Aemon the Conqueror: The Rise of the Dragonknight.
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/30462822.
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Not Rated
Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
F/M
Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow & Aurane
Waters
Jon Snow, Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Aurane Waters,
Thoros of Myr, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, Marwyn the Mage, Rhaegar
Targaryen, Elia Martell, Aegon Targaryen (Son of Elia), Ned Stark,
Tywin Lannister, Robert Baratheon, House Stark - Character, House
Martell - Character, House Baratheon - Character, House Arryn Character, House Hoare - Character, House Tully - Character, House
Gardener - Character, House Tyrell - Character
Jon Snow is Aemon Targaryen, Jon is a Dragonknight, House Targaryen
have dragons, Westeros was never conquered, Essos is the Valyrian
Empire, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon
Snow's Parents, AU, Alternate History, Seven Kingdoms/Seven Kings.,
Dark Jon Snow, BAMF Jon Snow
English
JNW1'S favourite ASOIAF/GoT fics, my heart is here, Vouler
Published: 2021-04-04 Updated: 2023-11-05 Words: 355,137 Chapters:
32/?

Aemon the Conqueror: The Rise of the Dragonknight.
by alperez
Summary

After a prophetic dream, Aegon and his sister-wives looked East instead of West and the
Valyrian Empire was born. Now at its Zenith under the leadership of the High Emperor
Rhaegar Targaryen, a falling out between him and his second son Aemon will change
Westeros forever.
Jon Snow was born a prince of the empire, as the first Dragonknight in over a hundred years
he was born to wage war and strike down the empire's enemies. Exiled to Dragonstone
because of his desire for his sister, how will the Seven Kingdoms react when the
Dragonknight seeks to unite them under one ruler.

The Exiled Prince.
The Conquest of Westeros.

It was over three hundred years ago that the Targaryens looked East instead of West. Aegon
and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya, along with their dragons Balerion the Black
Dread, Meraxes, and Vhagar left Dragonstone behind and set their sights on creating an
empire. Over the next three centuries, the empire grew from strength to strength and though
there was at times talk of looking West, not one Emperor or their offspring did so.

Just over one year ago fate intervened and Prince Aemon, the secondborn son of High
Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen was sent into exile and for the first time in its history, Westeros
was host to a Dragonknight. Aemon just like the Conqueror himself now set his sights on a
domain to call his own. Together with the Red Dragon, Gaelithox the Blood Wyrm, he looked
out upon the Seven Kingdoms with but one goal in mind, to bring them all to heel under the
banner of one king, one dragon, Aemon the Conqueror.
I know for I was by his side and saw it with mine own eyes.
A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

For nearly a year he'd sat and basically sulked, spending his nights looking out upon the bay
or atop Gaelithox as he flew over it. The red dragon longed to be let loose upon this land, to
bring fire to those who dared think themselves above dragons and Aemon knew he was the
one holding him back. Why? That was the question, Why was he holding him back? He had
not lost his thirst for battle, if anything he longed for it, needed it. It alone was perhaps the
only thing that would stop his thoughts from going where they inevitably would.

Had he thought she'd come to him? That she'd follow? Perhaps, but that now seemed to be a
wasted thought, a broken dream and one that his apathy and idleness were feeding daily. She

would not come. That place in his heart that she filled would remain as empty as it was now
and so was it not time to fill the other parts of his heart with what he could? Aemon moved
from the window and looked down on the table that Aegon had built all those years earlier
before he had set his sights on the East instead of the West. Seven Kingdoms were marked
out on one table, his ancestor's goal had been to unite them under his House until it had not.

He climbed up onto the chair that overlooked the table and for the first time in more than a
year, Aemon Targaryen wore a smile on his face. The love he sought was never to be his, the
respect he wished for was never to be his, the family he hoped for was just a distant dream. It
was time to dream about something else and so he did. For the next few days, he spent all of
his time looking at the table or flying in the sky. He let Gaelithox let loose his flames when
he wished as they both readied for him to bring them down upon the Seven Kingdoms.

Less than a week later he had made his plans and so he sent for the Maester, Marwyn was one
of the many men who'd come to Westeros with him upon his exile. The Mage was a strange
man, curious and dedicated to learning as much about the dragons and magic as he could and
Aemon had helped in that regard more than any, other than his namesake. True he'd not given
him all the secrets, even as angry as he was with his family that was not something he'd do
but he'd given the man far more than most and so had won his loyalty completely.

"You sent for me, my prince?" Marwyn said when he stepped into the Chamber of the Painted
Table as Aurane had named the room, Aemon still getting a chuckle at how his friend thought
so irreverently on things that meant so much to his father and brother.
"I did, Marwyn, I need you to send some ravens out for me, to Winterfell and to Dorne and
one to Driftmark too."
"At once, my prince." Marwyn said.
"Has Baratheon sent any more threats?" he asked as the Mage was about to leave the room.
"Not in over a moon, my prince." Marwyn said.
"Very well, inform me when Aurane arrives or you receive any replies."
"Of course, my prince." Marwyn said as he left.

Aemon moved to the window and looked out once more, watching as Gaelithox flew alone in
the sky and trying not to think on Meraxes and her own rider as he did so. It was an
impossible task as almost as soon as he tried to block them both from his mind, he once again
saw them as if they were with him and his dragon flying over new skies. Without even
knowing that he had done so, he closed his eyes and saw her deep purple ones staring back

up at him. Her dark hair was laid out on the bed and the smile he loved so much was on her
face. The image was quickly blown away as he then heard the voices and it was as if he was
back in that room more than a year earlier. As if today was the day that his love had been torn
from him.

Volantis 298 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He rode into the city like a conquering hero, Gaelithox had already flown far ahead of him so
eager was he to be with Meraxes and the rest of his siblings once more. Beside him, Aurane
waved and received the cheers and he saw Torgho Nudho shake his head as he did so. Aemon
laughing when he looked at the stoic look on his sworn shield's face. The Unsullied could
laugh when he wished to and at times he would, usually when Aurane called him by his
common tongue name of Grey Worm and not his Valyrian one of Torgho Nudho.

Today was not going to be a day that he smiled though, especially not the closer they got to
the Grand Palace. Aemon let them both celebrate their homecoming in their own way, just as
he would later tonight when he could sneak away from the inevitable feast his father would
throw him. Four moons was all it had taken, the Dothraki had been beaten and burned and
they'd not dare to threaten the empire again, or at least not for a very long time. Looking
around at the rest of his men, Aemon could see just how many of them were eager to be back
with their loved ones and yet he could not dismiss them until he had presented himself to his
father.

"Cheer up, brother, we're heroes once again." Aurane said waving at the crowd and for once
Aemon gave in to his brother by choice's good cheer, the crowd cheering even more loudly at
the waves he threw them.

When he saw the Grand Palace it amazed him as it always did, the stone rising majestically
from the ground and dwarfing even the Black Walls and the Temple of the Red Priests that
lay nearest to it. Looking to the large courtyard he bid his men stop and then he rode forward
alone. His father, his stepmother, granduncle and uncle, his brother, and aunt were all
standing in a line, and then finally he saw her. His sister was standing just a little away from
the others, she had a smile on her face and yet she bore an odd look upon it that he couldn't
quite place.

"I bring news of great import to the High Emperor." he said and then he waited for his father
to give him leave to dismount, doing so quickly once his father had raised his hand.

Aemon moved and took a knee in front of his father. Rhaegar Targaryen, the High Emperor
of the Valyrian Empire and the man who'd seen it almost double in size and wealth since his
succession. He was everything he wished he could be and everything he knew he was not.
His silver hair and deep indigo eyes marked him out as an almost god amongst men and
Aemon's own black hair and dark grey eyes were a poor comparison. It was why he'd driven
himself to be the general of his father's armies, why he'd sought glory on the battlefield and
why he had been fighting since he was two and ten years old. Six years in which he'd risen to
be the General of the Second Army, with only his father's own First Army of more
significance than his own.

"What news does my son bring me?" his father asked looking at him eagerly.
"Khal Bharbo is fallen, the Dothraki horde is no more." Aemon said reaching into his shirt to
take out the braid he'd personally cut from the man's head.
"How many men have fallen, my son, how many of the true sons of the empire were lost?"
his father asked and Aemon looked to see the members of the High Council and even The
Sword of the Morning himself look his way.
"Less than 3,000, High Emperor." he said to loud cheers.
"And our enemies?" his father asked.
"More than 15,000, High Emperor." he said as he looked up waiting to see the approval that
as expected wasn't there in his father's eyes.
"A great and true victory has been brought to us today by my son, Prince Aemon Targaryen,
The Dragonknight Reborn." his father said loudly and though there were smiles on the faces
of the crowds that cheered his name, there were fewer on his family's and on the High
Council's while the one on his father's face was false.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He dreamed the dream again that night, the day the smiles died as he had since named that
day. The day when he had returned a hero and was yet soon sent away a disgrace. Waking up
he got out of his bed and made his way to the privy, relieving himself before he then went to
wash and dress. He made his way down to the yard and found Torgho Nudho, Thoros of Myr,

and Daario Naharis all practicing their moves already. The three men looked at him and
seeing him nod they quickly moved to grab their far truer blades.

Thoros wielded his sword without its flames for once, Torgho his spear, and Daario his
Arakh, Aemon joining them with his own sword. Its thin blade may not look a match to those
who knew no better but Valyrian Steel cut deep and Dark Sister had always had a hunger for
blood. A hunger that he had fed her many times over the years and one that was soon to be
sated once again. They moved in a circle, each of them looking for an opening, and Daario
was as always the first to make a move. Aemon watched as Thoros pushed him back and then
he felt rather than saw the spear come at him.

For more than an hour they fought, or to be more precise they mock fought, for this was no
true battle and neither he nor the other three were truly giving it their all. It ended as all such
things did not with a victory or a loss, but instead with a simple call to stop. Though this time
it wasn't he or the others who'd made that call and Aemon turned to see Aurane walk his way.
He smiled as he sheathed his sword before embracing his closest friend and truest brother as
if he'd not seen him in an age. Something that was true enough as Aurane had returned to
Volantis for his own brother's wedding and had then stopped off in Driftmark rather than
come straight to Dragonstone upon his return.

"It's good to see you, brother." he said as he let Aurane go, both Daario and Thoros then
embracing their companion just as warmly while Torgho Nudho simply touched his arm
against Aurane's own as was his wont.
"You sent for me?" Aurane asked curiously, Aemon knowing that his friend assumed he
wanted news from the empire, which he did not.
"The Stags still giving your ships problems, brother?" he asked and Aurane nodded, it was
nothing he couldn't handle and he'd not sought his help though if he'd wished it he knew he
only needed to ask.
"No more than ever, why?"
"I think it's time." he said and he saw both Thoros and Daario look his way, Torgho Nudho he
swore he caught with a grin on his face.
"You're sure?" Aurane asked.
"I've sent the ravens to my mother's family and to my sister's, I'll await their replies but it's
time, I'm sure. What say you brother, eager for a fight?" he asked with a laugh.
"Always brother" Aurane said with a smile and Aemon didn't need to look at the others to
know they were ready too.

They drank and spent the night feasting, Aemon calling in his commanders and most of their
own captains to let them know that from now on they'd only be doing so again when they
celebrated victories. He could see the eagerness in their eyes to begin, the wait was not
something they'd expected and certainly not something they had welcomed. There was only
so much you could do when you practiced at war, only so ready you could keep yourself, and
for his men only so much fun that could be had.

They'd come with him out of loyalty and respect and yet he knew they'd wished for glory too.
Glory and lands, victory and the spoils of war, and Aemon would give them it all. Later that
night he was standing at the window looking out on the bay when he heard Aurane make his
way into the room. Gaelithox was resting on the cliffs nearby and yet Aemon could feel him,
see him as if he was standing there beside him and not here in this keep so very far away.

"You saw her?" he asked softly.
"I did." Aurane said "She's to be married, Aemon, to one of the Pureborn from Qarth."
"Father and his silly games, he still believes alliances can keep the empire strong." he said
bitterly.
"Do they not?" Aurane asked.
"Only when the man you ally with is strong himself. The Pureborn? I wouldn't trust them to
wipe the shit from a Dothraki stallion's arse let alone step up and fight them if they rise
again." Aemon said.
"You think they'll rise again?" Aurane asked worriedly.
"No, maybe, perhaps. It's not my concern. This, you're with me on this?" he asked turning
around to face him.
"I've been with you since I was but a babe, Aemon, that's one truth you never have to
question. Brothers Always." Aurane said holding up his arm.
"Brothers Always." he said wrapping his own arm around his brother's and leaning his
forehead against Aurane's own.

He didn't ask if she was happy, or if she was content, nor did he ask if he'd given her the letter
he'd sent, the song he'd wrote her, he knew he didn't have to. As he took to his bed that night,
he closed his eyes and it was indigo eyes and dark hair he saw, her words he heard, and once
again he felt his heart as it broke.

"I cannot, we cannot, father is right, Aemon, what we do is against the will of gods, against
father's will." Rhaenys said.
"We are dragons, Rhaenys, we answer only to ourselves, not to gods, not to men, and not
even to Emperors." he said as he took her head in his hands "Come with me, leave with me,
be with me."
"I cannot, I'm sorry, I cannot." she said shaking her head and though he could see the tears
in her eyes and knew how hard it was for her to refuse him, her words hurt him more than
any wound ever had.

Volantis 300 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

Her eyes were closed and her hand moved across her breast, her fingers taking the nipple
between them and rolling it before moving onto the other breast and doing the same thing.
She felt the small stings of pain, the brief moment of pleasure and yet as always, it was not
the same. Almost without thinking or willing it to do so, her hand moved down between her
legs and she felt the beginnings of her arousal, only for it too to begin to fade.

It was no good, it was never the same and even closing her eyes and conjuring up an image of
his face didn't have the desired effect. True, seeing his long dark hair and his dark grey eyes
sent a shudder through her body, but it also made her remember that he was not here and had
not been for more than a year. So it was with great frustration, annoyance, and more than a
tinge of sadness that Rhaenys rose from her bed and readied to start the day. She called for
her handmaidens and when they'd helped her dress, she then made her way to the family
dining room to break her fast.

"Good morning, Arthur." she said as she took her seat, only she and Arthur present in the
room for now.
"Good morning, princess. An early one today?" Arthur asked as he looked at her with
concern in his eyes.
"I couldn't sleep." she said sheepishly and then she saw his small nod.
"Well sleep's loss is my gain then is it not." Arthur said and she chuckled.

They weren't alone for long, her mother, uncle, and aunt soon joining them, and then her
father, brother, and granduncle made their way into the room. Rhaenys smiled sadly at
Aemon as she always did, it was difficult though to see him in such a weakened state. His
eyesight had all but left him and he was growing weaker by the day, yet he hid it well to all
but family. Even when Aurane Velaryon had arrived recently for his brother's wedding, her
granduncle had appeared to be as fit and healthy as he had once been.

Rhaenys wondered if he had done so for her brother's sake, to not have him think about him
being so weak and to then not to be able to come and visit even for that. Knowing how much
her brother loved his namesake, she doubted that even their father's will would have kept
Aemon away if he'd known the truth about their granduncle's health. It saddened her to think
that should he pass, which seemed to be what everyone expected would happen soon, it
would be without the chance for the two of them to say their goodbyes. Then again she felt
enough sadness when she thought about her brother as it was.

"I cannot, I'm sorry, I cannot."

The words haunted her still, even after all this time. She caught her mother look her way and
so she smiled at her, hoping it was enough to forestall any questions. If there was one thing
she was sure about it was that she didn't need anyone poking or prodding at her feelings right
now, not with the wedding so close and her doubts threatening to overwhelm her. To ensure
her mother's stares wouldn't provoke her into giving more away than she wished, Rhaenys
looked to her father and Aegon and tried to listen to the heated discussion they were having.
Only hearing it had something to do with her goodsister and nothing more.

Talisa and Aegon hadn't been getting along for some time, their different views on slaves and
Aegon's wandering eye was perhaps the reason for that and she wondered why her father
didn't come down harder on her errant brother at times. Rhaenys did her best to ignore the
voice in her head that told her that she knew the reason why. That one son in exile was all the
empire could take and that Aemon's refusal to give her up and follow their father's will,
couldn't be allowed to occur again with Aegon too.

"You think I care what others think of me? I bring them glory and yet they speak of me behind
my back, they whisper of me in the hallways of your own palace, and yet I keep my counsel.
You think I care that they think me an abomination because of the love I have for my sister?
You forget The Conqueror, father, you forget that we are dragons and we answer to no man
and not even to the gods themselves." her brother said his voice calm but his anger clear.

"You answer to me, you follow my will, you do so or you suffer the consequences, Aemon."
their father said, his own voice was so very much like Aemon's that if she closed her eyes
she'd not know which of them was speaking.
"What you ask of me I cannot give you, I will not give you, and so to you, I say, no. Now do
your worst, father." Aemon said and their father's wroth was worse than any of them could
have imagined.

She was lost in these thoughts and had been for some time. Thoughts that at times she'd been
able to put out of her head, though for briefer and briefer periods of time over the last year.
Thoughts that she'd been having more and more ever since Aurane came and handed her the
letter that she both longed to and feared to open.

"Rhaenys."
"Rhaenys."
"Are you even listening to me?"

Shaking her head, she looked to see Daenerys looking at her with a smile on her face, her
aunt looking so very amused with herself that even Rhaenys laughed as she looked at her.

"Forgive me, aunt, what were you saying?" she said as her mother, father, brother, and uncle
looked at her, though none seemed more intrigued than Arthur did.
"I was saying, we've to go and get fitted, Rhaenys, both of us." Daenerys said.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I…"
"Was lost in thought about your betrothed no doubt." Daenerys said almost dreamily.

Rhaenys didn't contradict her, instead just smiling at her and after bidding her father and
mother farewell, she hurried after her aunt to the dressmakers. Her day was to be a neverending one of being poked and prodded after all, though at least this was to ready her dress
and not to seek out what was on her mind. She and Daenerys were heading back to her rooms
when they saw her betrothed and his guards walking through the Grand Palace.

Egon Emeros was a very handsome man, though he looked far too much like her brother to
Rhaenys's eyes, and it was not the brother she'd have wished him to remind her of. He was
tall, his silver hair was long and worn in a ponytail that stretched halfway down his back, and
though she doubted the man had ever truly wielded a sword or weapon of any sort, he was
muscular and fit beneath his immaculate clothing. That she didn't find him in any way
attractive at all, she could only put down to the fact he was not the only man she had ever
found so, he was not and would never be the brother of her heart. Still, she welcomed him
warmly, accepting his kiss on her hand and trying not to scowl at her swooning aunt.

"He's so handsome, so fit, I bet he could go all night." Daenerys said after Egon and his
guards walked away and Rhaenys laughed and shook her head as Daenerys continued to
speak "I'm so jealous of you niece, I hope Rhaegar finds me a man just as handsome when it's
my turn to wed."
"You can have mine." she said honestly though her aunt laughed as she thought it a jape.

For some reason, she felt a call, a need to go to her dragon, and looking to her aunt she knew
that once she suggested it that she'd seek to fly too. So it was to the Dragonpit and not her
rooms that they went. Rhaenys looked to the sky and then she saw Meraxes land quickly,
almost as if she had been waiting for her. Her dragon's silver scales shined in the bright light
of the sun and though she was smaller than Daenerys own black dragon, Nightwing, there
was none as fast as Meraxes other than her brother's own and with them both far from here,
none in Essos was even close.

"I missed you too girl, do you want to fly?" she said softly touching the silver scales and
feeling the dragon's trill as she did so.

No more than a few moments later she was in the air, Daenerys flying beside her and
Nightwing calling out a challenge that Meraxes was only too happy to take. The two dragons
roared loudly as they flew through the city, barely missing buildings and no doubt giving all
below a show they'd enjoy. She could hear her aunt's laughter and though she joined in, her
own was far more muted. Even Meraxes was finding their flying companions to be poor
substitutes from the ones they both wished were here with them.

It was perhaps this more than anything that led to her cutting the flight short and to her not
feeling in the mood for a family dinner that night. Rhaenys glad when her mother accepted
her word that it was just nerves about the wedding and not anything else that was causing her
so much concern. Try as she might though she couldn't get the thoughts from her head or his

image from her mind and so she moved to the chest where she kept her most precious things
and looked for the letter that Aurane had brought her from her brother.

She moved past the seashell he'd brought her from his first-ever trip away from Volantis.
Aemon had wished for her to share it with him and found this to be the only way she could.
The small red gemstone that he'd gifted her for her tenth nameday brought a smile to her face
as did the silver comb that at times she still used, even if it was only when she knew she'd not
be disturbed. When she found the letter she took it out almost afraid it would simply fade
away. As if this too was but a dream of a life that could never be.

Closing her eyes, she brought it to her mouth and kissed it softly, imaging Aemon doing the
same before he handed it to Aurane. Hoping that he still did the same as they had always
done with their letters to each other. She swore she could smell him, his scent almost coming
off the letter in waves and she breathed in deeply to take as much of him into her self as she
could. Then, she carefully opened the letter and looked at the writing, seeing the words
written in his hand.

If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?
If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?
If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call?
If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all?

I'll never know what the future brings
But I know you're here with me now
We'll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with

I don't want to run away but I can't take it, I don't understand
If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?

If I don't need you then why am I crying on my bed?
If I don't need you then why does your name resound in my head?
If you're not for me then why does this distance maim my life?
If you're not for me then why do I dream of you as my wife?

I don't know why you're so far away
But I know that this much is true
We'll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I'm prayin' you're the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life

I don't want to run away but I can't take it, I don't understand
If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?'

Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away
And I breathe you into my heart and
Pray for the strength to stand today

'Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right
And though I can't be with you tonight
You know my heart is by your side

I don't want to run away but I can't take it, I don't understand
If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?
Is there any way that I could stay in your arms?

She felt the tears flow as she looked over the words once more, each of them cutting deep
into her very soul. Moving to her wardrobe she looked for her clothes and dressed as quickly
as she could before she grabbed her coin purse and the chest and then she made her way to
the window. Climbing down quickly, she was soon almost running through the garden and
calling out for Meraxes as she did so. After she had told her dragon to meet her, she then felt
Meraxes's joy as it was clear what it was she intended to do. Rhaenys and the silver dragon
were both as one in knowing that this was not only the right choice for them but the only one.

How she reached the Dragonpit without being seen she could only put down to Meleys
herself. For only the goddess of love could have been on her side in such an endeavor.
Climbing up onto Meraxes back as soon as she saw her land, she didn't even have to tell her
to fly, the silver dragon quickly taking to the sky and heading north for now. North though
wasn't where she was going, it wasn't her destination and it would be soon to the West they

turned. To the West and to the place that she should have gone more than a year ago, to the
place and to the man who waited in that place, the man she loved.

"Take me to him, Meraxes, take me to my brother." she said and the silver dragon roared
loudly as she began to fly even faster.

The High Empire of Valyria.

High Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen age 41 years.
The Empress of the Sun Elia Targaryen age 43 years.
The Dragon's Heir Aegon Targaryen age 21 years.
The Princess of the Sun Rhaenys Targaryen Age 22 Years.
The Prince of Dragons Viserys Targaryen age 24 years.
The Princess of Dragons Daenerys Targaryens age 17 years.
The Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne age 43 years.

Deceased.

Former High Emperor Aerys Targaryen, died 283 AC aged 39 in his sleep (believed
poisoned)
Empress of Dragons Rhaella Targaryen, died 284 AC aged 39 in the birthing bed.
The Empress of the Ice Lyanna Targaryen died 284 AC aged 18 in the birthing bed (daughter
stillborn)

House Targaryen of Dragonstone.

The Dragonknight Aemon Targaryen (exiled son of the High Emperor and the Empress of the
Ice) age 20 years.

Torgho Nudho age unknown (approx 30 years) sworn shield.
Daario Naharis age 35 years Commander of the Second Sons.
Thoros of Myr age 40 years Commander of the Flames of the Dragon.
Marwyn the Mage Maester age 55 years.

House Velaryon of Driftmark.

Aurane Velaryon age 22 childhood friend and brother of choice to the Dragonknight,
Commander of the Sea Snakes.

The Wolf and The Dragon.
Chapter Summary

We take a look at the North and the House of the Wolf from Aemon's arrival at
Dragonstone to the raven he sent in the last chapter. While on Dragonstone Aemon
readies for War.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros II.

For 8,000 years there had been a King of Winter and the Wolves had ruled the North. From
Jon Stark who built the Wolf's Den to his son Rickard the Laughing Wolf who defeated the
Marsh King. Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf who repelled Argos Sevenstar and Torrhen Stark
The King who Wept, right up to Rickard Stark the Wolf who looked South.

Father of the Dragonknight's late and beloved mother, Lyanna Targaryen, King Rickard Stark
sought to expand the influence of the Northern Kingdom beyond its borders. An arranged
marriage with the Storm King Robert Baratheon came to naught when the then Princess
Lyanna disappeared in Braavos, only to reappear in Volantis newly married to the High
Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen and now named as his Empress of the Ice. So it was to his
second son Prince Eddard Stark that Rickard looked to see the South brought closer. Catelyn
Tully of Riverrun was soon made a princess and an alliance was formed to bring down House
Hoare and to place a new King on the Throne of the Riverlands. An alliance that came under
threat from the unlikeliest of sources, his grandson Aemon the Dragonknight who had his
own plans for the Riverlands, the North, and for Westeros itself.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight.
Marwyn the Mage.

Winterfell 298 to 300 AC.
King Rickard Stark.

He read the missives and found himself pleased with the messages they brought. Wyman had
organized more trade with the Empire and as a result, their taxes would be significantly
higher than they had been the previous year. War brought a need for materials and the Empire
was always warring with someone. Ned was to be a father again and he smiled when he read
that, five children Cat had given his son and there was now more Starks in the North than
there had been for many a year. If only his son and heir had been as blessed with children he
thought with a sigh.

At times he'd considered asking him to set the woman aside, though he knew his son would
never do so and it would anger the Ryswells and so he had thought the better of it. Five times
Barbrey had fallen with child and five times the babe had been lost to them. Other than he
had no doubt that Brandon had bastards throughout the North then he'd have questioned his
son's virility. He liked the woman though and she was a good wife for Brandon as she
tempered most of his son's worst impulses and he feared what someone less firm than
Barbrey would allow him to get away with. That Ned had three boys and that his grandson
Robb was a young man with promise, gave him far more leeway with his oldest son too.

As he read through the final of the missives, he heard the knock on the door and bid them
enter. The Maester hurrying into his solar with a worried look on his face and a scroll in his
hand. Waldon was young and prone to being over-excited and Rickard found he missed the
counsel that Walys would give. Though he did welcome having a northern man as his
Maester for most other aspects of the man's duties.

"Waldron?"
"A raven, my king, from Dragonstone." Waldron said and Rickard almost growled as he took
it from him.

The Empire. Were it not for the coin that could be made from them he'd have no dealings
with them whatsoever. They had actually thought they'd done him a boon by wedding his
errant daughter as if he wished to have his Lyanna married to a dragon and to not be the only
wife in the man's bed. High Emperor or not he had no time for Rhaegar Targaryen and had
made that clear very early on. So to see a message coming from their island was a surprise, to
say the least, as was the sigil that the message was sealed with.

"From Dragonstone you say?" Rickard said as he looked at the single head of a red dragon
instead of the usual three.

"The bird was from there, my king, though the sigil is not one I recognise." Waldron said as
Rickard broke the seal and read the message.

To the King in the North,

My name is Aemon Targaryen, son of The Empress of the Ice Lyanna Targaryen, your
grandson. I seek an audience with your grace and request permission to travel to the North to
see the lands of my mother. I wish to meet her family and to speak to you about my plans now
that I am here in Westeros. Long have I desired to see the Wolfswood and the Barrows of the
First Men, to visit the Wall and to see Winterfell and though I had not expected to ever have
the time to do so, fate it seems has other plans. I await your reply most eagerly, your grace.

Aemon Targaryen.

A boy? He'd heard she had a child but hadn't dared to believe it. As if she'd not shamed him
enough she'd now brought a child into the world as well. Aemon Targaryen, he'd heard the
name he was sure of it but as with all things Targaryen he'd paid it little or no mind. Looking
from the scroll to Waldron he wondered how much he should speak on it, he'd not let the man
see the words themselves but perhaps he'd heard of the boy.

"Aemon Targaryen, Maester, what do you know of him? He asked.
"Very little my king. I would expect Theomore to know more as Lord Wyman's Maester, do
you wish me to seek his counsel?" Waldron asked.
"No, that'll be all, Waldron." he said and it took Waldron a moment to realize he wasn't
getting the scroll back. The Maester was almost at the door when Rickard stopped him as
he'd changed his mind "Send word to Theomore and find out all you can on Aemon
Targaryen." he said and Waldron nodded.

It took almost a week for the raven to fly to White Harbor and return, a week in which he
spent a long time praying in the Godswood for guidance. Rickard finding to his annoyance
that the Old Gods were silent and the answers he sought were out of his reach. When the
raven arrived from Theomore the words it carried left him with no choice and so another
raven was sent and soon word received him that Lord Wyman was on his way to Winterfell.

Almost a moon after he'd received the raven from the boy who claimed to be his grandson, he
now sat on the Winter Throne with Brandon at his right side and Barbrey standing beside her
husband while Wyman was led into the Great Hall. The Lord of White Harbor, Lord Too Fat
to Sit a Horse some men called him but even including himself there was no wiser man in the
North than he. His youngest son Ser Wendell had accompanied him and so had his oldest
granddaughter, Wynafred. Wyman never missing an opportunity to let him know who it was
that should be his grandson's future wife.

"My king." Wyman said taking a knee.
"Lord Wyman, welcome to Winterfell, we shall feast later but I've much I wish to discuss
with you before then, perhaps once you've been settled?"
"Of course my king." Wyman said and Rickard nodded to Brandon and Barbrey, watching as
his son and gooddaughter spoke to Ser Wendell and Wynafred while Wyman looked to him
as they left the Great Hall.

It was less than an hour later that he found himself sitting across from the man in his solar.
Wyman enjoying the food and ale he'd had laid out on the table for him while Rickard found
himself drinking and eating a little too.

"Aemon Targaryen, Wyman, what can you tell me about him?" he asked.
"Of course, my king." Wyman said before wiping his fingers on the cloth "Prince Aemon
Targaryen is the second son of the High Emperor. He's called the Dragonknight, a title that
means much to the Targaryens, my king, and is in charge of the Empire's second army.
Aemon is the one they send to settle most disputes, to bring the rebellious cities or the
Dothraki under control. Along with his dragon Gaelithox, he is a formidable warrior and is
much feared in Essos where even his name alone is enough to quieten most dissent."
"And his mother?" he asked and Wyman gulped at his tone.
"The Empress of the Ice." Wyman said and with how he looked at him it was clear he'd say
no more unless prodded.
"Why would he be in Westeros, Lord Wyman?" he asked to a surprised look and then one that
seemed more assured as Wyman had obviously come to a conclusion.
"The Velaryons, my king. Prince Aemon is close with one of the Velaryons and they have a
keep on Driftmark."
"So you believe this to be just a visit to see a friend?" he asked curiously.

"For whatever other reason could he be here, my king? Prince Aemon is too important to the
Empire for him to look to Westeros. I would expect he's here for personal reasons, but I can
seek answers if you wish?"
"Do so, I'd seek to know the truth of this visit." Rickard said though the words on the scroll
he'd read gave him some insight into that "Your granddaughter is a credit to you, Wyman, I
shall speak to my son regarding her and Robb."
"My king, you honor me." Wyman said his smile beaming.

Truth be told she was the only true match for his grandson as he couldn't look South for Robb
if he was to be Brandon's heir. Besides he had more than enough grandchildren to make
southern alliances with. They feasted Wyman that night and he watched Wynafred even more
closely and even spoke to Barbrey about her after Wyman had left. His gooddaughter telling
him that she was a smart and capable young lady and agreeing with him that she'd make a
good and true wife for Robb.

Over the next few moons, he got more news from Wyman and more ravens arrived from
Dragonstone. It seemed that his grandson and the High Emperor had a falling out of some
sort and though word differed depending on who you heard it from, Aemon had been exiled.
It made him consider reaching out to him and answering the request for a meeting. The idea
of a dragon at his beck and call was one that very much appealed to him. Yet he could and
would not speak to the boy, both because of the shame he felt he brought him and due to the
tales he'd heard of him from Wyman. Aemon was not someone he could bend to his will and
so what use was he to him.

Eventually, the ravens stopped coming and though a messenger arrived with a letter and was
welcomed into his halls, he too was sent away with no answer, and Rickard for the longest
time heard no more from Dragonstone or Aemon Targaryen. That he'd made no moves since
he'd arrived on the island was well known to him and proved that he had indeed been exiled
and so after a while, he began to put him out of his mind completely. Or he did until the day
came when Wyman arrived back at Winterfell accompanied by a man who almost caused him
to laugh out loud because of his appearance.

"Lord Wyman?" he asked as he sat on the Winter Throne, his attention on the blue-haired and
mustachioed man beside him more so than the Lord himself.
"My king, may I present Daario Naharis, the Commander of the Second Sons and a member
of Prince Aemon's court." Wyman said and Rickard glared at him for speaking so publicly,
though the look on Wyman's face told him that the man feared what not doing so would
bring.

"Lord Naharis." he said to the blue-haired man.
"Not a lord, your grace, just a commander." Daario said his smile cocky and annoying.
"And what brings you to my lands, Commander?" he asked brusquely.
"I bring word from my prince, your grace. A request he bids me make of you in public and
one he'd wish to hear your response to from my very own lips." Daario said.
"And what is this request?" he asked as both Brandon and Wyman looked at him curiously.
"An audience with your grace. My prince requests leave to come and visit these wonderful
lands of yours." Daario said almost mockingly.
"Then you can carry back to your prince the same response I've given all such requests. I do
not grant him an audience and he has not and will not be given leave to visit my lands. You
may stay the night Commander, the night and no more." he said and Daario smirked as he
responded.
"There is no need for us to impose more upon your hospitality, your grace. My men and I
shall take our leave and return to our prince with your message which we've heard loud and
clear. Though I'm sure our prince will be disappointed with the news I bring back to him, alas
it is what it is. Your grace, Lord Wyman." Daario said and within a moment the man was
gone from his hall.
"Brandon, gather some men and shadow their movements, make sure they leave and don't
dally on our lands." he said and his son nodded as he rushed off to do his bidding.

He rose from the chair and bid Wyman follow him, the two of them hurrying to his solar, and
even before he'd sat down in his seat he was speaking angrily to the Lord of White Harbor.

"Why did you bring that man into my hall, my lord? Why have him speak publicly to your
king?" he asked.
"He bore an imperial seal, my king. A seal from the High Emperor himself. To slight an
exiled son is one thing, even though I'd not and have recommended against you doing such.
To slight the High Emperor would mean a cessation of all our operations in Essos." Wyman
said.
"They'd do so over such a trifling thing?" he asked shaking his head.
"The dragons are ever prickly, my king." Wyman replied.

Winterfell 300 AC.

King Rickard Stark.

Time, as always time was the one thing he never had enough of and that and the raven's scroll
he held in his hands were now the most pressing things on his mind. He needed to be gone, to
ride and ride hard if he was to make it to the Riverlands and do what he must before the
dragon came. The North needed its allies and they would need to take down the Hoares to
gain them. Once they did so they would then hold the Riverlands, Ned would be named King
and then Hoster and the rest of the Riverlords would be his to call upon. Then and only then
could he stand up to his grandson.

The thoughts of that made him sick to his stomach, fighting against kin was not something
that he had ever considered and yet a part of him didn't really consider Aemon to be his kin.
He hadn't responded to the letters and had denied the requests for a meeting as he had no
desire to see the living breathing proof of his shame standing in front of him. Rickard had no
inclination to meet her son after what she had done and what she had cost him and even
hearing confirmation that she had passed from this world hadn't changed his mind on that.
The harsh truth was that he had given her up for dead the moment she'd ran away from
Brandon in Braavos. She'd been dead to him for years and so he'd not mourned her when he'd
heard it for true.

He gathered his things and looked to Ice as it rested about his hearth. The urge to carry the
sword with him was strong and yet he left it for now and took his trusty longsword instead.
Once he was sure he had all he needed, he made his way down the stairs and out into the
courtyard, sighing when he saw Brandon ready his own horse to ride with him. His son and
heir was a strong and powerful man, a man any father would be proud to name as their own.
Yet in some ways he was his biggest failure too, he was his greatest regret, other than the
daughter who had shamed him so completely.

"What are you doing?" he asked Brandon as he moved to the horse.
"I'm riding with you, father."
"No, you're not, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, you know this as well as anyone."
he said placing his things on his horse and looking to Martyn Cassell and the rest of his
guards.
"I've sent for Ned's lad, my nephew should be on his way here now." Brandon said and
Rickard glared at him angrily.
"And is Ned's boy the Heir to my Throne? Is it Robb Stark who's the Prince of Winter or is it
mine own son?" he almost shouted.

"You're traveling through dangerous lands, father." Brandon shouted back.
"I am your king, not just your father, boy. You will stay here and rule in my stead until my
return, am I understood?" he said, his voice brooking no argument and it was with a nod that
he was answered.

He mounted his horse and looking to Martyn he gave him the signal and he and the fifty men
he would ride with rode out the gate. They rode hard and made good time and were almost
halfway to Cerwyn by nightfall. After setting up camp and eating his meal, he retired to his
tent and despite wishing to sleep he found he could not. Instead, he lit the candle and found
himself opening the raven's scroll that his grandson had sent. The message it contained was
the cause of his haste and as he had in the days since it had arrived, Rickard now read it once
again.

To the King in the North,

Letters I have sent and messengers too and the answer I've received has left me in no
doubt of the truth of your feelings for me. Very well, I care not and will make no further
attempt to reach out to those of my mother's blood. Instead, I give you fair warning, the
words of my mother's house, of your house, are Winter is Coming, They are a warning to
always be prepared, to be ready for what may come and to allow nothing to surprise and
sneak up on you. It's not winter that comes to take your crown, nor is it enemies hidden in
the dark that seek to take your kingdom from you. I am coming and I bring with me Fire
and Blood.

Aemon Targaryen The Dragonknight,
Son of The Empress of the Ice Lyanna Targaryen.

He felt the shiver run down his spine at the words as they had when he had read them the first
time and though he was tempted to burn the scroll, he found he could not. Placing it back
amongst his things he lay down once more and tried to sleep, his mind going back to the first
letter that arrived and his response to it and though he believed he was in the right, a larger
part of him than before now questioned whether he was.

The conquest of Westeros III.
Dragonknights.

The tip of the empire's spear and both the sword and shield of the empire, Dragonknights
have been few and far between in the empire's history. Unlike the empire's other main power
The Dragonlords, Dragonknights are as comfortable on the ground as they are in the air and
while there have been many of the former, the latter have been very much rarer. From Visenya
to Maegor, Baelon to Daeron, and then Daemon to Aemon who had been considered the last
Dragonknight until his namesake was born. They are the Empire's fiercest protectors, its most
dangerous weapon, and wielding Dark Sister in their hands they are unmatched.

A Dragonknight is born not named and other than their skills on the battlefield they are set
apart from the Dragonlords by their dragons themselves. Only a Dragonknight can hatch a
dragon alone and so each babe born into the House of the Dragon spends its first year
sharing its crib with its very own dragon egg. When a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin
and the empire holds its breath to see which side that coin falls upon. Seven times it's fallen
and a Dragonknight has risen in its place. Though at one time it was thought to be eight as a
mother's ambition and knowledge of the dark arts led to a mummery. Ah, but the tale of
Bloodraven is for another day.

After Gaelithox hatched in Prince Aemon's crib, the empire rejoiced and those who would
dare to stand against it despaired. For the coming of a Dragonknight is usually the harbinger
of great change throughout the Empire. Little did anyone know that the latest Dragonknight's
arrival was to lead to changes not in Essos but in Westeros.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight.
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He flew on Gaelithox, the red dragon flying low over the water and Aemon felt almost
exuberant. On the back of his dragon, he was at peace, the world around him would
disappear, and were it not for the bond they shared then he feared what life would have been
like since he'd been exiled. Flying allowed him to forget and not think of what he didn't have
and focus only on what he did. It reinvigorated him and gave him strength when he was
weak, as both he and Gaelithox fuelled each other.

The red dragon was one of the youngest in the empire, the first to be hatched away from the
nursery since Bloodraven, his mother, and their fell magic and the first true one since his
namesake's great dragon Hāedar. Yet even the red dragon's arrival had not stopped the
whispers in his father's court or the looks that he received. Aemon had thought that was what
had strengthened his bond with his dragon at first, that he would spend far more time with
Gaelithox than anyone other than Rhaenys would with Meraxes. Later though his granduncle
had explained to him about the bond that was shared between Dragonknights and their
dragons and how different it was from any other.

