him riding one. If only that were true, then his enemies would have nowhere to hide.

Driftmark: 298 AC: The Same Day:

Daenerys Targaryen

"Daenerys!" Viserys yelled, startling his sister awake. "Come, we need to leave. It's nearly evening."

Daenerys slowly opened her eyes, feeling the pounding rhythm of a headache behind them. The once glorious dragonriding attire she wore now felt stiff and uncomfortable, having served her through the excitement and exhaustion of the previous day. As she lay in her bed, the silks and furs that usually brought comfort now seemed a burden.

Her mind was a haze, and the faint taste of wine lingered on her dry lips. The room spun slightly as she tried to sit up, reminding her of the celebratory toasts she could barely remember. Her silver hair, usually so perfectly styled, was now tangled and unkempt, sticking to her face and neck.

Blinking against the harsh morning light that streamed through the window, as her violet eyes turned to a smug-looking Viserys. "Go away." She sighed, her voice hoarse and rough.

"Daenerys, we need to leave. You can rest when we get home." Viserys laughed as he placed

Daenerys never replied and only inhaled a deep breath before releasing it, her senses being filled with the salty air of Driftmark.

"Come, before it gets dark." Viserys grinned before walking from the room.

Daenerys stretched her legs out from under the soft furs and silks that encompassed her as she slowly slid to the edge of the bed. She slowly pulled on her black boots over her feet before she stood up.

As she did so, she could feel the immediate haze of a drunken hour hit her as she steadied herself. She walked and stood in front of the looking glass and sighed. This is not how a Princess was supposed to look in her mind.

Brushing her silver hair, she tied it in a neat ponytail behind her head, as to her anything was better than it being stuck to her face. She then washed her face from the silver basin Viserys had left her before leaving the room to face whatever came next.

As soon as she stepped outside, she was greeted by a smiling Jaime Lannister, who looked even more smug than her brother.

"I've been told by the Prince that I am to escort you." He smirked.

"Well, you can tell the Prince that the Princess does not require escorting." She coughed in reply.

Jaime looked her up and down as if looking for any truth in her words. "You don't know where the Prince is so I'll have to escort you regardless, Princess."

"Fine, take me to him, Ser Jaime."

Daenerys watched through hazy eyes as Jaime nodded before taking her hand in his to her surprise. He led her through the damp halls of Castle Driftmark. She held her eyes low so as to avoid the undoubtedly staring eyes of servants and guards alike.

They both eventually arrived at the entrance to Castle Driftmark, its grand archway looming above them. Already waiting for them both was Barristan and Viserys, a gleeful look present on both their faces. Beside them stood Monford and Aurane, both men looking as weary as Daenerys.

"Ah, sister, I'm glad you managed to make it," Viserys said, his voice more serious and mature than usual.

"I didn't have a choice, brother, seeing as you sent Ser Jaime to make sure I came."

"Be glad I did, or we wouldn't get off this damp rock for another day." Viserys asserted, his eyes darting to Monford. "Apologies, Monford."

"It's no insult, my Prince. It is damp and cold, but nevertheless, it is home."

"Quite right. My own home is not much different I suppose. Dragonstone was damp and cold at times, from what I remember as a child."

"I look forward to the day when you can return there, my Prince."

"As do I, Monford." Viserys nodded.

Daenerys watched as both men gave each other a deep and firm hug It was simple yet profound, and spoke volumes. It was a promise of loyalty, a gesture of mutual understanding, and a symbol of the alliance both houses now sought to uphold with one another. As they released each other from their mutual embrace, Monford turned to Daenerys with an amused glint in his pale eyes.

"It was a pleasure to spend some time with you, Princess Daenerys. I hope you can visit again soon before the whole Realm is thrown into chaos once more." Monford smirked, as he kissed Daenerys' offered hand once more.

"Likewise, my Lord. I'm sure I will." Daenerys grinned.

Monfords eyes then looked to Barristan and Jaime, ever appreciative of their protection of the true rulers of the Realm.

"Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, a pleasure as always." He nodded toward the appreciative knights.

"Lord Monford." They both nodded in return, their voices jovial.

Daenerys smiled before her attention turned to Aurane, whose pale green eyes pierced through her. She failed to notice that this whole time his attention had been solely on her.

"Princess...It was a pleasure." He said, his voice as smooth as the lapping waves on the shores of Driftmark. Daenerys could not help but blush as this rogueish man kissed her hand with a passion that could rival the most intense of romances.

"Like...Likewise, Aurane," She stammered, a bright smile fully present on her face. "I will come back, I assure you."

Aurane only smiled at her, as he took a step back, eager to get out of the cold of the Driftmark air. Daenerys turned around, her violet eyes looking to the grey sky. "Have you called them?" She asked toward Viserys.

"No, not yet," Viserys replied, his lilac eyes looking to the sky. "Clouddiver, Frostfyre, māzigon!" He yelled.

Daenerys thought that she could hear a distant rustling of leaves until the sound of wings cutting through the air grew louder and before she knew it, Clouddiver and Frostfyre flew over the castle in all their glory. The two majestic dragons descended gracefully, landing with a thunderous yet elegant presence in front of Viserys and Daenerys.

Clouddiver, with scales that shimmered like the setting sun, and Frostfyre, with his icy-blue radiance, stood tall and proud. Their presence was both awe-inspiring and reassuring. Daenerys could only imagine the shocked faces of Aurane and Monford as the dragons loomed before them. As they settled, they lowered their heads in a gesture of respect, acknowledging the bond between their riders.

"I'm sure we will see you soon, my Lords," Daenerys assured, as she started to walk towards Frostfyre. Viserys walked beside her, his head held proudly high. Behind them trailed, Jaime and Barristan, both men steeling themselves for another dragon ride.

Approaching Frostfyre, Daenerys ran a gentle hand across his icy blue and white scales, her dragon almost purring like a cat as she did so. "Ivestragī īlva jikagon lenton, Frostfyre." She whispered before she climbed on his back and settled herself in.

Behind her, Jaime frantically pulled himself up and got as close to Daenerys as he could, his anxiousness of flying still not dissipating. She smiled as she felt his arms wrap tightly around her once more, and she enjoyed the familiarity and comfort of it. Her thoughts quickly turned to Aurane as she looked at Jaime's arms and laughed to herself. How fickle her heart must be, she pondered. One moment she thought of Aemon and now her thoughts were consumed by this new man she had only just met.

---

A/N: Apologies for the wait on a new chapter, I only just started writing this like five days ago and it is LONG. I just wanted to make sure I tied up a few loose ends before the next one and all that. Also, some people have questioned why I picked Margaery and stuff and my reasoning is that I like Margaery so sorry to burst anyone's bubble but I think she's a very unique character in my opinion. Also, I'm not doing any sort of polyamorous/ harem thing, I think that stuff is a bit out there for me, so just to squash any fears, I won't be doing any of that. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed reading and any comments please let me know. Much love x.