Whatever the reason, he'd been grateful for it as he and Gaelithox were as one when they
flew and in battle, this was even more so. When he let loose the red dragon's flames both of
them felt almost ecstatic. They were dragons, fire made flesh and it was only right for them
to burn those who stood against them. He was never callous or indiscriminate but he would
never hold back when upon his dragon's back. It was yet another thing he and his father
would disagree on and he would be chided over, no one other than his sister, granduncle, and
Gaelithox himself understanding the reasons he did the things he did.

"Arlī naejot se tēgembōñ, Gaelithox." (Back to the island, Gaelithox) he said and the red
dragon trilled.

Despite his own loneliness and feelings of loss since he'd been exiled to Dragonstone,
Gaelithox loved the island. It was more like home to him than even the Dragonpit had been,
Aemon felt. Were Meraxes here with him then he felt that his dragon would be more content
than he had ever been other than when they were at war, something they would be at once
again very soon. Beneath them, the bay was full of ships, his army was boarding and
readying for the first of many battles to come and Aemon wasn't sure which of the two of
them was more excited.

For more than a year he'd stewed in solitude and bemoaned his lot in life, but no more. It was
time to do what he was born to do, to fight and beat those who stood against him. To bring
them to their knees and break their will, and to watch them submit to his own. Gaelithox
roared loudly and he joined him, the sound reverberating across the bay and he heard the
cheers of his men below him as they flew over their heads. He could see his sigil flying on
the ships, the Red Dragon on a black background, one head not three, and with the thin sword
held in its talon. Aemon was no longer fighting for the empire, for his father or to earn
respect from those who would never give it freely. This war was for him, for his own crown,
and for his own glory.

They landed near the keep and he dismounted and moved to the red dragon's head, leaning
his own against it as he told Gaelithox to go eat and rest and that he'd spend the night by his
side. The sounds he received in return were ones that showed the dragon's pleasure at his
words. As he walked toward the keep he was soon joined by Torgho Nudho and by Thoros.
Daario had already set off on his own mission along with the Second Sons while Aurane was
overseeing the loading of the ships. He smiled at the two men and as always it was only one
of them who returned his smile, Thoros almost laughing when he reached him.

"A battle cry, my prince?" Thoros asked with the smirk still on his face.
"I felt it needed and you know how he likes it so." he said to a chuckle.
"Men almost ready, my prince." Torgho Nudho said.
"I'll speak to them before they set off, any ravens?"
"Marwyn asked me to give you these, my prince." Thoros said and Aemon took the two
ravens, the Sun and Spear of the Martell's and the Stag of the Baratheon's both unbroken.

Though he wished to read them as he walked. he decided not to. Instead, he, Thoros, and
Torgho Nudho engaged in easy conversation and spoke of past and future battles. His sworn
shield was eager to test his spear against the warriors of Westeros and to see the mettle of the
men. Right from the moment, the first threatening message had been sent to him by Robert
Baratheon, Torgho Nudho had wished to see them respond to the Stag how they would to any
who would dare such a thing. It had confused him that Aemon had waited this long and yet
he had kept his counsel and waited for him to make his move.

Now that they were on the verge of making that move, Aemon knew that should Robert
Baratheon find himself close to his spear, the man would find no fiercer foe than Torgho
Nudho. Insults to his prince were not something his sworn shield would let pass and he felt
that the Stags needed to answer for them. Aemon was more understanding though no less
forgiving. Fear was a potent motivator and Robert Baratheon for all his bluster feared him.
When they reached the keep's courtyard he sat down on the steps and broke open the seal on
the first of the messages.

To Prince Aemon Targaryen,

Dorne is a free kingdom and one that wishes no part in your quest for a throne to call your
own. We will take no part in your battles with other kings, offer you no aid, and should your
eyes turn to our own lands then it'll be with spears we answer you and not with words.

We are Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken Prince Aemon and you are no kin to us.
Prince Doran Martell.

He chuckled as he finished reading it and handed it to Thoros who read it and then passed it
to Torgho Nudho.

"Your sister's family share the same traits as both she and the Empress." Thoros said looking
at him as Torgho Nudho frowned.
"They do but Dorne is irrelevant, I'd have liked their spears but they'll either kneel willingly
when I take the rest of Westeros or they'll be brought to their knees." he said as Thoros
nodded.
"They think desert protect them." Torgo Nudho said with a snort.
"Deserts offer thirst and that is all, you and I both know that my friend." he said and Torgho
looked at him as Aemon broke the second seal.

To the Dragonspawn,

I warned you not to test me and to stay on your pile of rocks and for over a year you heeded
my warnings and so I left you in peace. I see you now boy just as I saw you then and I know
what it is that's in the blackness of your heart. You seek conquest, glory, and to take that
which is not yours and again I'll warn you, step foot on my lands boy, and I'll send your
father and mother your head. I'll grind your bones to dust with my hammer and wear them in
a pouch around my neck. Do not test me, boy, for you'll find not some quivering piece of shit
from Essos should you come here. Your reputation means nothing, your father means nothing,
and your mother even less than that. Come if you dare but make peace with whatever gods
you name as your own. For should you look my way then you'll be meeting them soon
enough.

King Robert Baratheon,
Ours Is the Fury.

His laughter caught them by surprise, both Thoros and Torgho Nudho looking at him
confused as he almost doubled over so truly did he laugh. It took him a few moments to get
himself under control and he wiped his eyes as he handed them the note, only one of them
finding it as amusing as he did. Torgho Nudho was wroth, his sworn shield wearing a look
that worried even him and so Aemon rose to his feet to place his hand on the man's shoulder.

"We'll deal with him soon enough, Torgho Nudho, see him pay for such words." he said
firmly.
"He dares too much, my prince." Torgho Nudho said still glowering at the note he held in his
hand.
"He's Westerosi, they know so very little about us, perhaps we should teach them?"
"Show them who we are." Thoros added.
"See them kneel." Torgho said, his expression calmer.
"See them kneel." he said and Torgho nodded at him.

Slapping the man on the back, he walked into the keep and up the stairs to the Great Hall. He
walked past the throne and into his rooms, nodding to the servants as he did so. His armor
was rested on its stand and was polished to a sparkling shine, the red of the metal looking
almost dark in the dim light of the room. Moving to it, Aemon brushed his hand over the steel
and smiled. In the light of the sun, the armor was the same color as Gaelithox's scales, bloodred with no markings on it, no sigils, and no embossments.

"Time to go to war, old friend." he said as he took the helm and breastplate down from the
stand.

Moat Cailin 300 AC.
The Quiet Wolf.

He looked down as Arya fired an arrow and hit the target directly in the center, his daughter
glancing up at him to check for his approval. The soft smile he wore on his face was soon
joined by her beaming one as she let loose the second arrow and it too struck home. After
watching her for a few more moments he heard his wife's footsteps and turned to greet her,
his eyes drawn to the swell of her belly as they had been since he'd found out she was with
child once again.

"She's getting better." Cat said as he kissed her cheek when she reached him.
"Aye, she wants to come on the next hunt." Ned said as his wife frowned "She's old enough
Cat and she'll stick by my side."
"Very well." Cat said reluctantly, allowing Arya to use a bow was one thing, allowing her to
hunt with him had been a source of disagreement between them "A raven from Winterfell."
his wife said a moment later handing him the scroll.

He took it from her hand and broke the seal, reading the words quickly and sighing. His
father was a stubborn man at the best of times and it seems this one was to be no different.

"Robb will be returning with my father." he said as Cat looked at him confused.
"I thought Brandon wished him to be the Stark in Winterfell?"
"Aye, so said the message we got from him but it seems it's to be him and father has already
left." Ned said and his wife nodded.

The two of them made their way across the walkway and into the keep, soon hearing the
sound of Sansa's singing and Ned smirked as they passed by the room where she was at her
lessons. His eldest daughter far preferred indoor activities to the outdoor ones that his
younger one did and had a habit of singing while she was doing her embroidery. Her voice
was a true and good one and many a morn he'd found himself standing close to the room
listening before he'd set off to do his daily duties.

He'd been blessed when it came to a wife and children, a strong firstborn, and a second son
who was as smart as could be. A third son who was a wild little wolf and prone to mischief
and two daughters who though as different from each other as night and day were more than
any man could ask for. Cat saw the smile on his face and then almost shrieked when he
grabbed her and placed a kiss on her lips.

"Ned" she said softly as he kissed her once more and his hands went to her belly.
"What will this one be, eh? Another little boy, a girl?" he asked as Cat smiled at him and he
saw the sparkle in her deep blue eyes.
"And which is my lord's preference?" she asked playfully.

"Healthy, that's all I've ever asked for, that the babe be healthy and we stay as blessed as we
have been by the gods." he said and it was Cat who kissed him this time.

He spent the rest of the day going over papers, checking stores, and putting the guards
through their paces. With his father coming they'd been on more alert than they usually were
as no doubt he'd seek to appraise their readiness. The Moat was the key to the North, it and
the Neck stood as impenetrable barriers and ensured that no southerner passed into the North
without permission from its lord and certainly none with ill intent.

The lands between it and the border with the South were his to patrol and barring a few
skirmishes to test him when he first took over as its lord, he'd known naught but peace in his
time here. For some reason, he felt that was about to change and so the next few days saw
him short with his children and on edge. He'd canceled the hunt he was scheduled to go on
much to Arya's annoyance and had not allowed Bran to go visit the Reeds in Greywater
Watch, much to his. His father would wish to see each of his grandchildren when he arrived
here and so for now at least they were all forced to remain at the Moat.

Ned had expected it to take a week for his father to arrive after the raven from his brother,
instead, it took him four days and he knew then that his concerns weren't unfounded. He was
pleased to see his son again and he knew that Cat despite understanding that Robb at times
had to travel throughout the North, far preferred having him under their own roof. They lined
up in the courtyard, he, Cat, their children, and their guards all ready to welcome not his
father, but their king, and when Ned saw the number of men that rode with him, he
shuddered.

"Moat Cailin is yours, my king." he said as he and those present took a knee when his father
dismounted from his horse.
"Rise, all of you." His father said his voice booming across the courtyard "Ned it's good to
see you. By the gods Cat you look even more beautiful than ever."

His father greeted his wife and then his children and seemed to be in pleasant enough mood
and yet there was an undertone to his words and looks that Ned had noticed more and more
over the last year or so. They'd only seen each other on four occasions during that time and
Ned had seen a change come over his father on each of them. From the moment his nephew
had arrived on Dragonstone it had seemed as if his father was fighting against the ghosts of
the past. Now looking into his eyes as they walked into the keep, Ned felt it was ghosts of the
future that he was concerned about.

After he'd washed and changed and promised his grandchildren he'd speak to them all later,
his father joined him in his solar. Ned offered him a mug of ale which his father drank down
far too quickly and so he poured him another while he sipped on his own. The men he'd
brought with him were some of the best that Winterfell had to offer. Martyn Cassel was
perhaps the best blade in the North and other than someone like the Greatjon or Brandon
himself there were few if any who could beat him. So seeing him in his father's
accompaniment showed just how serious whatever he was doing truly was.

"The children seem good, Ned, and Cat, she's well?" his father asked.
"Aye, this babe seems to be taking even less out of her." he said and his father nodded.
"Robb's growing well, it'll be time soon he's wed."
"Aye, we'll need to look at matches, Rickard's girl is around his age and they seemed to like
each other well enough when he last visited Karhold."
"It'll be Wyman's girl, Ned. Young Wynafred. I'll leave it to you to make the arrangements
but if he's one day to be King in the North then he'll need the right wife and so Wyman's
granddaughter it'll be. I'll speak to Benjen about Torrhen for Rickard's girl when I get back."
his father said and Ned knew there was no point in arguing with his as his mind was made up.
"Get back?" he asked as his father took another swallow of his ale.
"I've got a meeting with the Lord of the Riverlands, Hoster has arranged it, it's time we took
the Hoares down. The Dragon is coming Ned and he seeks to make the North his and we
can't fight him alone." his father said with a sigh and Ned felt himself stiffen.

Of all the things he'd expected as the reason for his father's visit, this was not one of them.
They'd talked for years about taking the Hoare's down, rallying the Riverlords, and joining
their forces with their own to force them back to their pile of rocks. He knew his marriage to
Cat had been with this in mind and yet it had never gone further than talk. Timing, men, and
as reluctant and recalcitrant as the Riverlords were it was hard to get them to form a
consensus let alone an army. As for his nephew, he'd offered to go to Dragonstone himself
when he'd heard that his sister had a son that had arrived in Westeros, only for his father to
deny him leave to travel there.

His children had been fascinated to learn of Aemon's existence and that he was a Targaryen
who flew a dragon only added to their own wishes to meet him. Never had he expected that
he had come with this in mind though and he found it angered him greatly. Something his
father picked up on and Ned was sure he saw a pleased smile on his face as he looked at him.

"I'll gather some men to escort you to the meeting." he said firmly only for his father to shake
his head.
"I'm meeting Lord Mallister's men at the Twins and they'll escort me on to Riverrun." his
father said and Ned looked at him concernedly.
"Is it wise to meet Hoster there?" he asked.
"It's the only place I can where it won't seem as if we're plotting something. It's his son's
nameday and so my presence at the feast won't seem too out of the ordinary. I've traveled
there many times over the years ever since you and Cat were wed and so it's not as if this visit
is a rarity. My men will be enough to see me there and back."
"Is there anything you wish from me?" he asked and his father shook his head.

They feasted that night and he sat watching his father laugh with his children and even clap
enthusiastically when Sansa sang a song for them all. He saw him and Robb deep in
conversation more than once and he knew that he'd need to speak to his son on the betrothal
and arrange a meeting with Lord Wyman and Ser Wylis. Rising early the next morning he
broke his fast with his father and his men rather than with Cat and the children and as soon as
they were done, Ned watched as they rode out his gate. Seeing his father look back over his
shoulder and laugh at something, Ned was caught by surprise until he saw Arya running with
her bow and he laughed a little too.

The Conquest of Westeros IV.

From the seas and up the rivers they came and soon the lands of the rivers were bathed in
blood. For a little over one hundred years, House Hoare had named themselves the Kings of
the Isles and Rivers. Brutal and unforgiving, those under them bristled and revolted and were
put down mercilessly. Might beating right each and every time and yet the problem with
might was there was always somebody mightier than you.

An alliance of its vassal houses was formed and plots and plans were made, yet it wasn't to
be these plots and plans that would see House Hoare fall. Tully, Mallister, Mooton,
Blackwood, Bracken, Frey, and Stark. Powerful indeed were those who sought to see House
Hoare lose their crown and yet the true danger to them was not unruly vassals or its
neighbors to the North. The true danger came from further afield and he brought with him
Fire and Blood.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight.
Marwyn the Mage.

Riverrun 300 AC.
Rickard Stark.

He was glad to see the walls of Riverrun in front of him, Rickard finding that he hated
traveling through these lands. They were too warm for his northern blood and were that not
bad enough, the people were not to his liking either. Lord Jason Mallister though was a
decent enough sort and he liked Hoster well enough but the thoughts of having to travel back
through the Twins were not ones he welcomed. There were few men as repulsive to him as
Lord Walder Frey and other than the man's desire for betrothals, which he'd probably fight
fiercely for if given the chance, that man wouldn't fight to see Rickard's goals achieved.

Not that he wished to fight with the weasels at his side or back and he hoped that Hoster had
a plan for them to bypass the Twins with his army. Riding in through the gate he smiled when
he saw the Blackfish though it annoyed him that it was Edmure that stood with him and not
Hoster himself. Still, he dismounted and was welcomed warmly and his men were soon
shown first to the stables and then their quarters.

"Hoster is unwell, your grace." The Blackfish said quietly as they walked into the keep.
"How unwell?" he asked and the Blackfish shook his head and Rickard sighed as things
would be much more difficult without the Lord of Riverrun leading the Riverlords.

He didn't bother to settle and instead, he and the Blackfish made their way to Hoster's rooms
and Rickard was shocked by the sight that greeted him once he got there. Unwell didn't even
begin to cover it and if Hoster lasted the moon then he'd be stunned. The man seemed to have
aged more than twenty years since last he saw him and that was only three or four years ago.
His eyes were alert as ever and though his voice had lost a lot of its strength, it seemed his
wits remained which at least was something to be grateful for.

"We waited too long old friend and now the fight is not one I am able for. Brynden will stand
in my stead and he knows my mind on this. Mallister, Mooton, Blackwood, Bracken, and
mine own men, 15,000 I can give you Rickard and Brynden knows better than me the plan.
I'm sorry I can give you no more and that I won't be marching with you." Hoster said before

coughing loudly, Rickard picking up the cup of water himself to allow the man to drink some
down.

"It'll be a poorer fight without you, but when it's won it'll be in your name as much as mine
own." he said and Hoster smiled.
"How is the boy, my grandson, how is Bran?" Hoster asked eagerly.
"He's coming along well and is cleverer than any lad that age has a right to be. Young Robb
too is growing into a fine man and the little lad, Rickon, now there's a wild wolf if ever I saw
one." Rickard said with a laugh that Hoster joined in wtih.
"The girls?" The Blackfish asked.
"Sansa is every image her mother and Arya is a fierce little thing. They are well as is their
mother, Cat is with child once more." Rickard said and he saw the smile on Hoster's face.
"I did right by Cat, he's a good man your son and they are happy. She'll make a fine queen
and him a true king and in time Bran will take his place. I did right by Cat, Minisa…
Minisa…" Hoster shouted and Rickard looked at him worriedly only to see the Blackfish nod
to a Maester to come and give his old friend some dreamwine.

They walked from the room and the Blackfish confirmed what he suspected, Hoster would be
lucky to last the moon and if anything shouldn't have lasted this long. After eating his meal
that night he found himself sitting in what used to be Hoster's solar and was technically
Edmure's now though it was used mainly by the Blackfish. Across from him, the Blackfish
sat over his ale as they spoke on his grandson on Dragonstone and Rickard told him that he
feared that he'd seek to make a move to take a crown for himself.

"Perhaps we can bring him to our side, I've heard much about Prince Aemon, Rickard, they
speak of him almost reverently in Essos and if even half what they say about him and his
dragon is true then he'd be a fine ally to have." The Blackfish said.
"He has ambition, Brynden, too much of it and how do we control him when he seeks for
himself the same as we do? We needs must make our move and once we have dealt with the
Hoares then and only then can we deal with the dragon." he said and the Blackfish nodded.

They feasted for Edmure's nameday the next day and he spent some of the night speaking to
the lords that Hoster had spoken about. The Lords Bracken and Blackwood were men he
could work with and the latter followed the same gods as he and bore him no ill will for their
exile at the hands of his ancestors. He wasn't as sure about Lord Mooton but the Blackfish
said his men were true and Rickard had already taken the measure of Lord Mallister.

Over the next two days, they spoke on their plans and he could find no fault in what the
Blackfish suggested. Two armies to march separately and the Hoares would seek to deal with
his one first, allowing the Blackish and the Riverlords to hit them in the rear. He shared his
worries that they'd not come out from their keep as he knew if they did not then they were
done for. Harrenhal wouldn't fall and unless they broke them in the field there was no point in
even trying to depose them.

"They'll come out, Harren is a prickly fucker and word will reach him that you have his son,
I'll see that it does. He'll try and take you before your cross the Twins, relying on Walder
keeping you there for some time. But you won't march across the bridge to join up with us
and we'll not be here waiting. The Trident, that's where this war will be won or lost, The
Krakens Ford is where we'll be and where we'll bring Harren to his knees." The Blackfish
said.
"How many men can you bring to bear, your grace?" Lord Mallister asked.
"25,000, I'll bring 25.000 with me though I'll march at first with only 10,000 to give him a
tempting target. My sons will lead the larger force of my men while I'll march with the men
of the mountains and Winterfell's own." he said and the lord nodded his agreement.

He left early the next day after saying what he knew was his final goodbye to Hoster. Three
moons it would take him to gather the men and to march and they were three moons that
Hoster didn't have. The Blackfish though was a good man to lead the Riverlords. His
grandson's arrival in Westeros had caused him consternation and yet it also had led to the
time finally coming for a plan years in the making to at last come to fruition. So it was with a
very different mindset he and his men set off from Riverrun than the one they'd had when
they had ridden to it.

They camped that night in a forested valley next to a rocky stream. Around him the trees
were thick and he could hear the snow shrikes as they called out their nightly calls. He was
sitting by the fire when he heard it, the sound almost like a whisper in the air, and was it not
for the gurgling sound that came from the guard in front of him, he'd not have known it was a
crossbow bolt he'd heard. Rickard rose to his feet as his guard fell to the ground, the bolt
wedged in the man's throat and his eyes glassed over as he breathed his last.

"Ambush, Ambush, Defend the king." he heard Martyn Cassel shout out loudly.

Around him it was chaos, arrows and bolts flew and men fell, and though he'd pulled his
longsword from its sheathe there was no one for him to use it on. More and more of his
guards fell and he felt himself being pushed and dragged towards his horse. Martyn moving
him unceremoniously as he shielded him from yet more arrows and bolts.

"Ride and Ride fast, my king, don't look back or worry about the men, Riverrun, we ride for
Riverrun." Martyn sad and Rickard nodded.

The horse didn't make it far and he felt the weight of it when it fell on top of him and crushed
his leg. Their attackers had finally shown themselves and Rickard knew then that he was to
die here this day. Where they had come from? Who they were? And how they had known that
he was riding here? All were questions he'd more than likely never see answered. He tried to
get out from under the horse and found he could not and so he lay there stuck watching as his
men were cut down in front of him.

The man who fought against Martyn was impossibly fas and Rickard despite his predicament
found himself watching in awe as the best sword in the North was given a lesson in
swordsmanship. It was like watching a man against a boy and the fight only lasted as long as
it did because the man had wished it so. Around him the last of his men were butchered and
he looked on as a giant of a man swung a greatsword one-handed and cut one of his men in
two. Rickard closing his eyes to pray to his gods that his own death would be quick and the
vision that came to him was one he had no desire to see.

"He would have seen the North safe, seen our family safe, and had you just reached out to
him then you'd have had a dragon to call upon." Lyanna said her voice full of recrimination.
"He wanted my crown?" he argued back with her, or at least he thought he did.
"He is your blood and will be the king of not just the North, but of all Westeros. Is that not the
limit of your ambition? Is that not the extent of all your dreams? You wished for the South
and my son would have brought it to you. Stark Blood on a throne and a kingdom greater
than any of the King's of Winter even dared to dream of. All you had to do was reach out."
"I…"
"Are the same fool you've always been and no kin of mine." Lyanna said her voice and words
cutting him right to the bone.

He opened his eyes to see Martyn fall and the man who cut him down now moving over
towards him. The armor he wore was dull and grey and he saw the sigil of House Hoare on it

and found himself sure not he'd been betrayed. When the man reached up to take off his
helm, Rickard was surprised to see the golden blond hair and the green eyes that were
revealed, though not so much the smirk the man wore as he raised his sword.

"The King of the Rock sends his regards." Jaime Lannister said as the sword swung and then
Rickard saw no more.

The Kingdom of the North, The House of the Wolf.
House Stark of Winterfell.

King in the North (uncrowned) Brandon Stark age 38
Queen in the North (uncrowned) Barbrey Stark age 38.

Deceased.
Rickard Stark died at age 56 in the Whispering Woods 300 AC.
Lyarra Stark died at age 32 of summer fever 278 AC.
Lyanna Stark, Princess of Winter and The Empress of the Ice died age 18 in the birthing bed
(stillborn daughter) 284 AC.

House Stark of Moat Cailin.

Prince Eddard Stark age 35
Princess Catelyn Stark age 35
Prince Robb Stark (presumptive heir to the throne) age 17
Princess Sansa Stark age 15
Princess Arya Stark age 11
Prince Brandon Stark age 10
Prince Rickon Stark age 5

House Stark of Sea Dragon Point.

Prince Benjen Stark age 32
Princess Dacey Mormont age 30
Prince Torrhen Stark age 14
Princess Lyanna Stark age 12
Princess Maege Stark age 6.

Chapter End Notes

While the World is being established this will update each Friday for the foreseeable
future.
Up Next we take a look at the Lions of the West and at Dragonstone Aemon welcomes a
visitor who brings a proposal. While in Volantis we see a reaction to Rhaenys’s flight.

Our Roar is Louder Then Theirs.
Chapter Summary

We take a look at the Lions of the West and at Dragonstone Aemon welcomes a visitor
who brings a proposal. While in Volantis we see a reaction to Rhaenys’s flight.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros V
The Lions of Casterly Rock.

Prideful and dangerous, House Lannister ruled over the West with a firm hand. Never was
this more clear than when upon the death of his father, Tywald, Tywin Lannister was named
as the King of the Rock. Where his father was lenient, Tywin was unforgiving and he set out
to ensure that all those in the West knew all that was needed to know about their new king.
After a dispute with two of his vassal houses who had used both his father's weakness and the
newness of his reign to pull on the lion's tail, Tywin was determined to show them why that
was a terrible idea.

Immortalized in the song The Rains of Castamere, what was done to the Reynes and the
Tarbecks was the stuff of legend in Westeros. From there the Lannisters only grew in power,
influence, and ambition. With the use of the gold they mined, they forged links with the
Empire and Tywin even sought the hand of the then Prince of Dragons Rhaegar Targaryen
for his daughter Princess Cersei. Only to be denied when it was to Dorne and not to the West
that Prince Rhaegar looked and sought a bride. Denied but unperturbed, Tywin often sought
the Empire's aid in bringing Westeros under one king, himself, only to be refused time and
time again. Once again he sought a betrothal and offered his grandaughter's hand to either
of the High Emperor's sons or his grandson's to Princess Rhaenys and once more he was
denied.

Sensing an opportunity when the Dragonknight arrived on Westeros's shores, again he
reached out, and again he was denied, though this time for a very different reason. Dragon's
don't share you see and the Dragonknight wasn't in Westeros to place a crown on a lion's
head. Westeros may have feared the lion's wrath or shuddered when they heard his song but

Dragons roar far louder and Prince Aemon had his own song to sing. The song of ice and
fire, the song of the conqueror reborn, the song of the Dragonknight.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Casterly Rock 300 AC.
Tywin Lannister.

He'd sat and waited long enough and so it was time to move. First things first was Tyrion and
so he'd sent for his disappointment of a son and sent him off with strict orders that even he
couldn't fail to carry out. Next was Jaime and soon he too had been sent off with his own task
to complete, Tywin felt far more relaxed about his son and heir's eventual success. It irked
him that in his desire to maneuver things into a winnable position he had perhaps hesitated
for too long and cost himself the advantage he held in men and coin.

They'd been ready to move and he'd come so close to giving the go-ahead when news had
come that a dragon had arrived on Dragonstone. Not just any dragon either but the so-called
Dragonknight himself and it had given Tywin pause. He knew all about Aemon Targaryen's
reputation and to see him arrive in Westeros made him fearful that the Empire was now
looking their way. Fearful and annoyed as he'd sought them to do so on many occasions over
the past twenty or more years. He'd traveled personally to Volantis and met with both the
previous High Emperor and the one that now sat the Imperial Throne. The offers he'd made
both men had been denied and so Cersei was now married to Ser Addam Marbrand and not to
Rhaegar Targaryen while Myrcella was still a maiden true and not the wife of a prince.

When news had come about Aemon's arrival and what it could mean, all his plans had
stopped and he, and he imagined the rest of Westeros, had watched and waited to find out the
reason he was now on their lands. The reason soon became clear, the watching and waiting
however had never stopped. Hearing he'd been exiled had been a surprise and he had
wondered if there was an opportunity in that, only to find that all his requests for a meeting
were denied to him. Now a year or more later and the dragon hadn't stirred and he'd no longer
wait for permission to meet. He needed to know the man's mind and so he'd sent Tyrion and
either he'd find out all he needed to know, would soon have an alliance or he would lose a son
that he didn't care about. No matter the result it would be a win for him, Tywin thought with
as close as he ever got to a wry smile.

"A raven my lord." Maester Creylen said and Tywin nodded as the scroll was handed to him.

The seal was unbroken and it bore no sigil, just as he'd demanded and as he broke it open he
felt a sense of almost excitement. He'd made a deal with House Hoare that he had no
intention of keeping to and one that he knew they feared him far too much to break. They
were not and never would be allies, though for now it suited him for them to think they were.

A wolf lays in a field and will howl no more.

Simple words and yet they told him all he needed to know. Rickard Stark was dead and it was
time to bait the trap even further. His spies had told him about the divide between the dragon
and the wolves, and it had been one of the only true good pieces of news he'd gotten since the
dragon had arrived on Dragonstone. The thoughts of Rickard Stark teaming up with his
grandson were ones that had kept him up at night. Together Westeros would be no match and
while Aemon Targaryen seemed to have no ambition or desire for more than his pile of rocks,
Rickard Stark was far more greedy for lands that were not his.

It had been how he'd been able to bring the Hoares on board and it was now how he'd see
them fall. The raven was already written and ready to be sent to Dragonstone and Jaime he
knew would send the message to Winterfell. All he needed now was time, time to pass so that
Jaime was safely back in the West and time to pass so that when he sent the message to
Dragonstone the news of his grandfather's death would already have reached Aemon. Time
this wrongly and the dragon would look West instead of to the Riverlands. Time it right and
the North, Riverlands, and the Dragon would all be so busy fighting each other and he could
make the rest of his moves in peace.

After spending most of the day writing out notes and readying the rest of his plans, he felt his
hunger come upon him and looked forward to his evening meal, if not to some of the
company he would share it with. He rose from his desk and walked from his solar, strolling
down through the corridors of the Rock and entering into the family dining room. His sister
Genna, his brothers Kevan and Gerion, and his daughter Cersei were all already sat there with
their children and he found himself looking at each of them with very different looks.

Some disappointed him, others annoyed him and some had roles to play in what the future
was to bring to his house. His daughter who at one point he'd thought would bring him an

Empire's aid had at least brought two good children into this world, as well as one who was
very much not. Joffrey was a mad dog and not a lion and though the boy had his uses, they
were few and far between. His brother Tommen was a different sort and a lad that he had
spent many years molding and Myrcella was Joanna come again.

It was his granddaughter that he now poured all his hopes and dreams into. Myrcella would
bring him the alliances he sought and deserved and he would if he had his way see a far
larger crown on a Lannister head in the future. He took his seat and began to eat, ignoring the
conversations that were going on around him. Questions were asked about where Jaime had
gone, though there were fewer about where Tyrion was and he answered none of them.
Instead, he spoke to the children and made sure they were studiously doing as he'd bid them.
Myrcella almost bringing a smile to his face when she spoke of how her Valyrian was coming
along.

"Giēñatī Creylen vestras nyke ȳdragon ziry sȳrkta than ziry." (Maester Creylen says I speak
it better than he) Myrcella said as she looked at him and he nodded back to her.
"I don't understand why she needs to learn such a language father, it's not becoming of a
lady." Cersei said and he somehow managed not to roll his eyes.
"We may all be speaking it soon enough should the dragon look our way." Gerion said with a
chuckle and his brother smiled and winked at him when Tywin glowered his way.
"The dragon cares not for Westeros, thank the seven." Genna said and he wished that he
shared her certainty.

He was happy when the dinner was done with and he rose and made his way back to his
solar. Kevan joining him when he gave him a nod. It irked him that he couldn't let Gerion in
on more of his plans but his brother was a blunt instrument when it came to plots and
schemes. Kevan was far more attuned to how he thought and far more likely to understand
the intricacies required. Though truth be told it was truly only Genna and his misbegotten
dwarf of a son that truly understood how the game was played.

When they reached his solar, his brother poured himself a glass of wine, and at a nod from
him, he then poured him one too. They took their seats and Tywin handed him the raven's
scroll that Jaime had sent, seeing Kevan's smile as he read it and then took a sip of his wine.

"Any word from Tyrion?" he asked and Tywin shook his head "He should have reached there
by now, do you think something's gone wrong?"

"With luck." he said with a snort before he shook his head "My son loves so much to talk and
no doubt he's doing some of that as we speak."
"And if the answer is not as you wish?"
"Then we look to other opportunities, Gareth's son is of age is he not?" he said and Kevan
looked at him curiously.
"You would ally with the Gardeners?" his brother asked.
"I would place a lioness amongst their gardens and when she brought forth a cub, then I'd cut
down all their trees." he said and Kevan smirked.
"The Northern prince or is he a king now?" Kevan asked with a chuckle.
"Is a reckless fool and will rush to seek justice and vengeance."
"And the Hoares?"
"Will fall." he said raising his glass.
"To the Lions." Kevan said.
"Hear us Roar." he said as he took a sip and enjoyed the feel of the wine on his tongue.

Riverlands 300 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

There were few times when he was truly alive or when he felt his blood properly race through
his veins. On the jousting field and in the yard when he showed off his prowess or when he
lay with Cersei. When his twins had been born and he'd held them for the first time and when
he killed a man who had tried to kill him. Or when he waited to lead a charge, to ride down
and attack men that he knew he had the measure of.

Fighting against these Northmen he'd felt it, facing down the man who was the best of their
blades and yet who was so far beneath him, he'd felt it. As he looked down on the wolf who
would be king he felt it and he'd enjoyed taking his life. The problem was that once your
blood was up, it inevitably had to come back down and his came down as he took the wolf's
head from his shoulders. It almost made him wretch and he felt such a fool after he'd done so
when he then realized he had to search the man before he sent the head back to the North.

Sighing he bent down and wiped the blood from his hands on the wolf's tunic before
searching through his clothing. When he felt the letter he thought nothing of it and it was
only when he'd opened it up that his blood began to flow once more. He knew his father
wished to bring the dragon to their side and that this letter would or could help in that and so
once again he'd make his father proud. It was what he lived for and what had always brought
him his truest joy. Each time he'd see that look on his father's face it would prove him good
and true and so he went out of his way to put it there. Handing him this letter when they
returned to Casterly Rock would do so, that he knew.

"Ready the head and tie it and the others to the horse." he said as his men took the rest of the
Northmen's heads from their bodies. "No, not that one, he fought a good fight, let him keep
his own." he said stopping the man from taking the head of the man he'd fought and killed.

It was unlike him to do such a thing and the man had been no true opponent and yet for some
reason Jaime felt it was the right thing to do. As he looked at the letter in his hand and saw
the dragon's name and read the words, he found himself questioning the right thing to do
once more. He'd heard the tales of Aemon Targaryen, of how he was the greatest blade in all
of Essos and Jaime longed for the chance to test his skill against his own. More than that he
found he wished to face him in a true fight. A fight to the death where he knew his blood
would rise higher than it had ever done before.

Destroying this letter made the chance of that more true and so he hesitated before he placed
it into his pack. For four and thirty years he'd not gone against his father, he'd not do so now.
Who knows perhaps the gods were good and one day his fate would be to face off against this
so-called Dragonknight. Brightroar against Dark Sister, songs would be written should it
come to pass Jaime thought smirking before he walked over to Glory and mounted up

Five days later and the heads had begun to stink but they were on the road to Moat Cailin,
they were now in the North and some of his men worried that they'd be stopped while he
almost wished they would be. In the end, they were not and when they were as close to the
keep as they dared to go, he slapped the horse's arse with his hand and sent it racing towards
Moat Cailin. He and his men turned and rode and he smiled when he saw the man hiding in
the trees. The news would travel of the large number of men wearing the color of House
Hoare and when it did they'd be long gone.

"We ride hard." he shouted and they then began to race back south.

What his father had offered the Hoares he knew not, only that they'd allowed them free reign
in their lands, and barring once when some men had come to tell them that Stark had left
Riverrun, they'd left them alone. As for their sigils, banners and clothes, if anything they
were truly a poor representation of the Iron Born house. Though poor was perhaps the wrong
word to use when in truth what they wore was of a far better quality and material than what
the men of that house would wear.

Jaime and his men had refused to dress in the rags they dressed in, coarse material and thin
fabrics were not something that was suitable for true men of the West. So it was only on the
surface that they'd look how they did and should anyone look closer their mummery wouldn't
have held, not that anyone did. They'd stalked after the Northmen until they'd gotten close to
Riverrun and had picked the perfect spot to ambush them on their return. The ambush had
then gone just as perfectly as it could have. They'd lost two men out of the two hundred he'd
brought with him and their bodies would be brought back to their families in the West. Their
numbers, the element of surprise, crossbow bolts, and their arrows had almost ended the fight
before it had begun.

"The Golden Tooth, my prince, this path will take us there by nightfall and there's a stream
just up a little on the way." Daven said and Jaime nodded to his cousin.

At the stream, they washed before burning their mummer's outfits and he felt more like
himself now that he was dressed once again in crimson and gold. They were welcomed into
the keep by Lord Leo Lefford who was both happy to welcome the Lion Prince and yet
unhappy that he was said prince. The man had never forgiven him for stealing his betrothed
from him, even though it had been his father and not he who'd done so.

"My Prince, it's good to see you hail and hearty. The Golden Tooth and its lord and more
pleased to have you as our guest." Leo said, his smile not quite true but not completely false
either.
"I thank you, my lord, my men and I would welcome a warm meal and the chance to bathe
and rest in proper beds. Some wine too would be much appreciated." he said.
"Of course, my prince, I'll see rooms are assigned and a bath is made ready for you." Leo said
and he smiled at the man as he followed him into the keep.

Though he welcomed the bath, food, and the wine and he knew his men did so even more so
than he, Jaime was happy to leave early the next morning after they had broken their fast. It
took them three weeks to travel back to Casterly Rock and he had sent ravens to his father

and to his wife from both the Golden Tooth and Ashemark. He was disappointed to find that
his sister and goodbrother weren't in the keep, both of them and the children had traveled to
Casterly Rock and so it would be an uncomfortable reunion he'd have once he reached his
home.

While Addam was oblivious to him and Cersei, Alysanne was much more perceptive and
when she'd confronted him about it, Jaime hadn't been able to lie to her. She'd not asked him
to give Cersei up, only that no one ever finds out about them and that he never did anything
with her when they were under the same roof. Something he'd agreed to and lived up to so
far. He loved his wife, he truly did, but he needed Cersei like a drowning man needed to
breathe. They were but half of a whole without each other and so he welcomed the
compromise. Had he not been a prince and their son not in line to be king one day, then
perhaps he'd not have been so lucky.

"The Rock, my prince." he heard someone shout out and he smiled as he saw it in the
distance, Jaime rubbing his hand over the letter that he bore from the Dragon and hoping his
father felt it and the deed he'd done were both worthy of praise.

The conquest of Westeros VI.
Dragons.

Where dragons came from originally no one can truly tell. Some say Valyria itself and some
say beyond it in the lands that remain unexplored. What is known is that it was in Valyria that
they thrived and they gave the Freehold its power. Few could stand against them when they
were truly unleashed and those who tried, soon found it to be folly. The Doom however
changed the world forever and the dragons were almost wiped from the face of Planetos.

Only three remained by the time Aegon set out to conquer Essos and with those three an
Empire was forged. Over time more were hatched and then something remarkable began to
take place. For to hatch a dragon requires magic and sacrifice, fire and blood, and how one
does so is something known only to those of House Targaryen. It is a secret that no one
without Dragonblood will ever learn. What is known is that in the dragon nurseries of Lys a
Dragonlord and his dragon are bonded and that bond remains until death, either the
dragon's or the Dragonlord's. Even those who claim a dragon that had once been bonded to
someone else. Such as how Princess Rhaenys claimed Meraxes or how Princess Daenerys
claimed Nightwing, must first travel to the dragon nursery on Lys to do so. All except the
Dragonknights that is.

Their bond is different and no one can truly explain it. It requires no sacrifice and no fire and
blood that anyone can see and the dragon hatches naturally and grows very much more
quickly because of it. Gaelithox hatched when the Dragonknight was a babe and yet it's now
far larger than Meraxes or Nightwing and rivals even the High Emperor's own Arrax. The
red dragon's flames though are even fiercer than those of the golden dragon. For more than
eight years Essos had felt the flames of the Blood Wyrm when it had dared provoke the
empire's wrath. Now those flames would be unleashed upon a new land, though it was the
Dragonknight whose wrath they should truly fear.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC (Takes place while Jaime is traveling back to the west)
Tyrion.

The Lion's pride cut through the water as if it was smooth which it was very much not. Waves
crashed against the hull and yet the ship didn't list or shake, it didn't rattle and so Tyrion
could stand on the deck and watch as the island came into view. Not that his eyes were on the
ships or the men or even on the island itself. Instead, he looked to the sky and hoped to gain a
glimpse of the dragon and found to his disappointment that it was nowhere in sight.

He'd been almost beside himself with excitement when his father had called him into his
solar and told him what it was he wished for him to do. To travel to Dragonstone, treat with
the Dragonknight, and to see a dragon in person was more than he could have dared to dream.
That he was actually been used by his father in a role that was worthy and not one simply
given to gain him scorn, was something he welcomed. Even despite his sister's words that
he'd overheard her say to one of their guards.

"Would a dragon even notice it had eaten something so small? I know father won't mourn his
loss and neither will any of us here at the Rock." Cersei said.

The words would normally have cut him far more deeply and yet this time they did not. His
father's own resonated in her ears and the truth in them was too obvious for him not to see.
Not that he didn't think his father wouldn't welcome his death should it come to pass. No, he

knew that he needed him to be his eyes and ears as much as he wished for him to bring the
prince to their side. So he'd let the thoughts of seeing a dragon in the flesh be what he spent
his time on. Tyrion had always been fascinated by dragons and once as a young boy had
asked his uncle Gerion for one for his nameday, only to be laughed at.

He'd so wished to travel to Volantis to see the Imperial Seat and walk through the halls of the
Grand Palace. To speak to the High Emperor and his Empress or to watch the Dragonknight
wield his blade. Dark Sister was a sword of legend even in Westerosi literature. Mainly
though he wished to see the dragons in the sky, to watch them fly, and to dream he was on
their backs. So as the Lion's Pride was guided into the docks and with no sign of the dragons
in the sky, it was with disappointment rather than anticipation that he readied to disembark.

"My prince, we've been refused leave to set foot on Dragonstone." Artos the captain of the
Lion's Pide said.
"By who?" he asked curiously and saw the man motion to a red-headed and bearded man
who wore armor the color of blood.
"The Red Priest." Artos said and Tyrion nodded before looking to the Hound who quickly
moved to his side.

Once he had what he felt was adequate protection, he moved to the gangplank and as he went
to move down it a voice called for him to halt. Or more precisely warned him what would
happen should he not.

"One foot of yours touches the docks and I'll be taking it from you little man and a man of
your stature can't be affording to lose many more inches." the Red Priest said.
"You're addressing a Prince of Lions." Artos said angrily.
"I don't care if I'm addressing one of those seven fools you name as gods, it matters not.
There is only one prince that I recognize as such and he's much taller than this little fucker."
the Red Priest said with a chuckle.
"My name is Prince Tyrion of House Lannister the son of King Tywin Lannister, The King of
the Rock. I've come to treat with Prince Aemon." he said his voice firm.
"And as I said I care not who you are or what name you call yourself, you're not welcome
here dwarf so kindly, fuck off like a good little stunted lion." the Red Priest said and Tyrion
felt the anger rise from those on board.

He was about to say something when he heard some commotion from behind the red priest
and he saw two men walk his way. One wore dark armor made from leather and thin steel and
he carried a spear in his hand. His hair was cut almost to nothing and his dark brown eyes
showed no mirth whatsoever. It was a complete contrast to the other man with him who wore
a full smile on his face. He had hair that was almost raven black and dark grey eyes that
seemed full of the mirth that was missing from the other man's. The armor he wore was even
more blood red than the red priest's and he carried his helm in his hand. Yet it was the thin
sword hanging by his side that Tyrion focussed on and he knew exactly who the man was by
that alone.

"My prince." the Red Priest said with a bow and a smile on his own face now.
"You being rude to our guests, Thoros?" the prince said and Tyrion saw him wink at the red
priest as he did so.
"They caught me in a bad mood, my prince, I seem to have lost my wine." the red priest,
Thoros said, and Tyrion looked on as the prince nodded to someone who then threw a pouch
which Thoros caught.
"Ah, so much better. May I present Prince Tyrion of House Lannister, my prince, he's come
to treat with you." Thoros said after he'd taken a big swallow from the wine in the pouch.
"Forgive my man, Prince Tyrion, Thoros is not himself without his wine. You may
disembark, you and one guard only and he'll leave his weapons here on the docks." the prince
said making it clear that his words were not open to debate.
"You would leave me unprotected, Prince Aemon?" he asked even though he'd already
decided to do whatever it took to be allowed to speak to him.
"Were you in any danger here then what makes you think one man's weapons to be any true
comfort. You have my word that you or your man won't be harmed while you're my guest. I'd
think carefully before you accept whether that is enough for you or not because while mine
own mood is good right now, it is ever changeable." Prince Aemon said his words letting
Tyrion know he'd accept no slight or perceived one about his honor.
"I accept most graciously, my prince, Sandor, your arms." he said and at a nod from him, the
Hound removed his weapons.

He was surprised that neither was then checked for hidden weapons and pleased when the
prince walked slowly back towards the keep. Some men had a habit of quickening their steps
when he was near just to make him hurry after them. As power plays went they were poor
ones and it seemed they were not ones that the prince took part in. He was even more pleased
when a cart was then offered to take them to the keep itself.

"The stone steps take some getting used to, Prince Tyrion, and so I'll not ask you to walk
them." Prince Aemon said.
"It's much appreciated, Prince Aemon."

The prince and the other man with him both mounted horses so casually that he wondered if
they had been born in the saddle. Not even his brother seemed as much at ease as they both
were as they then rode up a broken path and to Dragonstone itself. Looking at the keep he
found the drawings he'd seen of it didn't do it justice. Though they were not the dragons he
had wished to see, they were impressive all the same. It was just when he'd thought that he'd
not see a true one when he caught the prince looking at him.

"Gaelithox wishes to meet you, Prince Tyrion." Prince Aemon said and then pointed
upwards.

Both he and Sandor looked up at the same time and whose mouth stayed open for the longest
he couldn't tell. The dragon was as blood-red as the prince's armor, its size hard to rightfully
judge given how high it was in the sky but he'd wager it was far larger than it looked. As it
flew over their heads it let out a roar that shook him to his very bones. Even the Hound
beside him seemed to be disturbed and frightened by what they were looking at. When he
looked back to the prince's face though, it wasn't amusement at their discomfort he saw in his
expression. It was something else and it took him until they entered the keep to figure out
what it was. Love, he'd seen love in the prince's eyes, a love not that a man had for a beast as
Jaime had for Glory, but a love of a different sort.

It was a love that one had for a brother, for a father, or a niece. A familial kind of love that
he'd seen only directed at him by some in his family and for some reason, he found it oddly
comforting. Any man that can love was one that could be reasoned with and should that love
be found with Myrcella then it was one that would stand their house in good stead. Tyrion
now found himself even more excited about the talks that were to come.

The Conquest of Westeros VII.
The Valyrian Empire.

300 years the Empire reigned supreme and now at its zenith under the rule of The High
Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen, it stretched from the Dothraki Sea to the Narrow one. From the
Shivering Sea to both the Summer and Sunset ones. Other than the Great Empire of Yi Ti and

the lands beyond its borders, almost every major city in Essos was now under the Empire's
control. Be it directly as in Lys and Pentos, Meereen and Qarth or indirectly and with a
degree of self-governance like Braavos, Norvos, and Mantarys.

Though absolute rule came from Volantis, each major city had a governor that was either
directly appointed by the High Emperor such as in Qarth or voted on and agreed to by the
High Emperor and the High Council such as those in Braavos or Norvos. Each High
Emperor had expanded the empire and each birthing of a Dragonknight was feared and
welcomed with equal measure as it always foreshadowed a period of expansion. With Aemon
as both his Hammer and the Anvil, in six years Rhaegar had added more lands to the empire
than his father, grandfather, and great grandfather before him had done combined.

Yet the High Emperor was a man who brought as much land to the empire through peace and
accord as he did through the might of the Dragonknight and Gaelithox. A mercurial man, the
High Emperor had broken with tradition not once but twice in his choice of brides. The
Empress of the Sun coming from House Martell of Westeros while the Empress of the Ice too
had come from Westeros, this time from the North and House Stark. What chose him to seek
brides from lands not under the Empire's control is still the subject of much debate. What is
not however is the ramifications of those choices and the effect they had not only on the
Empire itself but on Westeros.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 300 AC.
Rhaegar Targaryen.

Pointless though it was, he swung Blackfyre against Dawn and sought an opening. Rhaegar
trying not to look as frustrated as he felt when Arthur simply swatted away his attempted
attack. Never did he feel more a green boy than when he faced off against the Sword of the
Morning. Though truth be told other than Aemon there wasn't a man in the Empire who was
even close to a match for his truest friend. Thinking on his son cost him the match and only
that Arthur was truly as skilled as he was, that was all it cost him. The knight pulling his
strike back before he took his eye or head from his shoulders.

"I told you that your distraction would cost you, Rhaegar." Arthur chided and Rhaegar
laughed, his friend was one of the very few men who could chide him after all.
"You did and yet once again I didn't listen to you. You would think by now that when it came
to matters of the sword I'd bow to your superior knowledge." Rhaegar said.
"Dragons do not bow." Arthur said making Rhaegar chuckle, the memories of his son and of
him saying that in court were ones that he always thought on fondly.

Aemon had only been four and perhaps five when they'd held the meeting and how he'd
snuck into the Throne Room Rhaegar still didn't know to this day. Only that he and Rhaenys
had suddenly popped their heads out from behind the throne and his son had stormed forward
to argue with the Governor of Norvos. He and the rest of those present had looked on with
great amusement as Aemon had argued with the man who had dared to raise his voice against
his father. When Nymarol upon not recognizing Aemon because of his dark hair and grey
eyes told him to mind his manners and bow to his betters, his son had told him quite firmly
that Dragons do not bow.

"Rhaegar." Arthur said taking him from his memories and directing him to where Elia now
walked his way

Walked was very much the wrong word though as in truth his wife stormed his way with an
angry and worried look on her face. He sheathed Blackfyre and he and Arthur moved towards
Elia, Rhaegar could see that his sister was walking behind his wife and that Dany was crying.
It forced him to move even more quickly and given the news she brought it showed just how
true an Empress that Elia was that she spoke so calmly and quietly.

"Rhaenys is gone." his wife said and he heard Dany's sob from behind her.
"What do you mean she's gone?" he asked.
"She's gone, Rhaegar, her and Meraxes they've gone and you know where she's gone to. I told
you this would happen when you parted them, I warned you that it would." his wife said her
expression and tone one that was anyone to hear or see her they'd think friendly, he knew it
was anything but.
"She would not." he said shaking his head "Were she to think that way then she would have
left when Aemon did or not long after."
"We kept her under guard, Rheagar. Gods even her flights on Meraxes were never ones she
took alone even for moons after Aemon…After what you did." Elia said her voice still as

calm as ever though her eyes were blazing. The full power of the sun behind them as she
looked his way and were they alone then it would have been enough to make him flinch.
"Perhaps she's just gone for a morning flight?" he said though it was clear neither he nor Elia
believed his words.
"She's not, she took her chest, she took her chest with her." Dany said crying some more and
Rhaegar watched as his wife took her into her arms.
"Chest?" he asked curiously.
"Where she keeps the things that mean the most to her, the things Aemon gifted her." Dany
said her sobbing having subsided a little as Elia held her.
"I want her found and brought back, Rhaegar, I'll accept no arguments on this. Make your
peace with Aemon and bring him and my daughter back to me. Do not test me on this." Elia
said as she, Dany, their guards, and ladies made their way back towards the Grand Palace.

Rhaegar didn't need to look to see the expression on Arthur's face. His friend was one of the
very few who knew his mind and while not privy to everything in it, he knew enough to
know that he'd known this was to come. The question he now had to answer was did he have
the resolve to follow through or would he buckle under the pressure of his worried wife.
Sighing he went to the one place that brought him clarity of thought, the one place that he felt
at peace.

When he got there it was cold and the air chilled him to the bone and yet he was glad he'd not
worn warmer clothes, as the cold was most welcome. It showed him that he'd done right by
her and that this was where she belonged. She was of the Ice, of the North, and though for a
time she'd found a place in the sun beside him and Elia, it was the cold that she had always
longed for. He moved through the tomb and towards her statue, Rhaegar feeling his tears
threaten to fall the closer he got to it. He'd had the finest statue makers brought from the
furthest reaches of the Empire and still, they'd not done her justice. The statue failed to
capture what it was that made her who she was and as he stood in front of it, his tears began
to fall.

The She-Wolf of Winterfell, his Empress of the Ice, and the other half of both his and Elia's
hearts. He placed the small paper rose in her outstretched hand and then knelt down in front
of her. Rhaegar begging her forgiveness and seeking her absolution but finding little of either.
Eyes closed he could almost see her as if she was right there in front of him, her hair flying in
the breeze as they raced over the Great Grass Sea. After a few moments, he rose and looked
at her before moving closer and placed a kiss on her cheek. The cold stone was a poor
substitute for the warmth she had always carried within her.

"He is doing it, my love, all that we spoke of our son will do. I wish you were here to see it,
to see him rise and soar like none before him. I wish for just one more moment, one brief
moment where I could go back and do what it was that I should have. Forgive me, my love, I
beg of you forgive me." his words were spoken so softly that he knew only she would hear
them.

He walked out from the tomb, his tears had been wiped away and his heart though still aching
him was far more full than it had been. The calm he'd sought had come and it was with
renewed resolve that he made his way to set things right. Rhaegar had a broken betrothal to
fix, a wife to reassure, a sister to bring happiness to, and a knight to order to do what needed
to be done. He would miss Arthur when he was gone, his counsel, his friendship, and his
sword but his place was not by his side, not anymore.

Dragonstone 300 AC. (takes place while Jaime is traveling back to the West)
Aemon.

Thoros had come to him when the sails had been spotted and both he and Grey Worm had
asked him what it was that he wished to do. Aemon had found the thoughts of what he may
and could do to be ones that amused him greatly. Should he mount Gaelithox and show the
lions what a true roar sounded like? Or perhaps have his dragon lay down his flames on the
water as a warning? Should he deny them leave to dock and simply send them on their way?
Or should he take the measure of whomever it was they had sent to treat with him?

Many years earlier he'd met Tywin Lannister, the King of the Rock, or truth be told he'd not
actually met the man and instead had just seen him when he'd come to Volantis. Despite the
fact that his kingdom was no greater than one of the major cities in Essos and far poorer than
most of them, Tywin Lannister walked into the Grand Palace as if he was the master of the
known world. He was very much not and lions were far below dragons by every true
measure. The man had come seeking a match and had left with none and Aemon had seen
how he'd bristled when he did so.

Like most Westerosi, Tywin had made a simple mistake and had thought himself important
when he was very much not. So when he'd reached out to him after he'd arrived on
Dragonstone, Aemon had given him no reply. A part of him had wished to do the same to the
ship that sailed his way, to treat those aboard with the contempt they deserved and he'd been
so very close to doing so. Were this earlier in his time on the island and were his course of

action not already set, then he would have. But it was not and the lions had picked a most
fortuitous time to come to call upon him. One that Aemon felt he would find entertained him
if nothing else.

"It's time to put your skills to use, Thoros. All that mummery can come in useful once more."
he said and he saw the smirk on Torgho Nudho's face.
"Qarth, my prince?" Thoros asked.
"The greatest city there ever was or ever will be." he replied with a snort.
"Make sure the wine is at least good this time, my prince." Thoros said laughing as he left the
room and made his way to the docks.

He was surprised that it was the dwarf the Lion King had sent as he'd expected it to be his
golden heir, though perhaps he feared his loss should he wake the dragon. Aemon and Torgho
had watched as Thoros went through his full repertoire and after organizing the cart to carry
the dwarf back to the keep, they'd then made their way and intervened. The relief on Prince
Tyrion's face was clearly shown and yet until he'd seen Gaelithox flying overhead, the dwarf
had seemed to project some of the self-same arrogance that his father possessed.

Aemon had soon seen the wonder and the fear in his eyes and more of the former when they
walked through the Dragon Doors of Dragonstone's main entrance. Tyrion's eyes were
everywhere and Aemon for once welcomed the look of wonder in them. It had been one that
he himself had no doubt shown when he'd arrived here, even under the circumstances that he
had done so. With a smirk on his face, he thought of taking this meeting while sitting on the
throne, as looking down on the small man from a height would be amusing after all. Instead,
though he ordered food and wine to be brought and he held it in one of the solars that he
didn't use.

"From Essos, Prince Aemon?" Tyrion said a few moments after the food and wine had been
brought and he'd taken a sip from the glass he now held in his hand.
"Some that I brought with me and some that I've sent for over time. I find I've no taste for the
wines of Westeros, the what is it called? Arbor Gold and Dornish sour are not to my palette."
he said as he sipped his own wine, the truth was that he had no real taste for wine unless he
was celebrating which right now he very much was not.
"I can see why you may prefer this vintage, though I must admit I'm partial to both of the
others too." Tyrion said smiling at him which Aemon returned.
"Have you tried much of the delights of my homeland, Prince Tyrion?" he asked curiously.

"Alas no. My father's trading with the empire does not include such things as wine and food."
Tyrion said.
"A shame. There is much to be enjoyed throughout the Empire and a man has not lived until
he's eaten the cooked heart of a stallion while under the full moon of a desert's night sky."
Aemon said seeing the small curl of Torgho Nudho's lip as he remembered.
"Perhaps one day, Prince Aemon." Tyrion said though his expression made it clear that it
would take a sword to his throat and a threat to his life to make him even consider it.
"Your father sent me many ravens, Prince Tyrion, none did I respond to and yet you come to
speak to me now. I must say find your timing most odd." he said and enjoyed the small gulp
that Tyrion took as he swallowed the mouthful of wine he'd just taken.
"My father believed that perhaps his messages had been lost and that a message delivered in
person may succeed where the ravens had not. As for my timing, I'm afraid that on that I
must take the blame as illness and mine own desire to visit Dragonstone both caused any visit
to be delayed." Tyrion said his eyes looking into his own and though he tried to be casual
about it, Aemon could see the way they studied him.
"Then I'm most pleased that you feel well enough to finally travel to my home." he said and
Tyrion smiled, a small glimmer of relief in his eyes.

They spoke then around things, questions that were not questions, and Aemon found that
despite his small stature Tyrion possessed a keen mind. He probed and yet did not, he sought
answers in a way that were he not a man who'd grown up among men who played this game
far better than Tyrion, would have perhaps caused him to reveal far too much. Instead, he
revealed things that were clear and things that were untrue, except when it came to Robert
Baratheon.

"The Storm King, Robert Baratheon. Despite my wishes to be left alone and for me and my
people to enjoy our time on this island. It seems our nearest neighbor is not a man who takes
well to being told to leave well enough alone." Aemon said and he noticed immediately how
Tyrion sat up a little straighter.
"So you intend to teach him a lesson?" Tyrion asked almost eagerly.
"I intend to show him what would happen should he persist. I have not come here for
conflict, Prince Tyrion, I seek none and am happy and content with my lot in life." he lied
"However my people rely on me for their safety, and anyone who threatens that will face my
wrath. Words have not sufficed with King Robert and so I hope a show of force will be
enough. Were it to require more than that then my desire to leave in peace doesn't mean that I
won't go to war." Aemon said and he saw the wheels turn in Tyrion's head as he took note of
his words.

"Should things develop in such a way then it would be good to have an ally to call upon,
would it not, Prince Aemon?" Tyrion asked and Aemon sat back as if he was thinking about it
before nodding slightly "To that end, I believe my father would be most accommodating,
under certain conditions." Tyrion said with a smile.
"Conditions?" he asked curiously though he knew what would be said before it was.
"I have a niece, Myrcella. She's a wonderful young lady, six and ten namedays old, gold of
hair and green of eye and she possesses a keen wit and a most inquisitive mind. Alliances are
forged in blood or by marriage, Prince Aemon, and I know that if you considered taking my
niece for your wife then it would seal an alliance between the West and Dragonstone. Should
the need arise? Then the men of the West would fight alongside your own against any enemy
or foe you that found yourself against." Tyrion said and Aemon looked at him and tried not to
laugh.
"An interesting proposal. Perhaps you should stay the night while I consider it, Prince Tyrion.
I'll see that rooms are made available and word is sent to your ship."
"I would very much like that, Prince Aemon."
"Aemon." he said and Tyrion smiled.
"Then you must call me by mine own name, too, Aemon." Tyrion said and Aemon did as he
said and then saw that he was escorted to some rooms that were far from his own.

Once Tyrion had left the room, Aemon turned to Torgho Nudho and shook his head. His
sworn shield sighing as he had hoped that he'd be given the order to take the little man's head.

"They presume far too much, my prince." Torgho said just as Thoros knocked at the door and
entered the room.
"Why are we in here?" Thoros asked not seeing the expression on Torgho's face.
"I'd not meet him in my actual solar nor have him near my rooms. Let him think this is where
I meet and that the room he'll see me enter tonight is where I sleep." Aemon said.
"You fear assassins?" Thoros asked and Aemon had to rise to his feet quickly and place a
hand on Torgho's chest to stop him from leaving the room and killing Tyrion and his guard.
"I believe the Westerosi to be no more honorable than those we faced in Essos, old friend.
But what need I fear assassins with Gaelithox by my side." he said and Torgho relaxed, others
had tried before and failed because the dragon was ever watchful.
"So what does he want, an alliance? A marriage?" Thoros asked and then laughed when
Aemon nodded and Torgho frowned." I told you that you were far too pretty and thus a
desirable catch, my prince." Thoros said through his laughter.

"Would it were my looks that made it so." Aemon said to even more laughs.

At their dinner that night, Tyrion regaled him with tales of growing up at Casterly Rock and
of his brother and nieces and nephews. Aemon listened as he revealed much without realizing
it. He and his father had a strained relationship and that further explained why it had been
him and not his brother Jaime who'd been sent. It made him feel a need to be wary, to not
allow his own relationship with his father to influence how he saw the dwarf.

He had no true relationship with his sister, something that Aemon took comfort in as it was
now hard for him to relate his life to his own upon knowing that. Tyrion adored his nieces
and nephews, all except one, and Myrcella was indeed his favorite. Were his heart in his
power to give to someone else or even in his possession then he may have considered the
proposal that he had made. An ally made things easier and was far better than an enemy but
he had no sense of what the men of the West could do and so no confidence that they brought
him anything but disunity amongst his own forces. There was also the man's father to
consider and while Aemon didn't fear any assassin from without, he would be far warier of
those from within.

One day when he'd done all that the lion wished and Westeros was under his control, then his
use would be at an end. It wouldn't happen until he had brought the whole of it to heel and
until he had an heir to place upon the throne and on his dragon, but it would happen. It wasn't
a match that Tywin Lannister sought but a pawn to use until he could be discarded and
Aemon was done being someone else's pawn. So he listened, smiled, said all the right things,
and then at the end of the night walked Tyrion to his room before he entered what he had said
was his own. The next morning as they broke their fast, Aemon performed his own
mummery.

"Forgive me, Tyrion but it seems your time here must be brought to an end. King Robert has
raised his forces and I have no choice now but to bring my own to bear. I must leave and I
must leave now." he said as he read the note that was handed to him by Thoros, a note about
how the guard that stood at Tyrion's back did so not out of loyalty but out of a desire for coin.
"Of course, Aemon, I...our talks...perhaps I can bring my father an answer?" Tyrion asked as
he rose to his feet.
"Not the now, Tyrion. Should things develop either way with King Robert then you can
expect my answer then. For now, I'm afraid I must focus my attention on this. However, I'd
be lying if I said that the offer doesn't intrigue me and when I have more time I promise you
and your father a reply." he said and Tyrion smiled as he did.

Later that day he stood at the docks and watched the ship sail from the shore. Once it had he
turned to Thoros and Torgho, both men looking at him expectantly.

"Lions, pitiful things really. They don't even do their own hunting, just laze around in the sun
while the lioness takes down their prey. Tywin Lannister thinks his granddaughter a lioness
and I guess that makes me her prey but he forgets himself and thinks himself far too clever."
"That he does., my prince" Thoros said.
"Soon he'll learn, Our roar is far louder than theirs." Torgo Nudho said and Aemon nodded
before they walked away from the docks. They would be roaring very soon and he hoped that
it was heard all the way in Casterly Rock.

Casterly Rock 300 AC.
Tywin Lannister.

Jaime had done even better than he could have hoped for. Not only had he brought the wolf
down and sent the heads onto Moat Cailin but he'd brought him back a boon in the shape of
the letter. It was covered in blood and he knew not what to do with it at first. Yet a boon it
was and in time he knew he'd find a use for it. One son had done all he'd asked for and he
needed the other to do the same. Yet it took some time for Tyrion to return and during that
time he found himself in a place that he didn't like to be, the dark.

Not knowing which way the realm was moving annoyed him and not knowing which way the
dragon was looking left him with far too many unanswered questions. If Aemon Targaryen
had accepted his offer then Westeros would be his for the taking. His army together with the
Dragonknight and his dragon would mean that no one could stop him from uniting all of the
Seven Kingdoms. His granddaughter would be queen and once she'd birthed an heir then the
dragon would be theirs if what Creylen said was true. Then he could get rid of the Targaryen
prince and through Myrcella and her son, it would be he that ruled. Only if the dragon
accepted his offer though.

Should he reject it and seek to take the Seven Kingdoms for himself then he would need
another way to deal with him. The war between the Starks and the Hoares was but one
method he could use but he needed to know and the not knowing was annoying him greatly.
There was only so much feting of his son, preparing his granddaughter and seeking out other
alliances that he could do or stand. If not the Targaryen then it would be the Gardener prince
he would marry Myrcella to and together they'd bring Westeros to its knees.

"A raven my king, from Dragonstone." Creylen said and Tywin looked took it eagerly,
willing the Maester to leave while he broke the seal.

A few days later.

Night had fallen and he stood in his solar, word had come to him that the Lion's Pride had
docked and he now waited for his son to come to him. On the table, the raven scroll still lay
and Tywin found he couldn't even look at it, he hadn't been able to since he'd read it. He
didn't' turn when the knock came to the door, barely bid them enter, and even when he heard
the footsteps and the taking of seats, Tywin kept his back to the room. Eventually, he took his
own seat and he looked at both his sons, his brothers, and his sister who were all there too.

"Dragonstone?" he said looking to Tyrion.
"An interesting place, father, and a most interesting man is Prince Aemon. I believe he'll
accept your offer as he seems to be having trouble with the Baratheons." Tyrion said.
"Trouble? What trouble can a stag cause a dragon?" Gerion asked.
"I wager we're about to find out, uncle. My visit was cut short when Prince Aemon received
news from the Stormlands. The Baratheons have pulled on the dragon's tail and the dragon is
about pull back." Tyrion said almost eagerly.
"And you believe he and Myrcella will be wed?" he asked as Tyrion looked at him, his tone
at least having the desired effect and though he hated to admit it, Tyrion was always the
cleverest of any of the members of his house.

Where the others still hadn't realized that he knew different, it was clear to him that Tyrion
had and so the answer he got was not the one the others in the room had expected.

"I believed him to be speaking in good faith, father." Tyrion said.
"He was not." he said simply as he picked up the raven's scroll and threw it at Tyrion who
caught it.

Tywin closed his eyes briefly, calming himself and preparing for Tyrion to read the words
aloud. His course of action had been charted by that scroll and the words that were written
upon it. The letter had gone to Winterfell, its meaning clear and along with the heads that
Jaime had sent North it would point the finger in but one direction. Another letter had gone to
Dragonstone, naming the men who murdered Rickard Stark as those of House Hoare and he
believed it would be enough to set the dragon's sights on Harrenhal. One more had gone to
House Gardener, offering up Myrcella and the men of the West to see the dragon brought low.
The last had gone to Robert Baratheon telling him to bide his time and that if he did then
Dragonstone would be his for the taking. Aemon Targaryen had insulted him and he would
brook no insults from any man. Not even one who thought himself worthy to be the one true
king of the Seven Kingdoms.

"What does it say." Genna asked.
"What care dragons for the opinions of sheep." Tyrion said and Tywin felt himself bristle.

The House of the Lion.

King of the Rock Tywin Lannister age 58.

The Lion Prince Jaime Lannister age 34
Princess Alysanne Lannister age 33
Prince Jason Lannister age 14
Princess Joanna Lannister age 14

Princess Cersei Lannister age 34
Ser Addam Marbrand age 33
Prince Joffrey Lannister age 17
Princes Myrcella Lannister age 16
Prince Tommen Lannister age 12

Prince Tyrion Lannister age 27.

Deceased
Joanna Lannister age 29 (Died in childbirth, son Tyrion survived)

Chapter End Notes

Up Next As Aemon’s fleet sets sail and he takes flight, Gaelithox refuses to fly in the
direction he wishes and instead takes him to the sister he loves. We take a look at the
Reach and find out what Daario and Aurane have been up to and a look into the past to
see how Arthur Dayne ended up by Rhaegar’s side.
So I made an error last time, stupid math, House Hoare has ruled the Rl for 400 years,
not 100, My thanks go out to the reviewer who corrected me on this, you know who you
are.

The Golden Rose and the Silver Dragon.
Chapter Summary

Aemon’s fleet sets sail and he takes flight, Gaelithox refuses to fly in the direction he
wishes and instead takes him to the sister he loves. We take a look at the Reach and find
out what Daario and Aurane have been up to and a look into the past to see how Arthur
Dayne ended up by Rhaegar’s side.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros VIII.
The Garden of Westeros.

Descended from Garth Greenhand and founded by his son Garth the Gardener, House
Gardener and the Gardener Kings ruled over lands whose abundance of food and crops
made them highly desired by all in Westeros. Through wars, peace accords, favourable
trading terms and sometimes other more questionable mans they ruled the Reach and kept
their lands free from those who sought it's riches for themselves. From Highgarden and atop
Oakenseat, the Gardener King would sit and look out as the lord supreme of all he surveyed.

But all kings are men and some men are fools and never was this more true than with King
Mern Gardner who through incompetence and with an equally foolish steward in Lord Moryn
Tyrell, almost brought the reign of the Gardeners to an end. Were it not for his son Prince
Gyles and Lord Moryn's son and heir Luthor taking drastic action then through sheer
mismanagement the Reach would have fallen to their enemies. Deposed and exiled, both men
perished in the sinking of their ship as it set sail from Oldtown and Prince Gyles was then
named as king. As a reward to his friend Lord Luthor, a match was granted to him that was
far beyond his station in the form of Lady Olenna Redwyne. A lady who had once sought a
match with a prince only to now find herself married to a steward.

And thus fortunes were changed in the Reach and all was well once more, or so King Gyles
thought. For Olenna wasn't happy with her lot in life and despite what on the surface seemed
a happy and productive marriage with Lord Luthor, her ambitions had not dimmed. All kings
are men and some men are fools you see and when faced with a beautiful and clever woman,
more are the latter than the former. Over time it became clear that it was Olenna and not

Luthor or Gyles, nor their sons after them, Mace and Gareth that truly ruled over the Reach.
The true ruler may have not been a queen in name but her thorns were sharp and the crown
that she herself may not have worn was one she still sought most keenly. Were it not for
someone else seeking that crown, then it may have been one that her plots, plans, schemes
and manipulations would have brought her. But what good are such things when faced with a
dragon's flames?

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

The Reach 300 AC.
Prince Gwayne Gardener.

He moved back and dodged the attack, Loras forcing him backward, and was he not as quick
as he was then he'd have lost by now. Garlan stood watching them both and he knew the fight
against him was already a foregone conclusion. As good as both he and Loras were, neither
could last more than a few moments against Garlan if he so wished it. Gwayne didn't need to
look to the balcony to know that Margaery was looking down at him and so despite knowing
how foolish it was to do so, he began to show off.

It almost cost him the match and again were it not for his quickness he'd have been done for.
The end came almost by accident and though he won, it felt like no true victory. So as he
stood ready to face off against Garlan he was much angrier with himself than normal. This
turned out to be a good thing as it made the match far more competitive them it would
normally have been and it earned him a beaming smile from Margaery even after he'd lost.
As with all the smiles she sent his way he felt it deep within himself and he knew his dreams
would be of her and of that smile when he slept that night.

"You fought well, my prince." Garlan said as Loras looked on jealously.
"I got lucky, Garlan, otherwise it would have been the same as always." he said as his squire
quickly brought them both some water.
"Never underestimate the power of luck, my prince. There are many who say it's better to be
lucky than good." Garlan said with a smile on his face.
"Usually those who aren't very good." Loras said making them both laugh.

"True enough, brother." Garlan said.

After drinking his water and putting his sword away, he, Garlan, and Loras made their way
up the steps to where his mother, Lady Olenna, Lady Alerie, Margaery, and her cousins sat.
Gwayne as always found his eyes drawn to Margaery, the true Golden Rose of Highgarden
and the girl who'd owned his heart ever since he was a boy. How she managed to both look at
him and not, smile and yet not, was something he didn't and couldn't understand and another
one of her many mysteries he hoped to solve one day.

"You fought well, son." his mother said as he caught Olenna looking to Garlan and Loras.
"Perhaps it'll be needed with the Targaryen Prince now on Dragonstone." he said to a frown
from his mother, though Lady Olenna looked at him far more curiously.
"Prince Aemon has been on Dragonstone for more than a year and has not looked to take part
in events in any of the Seven Kingdoms, why would he suddenly look to do so now?" his
mother asked.
"Dragons are ever fickle, your grace." Lady Olenna said and though he wished her to
elaborate it seemed his mother did not.
"The boy hasn't even looked to the North, Olenna. He's not even sought out his kin, there's no
fickleness there but disinterest." his mother said and Olenna just nodded, though he knew she
didn't agree with his mother's words.
"I think I'll go for a walk in the gardens, grandmother. With your leave, your grace?"
Margaery asked her voice light and sounding so very much like a nightingale's.
"Of course you may, my dear." his mother said smiling back at her as most people were wont
to do.
"I should get cleaned up before I begin to smell." he said and his mother scrunched up her
nose but welcomed the kiss he then placed on her cheek.

With a nod to Loras and Garlan, he turned and headed towards the keep only to take the
shortcut and almost run through the maze. He was breathing heavily by the time he reached
their spot and he heard the sound of Margaery telling her cousins to wait there for her and
then a moment later, she was standing in front of him. The way she looked at him was almost
sinful, her eyes practically undressing him and she had that lopsided smile on her face that he
loved so very much.

"You actually do smell a little." she said as she brushed a bead of sweat from his cheek.
"Luckily I like you so." she added as she kissed him and then once again he was lost.

His hands went around her back and he felt himself rise as he pulled her tight against him.
The feel of her body next to his enough to enflame his desire and he swore that when she
moved and brushed against his manhood it almost caused him to spend. At times he felt she
did so deliberately and that she was completely aware of the effect she had on him. Then he'd
look into her sweet innocent golden brown eyes and chide himself for ever thinking such
wicked thoughts.

They'd not gone beyond kissing and the occasional accidental touch. Gwayne apologizing
each time he accidentally took a liberty and grateful that she never grew overly angry with
him for doing so. He was not a maid, that had been taken care of a few years earlier. While
he'd been to a brothel more than once since, it was only because of thoughts of Margaery and
when he'd not been able to contain his desire for her that he'd done so. Each time he'd picked
a girl that reminded him most of the one he wished to be with and had closed his eyes when
he spent so it was her face that he did so too.

"I will speak to father, my nameday is coming up in a moon and I'll do so then." he said as
their kisses tailed off and she looked into his eyes.
"I long for you to do so. I so much wish to be your wife and for these moments to not be so
rushed." she said and he almost gulped to hear her speak so.
"I will speak to him, my mother too. There is none other for me, Margaery, there can be no
other." he said determinedly.
"For me either, my sweet prince." she said huskily as she leaned closer to him.
"My golden rose." his lips kissed hers and he felt her tongue touch his own.

They feasted that night as they did whenever they had guests. These ones coming from
Oldtown and kin to Margaery and her family. Ser Baelor looked as if he'd ridden hard and yet
it was Ser Humfrey and how he spoke to Margaery that Gwayne found his attention focused
on. Almost getting angry when they danced together until he too had danced with her and she
pointed out that the man he was so jealous about just happened to be her uncle.

It made him feel foolish and yet showed him that his feelings for her were true. Though for
once it was not Margaery he thought about when he went to his bed that night. Ser Baelor had
brought news from the Riverlands and it had led to his father and Lord Mace to depart the

feast early. Gwayne was then called to his father's solar and as he took his seat, he was told
that King Rickard Stark had been killed in the Riverlands. Lord Mace adding that while it
was unclear who had done so it was believed to be the Hoares, though his father wasn't quite
as certain.

"If not them, then who?" he asked as he sat looking at his father and Lord Mace.
"I do not know, but many times King Rickard traveled to and from Riverrun, and not once
did he ever face an attack. That he does so know with a dragon in the game makes me
ponder." his father said and Gwayne shook his head, surely he couldn't be suggesting what he
thought he was.
"King Rickard was his grandfather, his kin Are you truly saying that Prince Aemon is behind
this?" he asked incredulously.
"The only kin to a dragon is another dragon and Prince Aemon is a ruthless man. I'd not put
anything past him or others and this does not sit right with me." his father said.

It was to those thoughts rather than thoughts of a golden rose that he closed his eyes and the
worry those thoughts brought to him. If Prince Aemon was indeed responsible for his
grandfather's death then that meant that no one was safe from him and if not him then
whoever had killed Ser Rickard would face a dragon's flames. Those were the thoughts and it
was to the images of a golden rose crying out and a green hand burning black that his dreams
were filled with.

Highgarden 300 AC.
Olenna.

It was close enough that she could almost taste it, Olenna almost sure that if she closed her
eyes and reached out her hands she'd be able to touch the crown that she so dearly sought. It
had been a long and at times frustrating journey to reach the point that her House was now at.
There had been far too many disappointments and setbacks along the way. Luthor was a fool
and only that he was so close to Prince Gyles or he'd had remained simply that. Instead, that
closeness had bought him her hand and while he was and had remained an idiot until the day
he died, he was at least a useful one. That he was also easy on the eyes and quite talented
between the sheets had at least made that part of their marriage a satisfying experience.

He'd given her three children and in one of them, Mace, a man far too much like himself.
Thankfully her two daughters were far more clever and all three had taken their looks from

the both of them. Still, it was her connections and not his that had seen her able to manipulate
the marriages for her children. Mina to her nephew Paxter and Janna to Ser Jon Fossoway
and with Mace she'd gained a true prize in Alerie. It was clear though that it would have to be
with her grandchildren that her desire for a crown would be best realized though and so
Olenna had waited and waited patiently.

With no princess of House Gardner to aim for, the births of Willas, Garlan, Loras, Horas, and
Hobber had done her no true good. Though she welcomed them all the same and with Willas
she was relieved to see that he took his wits from her and not from his father. Her true hopes
rested at first in both her granddaughters, Desmera and Margaery, and then very quickly in
the latter. Margaery was an absolute gem, she was a true gift from the gods and blessed with
both beauty and brains. Olenna immediately took her under her wing and spent years
moulding her into the perfect lady so she could win over a prince and future king. Just
watching her at work was a joy and as she looked at her pretend to go for a walk in the
gardens and how quickly Prince Gwayne soon followed, she smiled. It was not a smile that
remained on her face for long.

"What do you mean he's dead?" she asked Ser Humfrey Hightower as they sat in her rooms.
"Killed in the Riverlands, it looks to be the Hoares who did the deed and our spies have said
that King Rickard's head has been sent back North." Humfrey said.
"As a warning or an invitation?" Willas asked.
"The latter no doubt, someone seeks to provoke a war." she said and she was glad that Mace
was with the king and not present at this meeting, as his silly and pointless questions would
only anger her even more than she already was.
"House Hoare?" Humfrey asked and she smirked when Willas shook his head.
"No, it makes no sense for them to do so." Willas said.
"Rickard Stark sought the Riverlands, he was a threat to them." Humfrey said and Olenna
snorted.
"The wolf has sought the Riverlands ever since he married his dolt of a son to the trout. How
long has it been, six and ten, seven and ten years? In all that time what moves has he made?
No Rickard Stark was no true threat and had he been so then the Hoares would have moved
against him before now." she said looking to Willas who agreed with her and at Humfrey who
did not.
"Perhaps this time was more true?" Humfrey said as Willas shook his head.
"No. Our true enemy has not yet shown his face." Olenna said.
"Our enemy?" Humfrey asked.

"Do you think a war between the North and the Riverlands and Iron Islands stays that way?
Soon others will be drawn into it, us included. So you need to ask yourself is that what the
plan is and if so, then who is cunning and ruthless enough to make such a plan." Willas said
and Olenna felt a flush of pride at her grandson's words.

She waited for Humfrey to leave as there were only certain things she'd share with those who
were not true family. Once he had, Olenna sent for some wine and soft cheese as she always
thought best when her belly was full. Willas sat with her, her grandson drumming his fingers
on the table, and was he either of his foolish brothers or his idiot of a father then it would
annoy her greatly. Olenna knew though that her grandson had his own way of thinking and
the results of that thinking were usually enlightening or beneficial and so she said nothing.

"Put it down there." she said to the servant when she entered and Willas poured them both a
glass of wine before placing some of her favorite cheeses on a plate which he then placed
beside her.

The cheese felt good on her tongue and she ate a little more than she usually would before
she was sated and ready to speak on things, though Willas beat her to it.

"The Dragonknight" Willas said and Olenna looked at him and bid him continue "It's been
most strange that he and the Starks have not yet met and we all remember the tales of how
wroth King Rickard was when his daughter broke the betrothal."
"The man was a fool. What was it she was named as?" Olenna asked.
"The Empress of the Ice." Willas said.
"Married to the most powerful man in the known world and that foolish wolf couldn't get past
his shame at a broken betrothal to a far lesser man. By the seven had he, then we'd all be
kneeling to dragons and wolves by now." Olenna said though that may have given her an
opportunity too.
"Would the blood be bad enough for this?" Willas asked and she shook her head.
"Without provocation, I doubt it. No this was someone else and not knowing who vexes me."
she said taking another piece of cheese.
"We need to hurry things along, grandmother. If it's truly war on the horizon then we must
ensure that Gwayne and Margaery are wed before it begins." Willas said and she couldn't
agree more.

How close they were to see that through was made even more clear to her at that night's feast.
Olenna having to resist the urge to chuckle when she saw the forlorn looks that Gwayne sent
Margaery's way as she danced with her uncle. The young boy was so wrapped up in her
golden rose's vines that all it would take was a simple push and so she resolved to speak to
Margaery about making it so as quickly as possible. When she saw King Gareth and Mace
leave she was relaxed, as she knew what it was they would be speaking about and that Mace
would watch and take note and only offer the counsel she had told him to.

She stopped by Margaery's rooms before she went to her bed and was pleased to hear her
granddaughter sing as she sat in front of her looking glass. It was a little force of habit of
Margaery's that she had come to much appreciate. After a soft knock on the door which was
answered instantly, her granddaughter well aware of their little signals by now, Olenna made
her way into the room and took a seat. She was more than eager to speak to her and prove
herself right about the day's events.

"Gwayne says he'll speak to his father before his nameday, grandmother." Margaery said and
Olenna smiled at her.
"And he still desires you so?" she asked and was rewarded with a blush.
"He is most eager." Margaery said and Olenna was happy to note that Margaery too seemed
eager, for that part of their match at least.
"You must make sure he's ready, sweetling, as we draw closer you must make him desire you
even more." she said and Margaery looked at her slightly confused.
"I thought I must not go too far, grandmother?" she asked.
"Not in deed, but perhaps in word, sweetling." she said with a smile.

By the time she'd gotten to her room and was climbing into her bed, she was tired. She'd
spoken to Margaery of a book that she knew was in the library. One that would explain why
her granddaughter suddenly spoke of such things and she had told her to bring up that book
to the prince as coyly as she could. Boys being boys, Gwayne would soon seek it out and the
thoughts of doing what it suggested would be ones that would force him even more into
Margaery's embrace.

Yet it was not to thoughts of roses, green hands, wolves, or growing strong that she fell to her
sleep that night. It was the looming shadow of a dragon that she saw and she wondered if
perhaps it was elsewhere she needed her granddaughter's wiles and seductive looks. There
was another playing the game and that she wasn't certain who it was gave her pause and

while she'd ruled out the dragon as the player, with him on their side they'd surely win the
game. No, for now, her path was set, her course already defined, and years of work was close
to fruition. She only hoped she was making the right choice and that even if she was not,
there was still room left for her to maneuver.

The Conquest of Westeros part IX.
House Velaryon.

Where House Targaryen led, House Velaryon followed. The Old, the True, the Brave, and no
house was as closely aligned with the dragons as the house of the Seahorse. Not even
amongst the noblest of families in Essos and throughout the Empire had there been as many
matches as there was between the Velaryon's and the Targaryens. The Masters of the Skies
had many times sought their matches among the Masters of the Seas.

From closest confidants to Dragonriders, Empresses, and even the mother of the original
Dragonknight, Empress Visenya. As the Empire went so went House Velaryon. In none was
this more epitomized than with Aurane Velaryon, the brother by choice of Prince Aemon and
closer to him than even his brother by blood. The second son of Lord Lucerys and a woman
who none dared speak her name. It was through Aurane that House Velaryon had regained
some of the favor that they'd lost some years earlier. Brought forward by the Empress of Ice
to be by her son's side, as Aemon grew so did Aurane and so did the bond between them.

It was this bond that saw his older brother Monford welcomed back to the seat his family had
lost on the High Council. Through his deeds that he accomplished with the Dragonknight and
throughout the Empire that House Velaryon soon regained their lost honor. By his side or
sailing his ships, charging into battle atop his steed while the Dragonknight and the Blood
Wyrm rained fire down upon their enemies. Where one went so did the other and so upon
being exiled by the High Emperor it was to no one's surprise that Aurane had left too.
Driftmark and Dragonstone, Essos and Westeros, Aemon and Aurane, never had two brothers
been closer or been so feared.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Gulltown 300 AC.

Aurane.

He looked out at the city in front of him as the Pride of Driftmark docked. Gulltown was a
shithole in his opinion, a small little nothing of a town, and yet it was the gateway to the
Vale. With a nod to his guards, he walked down the gangplank and made his way to the
tavern first before going to speak to Lord Grafton later. Aurane wished to hear what was
being said about Aemon and Gaelithox if anything was and the taverns were always a better
source of information than the lords of Westeros ever would be.

A man with coin could learn many things and coin he had aplenty. It was all these people
truly cared for he'd soon found out and they'd do anything to earn some of it. It was how he'd
brought Lord Grafton to his side, though the man wasn't certain what his side was and
Aurane was most pleased about that. Offers of trade with his brother and of now being a
gateway to the Empire, Lord Grafton had jumped at the chance and he doubted even King
Jon Arryn was welcomed as fondly as he was in the Lord of Gulltown's keep. On his first few
visits to this city he'd faced some trouble, men seeing how much coin he carried had sought
to take it from him, only to find it was not a good idea.

In the time he'd been in Westeros, which was coming ever closer to two years now, Aurane
had been left unimpressed by their skills with a blade in hand. There were some large men,
some strong men, and here in the Vale, they spoke of their knights as if they were some
legendary force. Aurane had faced some of those knights in the things these people named as
tourneys, only indifference stopping him from taking their prizes out from under their noses.
He'd once fought in the fighting pits for a lark when in Meereen. Aemon and he had gotten
drunk and wagered each other that neither would so so. There a man had to fight or he would
die, here the fight was far lesser as were the men themselves.

"Some say the dragon wants it all." he heard a voice say.
"Hah, as if he could take it."
"The Stormlands perhaps or maybe the North, but not the West or the Reach and certainly not
the Vale."
"Our knights would stick their lances right up the dragon's arse."

Aurane shook his head at the angered look on his guard's face. Insults to their prince and
threats were not something they usually let slide, but he was not here to cause trouble. They
were finally ready to sail and Aemon and he both wished to see into the places they would

soon at war with. Daario had gone to the border of the Stormlands and Dorne and he had
come here because it was only a few days sail back to Dragonstone. He wanted to know, as
did his prince if anyone was expecting them to actually attack. Was there anyone other than
the Storm King preparing for such or was it simply talk just like what he had heard in this
tavern.

He truly believed it to be the latter. Aemon's waiting had an unexpected side effect and had
lulled most if not all of the Seven Kingdoms into a false sense of security. Had they attacked
not long after they arrived then it would have been harder, though how hard it would turn out
to be was questionable. These men weren't Essosi, they weren't Unsullied or Dothraki, they
weren't raiders from Northern Essos or mercenaries from Yi Ti. They'd never faced a dragon
or had found themselves face to face with men that wielded flaming swords. The thoughts of
what they'd do once they did so were now ones that amused him greatly.

For eight years he'd fought countless battles by Aemon's side, he'd been saved more than
once by his prince and he, Daario, Thoros, and especially Torgho Nudho had returned the
favor too. He'd faced off against a Dothraki Horde, a lockstep legion, and an Unsullied shield
wall, and he'd come out the other side with nary a scratch. They'd been feted, cheered, named
as heroes and his family had risen once more. Then without warning, all of it was taken away
and the Empire's truest sword was sent far from its lands.

"No, not without warning." he said softly, a wry smile on his face.

Volantis 298 AC.
Aurane.

The last time they'd been here which was a little over eight moons earlier, he'd overheard the
argument completely by accident. Why the High Emperor had decided to have it out with
Aemon on the balcony was something that he still didn't know but he'd heard each and every
one of the words.

"Your sister is to be wed to another, Aemon." Rhaegar said.
"Sold like a broodmare you mean." Aemon replied with disdain.
"It is the way of the world we both live in." Rhaegar said.

"Are we not the masters of that world? Do you not name yourself as such?"
"Even I have limits on my power, Aemon." Rhaegar said his frustration clear.
"Says who? Who dares tell the High Emperor, no? other than his son." Aemon said.
"You will stop this affair with your sister, Aemon, no longer will marriages between brother
and sister or uncle and aunt be allowed for our house."
"For all of our house or just for me?" Aemon asked angrily.
"Don't test my will on this, I warn you." Rhaegar said before he stormed off.

It had been the wrong thing to say and so while they'd dealt with Dothraki and when Aemon
had brought Khal Bharbo to his knees and then took his braid and his head, it was anger that
he'd seen in his prince's eyes. The look he saw in those eyes right now was very much
different. Aurane had always known that Aemon had loved Rhaenys, he'd known it from
when they were boys and so he believed had everyone else. Rhaenys he knew felt the same
too, though at times that could be hard to tell, and were it not for Aemon's words then he
would have thought she did not.

"Our father forces his way into her head with his silly words and tales of madness." Aemon
said.
"About your grandfather?" he asked and Aemon nodded.
"As if it was any but his own fault that Aerys lost his mind." Aemon scoffed.
"Does your father believe it so?" he asked.
"Even my father doesn't believe that which he'd have us all believe." Aemon said dismissively.

Aurane smiled when he saw Aemon sneak off and Rhaenys follow and then he gave it no
more thought until the morrow. He had gotten drunk and the girl he'd laid with was unknown
to him and what was worse he couldn't even remember laying with her. Just as he was in the
process of rectifying that, the knock came on the door and he felt the pounding as if it was in
his head.

"Go the fuck away." he shouted as the girl smiled at him.
"Aurane, it's Aemon, you need to come, something's going down at the Imperial Seat."
Daario shouted back to him.

"What the fuck?" he said jumping up from the bed and opening his door, the sight of him
naked bringing a raised eyebrow from Daario "Speak to me about the size of my cock another
time, what's the fuck is going on?"
"Aemon and Rhaenys." Daario said and Aurane shook his head and dressed hurriedly.

Gulltown Now.
Aurane.

"Aurane, Aurane." one of his guards said and he turned to look at the man, memories of that
day gone for now.
"What?"
"Lord Grafton's man." the guard said and he knew then that his day in the tavern was over.

He cared not for Ser Lyn Corbray, the man rubbed him the wrong way and so at the last
tourney he'd taken part in, Aurane had made sure to beat him quickly so that he knew he was
outmatched. It had not endeared him to him though Aurane had cared not. Rising to his feet,
he and his guards paid for their drinks and made their way to where Ser Lyn stood with two
other men.

"Lord Aurane, Lord Grafton has sent me to escort you to Gulltown." Ser Lyn said.
"Lead the way, Ser Lyn." he said smiling at the man and not bothered in the least when his
smile was not returned.
"We had expected you to come straight to the keep when your ship landed, Lord Aurane."
"My men and I sought a drink after a dry journey, Ser Lyn, and it was ale, not wine we
wished for." he said knowing that Lord Marq far preferred the latter.
"A good choice at times." Ser Lyn said humourlessly.

He declined the offer of staying the night and his visit cost him a little more coin as he had to
make the excuse of another trading opportunity and that they had no rookery on Driftmark or
Maester to send a raven even had they any to sent. It was a lie but one that couldn't be
checked. As they set sail that night some things were now more clear to him. King Jon was
not beloved as much as he wished and in Lord Marq, they had a potential ally. It would be

enough to allow them to land men here should they wish, even if the Lord may not offer them
any of his own.

Aurane stood on the deck as the ship sailed, the night's sky was clear and the cold winds
blowing helped keep him alert. There was an old sailor's thing his father used to say and one
that he always thought about when they were planning a campaign. It was one that was most
apt for what they were about to unleash on Westeros and as the first little drops of rain hit his
head, he smiled and he spoke it aloud.

"I like these calm little moments before the storm."

Summerhall 300 AC.
Daario Naharis.

They'd sailed from Dragonstone and had landed at the coast between Wyl and Stonehelm.
Not close enough to either keep so as they'd been seen and Daario wouldn't have been able to
give a truthful answer if he was asked whether he'd landed in Dorne or the Stormlands. What
he did know was they picked up horses in a small village near Blackhaven, a little over half
the number they had needed, and they then picked up the rest along the way. He found it
incredibly amusing that all the suspicion and doubt that these people had naturally, would just
leave them as soon as they saw the size of your coin purse.

The road they'd traveled was called the Boneway and they'd done so at night. They made
their camp during the day far from the road and away from any prying eyes. One unfortunate
traveler, they'd had to end though, as while it was one thing for someone to sell them horses
and for news of that to eventually travel. A large group of men riding in the Stormlands and
then being spoken of was a much more dangerous tale. Not that he would have minded if
men had been sent out to deal with them as things had been dull since he'd come to this land
after all. It just would have been an inconvenience and their task may have been
compromised because of it.

According to his map, they were near a place called Summerhall, it was not the area's true
name and what the Westerosi called it he knew not. Only that Aemon had told him that at one
point the Conqueror had considered it as such. His prince had read the journals of the
Conqueror and his wives, both on the conquest of Essos and the planned conquest of
Westeros. While one was obviously far more detailed, there were little things about the other

that for some reason Aemon had taken to heart. The Path between Dorne and the Stormlands,
the Mountains of the Vale, the Green Lands of the Reach, the Open Ones of the Riverlands,
and the Cold Winds of the North, the latter he'd experienced for himself.

It had surprised him when both the Empress's family and his Prince's hadn't welcomed
Aemon with open arms. Had they done so then they would rise highest of all when Aemon
took these lands and take them he would, of that he had no doubt. Yet his kin in the North had
dared to look down and sneer at his prince and they were fools to do so. Though given how
they lived and their lands then perhaps they were fools regardless, Daario thought with a
snort. With the sun rising in the distance he raised his hand and they rode hard and fast to the
woods ahead of them. Quickly they melted into them and set up their camp for the day.

"How much further?" Valarr asked as they sat and ate.
"A day, maybe two." Daario said.
"Trouble?" Jaedor asked far too eagerly.
"I doubt it unless they learn of us before then." Daario said to chuckles.
"Are we sure he'll be there?" Yraegon asked.
"When has Lucearon ever let us down or played us false?" Valarr asked and Daario nodded,
their information would be good, his men were far too experienced for it not to be.

The Second Sons were his men amongst the prince's men, all of them including himself were
just as the name suggested. They were the second sons of fathers that not many of whom
cared about their existence or in his case even acknowledged it. He and his brother had been
given away, they'd been sold as slaves and a lifetime in the pits had been what he'd expected
until the High Emperor had seen something in him and had given him his freedom. From
there he'd surrounded himself with men just like him and had done the Empire's wishes with
little or no reward until he'd met the prince. Aemon had seen even more in him than his father
had and under him, Daario had risen high as had the Second Sons.

He now had wealth and owned a manse, and had slept with more women in six years by
Aemon's side than in the nine and twenty before then. His men had refined their skills,
learned new tricks, and where Torgho Nudho and his men were Aemon's shields and Thoros
and his were his swords, Daario and the Second Sons were his eyes and ears. Infiltration,
kidnapping, blackmail, and assassination, whatever their prince demanded of them that's what
he and his men would do and this mission required some if not all of the above. With a nod to
his men, he moved to the shade of a tree and removed his Arakh and his lady. The Myrish

stiletto had been a gift from Aemon and it was one he treasured greatly. Each night went to
his bed it was with her that he went to sleep with held tightly in his hand.

It took them five more days to reach the village, the keep that was off in the distance was a
large and imposing one and yet he feared it not. His men took up their positions and Valarr
went looked for Lucearon, finding him exactly where he said he would be and with who he
was supposed to be with. Now all he needed to do was wait for night to fall and for him and
his men to cut a few throats. A man's work he thought with a smirk as he lay down near his
horse in the stables. He didn't sleep, though he did close his eyes and formed the image of
what he was about to do in his head, it was an image he knew all too well and it was one that
bothered him not.

"It's time." he said a little later as he looked to the sky.
"All of them or do you wish one to live?" Jaedor asked and Valarr chuckled.
"When have we ever wished one to live?" Valarr asked bringing a smile to Daario's face.

Twenty men he had with him, less than half the Second Sons but he'd brought the best of
them and as they made their way to the brothel he was glad of it. Lucearon had said the man
had ten guards with him and they'd all be drinking or whoring when they got there and he
quickly found this to be true. Only two of them were in any state to offer up resistance and he
dealt with those himself. One with a slash from his Arakh that opened the man from his head
to his stones and the other found his lady's kiss to be the last one he'd ever know.

"Quieten down girl, we're not here for you, so don't make us change our minds." Jaedor
shouted and the girl did her best to do as she was bid, not quite managing to but it was
enough.

Four men were killed in rooms as they rutted, one of whom lost his cock as he came after one
of his men with the wrong sword in his hand. Three more had their throats slit as they slept,
men who'd at least come before they'd gone, he thought with a laugh. He'd killed two and so
that left… the sword barely missed him and the man seemed capable at least. Daario quickly
holding his hand up to stop his men from joining in on this fight.

"Unfortunate." he said as he blocked the strike from the man's sword.

"I'll fucking gut you." the man said and Daario laughed as he easily blocked yet another strike
from the man.
"You missed your chance, Ser?" he asked as he danced away from the man's pitiful attempts
to end his life.
"Ser Meryn Trant, you blue bearded fuck." Ser Meryn sneered.
"Good, I'll know who to send word of your death to." he said ducking under the sword and
bringing up his lady beneath Ser Meryn's chin, the push was easy and the death quick "Had
you a better aim then you'd have lived longer, not much, but longer." he said as he pulled his
lady from Ser Meryn's chin and watched the body fall to the floor.
"We have him." Valarr said the sound of his voice making him turn around and Daario
nodded at him as he moved from the body on the floor.

They dragged the man from the brothel, he'd been beaten and was barely conscious though at
least they'd dressed him or had found him while he was still dressed. Reaching to his belt he
took the larger of his coin purses and looked to the women who'd stayed quiet enough once
they'd realized they were not to be harmed.

"For your trouble." he said as he threw the purse on the table and with that they were gone.

Lucearon and Valarr took their prize between them and they rode hard from the village with
only the light of the moon at their backs. It took them a day and night to reach the river and
their men with the boats and another two days to row out to sea. This time he cared not if
they were seen because by the time the alarm was truly raised they'd be long gone and who
they were wouldn't be a secret for long anyway. Their prisoner remained quiet and sullen and
Daario much appreciated it. He'd expected pleading and demands to be released but this one
at least seemed to have his wits about him and knew enough to know that his pleas would fall
on deaf ears. Other than how he looked at Lucearon with both anger and hurt in equal
measure, the man never even looked his way.

"Don't worry, Lord Renly, if we wished you dead then you'd be dead but my prince wishes to
speak to you. Be sure to use that wicked tongue of yours in a far more respectful way when
you do so, his temper can be a thing to behold at times." Lucearon said as they bundled Renly
Baratheon onto the ship and set sail for Dragonstone.

The Conquest of Westeros X.

The Sword of the Morning.

Ser Arthur Dayne, the High Emperor's most trusted adviser and closest friend and the most
feared swordsman in Essos. Only he and the Dragonknight knew which of them was the truer
blade and not one person alive had ever seen them cross swords. What was known was that
with Dawn in his hand there was not a man in Essos who'd dare try their luck against him in
a fight for blood. A few had done so in exhibitions and found what they had thought was the
truth. Though it was clear that Ser Arthur used only minimal effort in those.

Dawn like Dark Sister was not a blade wielded by just anyone and The Sword of the Morning
just like the Dragonknight's was not a title that was given freely. What it took to earn the
epithet and be given leave to wield the famed blade was a secret known only to those of
House Dayne and one they were unwilling to share. Arriving in the Empire first for adventure
and then as Princess Elia's escort. It was his friendship with the High Emperor and
Rhaegar's subsequent marriage to a Princess of Dorne that had decided Ser Arthur's path in
life.

For more than twenty years were Rhaegar went, Arthur followed. Never more than a few feet
away and never a day spent under any roof that the High Emperor himself wasn't sharing,
Ser Arthur's loyalty was never in doubt. Yet in 300 AC Ser Arthur Dayne set sail for Westeros
and never again would he set foot on Essosi shores. The Greatest Swordsman that ever lived
had a new path to follow and a new back to shield and Westeros was soon to learn that
Dawn's song was not one it wished to hear sung.

A History of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 300 AC.
The Sword of the Morning.

He'd expected the call from the moment Aemon had been sent into exile and so it surprised
him that it took so long for it to come. Though Arthur had expected her to leave long before
now too if he was being honest. Why it had taken Rhaenys so long he could only put down to
the foolishness that Rhaegar had spoken to her and it was something he and his closest friend
had argued about more than once. He knew Rhaegar's mind, or as well as any including the

man himself did and he'd told him that on this he had gone too far. But he'd not been listened
to and his counsel had been ignored.

It had not been the first time over the years that this was the case and the last had not ended
well either. Rhaegar's obsession was still something that he believed had cost Aemon a
mother and the Empire one of its two Empresses. He'd listened with Elia but not with Lyanna
and though he loved his friend, he still hadn't forgiven him for her death. Still, the call had
come and he would answer to its mummery and to its true design. Standing in front of the
looking glass, he made sure his armor was spotless, and then picking up Dawn and strapping
it to his back, Arthur walked out from his room.

He looked around at the walls that had long been his home, the corridors that he knew by
heart, and the tapestries and decorations that had first left him amazed and had over time
almost become unseen to him. Images of the Empire in all its glory and in some of its
horrors. The good and the bad of 300 years of rule, from the Conquest to the Dance and the
Blackfyre Rebellion, to the fall of each of the Dragonknights. Not one of them dying
peacefully and in their beds and he closed his eyes and prayed that Aemon would be the
exception to that rule.

"Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning." the herald called out and Arthur walked into
the room, unsheathed Dawn, and took a knee before the Imperial Seat.
"I have come before the High Emperor to answer his call." Arthur said as he looked up at
Rhaegar and at Elia as she sat beside him.
"I have a task for you, Ser Arthur, one that you and you alone are capable of seeing done.
Will you accept this task?" Rhaegar asked.
"Humbly and with gratitude High Emperor." Arthur said.
"My daughter Princess Rhaenys has decided against my wishes to visit her brother on
Dragonstone, Ser Arthur. I task you with delivering this decree to both my children. Prince
Aemon, the Dragonknight Reborn is to remain exiled for two more years but is then given
leave to return to the Empire and retake his place by my side. Princess Rhaenys is to cut short
her visit to her brother and to return forthwith under pain of incurring my displeasure even
further than she already has." Rhaegar said his voice regal and yet his words and expression
not ringing true to him if not to anyone else.
"As the Empire commands." he said rising to his feet and placing his hand over his heart.

The mummery somehow seemed to work, the representatives of the faith nodded and smiled
at each other while the princess's betrothed looked pleased that his shame had been
addressed. Even if the man was a fool that didn't realize he'd now never gain a princess's
hand. Rhaegar gave him a look that said they would talk more but it was Elia who bid him
follow. Arthur doing just that and nodding to Viserys as he spoke to Varys and some of the
other High Council members.

It was to the balcony that Elia headed and he quickly joined her. The Empress of the Sun
looking out on the city below with a fond smile on her face, one that wasn't there when she
turned to him. There was a time when some thought Elia weak, of mind, body, and spirit and
Arthur had always laughed at the notion that it was true in any of those things. Elia was a
Martell, a viper as true as her brother ever was and vipers lie and wait before they strike. That
was what she'd done, waited, played weak and when the time was right, she struck and her
enemies hadn't even seen her coming.

"You think me a fool, Arthur?" Elia asked her eyes promising much and nothing pleasant
were he to lie.
"I know you're not, Elia." he said.
"That mummery may fool those who see only what they wish, but they are not a mother, and
whatever you and my husband have planned it stops now." Elia said.
"I have no plans and no true orders, Elia. I will go and do what I must and only what I must."
he said and she glared at him.
"This is foolhardy and idiotic, these plans of his. I loved her too, Arthur, I loved her too but
she was wrong, she was very wrong, surely you can see that?" Elia asked, her voice less firm
than it had once been.
"You know nothing, Arthur Dayne." he said with a smile "That's what she would tell me,
Elia. I know nothing and she was always right about that. Lyanna I believe is right about
this."
"Rhaenys…"
"Will have mine and Aemon's swords to protect her and the love that she wants most of all."
he said and turned to walk away.
"I'll end you, Arthur, if you're wrong I'll end you, you know this to be true." Elia said as he
nodded and walked from the balcony.

Weak in mind, body, and spirit, only a fool would think a princess of House Martell could be
that way in any of those things. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, it was not Doran nor Oberyn

who lived those words as well as Elia did and so Arthur knew the truth in her words. He'd
known it then and he knew it now and as he walked to say his goodbyes to Rhaegar, he found
his mind going back to days long ago and to a young princess who dared to think she could
succeed where so many before her had failed.

Volantis 278 AC.
The Sword of the Morning.

He'd not meant his tales to inflame her passions or to gain her interest and yet they had. Elia
no longer looked to Dorne for a husband but sought someone that her brothers believed she'd
have no chance with. The High Emperor would marry his sister should one be born to his
mother and father, or a cousin, or one of the noble ladies from Essos. Never would he wed a
lady from Westeros and word had already reached them that he'd turned down Tywin
Lannister's golden lioness. Though given Cersei was still a child perhaps that was the reason,
as the girl's mother was a beauty by all accounts.

Yet Elia had been sure that if he was all that Arthur had claimed him to be then she could
charm Rhaegar and make him hers. So by her mother's leave, Elia had been allowed to travel
to Volantis and Arthur had gone with her to serve both as guide and escort. Prince Oberyn
had been refused leave to do likewise and other than Lady Mellario and some guards it had
been a small party that had been granted an audience with the High Emperor Aerys and the
Empress of Dragons, Rhaella.

The dye had been cast long before they reached the Imperial Seat though as once Prince
Rhaegar had heard that he'd arrived back in the city he'd come to greet him personally and
once there it had been Elia who'd taken his attention. Arthur almost forgotten on the ride back
to the Grand Palace as Rhaegar and Elia spoke softly and quietly to each other. Their
welcome by the High Emperor was much less welcoming and Arthur tried not to bristle at
how he greeted Elia.

"Father, may I present Princess Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne and Lady Mellario of Norvos,
Ser Arthur you've already met." Rhaegar said as Elia stepped forward.
"She smells Dornish to me." Aerys said wrinkling his nose up as he looked the princess up at
down.
"A fine scent High Emperor and one I wear with pride." Elia said to a smile from the
Empress and a twinkling of Aerys eyes.

"As well you might." Aerys said.

They were feasted that night and to the annoyance of the other ladies present, Rhaegar spent
the whole night speaking to or dancing with Elia and within a week he'd confided in him that
he was very much in love. Elia he'd heard doing likewise with her goodsister and yet he still
didn't believe that a match would be made right up until it was. It wasn't the High Emperor
who decided it nor even Rhaegar in the end. Instead, it was Empress Rhaella after a
conversation with Elia on the balcony that overlooked the city below.

"My son shows more interest in you than in any of those we've sought to match him with thus
far, can you tell me why that is, Elia?"
"I do not know, Empress, only that his interest is one I share just as deeply. From the moment
Ser Arthur spoke of your son I've longed to meet him. The tales were ones I was loathe and
yet eager to believe and they do not do him justice. I'll not speak of how handsome I find
him, the platitudes of the beauty of those of your house no doubt bore even you by now,
Empress." Elia said and Rhaella chuckled.
"A curse, but one far better than the alternative I find." Rhaella said and this time it was Elia
who laughed.
"What I'll say is that it's not his position but his mind that intrigues me and that I've sought a
match and found none to my liking for far too long. I am soon to reach my one and twentieth
years, Empress, old for a match in my lands and no doubt yours too, but the reason I've
reached it unwed is I believe, your son." Elia said.
"You believe you were fated to be wed?" Rhaella asked.
"I do not know about fate, Empress. I believe my heart bid me wait and does so no longer and
I hope it's as true with your son's own?" Elia said.
"There would be those against such a match, those who think you unworthy." Rhaella said.
"I care not for what others think of me, other than they'll soon learn that I'm very much not."
Elia said determinedly.
"Then you've earned a mother's blessing." Rhaella said.
Two moons later they were married and within a moon Elia was with child

Volantis now.
The Sword of the Morning.

Rhaegar had spoken and yet not, words that were not the words he wished to and yet the only
ones he could speak. Elia had just looked at him and spoken with her eyes while he'd then
said his goodbyes to each of the family. Aegon was annoyed to see him leave and he knew
that was because he wished to have him by his side, while Viserys seemed more worried than
anything else. Daenerys was sadder than both and only the thoughts that he'd soon be
returning with Rhaenys by his side were enough to keep her tears at bay.

As the ship sailed out from the bay and he looked back at the city he found himself
wondering if he'd ever see it again. Was this the last time he'd speak to any of them and were
the words that Lyanna had said to him all those years ago now to come true? It was perhaps
why he stayed on the deck until the city was long gone from view and why he didn't move to
his cabin until night began to fall. Arthur looked forward to seeing Rhaenys, Aemon, and
those who'd left Volantis when he had, it was the others things that he didn't look forward to.

"He will be the wonder and terror of his age Arthur. The wonder to those who support him
and the terror to those who face his fury. It is by his side that your name will live on long
after you have fallen, by his side you'll reach your greatest heights, and by his side that you'll
meet your end. Fear not for that end will come not on foreign shores and not without its
glory. Fear not for when it comes you'll welcome it and what an end it shall be." Lyanna said
as she held Aemon in her arms.

The Stepstones 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

Meraxes had taken her to Lys, it shouldn't have been a surprise to her and yet it was and she
was angry with her dragon when they landed. It turned out though that Meraxes had known
far better than she and not long after they'd done so, a storm had blown that she'd have been
caught in. Rhaenys tried not to laugh at the look that Meraxes gave her, the dragon practically
telling her that she knew better and not to question her again.

She stayed at the palace that overlooked the nursery, the smaller dragons welcoming
Meraxes's presence and Rhaenys happy enough to spend a night in a bed, change her clothes
and have a warm and soothing bath. The food was better too as she'd brought little with her
and though she'd enjoyed what Meraxes had found for her, she missed the comfort of eating
from a plate and sitting at a table. Her cousin Daeron was the Imperial Governor of Lys and
Master of the Dragon Nursery and he welcomed her with open arms. As did his wife Elaena

when she saw who had arrived. Both of them more than happy to see her as it had been many
years since she'd last visited the home of the dragons.

It had been here that she'd claimed Meraxes for her own, her bond had formed truly in this
place after she'd heard her dragon's call. For now, there were only three hatchlings here and
their own bonded were young and so it was to the sound of children's laughter that she
awoke. Rhaenys broke her fast with Daeron, Elaena, and the children of her other cousin the
Imperial Governor of Qarth, Baelon, and each of the children asked her what it was like to fly
on a dragon's back.

"Is it scary?" the youngest girl asked fearfully.
"No little one, it's anything but scary, it's exciting and fun, just like tickles." she said
grabbing the girl and making her laugh.
"How long must we wait?" the oldest boy asked impatiently.
"A few more years, but soon you and they will be able to return to your home." she said.
"Mama says that we can't name them yet." the other girl said sadly.
"No, not until you leave but you can think of names for them and try them out, soon they'll let
you know which the right one is." Rhaenys said.
"They will?" the youngest girl asked excitedly.
"They will." she said to beaming smiles from the two girls.

As soon as they were finished eating their meal all three were gone from the room and she
knew the day they'd have ahead of them. The storm had now passed and so she knew the day
that was ahead of her. Daeron gave her supplies and he and Elaena both asked her to give
their love to Aemon. Rhaenys not needing to ask them how they knew where she was going.
As before Meraxes once again refused to bring her to where she wished to go and this time
she'd learned her lesson and didn't show her anger. Though it turned out it was not for a storm
that she'd landed in the Stepstones.

At first, she'd thought it must be and then as she slept by Meraxes's side that night she'd felt
the dragon's excitement and found herself hoping she was right. When she woke the next
morning it was to the skies she looked and she wished she had the eyes of a dragon when she
heard Meraxes's happy call. It took her time to see them, the sun was behind some clouds and
the sky was darker than she would have liked but soon the red wings were clear to her and

she smiled as Gaelithox drew closer. It was only when she saw Aemon on his dragon's back
that her worries soon took over.

Had she waited too long?
Did he still wish for what he'd told her in his song?
Was he angry with her?
Would it be the same as it had always been between them?

The answers to those questions were answered the moment he landed. Aemon climbed down
off Gaelithox's back and the Blood Wyrm and the Silver Dragon called out to each other and
took to the skies. Their song rang out as they flew together across the bay and out over the
sea. Her eyes were on Aemon's as he moved towards her and she held her breath before he
took away all her worries and doubts. His lips were all she could concentrate on as he kissed
her with a hunger that showed no signs of being sated anytime soon.

"Aemon." she said happily as she looked at him when he finally gave her a moment to catch
her breath.
"I missed you, gods I missed you. You're here? You're truly here?" he said his fingers
touching her face as his eyes looked deeply into her own.
"I'm sorry, I should have…I'm sorry." she said as he grabbed her and held her tightly and she
hoped he'd never let her go.
"You're here, Rhae, for true? Please, tell me that you're here?" he asked and she told him that
she was and that she'd never leave his side again.
"I love you, Aemon, I swear that nothing will ever make me think of not being with you
again. I am yours if you want me?" she asked nervously.
"You're all I've ever wanted. Marry me? Say you will. Be my wife, Rhae?" he asked and she
nodded happily.
"Yes." she said as she kissed him deeply.

She knew there were things that they needed to speak on, apologies that she'd need to make,
and explanations that Aemon would seek from her. Now was not the time for that, she didn't
wish to speak on it and Aemon didn't wish to hear it from her. All either of them wanted was

to be together, to know that they would be together and nothing else truly mattered other than
that.

The KIngdom of the Reach.

House of the Green Hand.

King Gareth Gardener age 44.
Queen Melessa Gardener age 43.
Prince Gwayne Gardener age 17.

House Tyrell.

Lady Olenna Tyrell age 72.
Lord Mace Tyrell age 46.
Lady Alerie Tyrell age.45.
Ser Willas Tyrell 27.
Ser Garlan Tyrell the Gallant age 23.
Ser Loras Tyrell age 18.
Margaery Tyrell age 17.

Deceased

Lord Luthor Tyrell died 260 AC age 34 (rode off a cliff while looking into the air while
hawking.).

Chapter End Notes

Up next We take a look into the Stormlands as Aemon and Rhaenys get closer and news
reaches the North that sets a king on a furious path while in the Reach an intriguing offer
sets a prince and a king on a collision course and on Dragonstone we learn more about
Aemon’s plans and his sworn shield.

He Brings the Storm.
Chapter Summary

We take a look into the Stormlands as Aemon and Rhaenys get closer and news reaches
the North that sets a king on a furious path while in the Reach an intriguing offer sets a
prince and a king on a collision course and on Dragonstone we learn more about
Aemon’s plans and his sworn shield.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XI
The Kingdom of Storms.

"Love is the most powerful force of all, not blood, not steel, not magic, and not even the
flames of a dragon come close. The gods have fashioned us for love, that is our great glory
and our great tragedy" Aemon The Dragonknight 298 AC.

The contentious relationship between the Storm King and the Dragonknight was one based
not just on jealousy and spite but one that was historical too. The Conqueror had his own
issues with the King of Storms when he was based on Dragonstone, issues that had he not
looked East may have ended in a different manner than they did. Issues that led to a huge
change in the bloodline of the Storm Kings and in the ending of House Durrandon, as it was
then formed into House Baratheon.

Whether it's true or not that Orys Baratheon was the Conqueror's brother no one but those of
House Targaryen know. It's still a much-debated topic in the Empire and I can only speak on
what I know. Orys was my blood, Aegon had said and the Dragonknight counted him
amongst his ancestors whenever pressed for an answer. Though he was as close to the
Conqueror as any man could be, Orys stayed on Dragonstone when Aegon and his sisterwives looked East. For unbeknownst to any at the time Orys had fallen in love with the Storm
King's Daughter. A love that was returned and would change the Stormlands forever.

It had been the loss of a love that was not shared and perhaps not even real that caused
Robert Baratheon to hate the Targaryens and the Dragonknight most of all. Just as it was a
love truer than any that caused a daughter to betray her father and side with the man she
loved. A thousand men Orys had to call upon, a thousand men and not one man more.
Argillac the Storm King had more than five times his number and at least the same behind the
gates of Storm's End itself. What he didn't have was his men's loyalty or their respect and so
The Last Storm turned out to a battle like none he'd ever faced before. Ordering his men to
attack, Argillac was shocked when they refused and stunned when he was then brought in
chains to face Orys Baratheon.

Kneel and be exiled or fight one on one for his daughter's hand and control of the Stormlands
or for the end once and for all to the threat that Orys provided. That was the choice that King
Argillac was given and it turned out not to be a choice at all. Ours is our the Fury was the
battle cry and yet the Strom King had never met a more furious foe or one so strengthened by
love as he did when he faced off against Orys. The outcome was never in doubt as Orys took
his victory and to the victor go the spoils. That night as her father's body was entombed in
the crypts at Storm's End, Argella was married to the man she loved and House Baratheon
was born. Love is the most powerful force of all as the Dragonknight had said. Now as the
storm clouds began to gather once more over the Kingdoms of the Storms, only one man
knew what it felt like to be love and be loved and it was he who brought the storm.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Storm's End 300 AC.
Stannis Baratheon.

For nearly two years he'd listened to Robert rant and rave about the Targaryen on
Dragonstone. No words of his would calm his rage or his anger once he was in full flow and
so over time he'd stopped even trying. He'd advised his brother not to provoke a
confrontation but to be ready for one if needs must. Yet daily Robert whined and moaned
about a broken betrothal with a girl he'd never met and whose bed he'd have never kept to.

Lyanna Stark had become his excuse for being how he was and it was an excuse his brother
clung to like a dying man clung to life. Had he only been able to marry Lyanna then he'd have
been happy and she'd have given him good and true children. Together they'd have seen the
Stormlands rise high and he'd have been a better man and king. They were the childish

refrains of a brother that he'd been cursed to have as one older than him. The pitiful excuses
of a second son and not a first and certainly not those of a king.

He was his brother's heir only because Robert had used the broken betrothal as a reason not
to marry. His brother declaring loudly that the only woman he'd wed was Lyanna Stark and
that she was supposed to be his. Robert was a spoiled petulant man child who'd had his
favorite toy taken from him. That's who sat as the King of Storms and if his brother had his
way then he'd be the last king the Stormlands ever knew. Stannis ground his teeth as he made
his way to his brother's rooms and he sighed when he reached them and heard the sounds
from within.

"Is his grace inside?" he asked though given the look on Ser Barristan's face and the sounds
that were coming from the other side of the door, it was a damn stupid fucking question.
"He is Lord Hand, shall I interrupt?" Ser Barristan asked.
"No Ser, inform his grace that I was by and that I'll speak to him when he's…less busy." he
said grinding his teeth some more.
"Of course, Lord Hand." Ser Barristan said with a small bow of his head as Stannis turned to
walk away.

Hand of the King, a title that should bring him some satisfaction and a role that should bring
him honor, and yet all it brought him was headaches and shame. He'd been stunned when
Robert had handed him a golden pin in the shape of a hand and told him that he was now his
Hand. That where Robert couldn't rule he was to and that he was to stand in his stead when
he was not there. For one whole night, he'd been filled with a degree of gratitude towards his
brother, for one night and one night only. The words he'd heard when he'd gone to Robert's
room the next morning were enough to show that it wasn't respect that his brother was
showing him but contempt.

"Why Hand, Your Grace?" the whore asked.
"The King shits and the Hand wipes and my brother is as good an arse wiper as any." Robert
said laughing as he grabbed the girl.

The anger he'd felt towards his brother had only ever been matched by what he'd felt for him
on his wedding night after Robert had despoiled his wedding bed. His wants, his needs, his
desires, the Stormlands had stagnated for years before he'd been given some degree of
authority. Its king had no desire to rule but no intent of ever giving up his throne either.

Robert loved being king, he just had no interest in doing the things a king should do and so
for years those things just hadn't been done.

Since he'd been named as Hand however things had changed and he'd even organized a trade
deal with the Empire, though he'd done so behind his brother's back. Things had gone along
as well as they could with a king who didn't care and who spent coin as if he shat gold. Or at
least they had until news reached them that a dragon had landed on Dragonstone and just
which dragon it had turned out to be.

Almost two years ago.

The figures were good and their treasury full which was not something they'd been able to
say much since his brother took the crown. Between Robert spending coin on tourneys,
feast,s and whores and his other fool of a brother spending it on clothing and trappings that
he did not need, Stannis shuddered to think how much they'd wasted over the years. Had they
been as frugal as he was, then they'd be as rich as the Lannister's or the Gardeners whereas he
doubted they were even as wealthy as the Starks.

But a full treasury was something to be proud about and in time they'd only gain even more
coin from his trading with the Empire. Or they would if Robert never found out, not that his
brother would ever deign to look at books or count coppers. Closing the ledger, Stannis rose
and readied for his day with a visit to the sparring yard first on his agenda. He knew that
Shireen would already be at her lessons and Tyana would be with her ladies. With no queen,
it was his wife who basically fulfilled the duties of Lady of Storm's End and he'd be lost
without her. He never made it to the sparring yard though as he was stopped along the way by
Ser Cortnay Penrose and given the look on the man's face the news he brought was not good.

"Lord Hand, his grace, I…" Ser Cortnay began and Stannis could see he was trying to decide
how to phrase things without given offense.
"Out with it man." he said bluntly and to the point as was his way.
"His grace is wroth, Lord Hand, he's breaking up chairs and has called for his hammer." Ser
Cortnay said embarrassedly.
"Where is he?" he asked and was directed thankfully to Robert's rooms as the image of his
brother doing so in the Great Hall was not one he welcomed seeing or having to deal with.

Stannis hurried through the keep and saw Renly standing outside Robert's door. His brother
had the gall to stand there with a smile on his face even as the sounds of things being broken
reverberated down through the corridor.

"It seems our brother received a raven that he didn't much like, Stannis." Renly said and
Stannis so very much wished to wipe the smirk from his face.
"From who?" he asked and Renly shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"DRAGONSPAWN." Robert shouted, his roar was even louder than the smashing of chairs
and the breaking up of tables and Stannis shook his head and ground his teeth as he walked
into the room.

It took him almost an hour and gods only knew how much wine to calm Robert down and to
find out that he'd received a raven from House Massey that had told of ships landing on
Dragonstone and of a dragon flying overhead. Stannis read the message for himself and
found out that it was Prince Aemon and the Blood Wyrm that had been spotted and that he'd
brought enough ships with him to carry an army.

There was no speaking with Robert that this may not be as he feared and no telling him not to
seek to provoke. So so for the next few weeks and moons, threats were made, ravens were
sent and ships hassled and harried as they sailed in their waters. Yet the dragon stayed still
and made no moves onto their lands, Prince Aemon made no attempts to speak to them and
gave no reply to Robert's provocations. All the while his brother stewed and ranted and swore
he'd crush the Dragonspawn's skull to dust with his hammer. For Stannis, it was the loss of
trade and the stupidity of it all that he cursed. For Aurane Velaryon was not a man who took
insults as well as his prince did.

Now.

It was late afternoon when Robert finally showed his face and Stannis was even more
angered than he had been when he'd gone to see him that morning. Not that his anger
mattered to his brother and if anything it amused him greatly. Were it not for Shireen and Ser
Davos's presence then he'd have ground his teeth away to nothing by now. Stannis having
spent most of the day after his usual spar watching as Shireen taught Ser Davos how to read.
His daughter had patience that he didn't possess and was along with his wife the only bright
spot in a very dark life. No that wasn't completely true, there were others too.

Ser Davos himself was one, the man as loyal as any man could be, and were it not for him
then Stannis would have gone the way of his mother and father when the Fury broke against
the rocks that night some years ago. It was the so-called Onion Knight who'd saved his life
and dragged him to shore. No man did he owe more to than he and each day he'd had with
Tyana and Shireen since was down to Davos Seaworth. He'd knighted him by his own hand
though Robert had actually for once suggested he'd do it.

"How fares the men?" Robert asked after he'd broken his fast, Stannis trying not to be so
annoyed at the lateness of the hour that he did so.
"We've received ravens from all the Houses and they've begun their march. Those closest
have already arrived and House Wylde should be here on the morrow according to our
outriders." Stannis said and he looked forward to seeing his goodfather and goodbrother
again.
"Good, and the Dragonspawn?" Robert asked with a sneer.
"Remains on Dragonstone though his men have begun to make ready to set sail." Stannis said
and didn't like the smile on his brother's face.
"Where the fuck is Renly?" Robert asked and Stannis shook his head.
"Last I heard he'd gone to fetch Connington."
"The Griffin needs a fucking escort does he?" Robert said with a laugh.

He was still laughing when Cressen came running in, a raven's scroll in his hand, and the
Maester almost handed it to him just out of habit until he saw Robert sitting there.

"Your grace." Cressen said with a bow before handing Robert the scroll.

Stannis watched as his brother read it and then laughed loudly, very loudly, far too loudly.
Robert then handed it to him as he called out for wine and began to drink it as soon as it was
poured. Reading the words he could see why it had amused Robert and yet it worried him far
more. King Rickard Stark was dead, attacked, and killed in the Riverlands and whatever
chance he thought that there would be no war, was now gone. The North would attack the
Riverlands and soon others would be drawn into things and as he read the words he wondered
where the dragon would be in all this.

"And so it begins." he said softly as Robert drank and laughed and cursed the wolves and the
dragons.

Winterfell 300 AC.
Brandon Stark, The Wild Wolf.

He loved his wife truly and with all he had but at times she could be a pain in his arse too.
For almost a moon he'd been dutiful and had kept his drinking and other interests at bay. He'd
spent his time listening to petitions and sorting out boring and dull issues, not a one of them
that required him to even smack two heads together. Brandon had gone over books and their
stocks, he'd spoken to each of the masters to find out what was needed for the stables,
kennels, the guards, and every other aspect of running a keep and kingdom.

Apart from when he was sparring or taking drills in the yard, he'd spent far too long doing
things he disliked and still she refused to allow him to do the things he did. A small hunt
that's all he wished for. Just a couple of days in the Wolfswood with a few of his closest
friends. Him, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, and Mark Ryswell, true he'd maybe stop at and see
the crofter's daughter before he returned but Barbrey wasn't to know that. Yet she'd refused
him and told him that he was supposed to be standing in for his father until he returned.

"You're a king, Brandon, you may at least act like one." Barbrey said as they argued.
"It wasn't a king that you married, Barb, and I thought you liked when I let my wild wolf out
to play." he said moving towards her, his arms going around her and his lips on her neck.
"When it's time for him to play, Aye, now is not the time." she said, though the way she moved
against him showed it was time for play of another sort.

Gods he loved his wife he thought with a smirk as he walked to the Great Hall and readied
for the boring day ahead. The thoughts of the night to come were enough to keep his interest
for now. He had needed them as the day seemed to be never-ending and as he rose from the
Winter Throne after having dealt with the last of the petitioners he felt both tired and hungry.
Brandon hadn't made it even halfway back to his rooms when fate intervened and his
tiredness and hunger were soon the least of his worries.

"Your grace, a raven from Prince Eddard." Waldron said and Brandon took the scroll from
him, wondering what it was that Ned had to say.

"Perhaps the king is on his way back." he said to a nod from Waldron, the Maester agreeing
that it was the most likely reason for his brother to send him a message.

Breaking the seal that was what he expected to read, Ned telling him that their father had
returned from the Riverlands and was now on his way back to Winterfell. The relief he felt at
thinking this was short-lived and when he read the words he almost fell to his knees. This
couldn't be true and was it written in anyone other than Ned's hand then he'd have thought it a
really bad jape. Barely able to process what he was reading, he handed the scroll to the
Maester as if he wished for him to confirm or deny what it said.

"By the gods." Waldron said and Brandon's pained shout was as loud as any wolf's howl.

She was speaking, her words were just noise to him, and were he to turn and look at her then
he'd see the pleading in her eyes. Brandon heard and saw none of that though as around him
men readied to ride and he readied his horse. He strapped Ice to his horse's side and finally
turned to Barbrey and saw the worried look on her face. Her lips were moving and even
though he still couldn't hear the words she was saying, he could guess what they were.

"I am the King in the North and they killed my father. His death must be avenged and there is
not a thing in this world that will stop me from doing so. The North is yours until my nephew
arrives." he said kissing her cheek and mounting up.

It was only two days later that he even began to remember her words, her pleas for him to
think this through and not just ride off with no plan. He had a plan, he'd kill every single
Hoare he found, every man who wore their sigil he'd kill until he finally got to the man who'd
killed his father and sent his head back North. As angered as he was, he'd still taken the time
to call the banners, and Ned would lead the army and join him. Ice however called out for
blood and blood he would give her.

At night his dreams were filled with images of his father's death and of the death of the men
with him. Good men, men he'd grown up with, and men he'd respected. It was Martyn Cassel
who along with Ser Rodrik that had taught him, Ned, and Benjen how to wield a sword. He
had been the best sword in the North bar none and now he was gone. Rodrik had demanded
to be allowed to come with him and Brandon wouldn't and couldn't refuse the man his own
revenge. Ethan, Mark, and Theo all were among the three hundred swords he'd gathered
quickly and Medger Cerwyn and William Dustin had sent even more men to join them.

By the time he arrived at the Moat he had almost eight hundred and his anger had only grown
each night he'd spent on the road. He barely acknowledged Ned's welcome and that his
brother had done so while naming him as his king. There had been no crowning as he'd not
wasted time on such, so eager had he been to put the men who killed his father into the
ground. With a nod to Ned, he was led where his father and the other's remains were and
once again his pained shout was loud.

"I'll kill them all, every single last fucking one of them. I'll fucking not rest until their entire
house is ended." he shouted as he looked at the assembled heads and at his father's one in
particular.
"Brandon, you need to calm yourself." Ned said and Brandon glared at him.
"Calm, calm you, say? You may be the Quiet Wolf brother mine but I am not and you tell me
to be calm after what they've done. I'll scour their lands until every last fucking squid's eyes
are closed for good. There's your calm." he shouted as he moved to the door.

Apart from when they were boys, there had been few times that he and his brother had come
to blows. This was one of them and Brandon was stunned when he was knocked to the
ground by the punch that Ned threw at him. So stunned that it took him more than a few
moments to respond to it. It was not because his brother had floored him but that Ned both
had thrown first and was now showing more anger than he had ever seen him do before.

"Do not mistake my quietness for apathy. He was my father too and I will not rest until the
men responsible are dead and covered in dirt. This is not the way, Brandon and so help me if
you don't fucking listen to me I'll beat you down like mother used to do." Ned said angrily
and despite himself, Brandon laughed.

He was helped back to his feet and he embraced Ned, Brandon felt comforted just by being
with him as he always had done. Where he was temperamental, Ned was calm but woe betide
the man who thought him placid. His brother's anger was a much different beast than his own
and he welcomed seeing it and him. Ned just like always knew just exactly what it was he
needed to hear and Brandon found himself lost in memories as he listened to his brother
speak to their men later that day.

It had been Ned who had helped him through the loss of his son, of their son. Less than an
hour he'd breathed before the gods had taken him from them and though Barbrey had needed

him, he was unable to be there for her. Were it not for his brother then there was no telling
what it was he would have done. Ned though had been there for him, as he was when their
mother died and as he was now as they mourned their father. Two days later when he left
Moat Cailin and rode back to Winterfell it was with Ned by his side and he welcomed his
brother's presence. The banners had been called and Benjen would await them at Winterfell
so they could place their father in the crypts. Brandon would then be crowned king and the
North would then ride to war. He and his brothers would avenge their father and the South
would soon hear their howling of wolves.

The Conquest of Westeros XII.
Dragonknights part II.

'How many eyes does Prince Bloodraven have, A thousand eyes and one.' popular children's
rhyme first heard in the Empire circa 200 AC.

The history of the Dragonknight's is littered with tales of great and terrible deeds. From
Visenya who helped Aegon carve out the beginnings of an Empire to Maegor bending the
Qhorik's to his will. Baelon, who broke the first great Dothraki Khalasar to Daeron who
through sheer force of will and endurance sank the entire Ghiscari fleet. From Aemon who
battled enemies both from outside and within to Daemon who ended the Dance of Dragons
with a feat of daring that is still spoken of in awe all these years later.

Yet it was a man thought of as one of them who had tarnished the legacy of the
Draognknights and almost brought the Empire down around him. Prince Brynden Targaryen,
Bloodraven, the Seventh Dragonknight or so it was believed. The son of Aegon the Unworthy
and a woman who claimed to be from Lys though was soon proved to be from much further
afield than that, Brynden was everything a Dragonknight is not. Barely able to control his
dragon, not truly skilled with a blade in his hand and caring more for personal glory than for
securing the Empire, Byrnden's mummery should never have been allowed to stand. But the
egg had hatched, the dragon was born and his father greatly welcomed having a son of his as
a Dragonknight, and so the dye was cast.

Sorcerer, kinslayer, betrayer, there are many words used to describe Bloodraven, and his time
as a Dragonknight was a dark time indeed. From his birth in 172 AC to his eventual death in
233 AC, the Empire and its Emperors believed in the mummery and so the fell magic his
mother had used to make him appear what he was not, went unchallenged. Were it not for his
nephew Prince Aemon Targaryen and his own dragon Darkfyre, then Dark Sister would have
been lost to the Empire and the line of Dragonknights broken forever. It was to tales like this

that the Dragonknight was brought up. Words that were spoken between him and his
namesake that only the two of them were privy to. The true story of Bloodraven's death and
what had led his granduncle to realize the lie is known only to two men who shared both
blood and a name.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Aemon.

He felt his dragon's joy and shared it as they flew together with Rhaenys and Meraxes over
the Narrow Sea. Aemon actually welcoming the sight of Dragonstone when it came into view
where once he'd very much not. Almost two years ago he'd arrived on the island after being
exiled and with fear in his heart that he'd never see her again. Now as they landed close to the
keep and he climbed down of Gaelithox's back, he almost ran to help his sister down from
Meraxes.

The kiss he placed on her lips was a quick and soft one and very much unlike the ones they'd
shared the night before. Then his desire for her had almost overwhelmed him as had his need
to know she was truly in his arms and that it was not just another of the many dreams he'd
had since they'd parted. Now while the desire for her was just as strong, he knew she was
really there with him and so he was calmed somewhat.

"This is Dragonstone?" Rhaenys asked excitedly.
"It is. This is where Aegon planned his conquest and where Aenar fled to after Daenys
dreamed." he said holding out his hand and smiling when she took it in her own.
"It's not what I expected." she said and he looked at her worried that she was disappointed at
the thoughts of being here "I like it, as does Meraxes." Rhaenys said and Aemon breathed out
a sigh of relief.
"Gaelithox loves it so, the Dragonmont especially." he said as the two dragons took to the air
and flew off towards the volcano.
"Who's here, Aemon?" Rhaenys asked as they began to walk towards the keep.

"You know all who came with me, Rhae. Daario and Aurane are elsewhere so it's just Torgho
Nudho, Thoros, Marwyn, and my most Leal men." he said and she looked at him.
"And you intend to conquer Westeros with just those?" she asked and he smiled.
"No, we'll conquer Westeros with just those men." he said before kissing her again.
Torgho Nudho and Thoros awaited them at the gates and he welcomed seeing the smile on
Thoros's face and the smirk on Torgho Nudho's as they greeted his sister.
"Princess, it is so good to see you again." Thoros said as Rhaenys hugged him.
"You too, Thoros. Torgho Nudho, is that any way to greet me?" Rhaenys asked playfully as
she embraced his Sworn Shield.
"I, is most pleased to see you again, my princess." Torgho said.
"As am I, to see you both." Rhaenys said.

It was her that held out her hand this time and he who took it as they walked into the keep.
Rhaenys staring with wide-open eyes at each of the stone statues, the tapestries that hung,
and the shapes that had been sung into the stone. He heard the little gasp she made when she
saw the Dragon's Throne and the louder one when he led her into the Chamber of the Painted
Table.

"Aemon, don't you dare." she said laughing and slapping her hands on his shoulder when he
lifted her up and carried her to the raised seat.
"Tell me what you see?" he asked as he placed her on the seat and moved away from her so
she could look down o the Painted Table.
"Seven Kingdoms." she said softly and Aemon shook his head.
"No my love, only one." he said as he moved to her and lifted her from the seat.

He felt her lips on his neck as he carried her cradled in his arms and by the time they reached
his room, their room, he was more than eager to be alone with her. The laugh she gave him
when he threw her on the bed was one he'd waited nearly two years to hear and before she
had a chance to recover he was on the bed beside her. Aemon found himself stopping to look
at her as he undressed her and more often than not he just stared deeply at her face and into
her eyes. She bit her lip as she looked at him with both nervousness and the same desire that
he knew was reflected in his own eyes and then she went to say sorry once more.

"Aems I.." she began and he stopped and silenced her with his finger and then with his lips.
"You're here, Rhae, that's all that matters, You're here and we're together." he said and she
nodded and then pulled him closer to her.

While she slept he did not, his hands brushing her through her hair and his eyes once again
drawn to her face. It had been the same but different also and he knew that she'd felt it too.
For Aemon it had been because they no longer had to hide or worry about what anyone else
thought, Rhaenys though had believed it was because things weren't resolved between them.
So he'd listened as she'd told him how sorry she was for not leaving with him and how much
of a fool she'd been.

Not even his japes that it would put her on the same level as he was, since he'd always been
her fool, had comforted her enough for her to stop speaking words that she had no need to.
Aemon knew well enough her reasons for not joining him and he didn't need her to speak
them to him but Rhaenys did and so he let her. He held her as she spoke of their grandfather
and of the men of Faith that her mother and their father had allowed into the Empire. Then he
wiped away her tears as she spoke about the words their father had spoken to her and how the
things they'd done together had made her feel.

How he kept his anger in check at that was something only the gods knew. He'd always
known that his father was against them being together, what he hadn't known was just how
far he'd gone with Rhaenys to see that was so. In the end, it was only the words he'd spoken
once she was done that had been enough to stop her tears and take her worries away.

"I care not, truly. You are here, you're with me. I care not for why it's taken so long for you to
come, only that you're here, Rhae. I love you as I've always loved you and you're still all I
truly want or wish for. I will forge out a kingdom not because it's what I want but because it's
what I need to make you mine. Marry me, be my Queen, my Empress, marry me, and once it's
done then no man, not even our father can force us apart." he said.
"Aems.."
"Aurane and Daario will return soon, Thoros is still a Red Priest and Marwyn can have it
recorded and send word back to our father. Marry me Rhae?" he asked and she nodded once,
twice, and then, again and again, Aemon kissing her repeatedly as she said the words he'd
waited so long to hear.
"I'll marry you, I love you Aemon, only you." Rhaenys said and he had never felt as true and
complete as he did right then.

When they woke the next morning he almost feared she'd take it back, only for Rhaenys to
kiss him and tell him she hoped that Aurane and Daario returned soon. They broke their fast,
he told Thoros and Torgho Nudho and listened as Thoros spoke of the preparations that he
would need to make to hold the wedding ceremony. Fire they had plenty of and when
Rhaenys suggested instead of flames that they jump over the molten rock in the Dragonmont,
Aemon agreed without hesitation.

From there it was to the Village and to speak to some of the people that lived there. Rhaenys
was seeking a seamstress and Aemon soon found out that some of the clothing he had
brought with him and some of the materials from Volantis would soon have a new use. He
spent a day just watching her as she spoke to people. Men, women, and children all seeming
to be drawn to his sister far more than they had been to him since he'd arrived and it pleased
him greatly. Rhaenys was just like her mother and how his own had been. She had a way with
people and a comfort around them that others, he included, did not.

Aemon could engender loyalty, his men loved him and the citizens of the Empire both
admired and respected him. His sister, his mother, her mother, and his aunt were loved in a
way that he had never been or would never be. Or at least not by anyone other than the one
person he wished to love him so. It was dark when they made their way back to the keep.
Rhaenys leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked together and for Aemon it had been
one of the very best days of his life.

Storm's End 300 AC.
Robert Baratheon.

As much as he enjoyed the wine and the whores, they weren't what had truly stirred his blood
over the past moon. Instead, it had been sparring, swinging his hammer, speaking about the
battles to come, and thinking about what he'd do once he was face to face with the
Dragonspawn. A war, a true war was something he'd wished for all his life. To lead men on
the field and face off for true knowing that the winner would not be chosen by a yield or a
first cut. That victory would only be defined by the fact that one of you would be dead. It was
that which had made his heart beat that much faster these past few days.

There had been skirmishes over the years, bandits that he'd dealt with personally even though
as king some had wished for him to send others to face them. At times relations between
them and Dorne or the Reach had seemed ready to lead to a full-on conflict only to be

smoothed over after not more than the smallest of battles. Truth be told there wasn't anyone
in the whole of Westeros who possessed the balls for a true fight. So when the Dragonspawn
had landed on Dragonstone it had filled him with a sense of excitement that he'd never known
before.

That he thought the boy to be a living breathing insult to him only helped with that and it was
tales of what he'd done in Essos that had both excited him and infuriated him at the same
time. Tales of battles fought, wars won, and a reputation as a warrior that he so wished for
himself. Aemon Targaryen was the boy that should have been his son and he was a son that
he as a father would have been proud to name as his own. His mother had been stolen from
him, his son stolen from him and the glory he'd have brought his name had also been stolen
from him. So there was only one way to pay the world back for its thievery. To do so, Robert
would steal the remaining years of the boy's life and put him down once and for all.

"For fuck's sake, get up." he said to the man who lay unmoving in front of him "I barely
fucking tapped you, get up." he shouted.
"Your grace, he's dead." Ser Barristan said his voice strained and full of shock and Robert
looked at him ready to laugh as surely this was a jape.
"He can't be dead, I barely touched him." he said confused as he looked from his hammer to
the man on the ground who it was clear to him now was dead.

He'd gotten lost, lost in the thoughts of what could and should have been and what was to
come. So lost that he'd turned friendly spar into something much more deadly and as he
looked around at those in the yard, he could see how they looked at him. There was fear in
their eyes, anger and worry and he hated being the cause of some of it. Moving to the body of
the man, the guard whose name he couldn't even remember he bent down and saw the result
of the impact of the blow he'd caught him with. The padding had been no protection and he'd
caught him far too flush.

"See that he's given to the Silent Sisters and that the Septon prays over him. Does he have a
family?" he asked his voice so very much different to how it normally was, it was whispered
rather than boomed.
"No, your grace, not that I'm aware of." Ser Barristan said and Robert nodded as he turned
and walked into the keep, his hammer was still in his hand and he barely realized he was
carrying it.

Barristan had told him to rein himself in during the spars, that he was being too forceful and
that not every man he faced was as good as he and Robert had thought he'd listened. He
cursed himself for getting lost in his head once more and cursed the Dragonspawn for being
the reason for it. Ever since the boy had arrived it had brought up feelings that before then he
only ever had when he was drunk. A lost love and the thoughts of what his life would have
been with her by his side and of the son that was denied to him.

Lyanna was someone he only ever thought about when he was feeling sorry for himself or if
he was being gainsaid against. If the whores, wine, and tourneys weren't enough or if people
were asking for him to wed and give them an heir. Then his mind would turn to the woman
he should have wed. Or if he was alone in his bed and he'd wake wishing he was not, then his
mind would turn to her and he'd ask himself why she'd run away. What was it about him that
had made her not wish to be his wife? They'd never even met, had she only but seen him then
she'd have wanted him, wouldn't she? She'd have made him happy, wouldn't she? She'd have
loved him, wouldn't she?

"I never even saw her face." he said softly as he closed his eyes and tried to conjure the
image of her in his mind, the shadow of her that he had made his own.

The feast that night was a much quieter affair and he barely drank at all much to his brother's
pleasure. Not that much brought pleasure to Stannis he thought and tried not to smile at. It
had turned out the guard had a mother that he provided for and so he had told Stannis to
make sure she received his wage still and then he'd tried to put him out of his mind. He would
have failed at that if Cressen didn't interrupt his thoughts with the news about the raven's
scroll. Robert almost rushing from the Great Hall and hoping it was from the Dragonspawn,
only to find it was a lion that sent him words and not a dragon.

"Why the fuck is that miserable old fucker sending us a raven?" he asked as Cressen handed
him the scroll.
"I know not, your grace." Cressen said just as Stannis arrived beside them.
"Your grace?" his brother asked looking to the Maester, Ser Barristan, and then him.
"The Old Lion sends us words brother." he said as he broke the seal on the scroll and read the
message.

To King Robert Baratheon,

You like I have no doubt looked to the dragon on our shores and know what it is he's truly
here for. As the king of the lands closest to him, it is perhaps to you that he'd look first.
However, events in the Riverlands have brought about an opportune moment for us both. With
the death of his grandfather, it will be there and not elsewhere that the dragon will look, and
once he does it'll be squids who face his rage. I propose an alliance, King Robert, one that
suits both our needs. While the dragon chases squids his home will be mostly unguarded and
yours for the taking and when he hears of its fall, the dragon will march back to take it from
you. But it's a long way from the Riverlands to Dragonstone and marches are fraught with
danger. As he marches south, so shall I, and between us both, we will have him trapped.

Tywin Lannister,
King of the Rock.

It ended the feast for him and for Stannis, as all four of them made their way back to his solar
after Stannis had sent word to his wife and goodfamily. The scroll was both an invitation to
do almost nothing and the promise of a victory for doing so. As they walked he could see the
wheels turning in Stannis's head and for once they were turning in his own too. The idea of
taking Dragonstone appealed greatly to him, though the thoughts of an alliance with Tywin
Lannister did not. Only a fool would trust the Old Lion and he was no fool despite what
people may think.

"Well?" he asked Stannis as they entered his rooms.
"An interesting proposal and was it one from any other man then I'd urge you to consider it."
Stannis said and Robert looked at him in surprise.
"But you'll not?" he asked as he took his seat.
"While on the face of it this makes perfect sense. An alliance, catching an army between two
with one coming from the rear and one head-on, I doubt that's the extent of Tywin Lannister's
plans." Stannis said and Robert smirked as he bid him continue "I'd say some of this is true.
He'd use us to take Dragonstone and to pull on the Dragon's tail and he'd even march south
when the dragon did."
"But?"
"But to what end? Would he do as the message says or would he let our army face off against
Prince Aemon's and then come in and end us both?" Stannis asked a question that wasn't truly
a question.
"Ser Barristan?" he asked.

"I agree with the Lord Hand, your grace. Lion's prey on the weak and he'd wait until we were
so before then feasting on ours and the dragon's bodies." Ser Barristan said.
"True enough, this news offers us something though. If the dragon does march North then so
do we. The Old Lion's plan may be to feast after the fight is done and it's a good plan, one I
think we can take advantage of."

For the next few days, he found himself filled with a sense of excitement as he awaited news
from Dragonstone that the ships had set sail South. Robert looking to the sky each time he
thought he heard the flapping of wings and when the raven came he awaited impatiently for
Cressen to bring the words to him. They were not the words he had expected and looking at
the broken seal and the scroll as it rested on the floor he could barely hear the words that
Stannis, Cressen, and Ser Barristan were speaking. Not that he needed to hear them to know
what they were saying nor had he a need to look to Stannis's face to see the worry there for
their brother.

"DRAGONSPAWN." he shouted loudly as he felt his rage rise ever higher.

The Reach 300 AC.
Prince Gwayne.

Three times he'd gone to the brothel in four days and yet he hadn't even come close to being
sated. The thoughts of Margaery doing such things filled his mind and as he closed his eyes
and felt his release come once more, it was to her face and her wicked words that he spent.
She'd told him about the book and the first chance he'd gotten he'd searched for it and found
it in the library. Later as he had laid in his bed that night, it was with his hand he'd taken his
pleasure and with her voice in his ear.

"I overheard Lady Crane speaking to Lady Delena about a book that their mothers gave them
before their wedding day. A book on the things a man and woman may do together."
Margaery said and the blush on her face was something he found incredibly attractive.
"And you seek such a book?" he asked eagerly.
"No, I've found it." she said blushing some more.
"Do the words speak of such things?" he asked as he felt his breath quicken.

"I…I did not know men and women could do such things." she said nervously before blushing
again "I find the thoughts of them most confusing." she said barely looking at him.
"Confusing?" he asked.
"In how they make me feel." she said, once again not able to look in his face.
"Margaery, we don't, I mean we would…but only things that we wish to do together." he said
trying not to let his excitement at the things they would do be what she heard in his voice and
instead hoping she took comfort from his words.
"That's the thing, Gwayne. I find the thoughts of doing such things with you to be…" she
paused as she looked around to make sure they were alone "Exciting." she said almost
embarrassedly.

Knowing she'd read such things and that she wasn't averse to doing them with him had made
him wish for her to be his even more. Gwayne counting down the days to his nameday so he
could speak to his father about taking her as his wife. There were to his mind no better
candidates for a bride and so he couldn't see his father refusing him. He had never considered
how the arrival of a dragon would send his plans so askew.

The raven arrived the day before his nameday and he was called into his father's solar some
hours later. Had he been paying more attention then he'd have seen Lord Mace rushing from
the room but his mind was filled as it always was with the woman he loved. If he'd not been
so lost in thoughts of Margaery and the things they'd soon be able to do to and with each
other, then he'd have noticed how his father's face was far more determined than ever. So lost
was he that when his father spoke, Gwayne was sure he was going to bring up his betrothal
himself. In this, he was right but so very wrong at the same time.

"The time has come for you to be wed, my son." his father said and Gwayne smiled at him
"I've received an offer of a match from King Tywin Lannister between you and his
granddaughter, Myrcella."
"No." Gwayne said rising to his feet.
"What did you say to me boy?" his father said angrily.
"I said no. I'll not marry some girl I've never met."
"You'll marry who I tell you to marry."
"I'll marry Margaery and only Margaery." he said shouting back at his father.

"A steward's daughter, you really think I'd let mine own son and heir marry a steward's
daughter? You listen and listen well, boy. The dragon is soon to lay his flames down on
House Hoare and when he's dealt with them it'll be to the rest of us that he'll look. Allies, it's
allies that we need and I have the offer of one in Tywin Lannister. You'll do your duty for
your house, for your kingdom, and for its people and you'll marry his granddaughter. I'll hear
no more about Margaery Tyrell, now go, get out of my sight." his father said and Gwayne
glared at him before leaving.

He didn't make it far before Loras and then Garlan came his way and it was clear that both of
them had heard of his father's plans. The sympathetic looks on their faces were welcome and
yet not at the same time. He spent the rest of the day searching for her but she was not to be
found. Gwayne having to eventually send Loras to bring her to him and he then paced the
grounds as he waited for her. Seeing the hurt on her was too much for him to bear, as it was
clear she'd been crying and that she was angry with him. Margaery moving away from him
when he tried to take her into his arms and then looking at him worriedly when he grabbed
her so that she was facing him.

"I will marry you, Margaery, no one else but you." he said as firmly as he could.
"Your father, he told mine own that it could never be…that you were to be wed to another."
she said and how she sniffled and sobbed as she spoke almost broke his heart.
"I care not for what my father says, you're to be my wife, only you. Do you believe me?" he
asked hopefully.
"I…I want to." she said as he wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I need to speak to your grandmother, will you take me to her?" he asked softly as she finally
allowed him to hold her in his arms.
"Why?" she asked.
"No one will know what to do better than her, Margaery. Please take me to her, for us?" he
asked almost pleadingly.
"For us." she said softly and he was happy to see the beginnings of a smile on her face.

It wasn't a full one but it was better than nothing and he had meant every word he had said.
She was to be his wife and nothing, not a dragon, a lion or even his father would stop him
from making that so. Whatever it took to make sure they were wed is what he would do,
whatever it took.

The conquest of Westeros XIII
The Dragonknight.

Born to the future High Emperor and the Empress of the Ice, Prince Aemon Targaryen had
been a sickly child at first. His first few days lead most to believe that he'd not make it to
childhood let alone live to become a man. It was when the red dragon egg was laid beside
him that all that changed and Aemon seemed reinvigorated by its presence. A few moons
later in front of his grandfather the High Emperor, his grandmother The Empress of Dragons,
his father, mother, stepmother, and his siblings, the egg hatched and the Empire once again
had a Dragonknight to call upon.

Aemon soon showed he was everything that Bloodraven was not. Deadly with a blade, knife,
or spear in his hand, he was wielding Dark Sister at nine namedays and beating men twice
his size at ten. Gaelithox was what he named his dragon though soon it was to become more
known as the Blood Wyrm and he and Aemon spent as much time in the air as he did on the
ground in those early years. When he killed his first man is a question that many debate,
some say it was when he was two and ten but those closest to him say it was far earlier than
that. What is known is that at two and ten he fought in his first true battle and no man took
more lives that day than he.

Over the years the Dragonknight and his Second Army traveled far and wide and friendships
and bonds for life were made and formed on fields that ran red with blood. Daario Naharis
was plucked from a minor role in the High Emperor's First Army and given his own
command under Prince Aemon. Thoros of Myr was given leave to form his own unit and
taken under Aemon's wing, as was the prince's closest and truest friend and brother by choice
Aurane Velaryon. None of the men with the prince though was more lethal or Leal than his
Sworn Shield, Torgho Nudho.

Little is known about the life of the Dragonknight's Sworn Shield other than he was brought
to Volantis by the Empress of the Ice when Aemon was but two namedays old and that from
that moment forward he has stood by his side resolutely. Deadly with a spear and shield in
hand and just as fearsome with a short or longsword, few men in the Empire were as feared
or respected as Torgho Nudho, and there were fewer still that held the Dragonknight's faith
and respect as truly as he.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Torgho Nudho.

He drilled the men twice a day and they were as ready as they'd ever been. His men were men
who'd fought with him and by their prince's side for more than eight years. Every foe that
dared to stand against the Empire had been brought low by the men he now stood with. They,
the other men under his prince's command and his prince himself all knew the art of war far
better than most. Men would shit themselves when you killed them, they'd cling onto life for
as long as they could when their time came. Some would find the courage they'd not known
when faced with an enemy that may have their measures. While others would find their
courage deserted them as they became overwhelmed by fear.

For Torgho Nudho there was no such thing as fear. What horrors could a man on a battlefield
inflict upon you that the masters in Astapor had not already done. Dragonknights are born not
made his prince had told him once and Torgho Nudho wished it was the same for Unsullied.
It was not and never would be and not even his prince or his prince's mother could make it so.
The Empress of the Ice had saved him from being cut and brought him to his prince's side
and together they'd saved his men. Though not all could be, not even by the Dragonknight.

A prince is not the High Emperor and so while Aemon could take those not yet cut, he
couldn't stop the practice. So it was some but not all they'd saved and over the years some of
those had fallen. To him and to his prince they owed their loyalty and their lives and yet
Aemon had asked and not ordered them to war. He'd not needed to do so and yet had done so
regardless, for what difference was there between a man and a slave other than choice.
Torgho Nudho and his men had been slaves once but now when their time came and they met
their gods, they would do so completely free.

"The men look well, Torgho Nudho." Princess Rhaenys said and he nodded to her as the
prince talked to some of the men a little further down the line.
"They look forward to the wedding, my princess." he said and she smiled at him as she
touched him on the shoulder.
"As do I." she said before looking to his prince.
"As does my prince." he said making her laugh a little as his prince looked her way.
"He does and if Daario doesn't arrive soon then I believe he'll take off on Gaelithox's back
and go find our blue-haired friend and drag him here himself." she said and he smirked a little

knowing her words to be true.

Aurane had arrived the day before and he knew that his prince now only awaited Daario's
return so the wedding could take place and that it was only that Daario had further to go that
had delayed him. None of them worried that his task hadn't been completed or that he was in
any danger. These people were fools and would have been conquered long ago had the
Empire deigned to look their way and so they feared them not. It was more eagerness that
filled their thoughts and willed Daario to return to them quickly. Torgho Nudho knew his
prince was eager to be wed, eager to begin and eager to fight and so he wished for it too.

The sense of sadness that his prince had felt since they'd come to this place was gone now. It
had been replaced with something that those in Westeros should truly fear and yet he doubted
they were clever enough to do so. There was a determination in his prince that had not been
there before. A willingness to conquer where before it was almost reluctance. Even when he'd
told them that his eyes had looked upon the lands and willed them to be theirs it had not truly
been there. Now it was and Torgho Nudho knew it was because of the princess's arrival.

"A ship." he heard Aurane's voice call out and as his prince moved towards him so did he, his
hand raised to dismiss the men for now.

He felt his heart race a little when he saw that it was Daario's and they then made their way to
the docks. Torgho Nudho's eyes searched the men to see if all had returned and he was happy
enough to see them all there, Valarr, Jaedor, Lucearon, and finally Daario himself. He may
not have feared for them but he was still relieved to see them all unharmed and that they had
captured his prince's prize as well. The man was large and yet he bore no mark on him and it
seemed to him that he'd not put up a fight, the weakness of these men of Westeros making his
lip curl up in disgust.

"Lord Renly, I welcome you to Dragonstone." his prince said with a smirk as the man dared
to glower at him.
"My brothers…"
"Are fools, but let us find out how much they value your life before you speak so fondly on
them, shall we?" his prince said and he heard both Thoros and Aurane's laugh as they spoke
to Daario "Let's find some accommodations more fitting to your station Lord Renly. I'm sure
Daario's treatment while fair wasn't pleasant."

He would have liked to listen to what Aurane and Daario were saying as they walked but his
eyes were on his prince and the man they'd captured. Perhaps his lack of fight was a ruse and
he had another objective. If so he'd be ready just in case. Though in the end, it turned out
there was no fight in this man at all and soon he was locked up in far better rooms than a
prisoner deserved. It was only when he got to speak to Daario that the tales he told him of the
men he'd faced proved his assumptions even more true. These were poor men indeed and
they'd earn very little glory when they defeated them.

"Go, wash and rest, we'll speak on our plans on the morrow." his prince said to Daario.

They ate and drank that night and he woke early the next morning for the spar with his
prince. He, Daario, Thoros, Aurane, and the prince all moving around the yard and building
up a sweat and an appetite. Once they were done they were joined by Marwyn and the
princess and then they broke their fast. His prince writing out a message to be sent to the Stag
in Storm's End before they made their way to the Chamber of the Painted Table. As they
walked Daario spoke about taking the Stag's brother and of the lands and men he'd seen while
doing so.

"Gulltown?" his prince asked Aurane.
"The Lord is with us, he may not fight by your side until he's seen you win but he's with us."
"You intend to attack the Vale?" the princess said looking at the table.
"I intend to attack them all at some point and would have attacked the Stag first of all but
then word came of my grandfather's death." Aemon said.
"Oh Aems.." the princess said moving to the prince.
"The man was a fool, Rhae. Not only did he try to force my mother to marry a man she didn't
love but he never forgave her for not doing so. For many years, our father reached out to no
avail and I did so too when I arrived only to be insulted and ignored. I care not that he is
dead, other than someone spilled my kin's blood and I've read my mother's journal and know
what it is she would will me to do." his prince said.
"So you intend to attack the Riverlands, my prince?" Thoros asked and his prince chuckled.
"Do you know who informed me about my grandfather's death?" his prince asked to shake of
the head from Throros and from Aurane "The King of the Rock. First, he sends the dwarf to
seek an alliance and a marriage " Torgho caught the frown on the princess's face and the
anger in her eyes at the prince's words "Then he helps me to this piece of information."
"He thinks himself a player, my prince." Aurane said and again his prince chuckled.

"And yet he doesn't even understand the game." his prince said to laughs "He wishes me to
fight in the Riverlands and each of you know, I live to make wishes come true." the laughs
were louder now.
"What of Dorne?" the princess asked.
"They will not support me, on that they've been clear."
"Do they know of me?" the princess asked and his prince shook his head "Then I think it's
time Meraxes and I paid my uncles and cousin's a visit."
"Rhae.."
"After we've been wed of course." the princess said with a smile on her face.
"So it's to the Riverlands we go." Aurane said to nods.
"Let the games begin." his prince said and Torgho Nudho smiled a true smile at that as these
were the only games that he liked to play.

The Kingdom of the Storms.
House Baratheon.

King of Storms Robert Baratheon age 38.
Hand of the King and heir Stannis Baratheon age 36.
Princess Tyana Baratheon age 37.
Princess Shireen Baratheon age 11.
Prince Renly Baratheon age 21.

Deceased.
Steffon Baratheon age 32 drowned after their ship broke against the rocks at Shipbreaker
Bay.
Cassana Baratheon age 32 drowned after their ship broke against the rocks at Shipbreaker
Bay.

Chapter End Notes

Up next a visitor arrives on Dragonstone just in time for a wedding. We take a look into
the Vale and as Aemon and Rhaenys wed we take a look at how a girl running from a
betrothal set in motion current events. Meanwhile Tywin plots, Brandon and Ned issue a
call to arms, and as Rhaenys and Aemon say their goodbyes and head off in different
directions Westeros finds itself on the brink of a war unlike any it‘s ever known before.

We Are Dragons.
Chapter Summary

A visitor arrives on Dragonstone just in time for a wedding. We take a look into the Vale
and as Aemon and Rhaenys wed we take a look at how a girl running from a betrothal
set in motion current events. Meanwhile Tywin plots, Brandon and Ned issue a call to
arms, and as Rhaenys and Aemon say their goodbyes and head off in different directions
Westeros finds itself on the brink of a war unlike any it‘s ever known before.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros XIV
The Vale of Arryn.

Ever since the Battle of Seven Stars, there has been one house and one alone that ruled the
Vale. From King Artys to King Jon, House Arryn has stood As High as Honor above the rest.
Despite some trouble with the remnants of the First Men who hadn't knelt and had instead
fled into the mountains, the biggest trouble to come to House Arryn came from within. Ruled
by its Maiden Queen Jeyne Arryn for seven and thirty years, her death as her life had before
it brought about unrest in the House of the Falcon.

While she'd been able to fight those who doubted a woman's right to rule when she lived,
upon her death, it was her testament that needed to be fought for. Naming her cousin Ser
Joffrey Arryn as her heir had not gone down well and pretenders or claimants. depending on
how you wish to look at them, came out against her decree. Ser Eldrich and Isembard Arryn
both claimed the throne and a war for it soon ensued. Ser Corwyn Corbray named as regent
by Queen Jeyne stood for her testament and by the time the war was done, House Arryn had
nearly been wiped out.

It was only upon Ser Corwyn's death, which most considered treasonous, that the Vale was
righted and Ser Joffrey was named its king. Peace had been won, though the cost had been
bloody. Externally the biggest threat had always come from House Hoare and many times
they had tried and failed to add the Vale to their kingdom. Each time these attempts were
ended where any attempt to take the Vale from outside would be, at its Bloody Gate.

In 300 AC House Arryn was united or so everyone thought, for a crown is too big a prize not
to be sought. King Jon Arryn had grown old and weak and his heir Ser Elbert had shown his
unsuitability to rule on more than one occasion. So a growing number of the voices in the
Vale called out for a change to its king and to who he had named its heir. The Vale had a new
darling in Ser Denys, a true falcon and one that most wished to see wear its crown.

From atop the Eyrie, the House of the Falcon had always been the masters of all the lands
beneath them and would remain that way until someone could rise even higher than they. But
while the Eyrie may have been in the clouds it didn't own the skies around it. They weren't its
domain, for they belonged to the dragons and not even a falcon can survive a dragon's
flames.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Runestone 300 AC.
Lord Yohn Royce.

He sat with his daughter and watched as Robar rode out against Ser Denys. It was the match
he and the rest of those sitting there had longed to see and as the two horses rode towards
each other, Yohn moved forward in his seat. Denys had beaten all comers, even knocking
himself to the ground while Robar had beaten his brother Andar in a tilt for the ages. For
Yohn, it was with pride that he watched not just his son but the man he'd trained himself,
Denys being perhaps the very best student he'd ever taught.

The first tilt was a draw as was the second and the third would have unhorsed lesser men.
Both Robar and Denys stayed in the saddle though and knowing his son and his former
squire, Yohn knew they were smiling beneath their helms. Denys wore a winged one, the
white falcon embossed on his armor and on his shield, while Robar's was a duller bronze than
his own. He very nearly cheered when on the fourth tilt his son almost unhorsed Denys, who
then returned the favor on the fifth. In the end, it took eight and the hit which won the day for
Denys was a thing of beauty. Yohn held his breath until Robar moved and got to his feet and
he could see that while he had remained on his horse, Denys wasn't moving until he saw that
Robar was unhurt.

"Your winner, Ser Denys Arryn, The Darling of the Vale." the herald said and Yohn could see
Denys shaking his head.

The name had been given to him by some ladies many years earlier and it had stuck despite
all of Denys's efforts to make it not so. His former squire knew how people saw him and how
the name would make him seem. Yet the truth of things was far different than what many
may think and were it left to Denys then Elbert would one day be king. There was no wish to
usurp the rightful heir, no desire to be king and that was why he must be Yohn thought, as he
watched Denys crown his wife Jeyne as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Denys was everything a knight should be, everything a king should be, and he was far more
suitable than Elbert in every conceivable way. As a warrior, husband, or father, they were like
night and day. Denys remained faithful to his wife and doted on his children while Elbert
never kept to his marriage bed and any heir he had was not born on the right side of the
sheets. When it came to their own comforts the differences were even starker. Denys was by
no means frugal but he was not a spendthrift like his cousin was. How Jon Arryn had let
Elbert become what he had was beyond Yohn's comprehension and with the dragon looming
large the Vale couldn't afford to be led by such a man.

"Father, we must speak." Andar said taking him from his thoughts.
"Andar?" he asked confusedly as he looked at his son.
"In your solar, father." his son said and he nodded.

With a kiss to Ysilla's cheek and a nod to Robar to follow him, Yohn rose and walked from
the tiltyard beside his son. The note he was handed soon showed the import of his
interruption. They'd no sooner made it to his solar than they were joined by Robar and Denys,
both wearing smiles as they entered the room. Despite being a good deal older than his
second son it was he and not Andar that Denys was closer to. Both of them were almost
inseparable at times as their interests were far more martial than Andar's were. It was the
curse of an heir in some ways. Andar's lessons had always been different from Robar's and
Denys's and so though there was no distance between either of his sons or between Andar and
Denys, only one was a true friend to the other.

"King Rickard Stark is dead." he said to surprised looks "Murdered." he added to shocked
ones.
"How, where?" Denys asked and Yohn looked to Robar for the details.

"In the Riverlands, he had been visiting Riverrun for Lord Edmure's nameday and as he was
returning North he and his men were attacked." Andar said as Yohn listened.
"By who?" Robar asked.
"The Hoares?" Denys asked looking at him.
"Perhaps, but why now?" Yohn asked "Rickard Stark has traveled to and from Riverrun for
many years, ever since his son married Catelyn Tully, why now?"
"Because of the dragon on Dragonstone." Andar said and Yohn looked at his son as he
considered it.

It could be for that reason, though he doubted even the Hoares would be that stupid and pull
on the dragon's tail. Aemon Targaryen was Rickard's grandson, his daughter's boy, and kin
was everything. The Hoares would have to know that by doing this they were bringing the
dragon to their door and so unless they had some way of dealing with the dragon that he'd not
been able to find, it was suicidal. Savage animals they and the rest of the Iron Born may be,
they were he'd thought at least, smarter than this.

"We make for the Eyrie." he said after a few moments of silence.
"My lord?" Denys asked confused.
"Whether you wish it or not, doesn't matter any longer, Denys. War is upon us and we'll be
led by someone who can lead, for if not then we're doomed before it begins." he said and
Denys shook his head.
"I don't want it." Denys said and Yohn saw Robar pat him on the back.
"That's why it can only be you who takes it." Robar said.

They didn't stay for the feast and he had ravens sent to some of the lords he could truly trust.
To Lady Anya Waynwood and Ser Symond Templeton, Lord Gilwood Hunter, and Lord
Benedar Belmore, and to Lord Horton Redfort. It was time for the Vale to come together and
for them to choose a king and he hoped that King Jon and Ser Elbert accepted their will on
this. If they did not then when the war started and they were dragged into it, which was
inevitable, they'd be riding under the wrong man and the Vale would face its greatest ever
danger at a huge disadvantage. Should the dragon look their way then not even the Bloody
Gate would stop his march and Yohn was certain that the dragon would set his sights on them
soon enough.

Winterfell 300 AC.
Ned.

He, Brandon, Benjen, Torrhen, and Robb stood in the crypts after placing their father's
severed head in its final resting place. In time they'd have a statue made but though each of
them hoped it, it was unlikely they'd be able to find the rest of his remains. Ned and his
brothers stood quietly having said what words they wished to about their father in the Great
Hall earlier on that morning. Then it was with their bannermen and with those who had
served and known their father, now was a time for family only.

His feelings were confused, there was anger obviously and sadness, regret, and also
annoyance too. He'd offered to send more men and even to go with his father himself as had
Brandon, only for both of them to be denied leave to join him. So despite knowing deep
down that had they gone then they too would most likely be dead and their families would
now be mourning them as well, both he and Brandon had a sense of failure for not being by
their father's side. Each of them felt it keenly and he didn't need to speak to his brother to
know that just like him, right now he was thinking, what if.

What if I had been there?
What if I had been by his side?
What if he had brought more men?
What if, what if, what if?

After saying their goodbyes and sending both Robb and Torrhen back to the Great Hall so
that the bannermen didn't become too restless, he and his brothers left the crypts and made
their way to the Godswood. Each of them knelt and offered prayers and then took their seats
as they spoke on their plans for what was to come. Brandon would be crowned king and then
they would ride to war, that much was known. What was not was who exactly they were
going to war with and whether or not they would be riding alone. It was the last of these what
if's that he'd been thinking of as they had walked into the Godswood.

What if his father had allowed him to reach out to his nephew on Dragonstone?

"Robb will need to stay here, Torrhen too." Brandon said taking Ned from his thoughts.

"Aye, I had thought about not bringing him and letting him stay as Lord of Sea Dragon Point
but with Dacey's family marching I felt he had to be seen to come this far at least." Benjen
said.
"I'm surprised you managed to get Dacey to stay at home." Brandon said with a chuckle.
"Only that Maege is unwell or she'd not have. Were it Lyanna then she probably wouldn't
have, but with Maege being so young." Benjen said and Ned nodded.
"We'll need to leave someone at the Moat, Ned, not that I'm questioning Cat but we'll need a
military man to lead just in case." Brandon said looking at him.
"Aye, Jory won't stay back though and neither will Rodrik. I'd ask Howland to do it." he said.
"I'd like you to send word to Riverrun, Ned, have them send a raven to the Moat with their
answer. They're your kin so it'll be best coming from you but we need to know if they're with
us on this." Brandon said and he looked at him unsure if he should say what he was thinking
and then deciding to do so anyway.
"What about Dragonstone?" he asked and saw the angered look on Brandon's face.
"Fuck Dragonstone." Brandon said while Benjen looked confused.
"What the fuck has Dragonstone got to do with anything?" his youngest brother asked and
Brandon shook his head but Ned spoke anyway.
"Lya's boy, Aemon. He was exiled and he, his men, and his dragon have made their home on
Dragonstone. I asked father to allow me to go and speak to him but I was refused." Ned said
and he saw that this was news to Benjen, all of it and his brother took some time to take it all
in. Benjen had always been closest to Lyanna and he'd missed her even more than he and
Brandon had.
"Father made his feelings clear, he wanted nothing to do with the dragons and so I'll not sully
his memory…" Brandon began.
"Father is dead, Brandon, and on this, he was a fool." he said and Brandon rose to his feet.
"I am king now and I say no." Brandon said angrily.
"So you'll be just as much of a fool as he?" he said rising to his own feet and glaring at his
brother.
"Sit the fuck down both of you. For fuck's sake this is ridiculous. Ned is right on this Bran,
father was a fucking fool when it came to Lya. " Benjen said his voice raised which caused
both of them to stop and take a look at their younger brother "We should have reached out
years ago. Were it not for father's pride we would have and by not doing so it cost us a sister.
You'd now let a dead man's pride cost us a nephew?"
"Father…" Brandon began.

"Was wrong Brandon, you know he was, gods you said it to me often enough." Ned said and
his brother almost shrunk in on himself and looked close to tears.
"We've only just buried him and you both are now asking me to go against his wishes. He
denied Aemon leave to come North, sent his messengers away and even the blue-haired fuck
that Wyman brought was sent away with the same reply. Now you want me to just ignore all
of that?" Brandon asked.
"As you said already brother, you're our king now." Benjen said and Brandon looked to Ned
who nodded.
"Very well, send the raven and arrange a meeting." Brandon said almost dejectedly.

Ned knew it was the loss of their father and the added weight of what he was now that was
really the cause of his brother's upset. He knew that once the shock of the former and the
discomfort of the latter wore off, his brother would see the benefit in what they were doing. If
they could bring Aemon to their side and make him an ally then things would go much better
for them. He didn't speak to either of his brothers on the words his father had said to him
about Aemon's reasoning for being here. For some reason, he felt there was more to the story
than what had been said the last time he and his father had spoken.

Aemon may very well be seeking to conquer Westeros and even to take the North, but it
couldn't simply be that, could it? Surely there was more to it than his nephew had one day
decided to conquer Westeros. He'd been on Dragonstone for almost two years now and
suddenly he wished to take his father's crown, Brandon's crown now, no there had to be more
to it than that. So after they had prayed and left the Godswood, he made his way to the
Maester's Rooms and asked for some parchment and some ink and he wrote out a message to
his nephew. He hoped his words came across as an invitation to meet with family and a call
to arms and were not insulting given his father's actions. More than that he hoped there was
as much wolf in Aemon as there was dragon, that there was some of Lya in her son.

"Maester, send this to Dragonstone." he said and he watched as the Maester tied the scroll to
the raven's leg and it took to the sky.

Later that day Brandon was crowned and took his seat on the Winter Throne from where he
delivered a call to arms. They feasted his crowning that night and each and every one of their
bannermen paid their respects to their new king and queen. While he and Benjen sat at the
high table as did only their family this night, they didn't stay there for long. Both of them
soon moved among the crowd and he found himself sitting with the Greatjon and Rickard
Karstark while Benjen sat with his goodfamily and the Glovers.

"We'll fucking show them, Ned." The Greatjon said loudly, though most things the Greatjon
did were done loudly.
"Aye, for our king." Rickard said raising his mug.
"For our king." he said raising his own and smashing it first against Rickard's and then the
Greatjon's.

They broke their fast early the next morning and he watched as Brandon said his goodbyes to
Barbrey, Ned knowing he'd soon be saying his own to Cat once they passed through the Moat
again. He said his words to Robb and saw that Benjen was doing likewise to Torrhen and
then before noon they were mounted and heading out the gates. Five thousand men of the
North they had gathered here, another ten thousand were to meet them along the way, and
another ten at the Moat itself.

It was to be the largest army the North had gathered for more than a hundred years. Not since
Cregan Stark had they assembled a force such as this and he only hoped they'd have better
luck than the King who Wept. Some victories weren't worth the cost and he prayed that theirs
would be, just as much as he prayed that they'd be victorious. They rode for vengeance, for
justice and he hoped with the gods on their side. For if they were not, then they were riding to
their doom.

Casterly Rock 300 AC.
Tywin Lannister.

He watched Jaime go through his routine and then the spar began, his son almost
contemptuously knocking Addam's sword from his hand before Daven moved to face him
next. Just like his goodson, Daven was no match and it came down to Gerion to offer Jaime
some competition. This was at least a match and he could see how differently Jaime focussed
on Gerion than he did on Addam or Daven. The result though was a foregone conclusion and
though his expression remained impassive, inside he was smiling.

There wasn't anyone close to Jaime with a blade in their hands and watching his son beat all
comers as he wielded Brightroar was something he greatly enjoyed. He listened as Joanna
celebrated her father's victory and watched as Jaime spoke to Gerion, Addam and Daven
before placing a kiss on his wife's cheek as she handed him some water. His whole family

stood looking out on the sparring yard and Tywin himself had even stepped away from his
work to do so. Not something he did often even if he did so enjoy watching his son fight.

He was about to head back indoors when his grandson stepped forward and with a nod to his
father picked up a tourney blade. Tywin stopping himself so he could judge just how good
Jason had become. It was a worthy distraction as his grandson was already showing signs that
he was his father's son, which was more than could be said for his other grandson, Joffrey.
Were it not for his looks then Tywin would be certain that boy was not of his blood, because
other than the golden hair and green eyes that proved him a Lannister, Joffrey possessed not
one of the traits. With a sigh and shake of the head, he turned and walked back into his solar.
In time he'd need to marry that boy off and he feared that even his name may not be enough
to gain him the bride that one born with his blood deserved.

"Father." he heard the voice and almost thought not to turn, so little did he wish to see the
man that voice belonged to "Father."
"What is it?" he said irritably.
"The North father, your plans?" Tyrion asked and Tywin shook his head as he'd forgotten
they'd been speaking of them before he'd decided to watch Jaime spar.
"Walk with me." he said and Tyrion almost seemed much too pleased by that and so he began
to move quickly, forcing his son to almost need to run behind him.

He took a seat at his desk after they'd entered his solar and though he didn't show his
displeasure when Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine, it was very much there. In front of
him strewn out on the desk was a map of Westeros and he'd made some markings on it. If all
went to plan then the North, Riverlords, and the Dragon would all be fighting each other and
then he, the Reach, and the Stormlands could combine to take down the victor.

Maidenpool, that's where he'd seek to break the dragon's back. First, though the fight had to
begin on his terms, and then and only then would he give battle. Looking down on the map,
he had circled Harrenhal as the Hoares wouldn't stray too far from their keep. Yet to his mind
this battle would be fought on the banks of the Trident and the only question he had left to
answer was would the dragon wait to finish the fight or would he march away when Robert
Baratheon took his home? It was a question that he'd pondered long and hard on and had still
found no answer to.

"Father?" Tyrion asked and Tywin looked up from the map.

"The North has named its new king and called its banners. Soon they'll reach Moat Cailin and
find a bloodied letter that points the finger at another. The Hoares fear the wrath of Northmen
and Riverlanders alike but they have called their banners and so they'll fight. As will the
Riverlords when they see that this is the only chance they've got to be free of the squids."
Tywin said and Tyrion nodded.
"The Dragon?" Tyrion asked almost bitterly.
"Will seek to help his kin and avenge his grandfather's death." Tywin said as he poured
himself a glass of water.
"How can we be sure of that, father? He's already shown himself to be unpredictable and
unreliable."
"Family ties are always reliable. Aemon Targaryen may have held no love for his grandfather
but he'll seek to avenge him still and once he hears that the wolves are marching it's to them
he'll go." Tywin said before he took a sip from the glass.
"And if they ally?" Tyrion asked worriedly.
"They won't." he said assuredly.

Brandon Stark was a fool and the letter all but said it was Aemon who'd killed King Rickard
or at least it would in a fool's reading. Given what Tyrion had said when he'd pressed him on
each and every interaction with the Dragonknight, Aemon didn't take questions on his honor
very well. That would be useful as an angry man cared not for courtesy and one slighted
cared not for explanations as to why. Insults would be hurled and they'd not be swallowed
and both sides would bleed because of it. Then if the Hoares did their worst, they'd bleed
some more and a wounded dragon was far easier to end than one that was not.

"King Gareth?" Tyrion asked as Tywin was in danger of getting lost in his thoughts.
"Hasn't replied yet but he will and by then we'll be ready to march." he said looking at his son
and hating the face that he saw looking back at him.
"King Robert?"
"Will do as he was bid and think himself clever. The man is much like Brandon Stark and
easy to predict and the chance to piss on the dragon's island will be too much for him to
resist." he said as Tyrion looked to the map.
"Maidenpool?" Tyrion asked.
"Maidenpool." he said with a nod.

Over the next few days and weeks his bannermen arrived, the full might of the West was now
ready to march, and yet he held them back and delayed his march more than once. His ravens
to Highgarden had gone unanswered and the dragon hadn't stirred from Dragonstone. Tywin
began to doubt his plans and was second-guessing himself. He'd been certain that King
Gareth would accept his proposal and it irked him that he'd not done so, it annoyed him and
angered him that he'd dared not to reply.

Was it because he'd offered Myrcella and not Joanna?
Was that considered a slight?
Should he have offered Jaime's daughter rather than Cersei's?

Even was it considered so. which it was very much not, then surely he'd have received an
angry reply denying the betrothal. To receive nothing was most odd and it vexed him that he
couldn't think of a reason why. As for the dragon, everything that Aemon Targaryen did
vexed him and he was beginning to think that Tyrion perhaps had more understanding of the
truth of him than he. It was not a thought he liked entertaining.

His bannermen were becoming prickly too, though none would dare object or speak up where
anyone may overhear. Tywin knew men though and men sitting around would grouse and
become a problem where men marching would not. Everything else had happened as he'd
predicted. The Riverlords had started gathering their strength, House Hoare had begun to
bring men from the Iron Islands and the Northmen had set off and now headed south.
Everything however hinged on the moves that the dragon made and thus far he'd made none.

Tywin read reports, ordered drills, and spent time with his grandchildren, those of them that
he could tolerate at least. Jason would ride with his father as would Joffrey and only one of
those things filled him with any sort of pride. Myrcella was disappointed that it would not be
to a dragon she was to wed but had come around to the idea of being the Lady of Highgarden.
Something that he had promised her would come to pass and now wasn't sure it would. He
was standing in his solar looking out the window on the Rock when Creylen came to his door
with the news that brought a smile to his face.

"Your grace." the Maester said handing him a raven's scroll which he opened immediately for
once, while the Maester waited for him to tell him to leave or to send a reply.
"Send for my sons, the dragon marches and so shall we." he said as the Maester hurried from
the room.

The time had finally come, war was soon to be upon them and this was a war that only he
would win. What was happening in the Reach he didn't know but the time had come to
march. From here to Deep Den and by the time he got there he'd have a clearer idea, but if he
wished to reach Maidenpool in time then he needed to march and march now.

"Hear me Roar." he said as he turned from the window and took his seat once more.

The Conquest of Westeros XV
Dragonknights part III.

While Bloodraven was the most infamous and Visenya the first, Daemon was perhaps the
most lauded of all the Dragonknights, until Prince Aemon was born. From atop his dragon
Caraxes, there were few if any that presented a more fearsome sight, and were it not for him
then the Empire would have stumbled, fell, and perhaps been broken during the War of
Succession.

There had never before been a true Empress within the Empire, Aegon's sister wives both
were equal to each other, but still to most were below Aegon in importance. Empress
Alysanne the Good was beloved. but it was her husband Emperor Jaehaerys who ruled and it
was their son Viserys whose lack of an heir led to the first and only Empress of the Empire.
His daughter Rhaenyra was his only living child from his first marriage. While his second
marriage brought him three sons and a daughter, Aegon, Heleana, Aemond, and Daeron, it
also brought strife and conflict of a like not seen before.

Timing is a strange and oft perplexing thing and the timing of Emperor Viserys death couldn't
have come at a worst time for the Empire or for Rhaenyra. Forced to flee Volantis with her
children after her father's death and chased by her half-brother Aegon's supporters,
Rhaenyra came close to death more than once until her husband and uncle, Daemon the
Dragonknight came to her aid. Abandoning the war that he'd been waging against the Yitish
Empire, Daemon and Caraxes flew to Rhaenyra and their children's aid and in one flap of a
dragon's wings, the tide of the War of Succession had turned.

Within days Daemon was at the gates of Volantis itself and for a day and a night, he and
Caraxes flew over the city, while every other dragon and rider remained on the ground. After
Daemon had threatened to burn the Grand Palace to the ground, an accord was reached and

a fight for the Imperial Seat and the right to sit it was decided upon to end the war once and
for all. On the twenty-second night of the fifth moon 130 AC, above the city, Daemon on
Caraxes and Aemond One-Eye on Vhagar fought in what would later be known as the Dance
of Dragons. High above the city the two dragons and their riders engaged in a battle that
ended when Daemon leapt from Caraxes's back and drove Dark Sister straight through
Vhagar's head.

With a spin and a jump, Daemon was back on Caraxes's back before Vhagar hit the ground,
Aemond chained to his dragon's back was not so lucky. After Caraxes landed it was said that
Prince Daemon casually waked up to the spot where Aemond and Vhagar both lay dead and
removed Dark Sister from the dragon's skull before turning and asking who was next. His
answer was given in silence and Rhaenyra was crowned as Empress three days later.

As for those who had stood against her? Dragons don't forgive and they don't forget and
within three years of her coronation not one of her half brothers, sister, or their children
remained alive.

A History of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Thoros.

His men were ready and only awaited their orders before they set sail, or they had been until
the princess had arrived. Not that Thoros wasn't happy about her arrival or the change it now
made to their plans, he very much was. His prince had not been himself since they'd arrived
on this island and though he'd shown signs of a return to normality since he'd decided to
launch the invasion, it was half-hearted at best.

In all the battles and wars he'd fought by Aemon's side, one thing had always been clear to
him and to anyone who truly knew him. Rhaenys was his prince's reason for being, for living
and breathing, and without her, he was a shell of what he could be. On those dark nights
when they sat around the fire and knew that on the morrow they'd face off against some foe,
it was memories of and a longing to see his sister again that focussed Aemon's mind. Thoros
knew it was that more than a desire to bring an enemy to their knees or to earn glory that
truly fuelled Aemon in those fights. His prince would take to the battlefield with but two

things on his mind, the safety of his men and the thoughts of going home to the woman he
loved.

It was the one thing that had caused him any concern about the battles they were soon to face.
The one doubt he had in his mind about whether or not they would win them. Without
Rhaenys and the light she brought into Aemon's life, would his prince be the same man when
it came to the fights to come? If not then they were in trouble despite the apparent lackluster
nature of the Westerosi fighting men. Without that fire in his heart, Aemon was a lesser man
and they didn't need the lesser man in the fights to come, they needed the Dragonknight. So
he was happy to see that the princess and prince were now together once more and that soon
they'd be joined in R'hllor's warm embrace.

"A ship, Thoros, a ship bearing the Empire's colors." Irror one of his men called out and
Thoros walked from the cave and out onto the beach.

The ship was one of the Empire's finest and it was flying the flag of the High Emperor
himself and Thoros sighed as he told his men to finish the preparations in the cave. At
nightfall, the wedding was to be held and he hoped that whoever was on the ship trod
carefully when they spoke to Aemon and Rhaenys. If they did not then by the end of the day
the Empire and the Dragonknight may very well be at war. Thoros hurried to the docks and
when he arrived it was to see Torgho Nudho and Aurane both already waiting there.

"Our prince?" he asked as he looked at the ship that was drawing ever closer.
"He and the princess are on the dragons, I believe they're flying over the Bay of Crabs."
Aurane said his eyes never turning from the ship in the bay.
"Daario?" he asked.
"Speaking to Lord Renly." Aurane said and Thoros nodded.

It took some time for the ship to reach the docks and when he saw the man standing on the
deck his first instinct was to look behind him. Ser Arthur was alone though and there was no
sign of the High Emperor or any other member of the royal family. He really shouldn't have
expected there to be, even when Aemon had arrived on this island for the first time it was on
Gaelithox's back and that would be how Rhaegar, Aegon, Viserys, or Daenerys would arrive
too were they to come here.

"Ser Arthur." Aurane said as Arthur made his way down the gangplank.
"Aurane, Thoros." Arthur said with a nod and a smile before looking to Torgho Nudho and
giving him an even warmer smile "Torgho Nudho."
"Ser Arthur." Torgho said with a small smirk on his face as he did so.
"Prince Aemon, Princess Rhaenys?" Arthur asked.
"In the sky, Ser Arthur, we expect them back before nightfall." Aurane said as he looked at
him and nodded.
"They are to be married by R'hllor's will." Thoros said and he and the others looked to see
Arthur's reaction.
"Then I've arrived just in time." Arthur said before smiling more fully.

As they walked to the keep, he could see How Arthur looked around at the island. Each of
them had been the same when they came here, looking at it with a slight sense of
disappointment that this was to be their home and yet a sense of excitement also. For Arthur,
it may have felt different somewhat as he was from Westeros originally and unlike them, he
had perhaps visited these lands before now. Thoros was about to ask him if that was indeed
the case when they saw the two dragons chasing each other in the distance.

By the time they reached the keep, Gaelithox and Meraxes were back in the air, this time
without their riders. Aemon was standing facing Rhaenys, his prince's eyes focussed only on
the woman in front of him and both of them were laughing at something as he and the others
approached. It took them a few moments to realize that it wasn't just he, Aurane, and Torgho
Nudho but that they had another with them and then even longer to notice who that was.

"Arthur?" Princess Rhaenys said almost gasping.
"My prince, my princess." Arthur said with a small bow and Thoros noticed how Rhaenys
moved closer to Aemon who though he welcomed Arthur warmly, it was clear he wasn't
pleased to see the man here.
"You've arrived at a most opportune time, Arthur. Rhaenys and I are to wed." Aemon said
almost challengingly as he moved a step in front of Rhaenys as if he was shielding her from
Arthur's gaze.
"Then I've been most fortunate indeed, my prince and you both have my best wishes and
hopes for the future." Arthur said and the smile he received back was one of his prince's truer
ones.

"Come, I'm sure you'd like a chance to settle and get changed, perhaps some food or drink?"
Aemon said and Arthur nodded.

They made their way to the keep and Thoros noticed how Arthur looked at it and the guards
with a small smirk on his face. As the High Emperor's closest friend and had been the one
who had been in charge of the royal family's protection and the guards at the Grand Palace, it
was clear it was this eye that the famed knight was looking things over with. He'd not be
disappointed by his prince's attention to such matters. Both Aemon and Torgho Nudho had
looked up to Arthur for as long as he'd known them and they took their leads from him in a
lot of ways, this was just another of them.

It didn't take Arthur long to get settled and so within the hour, they were sitting at the table in
the private dining room that they rarely ate in. Thoros wasn't surprised that his prince had
decided to have their meal away from the Great Hall where they usually ate, as he knew that
Aemon would want anything Arthur said to be for as few ears as possible. So it was him,
Torgho Nudho, Daario, and Aurane along with Aemon, Rhaenys, and Arthur who sat at the
table and ate. The conversation was light and though it was clear that each of them was happy
to see Arthur again, there was an air of expectation and of worry too.

"It's good to see you Arthur, truly and I wish I could leave it at that but…" Aemon said.
"You wish to know my reasons for coming, my prince?" Arthur asked as the plates were
taken away.
"I know your reasons for coming, Arthur, I wish to know what you'll do when I deny you."
Aemon said and Thoros watched as his prince took Rhaenys's hand in his own.
"My reasons are not what you think, my prince. I'm not here to bring you or the princess
back, though your mother and aunt miss you so, princess." Arthur said and while Rhaenys's
expression changed into one of sadness, Aemon's was much more intrigued.
"My father didn't send you to bring Rhaenys back?" Aemon asked with a confused look.
"Were it possible for me to persuade either of you to come back, then I would try. I know it is
not, as does your father and Empress Elia, so I come offering my sword." Arthur said as
Aemon looked to Rhaenys once more.
"For true?" Aemon asked, a smile threatening to burst out on his face.
"For true, my prince, my princess." Arthur said with a small bow to them both.
"Then I welcome you even more fully, Arthur, and accept your most gracious offer." Aemon
said, the smile he wore a full one now.

They talked about old times, memories of days gone by and soon enough the light began to
fade and Thoros looked to Aemon and to Rhaenys both of whom nodded. He said his
goodbyes, rose to his feet and hurried back to the caves. His next few hours were spent
overseeing the final preparations for the wedding that was to take place at the Hour of the
Wolf. Aemon arrived first, his prince wearing his best clothing and seeming nervous as he
was led to where he and his men stood in the caves. The path had been illuminated not by
torches but by the flaming swords of his men, all of them eager to play their part in the
ceremony.

Aurane, Daario, and Torgho Nudho all took their places and Thoros smiled when he saw the
relived breath his prince took when Arthur arrived leading Rhaenys to where he stood. The
princess wore a dress that was almost completely red other than the bright yellow sun and the
sigil of the dragon that now had two heads that were sewn into it. Aemon too bore the same
sigil and the red and silver dragons were something that all of Westeros would soon see in
action. He waited until Arthur took a step back and Rhaenys reached out her hand to take
Aemon's, once she had done so, he began.

"The Lord of Light has seen fit to bring us here tonight to join Prince Aemon and Princess
Rhaenys together as husband and wife. They are two hearts, two souls, and once they are
joined and have proven themselves fire made flesh, none can or will come between them.
Prince Aemon do you take this woman to be yours from this day to your last?"
"I take this woman." Aemon said his eyes only on Rhaenys's.
"Princess Rhaenys do you take this man to be yours from this day to your last?" he asked and
he swore he could see his prince holding his breath.
"I take this man." Rhaenys said firmly.
"Are you both willing to face the flames and prove that your love is true?" he asked.
"We are." Aemon and Rhaenys both said together.

He took out his sword and said the prayer before it lit up. Then with a nod to his prince,
Thoros drove it into the flowing river of fire and looked on as the flames grew higher and
created a wall. With Rhaenys hand in his, Aemon moved closer to the edge of the river, the
gap between it and the opposite edge no more than five or six feet.

"The night is dark and full of terrors, but we are dragons and we bring the light." Aemon said
and then Thoros and the others held their breath as his prince and princess jumped through
the wall of fire to the other side of the river and then a moment later jumped back.

"R'hllor has given his blessing to the prince and princess, he has named them man and wife
and what he has brought together, no man, no power, no one, can tear apart." Thoros said as
he looked at the smiling faces of his prince and princess and watched them kiss.

The conquest of Westeros XVI
The Empress of the Ice.

Mother to the Dragonknight, Empress of the Ice, Princess of Winter, Lyanna Targaryen was
known by many names. To the slaves she freed she was known as Mhysa, Mother. To certain
members of the High Council, it was She Wolf. To the High Emperor and the Empress of the
Sun, it was wife. Born to the King of Winter Rickard Stark and his queen Lyarra, her life in
Westeros was never that of a typical princess. Lyanna possessed a wildness in her that
refused to be tamed, not by her father, not by her king, and certainly not by her potential
husband.

That wildness led her to run from a betrothal that she didn't wish for, it led her into the arms
of the then Dragon's Heir and his wife, and on that fateful day in Braavos, it changed the
history of Essos and Westeros forever. Married within a moon and named as the Dragon's
Heir second wife, Lyanna was soon with child and within a year the Empire had a new prince
and the first Dragonknight in more than a century. The gods are fickle and though they give
much, they take much too and so amidst the joy of birthing a son it was soon made clear that
Prince Aemon would be the only child that Lyanna would bring into this world.

For four years the princess and then Empress put all she had into her son, where she went so
did Aemon and Lyanna traveled far and wide through the Empire. Qarth, Lys, Astapor, each
city finding changes brought to it before she'd leave. Most were minor, a slave freed here, a
man or woman removed from a position or promoted to another there. Others were far more
long-reaching and the results of them wouldn't be known for years to come. In all of them
though both she and her son were welcomed, feted, and when they left they were missed.
When news came of the Empress's death in the birthing bed the Empire mourned. Father's,
Mothers, and their children wept and even the hardest of hearts shed tears on the Day the
Smiles Died.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 284 AC.
Lyanna Targaryen.

She could feel it, the life was slipping from her as the Maester and others tried their best to
stem the flow of blood. It was no use, she knew it and so did they, and yet they tried to do the
impossible and even through her pain it made her smile. Rhaegar and Elia both looked on
with panicked expressions and she wished she could take them from their faces, but she knew
she could not. Their emotions were their own and nothing she could say or do would make
them feel any better. She smiled or tried to as she saw Arthur standing in the corner, tears
falling from his eyes as he looked at her.

"Aemon." she said softly and the knight nodded as he left the room.
"Lya, you can't... he can't see this." Elia said and Lyanna reached out her hand to take her
love's.
"He will know blood, my love. He will know it and he will never fear it, not it nor death." she
said as Elia shook her head.

Life was a cruel and wicked thing and the gods had an odd sense of humor. She realized that
now, had come to realize it over time. The Drowned God, the Many-Faced God, the Great
Stallion, R'hllor, and the Old Gods, it mattered not. Your time in this world was theirs alone
to decide and her time was never to be as long as she had hoped it would be. Had he done all
she needed to? Was there more that she could have done to prepare him for what he faced?
These were questions she couldn't answer and so she dared not even try.

She watched as Elia shook her head when Marwyn spoke to her and was not surprised to see
her love walk angrily from the room. Her sun, her light, and one-third of her heart, and
though Rhaegar both wished to go after her and to stay at the same time, she nodded to him
to follow Elia as she waited for Aemon to brought into the room. Reluctantly he did as she
bid, as he always had done and she watched as the only man she had ever loved left the room.
Lyanna felt her eyes grow heavy and though she feared closing them, it was what she did,
and then she was a girl once more, and just as she had then, she ran.

Braavos 279 AC.

She ran as fast as she could, her brother's angered voice ringing out through the streets behind
her. Down alleys and across bridges, in through open front doors and out through the back
ones. For how long she ran she couldn't tell, only that the sounds behind her grew fainter and
she could no longer hear Brandon's voice. Lyanna was sure she'd lost him and then she saw
him no more than ten feet away from her. Panicking she ran again and this time she knew not
where she was running to.

The jolt knocked her to the ground and she felt fearful when she rose on her elbows to see
who it was she had bumped into. At first, when she saw the guards she was sure it was her
father's men and so she moved on the ground only for a hand to reach down and help her to
her feet. The man who stood in front of her was unlike any she'd ever seen before. His eyes
were a deep indigo and his silver hair flowed down below his shoulders.

"Shijetra nyke, ñuha riña" (Forgive me, my lady.) the man said in a language that she didn't
understand.
"I don't speak…" she began.
"You are from Westeros?" a woman's voice said and Lyanna looked past the man to see a
heavily pregnant woman looking at her curiously.
"From the North, Aye." she said and the woman smiled.
"My wife is from Dorne, lady…?" the man asked.
"Mormont, Lya Mormont." she said hurriedly not risking telling them who she truly was.
"You look distressed, Lady Mormont, perhaps we can offer assistance?" the woman asked.
"I…"
"Our manse is nearby, at least join us for a meal, my men can see you back to wherever you
wish once you've eaten." the man said and Lyanna nodded as she walked with them, her eyes
moving rapidly around as she searched for any sign of Brandon or her father's men.

By the time she got to the manse, she had found out that the man was Prince Rhaegar
Targaryen, son of the High Emperor and the woman was his wife Princess Elia of the House
Martell. Lyanna listened eagerly as they answered each and every question she asked them.
The manse they had brought her too was the largest she'd seen but then given who they were,
this was no surprise. Once inside she was taken to a room where a bath was prepared and

after washing and then looking around worriedly for her clothing, she was given something
clean and untorn to wear.

"So your father wishes to marry you against your will?" Elia said almost angrily as they ate
and Lyanna felt embarrassed for just blurting out her reasons for running through the city.
"Aye he does, I've told him I'll not do it. I have no wish to be sent to some man I've never met
and be made to be someone I'm not." she said and as they both looked at her she felt almost
silly. Would they think her a spoiled petulant child? Rhaegar she wasn't sure about but Elia
was from Westeros, she may, given that she too had perhaps been forced to do the same.
"You should come back to Volantis with us, your father has little power here and even less
there." Elia said much to her surprise.
"I.."
"Should not be forced into a life that makes you unhappy." Rhaegar said smiling at her.
"I wouldn't know what to do with myself, I didn't really have a plan, gods…had I not ran into
you then I'd have not even have known how to speak to people here." she said as she realized
that she hadn't even brought her coin purse with her.
"Then it was just as well you did run into us, wasn't it?" Elia said with a smile which Lyanna
returned.
"Maybe it was fate." Rhaegar said as he looked at her.

Volantis 284 AC.

"Mama. Mama." the voice called out and she opened her eyes to see Aemon looking up at
her.
"My sweet little boy." she said and he smiled at her and then she tried not to cringe when he
put his hand on the bloodstained sheets.
"Mama was sleeping?" Aemon asked and she nodded, as he looked to Arthur who lifted him
up and placed him on the bed.
"I was and I'll soon be sleeping again." she said softly as Aemon shook his head.
"It's early, we ride mama?" Aemon asked and she reached out to touch his face, his smile
making her forget the pain she felt as she did so.

"One day you'll ride so high, my son. No one will ever ride higher or faster than you." she
said as he looked at him.
"We ride mama, you, me, Gaelly." he said with a giggle.
"No, Gaelithox is all yours, my son." she said as she bit down on her cheek to stop from
crying out "I need you to do something for me, Aemon, will you be my brave strong boy
once more?" she asked and he nodded.
"I will, I'm brave." he said and she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
"The bravest." she said as she felt the pain once more "Be the Dragonknight you're meant to
be Aemon, be the best of them, and remember always that your mama loves you so very
much. Can you do that for me, Aemon?"
"I will, I will, Mama." he said as he hugged her tightly.

The pain almost made her pass out and yet she found the strength from somewhere to hold
him back and then to let him go. With a nod to Arthur, she said her last goodbyes to her son,
and then Rhaegar and Elia came back into the room.

"I've loved you both with all that I am, thank you for letting me be free." she said as Elia
leaned forward and kissed her softly.
"My wolf." Elia said before the tears fell and she moved from the bed to allow Rhaegar
closer.
"Promise me, Rhaegar, Promise me now that no matter what you'll see it done." she said as
she looked at him.
"Lya…"
"Promise me, don't send me to my gods without it, please….don't let it all be for nothing."
"I Promise." he said softly and she felt his lips on her own.
"I….Aemon….." she said as she felt the darkness welcome her.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

He lay sleeping beside her, his chest rising and falling and her fingers resting on top of it as it
did so. Her brother, her love, her husband and she smiled at the thought of how happy that
made her feel. She'd been a fool for far too long and had let others decide what was best for
her. When what was best for her was and had always been him. No one made her feel the way
she did when she was with him. Walking with him, speaking with him, flying in the sky on
their dragons beside each other and laying with him, each of those moments made her feel
more alive than a thousand others with anyone else.

"Is my wife not tired?" Aemon said and she giggled as she pushed against his chest.
"How long have you been awake?" she asked.
"Who says I was asleep?" he said opening his eyes.
"You were pretending." she said feigning annoyance as she pushed him once more.
"I thought my wife like my mummeries." he said as he grabbed her and rolled over so that
she was beneath him.
"You are not funny, Aemon." she said trying not to laugh at the put-out look on his face.
"I am so, everyone says so. Why it is known throughout the Empire and soon it'll be the same
in Westeros. My humor is much appreciated." he said smirking.
"By whom exactly?" she asked with a smile and then watched as he pondered for a moment
before answering.
"Torgho Nudho, I made him smile just today." he said and she chuckled.

He kissed her lips and then her cheek before moving to lay on his back and she was very
quickly in his arms once more as she snuggled against his chest. After the wedding, they'd
feasted and then left for an early night as it would be the only one they shared together for
some time. Aemon had suggested that he'd hold back and not travel to the Riverlands for
another day or so but her own travel was further and she wished it over and done with as
quickly as it could be, so she'd asked him not to change his plans and he'd agreed. That he'd
done so reluctantly was something she was pleased about, though she didn't need to know
that to know how he felt about her.

Laying with him in their bed she could almost forget they were on the verge of starting a war,
almost she thought as she stiffened at the thoughts of Aemon being hurt. She felt him hold
her a little more tightly and it was clear that he knew exactly what was on her mind. Rhaenys
was not sure which of them would bring it up or even if she wished to discuss it. Aemon too
it seemed wasn't ready to speak about it just yet and before long she felt her eyes grow heavy

and heard him whisper to her to get some rest. When she woke he was already up and dressed
and sitting at the end of the bed looking at her.

"Does it really have to be today?" she asked and saw the smile leave his face.
"It does, the men will arrive without me otherwise and though the Westerosi are not of their
standard, they have numbers on their side. I'd not leave them without Gaelithox." Aemon said
and she nodded.
"Is there no other way?" she asked worriedly and Aemon shook his head.
"People only kneel after they've been given a reason to, Rhae. I intend to give them that
reason."
"Your family?" she asked worriedly.
"You are my family. Thoros, Torgho Nudho, Daario, and Aurane. Arthur and the men, they
are my family."
"Aems…"
"I reached out and they made their feelings about me clear." Aemon said rising from the bed
and though he didn't look at her she didn't need him to, to know how sad that made him.
"Your grandfather is dead, Aemon. I know you, you'll seek vengeance for him and so will the
rest of your family, perhaps that will be a start…"
"Perhaps. Though it is your own that fills my thoughts and causes me worry."
"My uncles would never harm me, Aemon. I'll speak to them and make it clear that we are
one." she said determinedly.
"And if that's not enough?"
"It will be." she said though not as emphatically as she had hoped.

He kissed her cheek and let two of the servants in to help her dress and make herself ready.
As soon as they had broken their fast she'd be leaving and Aemon not long after her.
Sunspear was further for her to travel to and she had made him agree to let her come to the
Riverlands rather than back to Dragonstone once she was done. Though something told her
that Aemon would do all he could to make it so that when she arrived the battle was already
over.

After she had dressed and they had eaten, she only had a few moments along with Aemon
before she felt Meraxes and Gaelithox return. Both dragons had fed and were eager for the
flight and in Gaelithox's case, fight to come. Though neither of them seemed pleased about
being parted from each other. In that way, they were mirror images of both she and Aemon as
they too had no real desire to be parted. It had to be done though and a part of her did wish to
see Sunspear and her mother's family, even if she would have liked it to be for different
reasons.

"Ser Arthur will guard your back, Rhae, if he says you leave, you leave." Aemon said and she
nodded.
"You are not to risk yourself needlessly, promise me." she said and Aemon smiled "Promise
me, Aems." she said determinedly.
"I promise, we'll see each other soon." he said as he kissed her.
"I love you, be safe." she said and this time she kissed him.
"You too, I love you." Aemon said and it was to those words that she took to the air on
Meraxes's back.

Beneath them almost half the fleet was ready to set off, some having already left to sail to the
Bay of Crabs and from there to the Trident. Aemon and Torgho Nudho would fly on
Gaelithox and Aurane, Daario, Thoros, and Marwyn would sail on the Pride of Driftmark. In
less than a day or two Westeros would be at war and while she of course worried about those
she knew and her husband most of all, she feared for those who were soon to face Aemon
too. He could be the sweetest person in the entire world when he was with her and the fiercest
most dangerous man alive when he was on his dragon's back. Westeros was about to come
face to face with not Aemon Targaryen prince of the Empire but the Dragonknight and she
knew that he would bring them Fire and Blood.

The House of the Falcon.

King Jon Arryn age 80
Ser Elbert Arryn age 40 (Heir to the throne.)
Lady Rowan Arryn age 37 (his wife)
Ser Denys Arryn age 35
Lady Jeyne Arryn age 34 (his wife)

Ser Jaspar Arryn age 18 (their son).
Rowena Arryn age 15 (their daughter)

Deceased.

Queen Jeyne Arryn died 245 AC age 25 (in the birthing bed).
Queen Rowena Arryn died 272 AC age 50 (winter chill).

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the lack of an update last week, Real live sucks at times.
Up next as Aemon arrives in the Riverlands and readies for battle, Rhaenys arrives in
Dorne and wages a war of a different sort while at Moat Cailin, a letter awaits the Starks
which sets off a furious reaction. In Volantis we find out more about Rhaegar’s plans
and we meet a small-fingered man.

Princes, Princes Who Adore You.
Chapter Summary

Aemon arrives in the Riverlands and readies for battle, Rhaenys arrives in Dorne and
wages a war of a different sort while at Moat Cailin, a letter awaits the Starks which sets
off a furious reaction. In Volantis we find out more about Rhaegar’s plans and we meet a
small-fingered man.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XVII.
House Hoare The Black Blood.

Of all the Iron Born families none rose so high as the Hoares. From Harrag to Qhored onto
Harwyn and his grandson Harren who built the great keep known as Harrenhal. Reavers by
name and by nature, the Iron Born under the guidance of the Kings of Isle and Rivers were
rarely at peace and never satisfied with their lot in life. At one point the seas were theirs to
rule and it was said that under Qhored the Cruel that wherever a man can smell salt water or
hear the crash of waves was theirs and theirs alone.

Over time though lands won were lost, glories once known were soon forgotten and while the
Hoares ruled still, not all their vassals were as Leal as they made out. Chief amongst those
who were not was the House of the Kraken and the Brother's Greyjoy. From Balon who saw
himself as a king, to Vicatarion who sought glory and acclaim in battle, or to Euron who was
known as The Crow's Eye and whose madness and cruelty sought a place to name its own, all
was not well amongst those who reave.

Whether this was the reason behind King Qhored allying with House Lannister or whether it
was fear from without and their vassals amongst the Greenlanders, none could tell. What
could and was told however was that it wouldn't be their vassals from the Isles or the Rivers
that would bring about their end and that the sea or the large walls of Harrenhal was no place
to hide. For what use is a ship when it's made of wood or a keep when it's made of stone,
what use or what protection do either offer from Fire and Blood.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight.
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Theon Greyjoy.

The girl moaned under him and so he thrust even harder, her pleasure soon bringing about his
own and he cared not if she was acting it out for true or not. Good coin he'd paid her and as
he felt his release growing close, it was coin well spent. Her red hair was laid out on the
pillows behind her and her teats bounced with every thrust he made. When it came upon him,
he collapsed against her and felt his seed as it emptied inside.

"My prince." she said breathlessly "You have ruined me for other men." she added as he
rolled off of her and reached over to take the mug of ale.
"Of course I have." he said arrogantly.

He drank the ale and felt his breathing return to normal as she wiped the sweat from his brow.
Looking at her as she got up from the bed to clean herself, he almost rose again, almost but
not quite as he knew he was spent for the day. Still, he watched her as she washed herself, her
firm arse only slightly wobbling as she moved. Finishing the ale he got up from the bed and
dressed and after handing her an extra silver stag, which earned him a smile and a kiss, he left
the room in search of Prince Harren.

It didn't take him long to find his friend and soon enough they and their men were riding
away from the brothel in Fairmarket. Harren the greedy fucker had taken the two young
sisters to his bed leaving the redhead for Theon and he still felt a little jealous of his friend as
they rode. Perhaps that was why he'd insisted on the race, or perhaps it was simply that riding
was dull and boring. Whatever the reason they were soon riding hard across the fields and try
as he might, he could not keep up with the prince. Annoyed, frustrated, and out of breath
from the effort of trying to make his horse go faster, he was happy to see Harren stop by the
stream and when he reached him, Theon quickly dismounted.

"You cheated." he said to a laugh from his friend.
"I don't need to cheat to beat someone as slow as you." Harren replied still laughing.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. Other than with a bow in his hand, Harren had
him beat by every measure. Theon was by no means ugly and his dark hair and looks had
won him many favors. Harren though had him beat in this regard also, his hair was jet black
and his eyes were as blue as the sky. He stood maybe three inches taller than Theon and was
more muscled than he, though he had to be to wield that giant double ax of his. Smarter,
wittier and a prince to boot, were he not his closest friend then Theon would be far more
jealous of him than he was.

"Do you really think the wolves will come?" Theon asked as they sat by the river, their
guards still some way back and still riding.
"They'll come, my father's folly will see to that." Harren said his voice showing his
annoyance clearly.
"Your father is a great man." Theon said.
"My father is a fool and this is folly." Harren replied shaking his head "Why make an enemy
of a dragon when that dragon is not looking your way?"
"The dragon hasn't moved from Dragonstone, Harren, he'll not move now." Theon said
confidently not noticing how Harren shook his head "As for the wolves, let them come, after
we end them we can sweep over their lands and finally bring the North to heel."

Harren said nothing and once again Theon didn't see the look on the prince's face. Had he
then his confidence may have taken a hit. He was about to speak more on what they would do
to the wolves and was imagining what it would be like to take one of the Stark girls as his salt
wife when the shouts rang out.

"Ambush, Ambush"

Rising to his feet he saw their guards and there were fewer of them than there had been. Even
the ones riding their way looked to be wounded and not at full strength and for the first time
that he could remember, Theon felt fear. Behind them, there must be more than a hundred
men and was that not bad enough to show how desperate things were then the man leading
them would. He'd not met the Blackfish more than once but even his uncle spoke reverently
of the man's skill with a sword. Never had he expected that skill would be directed towards
him and yet it would seem that was to be the case.

"My prince, we must ride." he said worriedly and for once Harren didn't disagree.

He cursed that they'd raced and their horses were tired, cursed that they were so far from
Harrenahl, and cursed his cock for making him wish to visit the brothel. It didn't take long for
him to realize just how dire their situation truly was as by the time they'd mounted, four more
of their guards had fallen. As they set off another two fell and soon enough it was clear that
they'd not outrun or outfight the men that chased after them.

"My prince?" Theon said as they were surrounded.
"Ser Brynden, I had not thought to meet you here nor in such circumstances." Harren said
and Theon looked at the prince incredulously not understanding how he could be so calm.

They had been attacked, were about to at best be taken prisoner and his prince was speaking
to the man who was doing so as if they'd just met while taking a stroll. He moved his hand to
his bow only to see one of the guards smirk at him while he held a crossbow in his hand. His
meaning was clear and Theon quickly moved his hands to where they could be seen,
grimacing as the man's smirk grew.

"Your father did a stupid thing, boy, are you to be as stupid as he now too?" the Blackfish
asked.
"Better stupid than dead." Harren said to a chuckle from the Blackfish.
"Who says we wish you dead?" the Blackfish said before looking to Theon "You Boy, ride to
Harrenhal and let the King know his son is now my guest."

Theon looked from the Blackfish to his prince who nodded and then with a last look to the
man with the crossbow, he rode off. It would take him the rest of the day to ride to Harrenahl
as he did so slowly, his eyes looking back towards the prince and his captors as they rode
away. Harren's ax was now tied to the Blackfish's horse and though not bound, it was clear
that there was to be no escape. He wondered how the king would take the news, how his
father would, and yet as he rode it wasn't that which he wondered the most about. Instead, it
was the thought that the men had been waiting for them and that someone had more than
likely told them where they would be.

The conquest of Westeros XVIII

Moat Cailin The gateway to the North and the King who Wept.

Any army wishing to take the North by Land would first have to traverse the Neck and then
have to deal with the mighty fort known to the Northmen as simply The Moat. As long as the
North had stood alone, the Moat had repelled any and all who dared to try to march on it. So
important was Moat Cailin to the North's defenses that it became the second seat of House
Stark and for generations was held by the second sons of the Kings of Winter.

None of whom were more famous or infamous than Brandon Snow the bastard brother of
Torrhen Stark and the Prince of the Moat during its most trying time. After constant attempts
to try and take the Moat and constant raids from the King's of the Rivers and Isles, all of
which failed, Brandon and his brother Torrhen raised an army the likes of which the North
had never seen before and gathered at the Moat to finally deal with the threats closest to
them once and for all. It was an army that never got to march as be it fell magic or simply
bad luck, a winter fever struck and an army that had swollen to 30,000 men was soon
reduced to less than half that.

Sensing an opportunity to finally add the North to its own domain and knowing that even
those who could fight were weaker than ever, the Iron Born struck and the Neck, the Swamps,
and the Moat ran red with blood. It was Torrhen, Brandon, and the Moat itself that held the
attackers at bay and despite inflicting heavy losses, the Iron Born retreated. Though they did
not do so without taking one last thing that the North could ill afford to lose. It's said that
when Torrhen looked out upon the bodies of those who died from the fever and the battle he
stood stoic and unfeeling. Yet when the body of his brother was brought before him, Torrhen
fell to his knees and wept.

Now once again war was on the North's mind and once again the Moat would be the key.
This time though its position and the terrain around it wouldn't play the same role as it
always had, for the threat didn't come by land. Men, walls, swamps, and defenses mattered
little when an enemy could simply fly over them or hit them from the sky, and as the
Dragonknight and his army marched, the North held its breath once more.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Moat Cailin 300 AC.

Ned Stark.

They had made good time and arrived at the Moat less than a moon after setting off from
Winterfell. Ned was happy to see his home once more and he and his brother as well as most
of the lords that marched with them were more than keen to stay indoors again. The weather
had held and yet marching and camping was never pleasant nor could sleeping alone in a tent
be compared to laying in bed beside his wife. He had felt the change in his own demeanor as
soon as they reached the outskirts of his lands, the air itself feeling different to him somehow.

Over the years while he'd made improvements to the roads south from the Moat to Winterfell
and those east to White Harbor, while the rest of his lands were left as they had always been.
Many times someone had suggested they do more with the swamps and lands around the
Moat and he too had thought this way at one time. Ned wondering why they didn't make the
lands more suitable for crops and take some of the burdens of running the keep and the
garrison off the North itself. It had been his father who had put him straight and told him the
way of things. Ned could still remember the words as if they'd been spoken yesterday and not
when he had left Winterfell to take command of his seat so many years earlier.

"As the Moat goes, so goes the North, Ned. As hard and unforgiving as it is for those of us
who were born here it's doubly so for any who would seek to take it and make it theirs."
Rickard said with a half-smile on his face.
"So the lands remain unable to be farmed and food and other things have to be brought from
further afield, is that wise father?" he asked looking to his father.
"The lands that make up its domain were given freely by the North Ned. Dustin, Manderly,
Hornwood even the Boltons gave up land so that the Moat is sustainable. That and the taxes
that are paid are all given without a murmur of discontent, why do you think that is?" his
father asked while looking at him with a keen eye.
"So that the Moat holds." he said and saw his father nod.
"More blood was spilled on the lands you'll rule over than anywhere else in the North, Ned,
and in time more blood may be spilled on it too. Winterfell may be the heart of the North but
the Moat is its soul, never forget that son."
"No father, I won't". he said firmly.

He had done his best to live up to those words and had always ensured that the Moat would
be ready to hold. As he saw it in the distance he knew that it would hold once more. Cat and
his children were waiting for him and his brother as they rode in through the gates and Ned

smiled at them, them, and Howland when he saw him in the background. There was no man
better suited to garrison the Moat other than his family and if things worked out, then who
knows one day they may be kin too as Jojen and Arya were of an age with each other.

"Moat Cailin is yours, your grace." Cat said as all those in the courtyard knelt to welcome
their new king.
"Rise, all of you." Brandon said before he turned to him and with a wink let him know that
the time for propriety was over.
"My love." Ned said softly as he embraced his wife, getting as close to her as her swollen
belly would allow.
"Robb?" Cat whispered in his ear as she looked over his shoulder.
"Is the Stark in Winterfell and will stay behind with Cregan." he said and he felt her relax.

The thoughts of their son marching with them were ones that he had no doubt made her
worry and he was glad to offer up any relief that he could. After greeting Howland and some
of his men, Ned made his way into the keep and as he walked he could tell there was
something on Cat's mind, something other than their son's or his safety. With a look to
Brandon and Benjen, they changed direction and went to his solar rather than the Great Hall,
and once inside he asked Cat what was concerning her so.

"We received a raven from my uncle, he's taken Prince Harren as his hostage." Cat said and
Ned heard the loud laugh from Brandon.
"That's great news, the fucking Iron Born scum will pay. I'll take his head myself." Brandon
said laughing still.
"He's just a boy, Brandon." Benjen said shaking his head.
"He's a fucking squid, fuck him and fuck his house." Brandon replied.

Iron Born, Squids, Krakens, Scum, Whores, Sea Rats, Little Fishes, there were many names
that the reavers were known by in the North. How they saw them didn't differentiate between
the houses of the Riverlands that swore their allegiance willingly or the houses of the Iron
Islands themselves. The Hoares were Whores, the Greyjoys were Krakens, the Botleys were
Little Fishes, and they were all Scum, Sea Rats, and Squids. It mattered not what sigil they
bore and to most Northmen, the only good reaver was a dead one.

"We don't kill children for the crimes of their father, Brandon. We're better than that." he said
looking to his brother "Besides I believe this was father's plan, to take the prince hostage and
use it to force his father's hand."
"Very well, I'll not kill the squid unless I have to, but his father dies, can we at least agree on
that?" Brandon asked the annoyance in his voice clear.
"Aye, on that you'll find no argument from me." Benjen said and Ned nodded to let his
brother know that he felt the same way.

Prince Harren was the same age as Robb and that was perhaps where his reluctance to see the
boy harmed came from. That and the fact he was a prisoner and before this war was done
they may need to swap him for one of their own. He was about to send for some ale when he
caught the nervous look on Cat's face and he knew that it hadn't just been the raven from the
Blackfish that had caused her concern.

"Cat?" he asked looking at her.
"This arrived too." his wife said and he watched as she took a bloodstained letter from his
drawer.
"From who?" Brandon asked beating him to the punch.
"It was brought to us by one of the Freys, it and something else." Cat said as Ned opened the
letter "The body of Martyn Cassel." Cat added stopping him in his tracks.
"Martyn's body, it's here?" he asked and Cat nodded.

Forgetting about the letter, for now, he rose to his feet and both Brandon and Benjen joined
him. Cat directed them to one of the root cellars and as he made his way to it he sent a
servant to fetch Rodrik and Jory. When they reached the room he was surprised to see that
Martyn unlike his father or the others who'd been sent back to them, had kept his head. It
made him wonder had a message been sent to them or was one being sent to them now.

"A Frey you said?" he asked and Cat nodded though Jory and Rodrik arrived before he could
ask her more.

He offered his sympathies to them both and though he could see their sadness in seeing the
body, there was some relief in knowing they could see that Martyn was to be given a proper
burial. Leaving them in the room and trying to think on why the Frey's would bring the body

back to them and whether or not this had anything to do with the Riverlands, he remembered
the letter and took it from his pocket to read it. The words were no great surprise and it
explained why his father was both so angered and so keen to make his moves now.

"Ned?" Brandon asked as Ned finished reading.
"From Prince Aemon, I believe this was sent to father before he headed south."
"What does it say?" Benjen asked eagerly.
"Nothing good." he said and as Brandon took it from him and read it his anger only grew and
Ned began to wonder if that was the point.

Volantis 300 AC.
Rhaegar Targaryen.

He made his way to the meeting of the High Council and as he arrived and walked into the
room, he sighed. While Viserys was there, Aegon was not and as each of the council
members rose to their feet it was this he concentrated on, which was why he took a moment
longer to tell them all to take their seats. The meeting wasn't truly important, but it was the
first full one since Arthur had departed. Taking his seat he looked around at the seven men
and at the one empty seat.

Technically because Aegon was his son and heir, he was the second-ranked member of the
council, in truth though this role actually fell to Viserys as his brother was far more dutiful
than his son. Varys was the eyes and ears of the Empire and Malquo Maegyr was ostensibly
in charge of the day-to-day running of their armies. While his uncle Aemon pretty much was
in charge of seeing that the Empire's laws were being followed in all of their lands. Benerro
represented the Red Priests and as always his conversation would soon turn to the
representatives of the Faith of the Seven. His cousin Aegor was in charge of the Empire's
trade and finance and Monford Velaryon was now in charge of the Empire's navy.

Though never officially a member, Aemon his son would have played a role here too if his
path was not to lead him in another direction. As the councilors talked around him, Rhaegar
found himself reflecting on his two quite different sons. Aegon was a good heir and would
make a good High Emperor but more and more he was showing signs that were worrying. Be
it in not living up to his duties and responsibilities or not keeping to his marriage bed.
Aemon's path was defined so many years earlier and everything she had said about their son
had proved to be true. So much so that despite wishing to keep him close and going against

her wishes, or at least thinking about it more than once, in the end there was never really a
choice to make.

"High Emperor, High Emperor?" he heard Aegor call out.
"Forgive me, gentlemen, my mind was elsewhere." he said and listened then as Aegor
explained to him that the representative of the Iron Bank wished an audience.
"For why, cousin?" he asked curiously.
"Apparently some of the governors are being lax in seeing the Iron Bank gets its due, High
Emperor." Aegor said catching him by surprise.
"Our governors have borrowed from the Iron Bank?" he asked shocked at the notion.
"No, High Emperor, some of their subjects have and are lax in their repayments." Aegor said
and he nodded.

The rest of the meeting was more of the same and other than Aegon arriving halfway through
the meeting, nothing of note occurred. Benerro as was his wont argued over the growing
influence that the Septons and Septas were having and Monford spoke about replacing the
ships and sailors that Aemon had taken with him to Westeros. His uncle Aemon tried to speak
about a relaxing of some of the laws of inheritance, only for Aegor and he to then get into an
argument about the taxes this raised, Aemon for once backing down and he knew that it was
his health rather than his cousin being in the right of it that had won the day. Varys had little
to report and though word of Aemon's departure to Westeros had traveled far and wide, as of
now it had not led to anyone seeing it as an opportunity to test themselves against the Empire.

"That will be all." he said bringing the meeting to a close "Aegon, wait outside for me, there
is much we need to discuss." he said as his son rose and showed an urgency to leave that he'd
not shown in arriving.

He bid Aemon, Viserys, and Aegor to stay and waited to speak until the others had left. Once
they had, Rhaegar poured himself a glass of wine and was happy to see his brother and
cousin accept one too. His granduncle though stuck to water given the hour.

"Who is causing the difficulties with the Iron Bank, Aegor?" he asked as he looked to him,
Viserys joining him in doing so.

"Some of the Thirteen in Qarth, Xaro Xhoan Daxos being one of the main ones, also Kraznys
in Meereen who claims that Aemon's taking of some of his men has caused a shortfall in his
income." Aegor said annoyedly.
"Who's here from the Iron Bank?" he asked and he knew who it was just by the look on
Aegor's face, his words confirming it a moment later.
"Baelish." his cousin said with disdain.

The Iron Bank operated by the will and grace of the Empire but it was an independent
institution and served an important purpose. It allowed for citizens of the Empire to have an
alternate source of funding and the Empire retained a quarter stake in it, but only in its
earnings and not in its running. It was one of the agreements that had been signed with
Braavos when they'd been brought under the Empire's control. A degree of independence that
he was now beginning to think was more of a problem than had been initially envisioned.

"Arrange the meeting for tomorrow, we'll have him as our guest for the meal tonight." he said
and Aegor nodded "Have you considered the candidates for leadership of the Second Army,
brother?" he asked and Viserys looked to him.
"It must be family, by rights it should be Aegon but…" Viserys said and Rhaegar nodded "I
was thinking of Daemon's boy Haegon." Viserys said and Rhaegar looked to see the small
proud smile on Aegor's face at the mention of his brother and nephew.
"He's a good man, cousin, a fine warrior and it would be a huge honor both for my brother
and for Meereen." Aegor said.
"Ask Monford to bring a message to Daemon and Haegon, perhaps you can write it Aegor to
keep it less official for now?" he said looking to his cousin who nodded "I will speak to
Aegon. Until tonight." he said as he rose and walked out from the High Council Chambers.

Aegon waited alone outside and was sitting and japing with his guards when Rhaegar bid him
follow. The two of them walking in silence through the halls of the Grand Palace until they
came to the family wing. Entering his rooms and finding that Elia and Daenerys were
elsewhere, Rhaegar was almost taken aback by how quiet their rooms were. His mind was
still almost lost in memories of both his sons as it had been for the past few days. When they
were young, they, Rhaenys and Daenerys would make so much noise and he found that now
he missed that as much as he missed both his children that were no longer here.

"Where were you?" he asked Aegon as he shook the thoughts from his mind and concentrated
on his duties once more.

"I overslept." Aegon said not even trying to hide the lie.
"It stops now, Aegon. I've let you shame your wife for too long and you've been shirking your
duties ever since your brother's departure."
"Exile." Aegon said with a snarl "You exiled my brother, he didn't depart." he added.
"It matters not, Aemon's path is not yours. I wish for a grandchild and that cannot happen if
you refuse to lay with your wife."
"Talisa…."
"Is your wife and you bring shame upon her and upon your mother and me with your actions.
It stops now, Aegon, that and this reluctance to be who you are meant to be. It is your council
that I should be relying on, yours most of all. There is much you must learn son and I know at
times that it seems a thankless task, but you will find your rewards in it as have I." he said,
the last part of his words far softer than the first part.
"She wishes to free slaves, father?" Aegon said with a sigh and was their discussion not so
serious then Rhaegar would have chuckled.
"Some slaves should be free, all of them were it possible. Lyanna too wished to free slaves as
did your mother. Even despite my counseling them not to, both still did as they wished. It
seems my gooddaughter shares a common trait amongst brides of the Empire." he said and
was pleased to see the small smile that appeared on Aegon's face.
"I'll try harder, father." Aegon said and Rhaegar reached out to pat his son on the shoulder
when his son then spoke again "I miss them father, both of them."
"As do I." Rhaegar said softly.

Dinner that night was not a pleasant affair and was why he far preferred it to be only family
and those who were close enough that they may have been that he ate with. His sister was her
usual charming self and Aegon was far more attentive to his wife, something that Talisa
seemed pleased about. Yet it was the small dark-haired Baelish's presence that Rhaegar was
most disturbed by. There was something about the man that he disliked and it took him some
time to figure out what it was. It was not his duplicitous nature or that his smile never
reached his eyes, it was how he looked at his sister that Rhaegar was wary of.

The Empire rarely took part in disputes with the Iron Bank or in its operations, perhaps it was
time for them to do so as a man such as Petyr Baelish was a man who should be kept far from
any position that offered him power. Some men were happy with their lot in life, some sought
to rise as high as they could. Ambition was a good and useful thing for a High Emperor to be
aware of and to reward when it was beneficial. It was also something that needed to be
looked upon with caution and looking at Petyr Baelish his ambitions were clear.

The conquest of Westeros XIX.
The House of the Snake and the Empress of the Sun.

Descended from the Rhoynish Princess Nymeria, House Martell ruled over a united Dorne
for more than a thousand years. Yet they refused to think of themselves as King's or Queens
and instead kept the Rhyonish title of Prince or Princess. Be it because of Dorne's unique
lands, its deserts, and mountains made it hard for an invasion force to gain ground, or
because of the Dornish spirit of independence, Dorne had always, at least compared to some
of the other Seven Kingdoms, stayed relatively peaceful under the rule of the House of the
Snake.

It sought little interaction with the other kingdoms and kept itself apart from them in almost
every aspect, seeking closer ties with Essos rather than Westeros. Perhaps it was this which
had led to Princess Elia looking east rather than west for a match, or more likely it was the
future Empress of the Sun herself who had sought a dragon for a husband. Regardless of the
why, it was to Dorne's great surprise and immense pride that the then Prince Rhaegar and
Princess Elia were married. When news came of the birth of a daughter there were those in
Dorne who thought that perhaps this meant a future High Empress, but the Empire was not
Dorne and so when a son was born it was he and not his sister who was named as heir.

For more than twenty years the alliance between the Empire and Dorne, though never
official, stood unchallenged and Dorne reaped the benefits of being so closely aligned with
the House of the Dragon. But just like in Westeros itself, a daughter was higher than a brother
or sister, and despite believing they had their sister's ear, the princes of House Martell were
soon to learn one immutable fact. Their sister may have the blood of the snake running
through her veins but she had married and birthed dragons and it was to them and them alone
that the Empress of the Sun owed her loyalty too.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dorne 300 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

They had flown for almost a full day and she, Meraxes and Arthur were tired. Rhaenys
though knew they had to fly further before they could rest and so it was not until they were
past the Stormlands that she felt comfortable enough to tell Meraxes to land. The clearing her
dragon landed in was open with no cover from trees or bushes and Rhaenys thanked the gods
that the weather was mild. Thoughts of staying here in the rain, not ones that she wished to
dwell on.

Despite being able to see for miles around, once they landed Arthur insisted upon making
sure that he took a look around before he'd consider relaxing his guard. While he did so,
Rhaenys stood by Meraxes and she could feel her dragon's tiredness. There was something
else there too and it took her a moment to understand that it was a reluctance to undertake
this journey. It was a strange feeling for her dragon to have and yet it was one that Rhaneys
shared with her, as she too wished her journey had not been needed.

"I miss them too, but we'll not be away from them for long." she said stroking Meraxes back
and she was pleased to hear the trill her dragon made.
"All is safe, my princess." Arthur said and she noticed the small branches he carried in his
hand, Rhaenys wondering where they'd come from since there were no trees for what seemed
to be miles around.

It didn't take him long to get the fire going and despite being hungry, Meraxes was clearly in
no mood for a hunt. As for herself, she smiled as she opened her pack and took out the food
that Aemon had insisted she brought with her. There was to be no stale bread and dried meat
for her on this journey and her husband had seen to that himself. She was glad of his concern
and his thoughtfulness and as she and Arthur ate, she found that she quite enjoyed the meal
too.

"How long has it been since you set foot in Dorne, Ser Arthur?" she asked after they'd
finished eating.
"Four years, my princess. I accompanied your mother to the funeral of your great uncle
Prince Lewyn and met with my family." Arthur said with a soft smile on his face.
"And my uncle Doran?" she asked curiously.
"Him, Prince Oberyn, and some of your cousins too." Arthur said and Rhaenys felt a little
jealous of the man.

She'd met with Oberyn on one of his many visits to Volantis and at times he'd brought his
older daughters with him and even his paramour. Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene she'd met them
all, but none of her other cousins and not Arianne, not even when she had visited the Grand
Palace as Rhaenys had been in Lys with Meraxes at the time.

"What is my uncle like?" she asked looking to Arthur.
"Prince Doran is a cautious and careful man, my princess, he's also a proud one and I don't
think he'll take kindly to your visit." Arthur said and she shook her head.
"You believe me to be in danger from my kin?" she asked almost disbelievingly.
"I believe that what you and Aemon are attempting to do will win you few friends, my
princess. Men at times need to be given a reason to kneel and some men need a larger reason
than others, as I believe your uncle will." Arthur said and Rhaenys took heed of his words.
"And you Arthur, what do you think of what Aemon is doing?" she asked curiously.
"I believe that you and your brother are on the only path you can walk, my princess. In time
others will walk that path with you, but at times it will be a lonely one for both of you."
Arthur said and Rhaenys found that she couldn't disagree with him in that regard.

Already it had cost them their family, or their time with their family at least and while she
had no doubts about what she was doing, it didn't mean that she didn't miss having family by
her side. Her uncle, her aunt, her brother and mother, and even her father though she was
angry at him too. For years he had told her this was wrong, that she and Aemon were not
meant to be and she like a dutiful daughter had listened. Doing so had hurt the person she
loved most in the world and only that her love's heart was true, that was all it had done.

The thoughts that Aemon may have rejected her after she had done so to him were the ones
that she fell to sleep pondering. Rhaenys trying to imagine the life she'd have lived had she
stuck on her path and not come to her senses and were she alone and in her bed then she may
have given in to the urge to cry. She was not alone and that was not her path though and
Aemon had not only welcomed her with open arms but had not sought to blame her for
taking so long to come to him. The memory of his words to her when she had said how sorry
she was, enough to put a smile on her face and allow her to fall to sleep.

"You are here and we are together, what else matters more than that, my love." Aemon said as
he kissed her.

She woke when Meraxes landed, the dragon having gone to eat while they had slept and she
was unsurprised to see Arthur was already up and about. After breaking their fast they were
quickly back on Meraxes's back and the flight to Sunspear took them only a few hours. It was
Arthur who pointed it out to her and who directed her where to land. Rhaenys staying on the
dragon's back at his command as the riders rode out to meet them.

"What business do you have in Dorne?" the lead rider said as Arthur stood facing him, the
man looking beyond him and to Meraxes and Rhaenys imagining that was not something that
happened often, Arthur being considered the lesser threat for once.
"My name is Ser Arthur Dayne and I'm accompanying Princess Rhaenys Targaryen to meet
with her uncles." Arthur said firmly.
"The Sword of the Morning."
"Is that truly Princess Elia's daughter."
"She's a Dragonrider."

The voices were excited and relieved at the same time and the lead rider then named himself
as Ser Daemon Sand and bid them join him on the ride back to the Old Palace. With a few
words to Meraxes and a nod from Arthur, Rhaenys climbed down from her dragon's back and
she accepted the offer of a horse, as did Arthur. It made her arrival into Sunspear itself
somewhat less impressive but it gave her a chance to see more of the Shadow City as she
rode through it.

She listened as Ser Daemon told Arthur that her uncle Doran was staying at the Water
Gardens and that Oberyn and most of his children were there too. Rhaenys feeling somewhat
disappointed by that until she found that her cousins Arianne, Trystane, and Tyene were all in
residence at the Old Palace. They were greeted by two of the three when they arrived in the
courtyard and Rhaenys knew at once which one was Arianne. The darker hair and the small
figure were a giveaway based on her mother's description. Tyene was paler, blond, and blueeyed while Arianne looked more like her and her mother than the girl beside her.

"Cousin, is it truly you?" Arianne asked as she smiled beamingly at her.
"It is, cousin." she said and was welcomed with a warm embrace.
"Cousin." Tyene said as soon as Arianne let her go and she too embraced her and then at a
nod from Arianne bread and salt was brought forward.
"Cousin?" she asked.

"A custom, cousin, nothing more." Arianne said and Rhaenys wondered if she thought her a
fool.

Still, she took a piece of each as did Arthur and they were then escorted to their rooms. Not
that she intended to stay here any longer than she had to. This was not a visit for pleasure and
while she agreed to stay the night and even enjoyed the feast that was thrown for her, it was
not her cousins that she had come to see. She did accept the offer of fresh horses in the
morning and then she said her goodbyes to her cousins. As they rode out the gates to head to
the Water Gardens, she knew that each word she'd said, each move she'd made had been
relayed to her uncles who now no doubt awaited her arrival.

"You were right, Arthur." she said softly so those with them couldn't hear.
"Princess?" Arthur asked.
"Our presence is not as welcome as I'd hoped." she said and Arthur nodded.

She didn't need to call her, Meraxes could feel what she could feel and though her connection
was not the same as Aemon's was with Gaeltihox, it was one that was strong and true. When
they got to the Water Gardens the dragon would be with them, seen with them and she'd then
land nearby. Kin they may be but her blood was not theirs and when they heard her offer
they'd know that to be true. A carrot she'd bring them, as for the stick, well what need did she
have for one of them when she had a dragon to call upon.

Dragonstone 300 AC.
Marwyn.

He was gathering everything that he needed for the battles ahead when the raven arrived.
Marwyn surprised to see the Direwolf's seal on it and so he hurried to where his prince was to
hand it to him before he left. Along with the others, he'd travel on the Pride of Driftmark
while his prince and Torgho Nudho would fly on Gaelithox. Aemon he knew had intended to
leave before them so he could meet up with the rest of their men. So as he ran down the steps
towards the beach and he hoped he was not too late.

Luck was on his side as he saw that Aemon was still speaking to Aurane and the others and
not seeing Gaelitox around he slowed his run and caught his breath. For nearly ten years he'd
been by his prince's side, his prince's namesake Prince Aemon having told him about the

Dragonknights and the differences they had in relation to other Dragonriders. Once he had
done so, Marwyn had been fascinated by the connection that a Dragonknight had with his
dragon and had found in the young prince someone just as willing as his older Granduncle
was to speak to him on such things. He was under no illusion that he was now privy to all the
secrets of the House of the Dragon, but he knew far more than most and that was enough for
him.

Knowledge was its own reward and he'd learned more by being by his prince's side than he
could have ever dreamed to learn anywhere else. He'd seen things that those fools he had
once named as his colleagues in the Citadel would name him a liar for. The books he'd
written and the book he was writing now would live on long after his time and he got the
sense that he still had so much more to learn. Westeros was on the verge of a new age and he
was here, right here at the forefront of it. No Maester before and none after him would ever
have such an opportunity as he and so his loyalty belonged entirely to his prince.

"My prince, a raven." he said when he reached the men.
"From where, Marwyn?" Aemon asked as he looked at the scroll in his hand.
"Winterfell, my prince." he said to a surprised look from his prince.

He and the others held their breath while Aemon opened the scroll and he was surprised to
see the small smile on his prince's face as he read it. Then he was even more surprised when
his prince handed him the scroll rather than one of the others and while Aemon spoke to
them, Marwyn read the words to himself.

Prince Aemon,

My name is Eddard Stark, your uncle and the Prince of Moat Cailin. Despite my father's
reluctance, mine own wishes were to meet you from the moment that I learned of your arrival
on Dragonstone. For twenty years I've thought about my sister and to know her son is close
enough to actually meet was something that filled me with joy. My father was my king though,
as much if not more than he was my father and so it was his wishes I followed. As you may be
aware, my father, your grandfather has been murdered and it's my brother, your uncle
Brandon who now wears the crown of the Kings of Winter. I have spoken to him and with his
permission, I'd like to invite you to meet us as we march to avenge my father's death.
Whatever differences we have can at least be discussed and I hope you accept this offer.

Your uncle.
Prince Eddard Stark.

It was an unexpected turn and he could see that it had caught his prince by surprise. Aemon
listening as each of his friends gave their own take on things. Daario was against it, saying
that he'd met the new king and he too had been just like his father. Marwyn listening intently
as Daario said they'd been shadowed until they'd left the North. Thoros too was reluctant for
Aemon to go to the meeting, the red priest worried that there was deception at play. Torgho
Nudho was even less enthused by the request, but it was Aurane's words that he knew would
win the day.

"Rhaenys is speaking with her family to try and bring them to our side, Aemon. You wished
to do the same with them and with the Starks. I know you long to set foot in Winterfell and to
see the keep and lands that your mother was born in. Better to do so as an honored guest than
as an enemy or conqueror." Aurane said looking at the prince.
"You're right and at the least I can judge the men for myself. Get the measure of my uncles
and what I may need to face. Gaelithox will see to my safety as well as your spear, Torgho
Nudho. Perhaps we can gain an ally and if not we'll at least know who our enemies truly are."
Aemon said and Marwyn couldn't fault the logic in his prince's words.

Almost as if he'd just been called, Gaelithox landed and within a few moments, Aemon and
Torgho Nudho were on the dragon's back and in the sky. Hurrying back to his rooms,
Marwyn gathered his supplies and made his way to the ship, and as night fell they set sail and
he looked to see Dragonstone fade from his view. How long it would be until he returned he
knew not, but as he sat and ate with the men on the ship it was excitement and not fear that he
felt. Five times he'd ridden into battle with the Dragonknight and his men and five times he'd
ridden home unharmed. He had no doubt in his mind that this would be the sixth.

The Water Gardens 300 AC.
Oberyn Martell.

The raven from his niece was a surprise or to be more precise the words written upon it were.
Doran had called him into his solar to tell him of Rhaenys's arrival in Sunspear and though
initially he was pleased, moments after listening to his brother he wasn't so certain this was as
good a thing as he had thought it was. Had it not been for the raven from Prince Aemon then
both he and his brother would be rejoicing and welcoming their niece to their homeland.

Long had he wished for her or Aegon to travel and visit Dorne. Her arrival coming so soon
after that raven though, that created some doubt in his mind and even more in Doran's.

"Why do you think she's come now, brother?" Doran asked.
"I don't know, brother. What I do know is that Prince Aemon readies to march and march he
will and the last time I met our niece she and he were more than close." Oberyn replied.
"I thought that Rhaegar banned such unions?" Doran asked curiously.
"He did and I believe that's what led to the exile, but I can't be certain. Elia is not
forthcoming when it comes to the inner working of the Empire and the dragons." Oberyn said
shaking his head.
"We must wait and see then." Doran said.

They hadn't spoken more about their niece that night, dinner being a quiet affair and even
Ellaria seemed more subdued than normal. Usually, his paramour would try and cheer him up
if she felt he was less than happy, tonight for some reason she left him to his thoughts.
Looking to Doran he could see that his brother was even deeper into his own thoughts than
he. He knew that Doran had intended at one point to offer a marriage between Quentyn and
Rhaenys. That even after Elia had told him that it would never happen he had then intended
to seek Princess Daenerys as a bride for his eldest son.

Their sister had been adamant though that her children and Rhaegar's sister were not Rhaegar
and where he may have looked to Westeros, they would not. Were Aemon from her womb
and not Lyanna Stark's then he had no doubt that his brother would have sought a match
between him and Arianne, but even the thoughts of having a Dragonknight tied to his family
was not enough for Doran to not see the boy as a source of shame.

The Targaryens may have married more than one wife before, but it was not something that
was done in Dorne and Doran had never forgiven the boy for things outside his control. That
had been the reason for his abrupt reply to Aemon's raven and Oberyn was sure it was that
and their niece's sudden desire to visit their lands that was on his brother's mind, as they were
on his own. Sleep though came easy and he awoke early and sparred before he broke his fast.
His day was going well until he saw the dragon in the sky and though he looked forward to
seeing his niece, he worried about the day ahead also.

"Your brother bids you to join him, my prince." a servant said and Oberyn hurried to the
courtyard just in time to see his niece and Ser Arthur Dayne ride in along with Ser Daemon

and some of Arianne's guards.

Seeing Arthur with his niece gave him and Doran by the looks of it, pause. Perhaps this was
more of an official visit than they had feared, he hoped so and he welcomed his niece with a
warm smile that she returned.

"Niece welcomed to Dorne." he said happily.
"Thank you uncle, it's so good to see you again." Rhaenys said smiling back at him.
"My girls will be so pleased to see you, may I introduce you to your uncle, Doran." he said
moving her to his brother and noticing immediately how close to her that Arthur stayed.
"Uncle Doran, long have I wished to meet you." Rhaneys said, genuinely he felt.
"And I, you, niece." Doran replied.
"Arthur, it's good to see you old friend." he said as he welcomed the man that he had once
been as close as a brother to.
"You too, my prince."

Why the dragon then felt the need to fly over them at that precise time he had no idea but
looking at it in the sky he could see just how impressive it truly was. He'd not spent much
time around them when he'd visited Volantis, not seen them really close up, and even when
he'd watched them fly they had done so far higher in the sky than this. Whether this was
meant to be intimidating he couldn't tell but if it was then it achieved its goal.

"Perhaps we should go inside, Ellaria and the girls will be most eager to see you, niece." he
said with a smile.
"As am I them, uncle." Rhaenys answered.

Arthur moved as Rhaenys did, Dawn's hilt was clear over his shoulder and it was obvious to
anyone that though he didn't expect any danger from anyone here, he was ready for it all the
same. Once inside the keep, it was to the pools rather than to Doran's solar they went. AS
they walked down the corridors and finally came to the large double doors that led out to
where Ellaria and his girls were, Oberyn could see Rhaenys taking all the Water Gardens had
to offer in.

He wondered if Elia had spoken to her of the Water Gardens and of her own time here and
did his sister remember it as fondly as he did. Given how Rhaenys was looking at everything
and the small smile she wore on her face, he was sure she had. Ellaria was playing with
Dorea and Loreza while Elia, Obella, and Nymeria lounged around and Obara practiced with
her spear in hand. When his love saw him and Rhaenys she gave him a warm smile, though
there was a questioning look in her eyes which his small nod answered, or at least so he
hoped.

"Aunt." Rhaenys said happily and Ellaria's smile grew fuller.
"It is so good to see you here, niece. Allow me to introduce your cousins to you. Girls come
and meet Rhaenys, your cousin." Ellaria said her voice light and for the next hour or so he sat
and watched as each of his girls and his niece spoke and laughed about something or other.

The happy times were not to last as long as he would have liked and soon enough they were
heading to Doran's solar where for the briefest moment things became very tense as Areo
refused Arthur leave to enter the room. Oberyn thought that Rhaenys would order her
protector to wait outside, that she'd tell him she was in no danger here with her kin, and when
she did not he began to grow concerned. It was clear to him then that this was indeed a far
less friendly visit than he had hoped.

"Ser Arthur may stand at my niece's shoulder, Areo." he said to a glare from the large
Norvosi, and had Doran not added his own words to it then he'd have perhaps ended up
arguing with Areo himself.
"As you command, my prince." Areo said to Doran, and not to him.

They took their seats and he saw how his brother looked to him before he looked to Rhaenys.
Oberyn also noticing how the smiles and relaxed nature of his niece was now a thing of the
past. Rhaenys sat stiff and formal and looked every inch the daughter of a High Emperor and
Oberyn had to admit he found her to be very impressive.

"You received a raven from Aemon, uncle?" Rhaenys said and Doran nodded "And yet you
denied him your help?" she asked.
"He is not my blood." Doran said simply.

"Yet he is mine. He is my mother's and my brother's. Now though that matters not, for he is
my husband too." Rhaenys said and Doran quickly looked at him.
"I had heard your father forbade the match?" Oberyn said and Rhaenys smirked.

"Aemon accepted exile rather than do what my father bid him do, uncle. Did you really think
he gave up that easy?" his niece said proudly "My husband's will is unlike that of any man
you know, uncle. He wills Westeros to be his and so it will be his and Dorne now has a
decision to make. Stand with family or stand against it." Rhaenys said looking to him and
then to Doran.
"Dorne always stands with family, but Dorne is its own country niece, we are Unbowed,
Unbent, and Unbroken and we have no wish to change that, not even for you." Doran said
and Rhaenys then smiled a full smile before she spoke again.
"Arthur, how many battles has Aemon won?" Rhaenys asked.
"Many, my princess. Many times people have dared to face Aemon across the field and
thought themselves a match and many times they've found to their cost that they're very much
not." Arthur said, his voice soft and almost casual.
"And is my husband a forgiving man?" Rhaneys asked and Arthur's snort was enough of an
answer and so Rhaenys continued "I have no wish to fight against my kin and so Aemon will
have no wish to fight against it either. I come here to ask what it is that Dorne requires for its
support and acceptance of my husband and mine own rule. What arrangments and boons does
it require to bow, bend and yet remain unbroken. You have a night to consider it uncle, on the
morrow Arthur and I will depart on Meraxes and join my husband. Should I do so without an
agreement then when next I return it will be with a far different purpose and there will be far
fewer words spoken." Rhaenys said as she rose to her feet "I look forward to your reply."

Oberyn watched as Rhaenys left the room with Arthur in tow. He turned to see the angered
look on his brother's face and while he felt some of that same anger himself, his was tinged
with pride also. Elia's daughter had grown up to be just as fierce as her mother. She too hid
behind courtesies and sweet words but beneath them lay a snake, a dragon and they would do
well to remember that and to consider their next move very carefully.

Riverlands/North 300 AC.
Aemon.

Gaelithox soared in the air and Aemon looked down at his ships as they anchored in the Bay
of Crabs, pointing them out to Torgho Nudho who sat behind him. They were far enough

from land that they were safe and unseen but once Aurane and the others arrived he knew that
would no longer be the case. Two, three days at the most and they would be arriving at the
mouth of the Trident and then they'd be at war. It was not much time for him to do what he
had to do, but it was enough. If he could bring the North to his side then it would take one
less potential enemy off the table.

They would be lesser than his own men, but having them with them would give the rest of his
enemies something else to worry about. Without them, this was going to be slightly more
difficult though eventually, he'd bring others to his side. Once they saw the truth of him and
Gaelitox then people would seek him out and seek a place at their table and unlike some of
the battles he had fought in Essos, there were places up for grabs. Whether or not the North
or Dorne would be given one of those places was yet to be seen. Thinking of Dorne, quickly
had him thinking of his sister. Aemon wondering how Rhaenys was finding the lands of her
mother and envying her that she would be so freely accepted in them. He already missed her
terribly, even though it had been less than a couple of days since she had laid in his arms.

They flew over Maidenpool, The Isle of Faces, and Harrenhal, Aemon looking down on the
imposing keep and even he was impressed by its large curtain walls and the towers. Gaelitox
took them all the way to the borders of the Kingdom of the West before they then turned and
headed north and soon he was flying over what he assumed to be Riverrun and then the
Twins. He took note of the ground beneath him, looking at it with a keen eye as he picked
places that he wished to avoid and places that he would be most happy for the war to be
fought upon. When they reached the Neck he quickly decided that this was not a place he
wanted to get caught up in. Its swampy ground would be the death of any army that dared to
come North and when he flew high over Moat Cailin it became clear to him why the North
had never been taken.

"Ilagon konīr Gaelithox" (Down there Gaelitox) he said as the Blood Wyrm landed in an
open spot, his flames soon covering the elk that had moved far too slowly when it had seen
them.

They were in the North itself now, a couple of miles away from the Moat and he was sure
that they had arrived unseen. As Gaelithox ate the Elk, Aemon looked at the lands around
him and breathed in deeply while Torgho Nudho made sure they were alone. Aemon wore a
small smile on his face as he closed his eyes and pictured his mother on these lands. Her dark
hair being blown behind her by the wind as she raced across the ground on her black mare.
Not even the finest riders in Essos, the Dothraki, could match his mother when she rode.
Aemon now remembering fondly sitting in front of her on the saddle as she raced around the
walls of Qarth.

"I'm finally here, mother." he said softly as he knelt down and took some of the loose earth in
his hands before placing it in a small pouch that he then tied to his belt.

He and Torgho Nudho slept curled up against Gaelithox's side and it allowed for the dragon's
warmth to be their heat for the night. The air had turned cold as soon as night had fallen and
yet he found that he preferred it to the heat of Essos in a way, or maybe he was just feeling
more sentimental given where he was. When he woke the next morning it was before dawn
had broken and as he broke his fast, he again breathed in the cool crisp air. He longed to see
more of this place, to travel these lands and see what it was that his mother had missed so
terribly during her time in Essos. Her journal had made it clear to him that though she was
happy in the life she led, a part of her had always remained lost to these lands.

"Come Gaelithox, it's time we met my kin." he said as nodded to Torgho Nudho and they
climbed up on the Blood Wyrm's back and then headed for Moat Cailin.

This time they flew far lower as he now wished to be seen. The last thing he wanted was his
arrival to be a surprise and for it to bring the Northmen to arms. Were they to fire upon him
then even he may not be able to control his dragon's anger. It took him some time to find a
space large enough to land and by the time he had done so he was sure the entire keep were
aware they had a dragon in their midst. As he and Torgho Nudho climbed down off the
dragon's back he could see the party that was coming their way. He had no need to look
behind him to know that his sworn shield was holding his spear and was ready to spring into
action. Nor did he need to look to Gaelitox to know that his dragon was watching those who
rode his way with a wary eye.

"Prince Aemon, my name is Benjen Stark, your uncle." a dark-haired man said as Aemon
looked to him to see how much of his mother that he could see in him.

His eyes were more of a blue than a grey and his hair was darker than how Aemon
remembered his mother's. There was something about his expression which raised his heckles
though, his and even more so the men with him. He hadn't expected to be welcomed with
open arms, but they'd asked him to come and this wasn't as warm a reception as it could have
been.

"Prince Benjen, it's good to see you at last, long have I wished to meet my mother's family."
he said and he was rewarded then with a warmer smile from his uncle.

"As have I, you, Prince Aemon." Benjen said.
"I will accept guest rights, it's a custom in Westeros is it not?" he asked as he looked at how
warily the others were looking at him and at Gaelitox.
"Aye, it is. Smalljon." Benjen said turning to a man who was anything but small "Send word
to the Moat to prepare some bread and salt" Benjen said to an annoyed look, the man only
moving upon seeing his uncle's glare.
"Aye, my prince." the not-so Smalljon said as he then rode off.
"We'll walk back if it's not too much trouble Prince Aemon. My brothers will both be eager to
see you." Benjen said yet his words didn't feel honest to him.

There was something going on here that he was unaware of and so with a nod to Torgho
Nudho and a look back to Gaelitox who then took to the sky and flew overhead, he began to
walk by his uncle's side. He was happy to see the worried looks on the Northmen's faces and
his uncle tried and failed to hide his own.

"Is the dragon flying off somewhere, Prince Aemon?" Benjen asked as they began to walk.
"The Blood Wyrm is most protective of my prince." Torgho Nudho said and Aemon noticed
the looks that his uncle gave the Northmen and the dragon that flew just over their heads.

Arriving at the Moat itself only reinforced what he had thought about it upon seeing it from
the air. Aemon knew this keep wouldn't fall to men alone, not from the northern road and
certainly not from the southern one. To take this keep would require a dragon and even then it
would still take some time. As they entered the courtyard he could see the looks he got were
anything but friendly, and he almost laughed when Gaelitox let his displeasure be known.
The Blood Wyrm choosing that precise moment to let out a roar that had some men fall to the
ground in fear. Whether it was that or his uncle Benjen's words to the Smalljon, a plate was
quickly brought to him bearing bread and salt and all eyes in the yard were on him and
Torgho Nudho as they took a piece of each.

"I'll take you to my brother, the king." Benjen said and Aemon nodded.

Walking through the keep he noticed some of the looks he was given by those they passed.
Two young boys and a young small dark-haired girl almost stared at him while another redheaded young woman offered him a polite smile and curtsy which he acknowledged with a
smile of his own that made her blush. As for the guards and some of who he was sure now

were the Northern Lords, their looks were more wary and suspicious. When he reached what
he assumed was the solar, the two men on guard looked to his sword and to Torgho Nudho's
spear before his uncle told them that he'd accepted guest rights. It was clear how much that
was thought of amongst the men of the North and he was glad that Marwyn had explained the
custom to him in detail.

"Prince Aemon, your grace." Benjen said as they entered the room and Aemon looked to see
a man who was sitting behind the desk and wearing a bronze crown that looked like a set of
swords all pointing upward.

Though he was sitting down it was clear that his uncle Brandon was a far larger man than his
uncle Benjen. His dark hair and grey eyes were more like his mother's than his other uncle's
bluer ones were as well. Compared to the other man sitting at the table though, both his
uncles could have been from a different bloodline altogether. This could only be his uncle
Eddard and everything about him simply screamed Stark to him. His brown hair and his grey
eyes were most familiar and were his mother to stand with the three men in this room then it
would be clear that she was Eddard's kin most of all.

"Your grace." he said with a small nod as he turned to look back at his uncle Brandon who
was looking at him with eyes filled with fury, even if he kept his expression schooled.
"Aemon." his uncle said almost derisively.
"Prince." Torgho Nudho said with a bit of bite in his voice, not a full-on warning, but close to
oone.
"Not here he's not." his uncle said and Aemon was glad that he'd spoken to Torgho about
guest rights or else his uncle would be skewered now on the end of a spear.
"So the pleasantries are over with, good, I fucking hate them anyway." he said with a chuckle
and was surprised by the smirk on his uncle Eddard's face "You asked me to be here, I've
come, now let us speak on that we must." he said as he refused the seat that was offered to
him.
"We asked you to come before we were aware of things, my prince. Or should I say more
aware." his uncle Eddard said and as he turned to face him, his uncle Brandon then rose
quickly to his feet.
"I should kill you where you stand, boy." Brandon said angrily.
"Better men than you have tried and failed, uncle. But feel free to test your luck." he said as
he moved his hands to his side and then spread them wide.

"Enough." Benjen said loudly as he slammed his hand on the table "Prince Aemon has
accepted guest right and you shame us by making threats, brother."
"Especially those you can't follow through on." Aemon said to a loud sigh from Benjen and a
move forward from his uncle Brandon.

The spear moved quicker than any of them and had Torgho Nudho wished his uncle dead
then the North would need a new king. Quickly his uncle Eddard drew his sword which
forced Aemon to draw his own and were it not for the loud roar of Gaelithox right at that
moment, then he'd have been a kinslayer before he'd have left this room.

"I should have expected no less from your false words. Your father made his feelings on me
clear and fool that I am I took his death as a chance for a fresh start. I thank you for showing
me the error of my thinking and promise that I'll not make the same mistake again." Aemon
said snarling as he turned and moved to the door.
"You killed my father. I'll see your head on a spike boy, on that you can be assured." Brandon
shouted and Aemon turned back and glared at him before almost storming back to the table.
"You dare accuse me of such a thing. You dare name me a kinslayer, you think I'll brook such
an insult? You're just as much a fool as your father was." Aemon said his voice rising as did
his anger "When I wish a man dead I look him in the eye or face him across a field.
Ambushes to kill a man are for lesser men than me, so mark my words and mark them well.
When I come for you, you'll see me coming, your grace." he said as he walked from the
room, Torgho Nudho walking with him.

He heard the shouts of his uncle behind him and the looks that both he and his sworn shield
gave the guards almost dared them to break guest right. None of them did however and as he
reached the courtyard he called for Gaelithox. They had just reached the main gate when his
uncle Eddard caught up with him, Aemon ignoring the shouts he aimed his way as he called
for him to stop. Again it was Torgho Nudho and his spear that one of his uncles was faced
with and he heard the sounds of swords being unsheathed around the yard.

"Please nephew, let us speak." his uncle said and Aemon nodded to Torgho who then
removed his spear "Thank you." his uncle said his relief clear.
"Speak and speak quickly for I have no wish to stay where I'm not welcome." he said his
anger still clear to any who could hear him.
"I wish to apologize for my brother and for your reception, nephew. Our father's death has put
a great strain on all of us and perhaps we see enemies were there are none." his uncle said.

"I played no part in my grandfather's death uncle and I intend to avenge it as my mother
would have wished me to." he said and his uncle smiled at him.
"Aye, she would. Despite her issues with your grandfather, my sister was a wolf first and
would not allow someone to harm the pack and get away with it." his uncle said and Aemon
relaxed somewhat.
"Why does your brother suspect me? Your raven asked me to come, did you suspect me then?
Was this but a ruse?" he asked staring into his uncle's eyes.
"I asked you to come because we are kin. As for the rest? I'd ask you to stay, Aemon, to
speak to myself and my brothers when clearer heads prevail. A night, one night where we can
speak as men and see if we can reach an accord, I believe she'd wish for us to try?" his uncle
said almost pleadingly.

Aemon looked to Torgho who shook his head and to his uncle who to him looked as if he
meant the words he'd just spoken. A part of him wanted to just deny him, to walk out the
gates, and when next they met it would be army to army, man to man. Yet his sister's words
rang out in his mind just as much as his mother's did. These were his kin and so perhaps a
night wasn't too much to ask for.
"A night." he said and saw his uncle smile.

House Hoare.

King Qhored Hoare age 42 years.
Queen Yara Hoare (nee Botley) age 41.
Prince Harren Hoare age 17.
Princess Gwynesse Hoare age 15.

House Greyjoy.

Balon Greyjoy age 45.
Alannys Greyjoy age 45.
Rodrik Gryejoy age 29.

Maron Greyjoy age 27.
Asha Greyjoy age 25.
Theon Greyjoy age 21.

Euron Greyjoy age 43.

Victarion Greyjoy age 40.

Aeron Greyjoy age 36.

Deceased.

Prince Qhored Hoare died 283 AC age 3 spring sickness.
Princess Asha Hoare died 283 AC age 1 spring sickness.

House Martell.

Prince Doran Martell age 52.
Mellario Martell (his wife, separated and residing in Norvos) age 51.
Princess Arianne Martell (his daughter and heir) age 24
Prince Quentyn Martell (his son) age 19.
Prince Trystane Martell (his son) age 13.

Prince Oberyn Martell (his brother) age 43.
Ellaria Sand (Oberyn's paramour) age 36.
Obara Sand (his daughter) age 28.

Nymeria Sand (his daughter) age 25.
Tyene Sand (his daughter) age 23.
Sarella Sand (his daughter) age 19.
Elia Sand (his daughter) age 15.
Obella Sand (his daughter) age 12.
Dorea Sand (his daughter) age 8.
Loreza Sand (his daughter) age 7.

Deceased.
Prince Lewyn Martell died 296 AC age 66.

House Targaryen of Meereen (Descendants of Daemon Blackfyre).

Daemon Targaryen governor of Meereen age 38.
Vaesys Targaryen his wife (nee Zo Loraq) age 36.
Haegon Targaryen (his son) age 19, Dragonrider to the dragon Tyraxes.
Calla Targaryen (his daughter) age 16.
Aegor Targaryen his brother and member of the High Council age 36 (unwed)

Chapter End Notes

Up Next, as Aemon and Rhaenys spend a night with their kin, the battle lines are drawn
and the Riverland plays host to the first shots in the Battle for Westeros. While in the
Reach a Queen of Thorns draws first blood.

A Dragon's Flames.
Chapter Summary

Aemon and Rhaenys spend a night with their kin, the battle lines are drawn and the
Riverlands plays host to the first shots in the Battle for Westeros. While in the Reach a
Queen of Thorns draws first blood.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XX.
Aerys and Rhaella.

What it was that finally broke Aerys Targaryen no one know with certainty. Some say it was
jealousy regarding his son, others say it was the birth of Prince Aemon and knowing that the
House of the Dragon now had a Dragonknight among them once more. That Aerys was
incapable, unwilling, or maybe just fearful of all that would bring. All people can say with
clarity is that in the last two years of his life, Aerys came as close as any in seeing the Empire
fall.

As for Rhaella, not since Alysanne was there an Empress more beloved or so worshipped,
and yet not one person, not even her son, knew the truth of despair of the life she lived. At
first, she had been willing to put up with Aerys's idiosyncrasies. Over time not even she was
stoic and unyielding enough to take what had started as verbal and then became emotional
and finally physical abuse. How long it went on, how no one knew, and why it took so long
for it to be noticed are questions for a wiser man than me.

Who noticed it, you may very well ask and that's a question that none can truly answer.
Whether it was Prince Aemon or his mother the Empress of the Ice it's hard to tell for sure,
but noticed it was and once it was, never did it happen again. One fateful night in 283 AC
Aerys Targaryen drew his final breath and though it was spoken of as being by natural
causes, tongues soon wagged and questions were raised. Questions that were dismissed by
Aerys granduncle Prince Aemon who denied a poison was used and whose word was
accepted by some. So a pregnant Empress buried her husband, a new High Emperor was
named and all was well in the House of the Dragon, for a while at least.

For the gods are cruel things indeed and within a year they called Rhaella to their side and
she died while birthing her only daughter Daenerys. A moon later, as the Empire mourned
the death of one beloved Empress it was then forced to do so for another. The Empress of the
Ice too dying in the birthing bed and to add to the tragedy so did the daughter she carried as
well. Years later when asked about the deaths that occurred between 283 and 284 AC, and
how he felt about the losses of a mother, grandmother, and grandfather, Prince Aemon was
heard to say.

"Two I mourn and one I curse, and I need not name which one that is."

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Highgarden 300 AC.
Olenna Tyrell.

She was furious when Margaery and Gwayne brought her the news of King Gareth's plans, so
much so that she almost lost her composure. It was only that the young prince was so
entangled in her golden rose's vines that he too was just as angry or she may have given the
game away. Instead, both his determination to be wed to Margaery and his disdain for his
father's wishes allowed her time to think and put a plan into motion. After telling both
Margaery and Gwayne that she would seek to speak to the king and that they should leave it
in her hands. Olenna then began to put that plan to work.

Too many years she'd put into making sure that the prince fell in love with her granddaughter
for her to allow the whims of a king deny her now. So she moved quickly and enlisted Mace's
help, though he was as unwitting as always in doing so. The poison was one that would never
show up or lead to her and while the timing may have been suspicious, it was out of her
hands. She made her way to the Maester's chambers and was now more than happy that she'd
befriended him all those years earlier. Olenna's family had paid for his studies and he owed
her his patronage and now it was time to collect on that debt.

Lomys never even blinked and handed her the poison as soon as she asked for it. Once she
had it she then arranged the meeting between Mace and King Gareth. It took more time to

explain exactly what it was that Mace was to say at the said meeting than it did to organize
and gather all that she needed to kill a king. Her witless buffoon of a son daring to question
her about why she was suddenly accepting that the wedding between Prince Gwayne and
Princess Myrcella was so important to the Reach. What she'd have given for him to be more
like her granddaughter and grandson but alas you dealt with what the gods gave you. How far
and how quickly could her house have risen had Mace been even a little smarter? The
thoughts had always annoyed her and they did so now again while she sighed and told him to
do as he was bid.

"Make sure to tell the King that you support his decisions, disappointed though you are that
our houses will not be joined, Mace." she said as her son left her room.
"I will Mother, you can count on me." Mace said and she at least waited until he'd left the
room before she rolled her eyes.

Then all she had to do was wait, the servant would do the rest and when it was done it didn't
take long for the word to spread around the keep. She, Mace, her grandchildren, and the
prince all reacted with the right amount of shock and sadness. Given it was only she who was
performing a mummery made it so much easier, as the less who knew the truth the better.
Olenna thought the gods themselves must have been on her side as she listed to Lomys paint
a tale that only made the death of King Gareth Gardener seem as if it had been waiting to
happen.

"I warned him about the late nights, your grace, my prince." Lomys began as Mace for once
did the right thing and opened his mouth at a convenient time.
"He was so very worried about the dragon and what moves he may make, my queen. I
believe he sought a way to ensure our safety and wouldn't rest until he had found it." Mace
said and were she not pretending to be shocked, then Olenna would have laughed.
"Indeed, many's the night he spoke to me of such." Lomys said as all eyes looked up from the
body of the king to the Maester "I believe his heart gave out my queen, I can do a more
thorough examination if you wish?"
"Do so, Maester. Though I do not suspect foul play we must be sure that his grace is safe."
the Queen said looking to her son.

A day later Lomys confirmed that the king's heart had given out, overwork and worry causing
it to simply stop beating and the death itself was quick and as painless as any death could be.
Olenna looked on proudly as Margaery comforted Gwayne in his grief. When the funeral was
held a few days later it was a far more muted affair than it would normally have been for the

death of a king. Queen Melessa both wanting it to be smaller and Prince Gwayne, at her
granddaughter's suggestion, not wishing to risk the dragon's wrath by making it look as if
they had called their banners. Olenna hadn't feared such when she'd had Margaery whisper
the words in Gwayne's ear, she just didn't wish too many of the vultures around the prince
before he'd wed her granddaughter.

The news of the wedding spread through the keep less than a week after they'd buried the
king. Despite his mother's protests and Melessa's pleas to her, all of which were denied, the
new King had done exactly what Olenna knew he would. He was to be married and crowned
on the same day., The ravens had already been sent out to all the great and good houses of the
Reach and Olenna only had days to wait until she had all she'd ever wished for.

"We should stop this folly, Olenna. You and I need to talk sense into my son." Melessa said
annoyedly to her in one last vain effort to make her take her part.
"The King wishes for what he wishes for, your grace. I'll not deny it pleases me to see my
granddaughter so happy and surely you must wish the same for your son?" she said playing
on a mother's love.
"I do, of course, I do. But we need allies in the wars to come and as strong as House Tyrell is,
as Leal as you are, a match brings us no men, Olenna, no alliance." Melessa said her worry
and frustration clear.
"Wars are not the only way to measure strength, my queen. No ally we can get will help us
should the Dragon seek to take the Reach for his own and so we must be smarter and cleverer
than that." she said and Melessa nodded her head reluctantly.

Was she not so much in grief then the queen would be a problem and in time she may indeed
prove herself one. By that time though Margaery and Gwayne would be wed and there would
be little a queen mother could do. Olenna too feared the Dragon, but she'd not give up all
she'd worked for and let the Old Lion take what was hers by right. Let others fight this damn
war, she would wait and see and then pick the opportune moment to strike or to make a deal
that kept them in power. Perhaps the Dragon would seek to do as his father had in Essos and
while a governorship was no match for a crown, it still left you with your head and unburnt.

Over the next few days, she put such thoughts out of her head as the Lords of the Reach
arrived. Mace ran the Reach, or he did to any who dared ask, while in truth it was she who
did so. Queen Melessa mourned and readied her son for what was to come. Gwayne listened
to her granddaughter's words, words she only had to put some of in Margaery's mouth, and he
prepared for life as a husband and king. While Olenna ignored the ravens that were sent from

King Tywin Lannister and smirked as she imagined the Old Lion's face when he found out
that his offer had not been accepted.

The coronation was a grand affair and yet it was dwarfed by the wedding itself. Olenna
making sure that no expense was spared for the day and as she sat a the wedding feast that
night she almost had to wipe tears from her eyes, such was her joy. Looking around the room
it was clear that those in attendance weren't best pleased by this turn of events. None were
angered enough to do anything about it, but it was to her most looked rather than to the new
King and Queen. She welcomed their looks and knew they would swear their fealty to her
granddaughter and the new king regardless.

"Growing Strong." she whispered under her breath as she sipped on her wine and smiled a
full and true smile for once.

Moat Cailin 300 AC.
Aemon.

Three times he'd had to speak softly to Torgho Nudho and tell him to let the looks and glares
go without response. His sworn shield still not happy that his uncle Brandon had not used his
title once and that some of the Northern Lords had decided to follow his lead. His other
uncles, Ned and Benjen, and his aunt Catelyn all named him as such as did their children.
The eldest of whom Princess Sansa would blush when she spoke his name while her sister
Princess Arya would slip between calling him a prince and mispronouncing Aemon,
something he actually found amusing. His two male cousins, Prince Brandon and Prince
Rickon both struggled with what to call him too and so in the end he'd told them all to just
call him cousin.

He had noticed the smile on his uncle Ned's face the first time he heard them name him as
such and he'd found him to be a far more reasonable man than his uncle Brandon was.
Though so far they'd not spoken on anything that would require more than familial courtesy.
The rooms they'd been given to stay in weren't anything special, but there was no slight in it
that he could tell. His mother had always said the North was a simpler place than any other
and it seemed that the Moat was more functional than decorative, something he much
appreciated.

"Can I see your sword?" his cousin Arya asked as they sat out in the courtyard, Aemon
finding that he preferred being outdoors than being in the keep.
"You can, but be careful, Dark Sister has a hunger for blood and I'd not see her take a
princess's." he said with a smirk that Torgho Nudho wore too.
"It's just like Ice." Arya said as she saw the ripples in the steel, Aemon knowing full well
about the ancestral sword of House Stark "Valyrian Steel, none hold an edge like it." he said
almost proudly.
"Can we see you wield it?" Rickon asked, his young cousin's blue eyes showing his
excitement at the thoughts of it.
"I only wield it against a…"
"Perhaps you'll indulge me then?" a voice called out and Aemon looked to see a true giant of
a man, almost seven feet tall and thickly muscled with his dark hair and beard showing him
as the Northmen he truly was.

He was about to deny him as he had no interest in putting on a show in this place, not even
for his cousins, then he looked up saw him on the balcony looking down. His uncle Brandon
had given this man the nod and sent him to goad him into a fight when he'd seen him remove
his sword. Were it not the innocence of his cousin's desire to see Dark Sister then he'd think
them a part of it. Knowing that a denial would lead to words spoken that Torgho Nudho
would never let pass, Aemon nodded as he rose to his feet.

"Why not, I think all those here would love to see a giant fall." he said to giggles from his
cousins.
"Or a prince." the large man replied with a smirk as he moved away.
"Are you really going to fight him?" Rickon asked excitedly and Aemon nodded.
"No, I'm going to beat him." he said to smiles from all three of his cousins.

By the time he reached the sparring yard, it was full, the entire Stark Family, more Lords than
he could name, and their men. Servants and soldiers alike all lined up to watch the upcoming
fight. Torgho Nudho asked him if he could take his place but Aemon shook his head and then
he was surprised and confused when he saw the large man pick up a blunted greatsword.

"The Greatjon and Aemon have agreed to a spar, to five or a yield and if it's a draw then I'll
name the winner." his uncle Brandon said.

Aemon looked to Torgho Nudho who looked just as confused as he was over the use of
blunted blades. Neither of them had wielded anything but live steel for almost half his life
and he'd thought this to be a fight on those terms. Handing Dark Sister to his sworn shield, he
walked over to a rack of weapons and was unsurprised to see there was no blade that matched
his own. In the end, he settled for a bastard sword and then stood face to face with the man
that he now knew was the Greatjon.

"When you're ready, Aemon." his uncle said and he knew the looks that Torgho Nudho threw
his uncle's way without needing to turn to see them.

Moving forward he ducked under the swing of the greatsword and caught the Greatjon across
the side before almost running around him and catching him on the other side as he brought
his greatsword back around in an arc. Aemon then backed away and let the larger man come
towards him, his speed enough to dodge the strikes that he didn't defect with his blunted
blade. It felt off in his hands, so unlike his own sword that had he not been made to practice
extensively with as many different weapons as there were by Ser Arthur, then he knew he'd
have lost this spar.

Arthur though had been a hard taskmaster with him, Torgho Nudho, and Aurane. While each
of them had their preferences and Dark Sister was very much his own, the Sword of the
Morning had made it very clear to them that there would be times when you needed to use
another man's blade. Battles and wars had proved that to him over the years and as he ducked
under another swing of the Greatjon's sword, he struck his legs hard and began to feel more
comfortable with the sword.

"Don't you ever stay still, boy?" the Greatjon said angrily.
"I'll be still enough when I'm dead." he said spinning out of the way of a strike and then
jumping forward and catching the Greatjon's chest with a thrust of the bastard sword.

Four to naught and the frustration was clear on the Greatjon's face. As was the smile on
Torgho Nudho's as Aemon moved in for the kill. The stone he stepped on unbalanced him
and though he managed to avoid the greatsword, he wasn't so lucky with the shoulder charge
the Greatjon caught him with. Seeing how big and strong the Greatjon was didn't do him as
much justice as feeling that power crashing into you did. That he was already unbalanced
may have made the impact even worse, but even had he not have been Aemon would have
still flown through the air and landed hard on the ground.

The bastard sword had been knocked from his hands and the Greatjon moved far more
quickly than a man of his size had a right to do. Aemon now finding himself on the ground
and dodging both the greatsword as it crashed down on him and the stomping of the man's
feet as he tried his best to do him harm. He held his hand up when Torgho Nudho made a
move and then rolled away from another strike from the greatsword. This time when the foot
came down though he didn't move fully away. Letting the Greatjon think he'd caught him,
Aemon rolled closer to the foot and then waiting for the Greatjon to bring it back up before
he slammed it down again, he gripped it with both his hands and rolled.

"Fuck." the Greatjon said as he came crashing to the ground his own sword falling from his
hands as he tried to use them to break his fall.
Aemon jumped to his feet and moved over to the Greatjon's sword which was nearer than his
own, picking it up he moved to the winded man and then held it to his neck.
"Yield." he said and the Greatjon nodded as he breathed air deeply into his winded chest.

His cousins clapped and cheered loudly, his uncles Ned and Benjen were more restrained but
both wore half-smiles and as he helped the Greatjon to his feet he was surprised to see a very
different look on the man's face. Looking to the balcony he could see his uncle was no longer
there though. He spoke briefly to the Greatjon and his son who was amusedly named the
Smalljon and then he moved to Torgho Nudho before they made their way back inside to
change clothes and make ready for the meal to come.

It wasn't quite a feast and he knew his uncle had meant him disrespect by not sitting him at
the high table, but on this occasion, he didn't mind. He sat with his cousins and found their
conversation to be far more pleasant than what the one at the high table may have been. Even
Sansa seemed to be more comfortable around him, though his cousin did frown briefly when
he told her that he and Rhaenys had been wed. That none of them knew of his sister wasn't
much of a surprise and so he decided not to speak too much on her with them. His uncle's
attitude to the news of his wedding had shown enough of how the North thought of such
things, and while none of them had dared make mention of it, their disquiet over him
marrying his sister had been made clear.

He ate, then he danced with Sansa which made her smile so very much, and when his cousins
were sent to bed, he rose to go too. What was said by his uncle as he left he didn't hear, but he
did see his other uncles grab Brandon and push him hard into his seat and so he could only
imagine that it was not good. A part of him wished to turn back and confront him to find out
exactly what it was he had said, yet a small voice in his head bid him let it go and since he

was almost certain it was his mother's voice, he did so. After a decent night's sleep, he awoke
early and decided to go for a walk, finding that his uncle Ned had decided to do likewise.

"I was going to pray in the Godswood, would you care to join me, nephew?" his uncle asked
and Aemon nodded as he followed him to a large wooded area and an imposing white tree.
"A Weirwood." he said excitedly.
"Aye, we believe the old gods see us through them." his uncle said.
"My mother told me such. She said the one in Winterfell has stood for thousands of years and
that the Godswood there is one of the most peaceful places that she'd ever known." Aemon
said remembering fondly the tales his mother would tell him as she put him to bed.
"It is." his uncle said "Your mother, was she..was she happy, nephew?" his uncle asked.
"I believe so, uncle. From what I remember of her and from the tales I've heard of her. My
father, Elia and she, loved each other with all they had. To this day both of them mourn her as
much as I, my wife, or my brother do." Aemon said sadly.
"Pray with me?" his uncle said and Aemon nodded before he then did as his uncle did.

Closing his eyes and praying to a tree which was something he had thought silly once, now
doing it instead of hearing of it being told, he very much did not. Once they were done they
walked back to the keep and this time he was led straight to his uncle's solar and found that
both Benjen and Brandon were waiting for him once he reached it. With a nod to him, his
uncle Ned then moved to sit beside his brother and this time when he was offered the seat,
Aemon sat down.

"I find myself less prone to believe that you played a role in my father's death. I'm still not
convinced mind." Brandon said and then spoke quickly when Aemon went to "But that's
more because I know you not, than because I doubt your words."
"The attack and the placing the blame on me, all of it is to bring about a war and to see us at
each other's throats. To make the North my enemy and me an enemy of the North." Aemon
said.
"You are an enemy of the North. Or do you not seek that which is not yours to take?"
Brandon said angrily.
"I do and take it I will. Be it because you hand it to me willingly or I beat you in the field and
take it then." he said with far less emotion and saw his uncle glare at him.

"Why?" his uncle Ned asked looking to him "Why do you seek a crown that's not yours to
take?"
"I'm a dragon, uncle, we take what we want. I intend to make Westeros my home and the
home of my family. To make it safe for not just my wife and myself, but for our children and
their children as well. The only way to do so is to bring it under my control, all of it. So that's
what I intend to do." Aemon said looking directly at his uncle Brandon as he did so.
"Then we have little more to speak about. The next time we meet will be across the field and
I curse you for making me a kinslayer." Brandon said rising to his feet.
"So be it. Be forewarned I intend to see those who killed my grandfather dead because it's
what my mother would wish of me and so for now I see the North, not as my enemy. Think
carefully on what you're about to do and take note of what you see. Until next we meet."
Aemon said rising to his feet.

He said his goodbyes to his cousins and had Gaelithox land outside the Moat and wait for
him and Torgho Nudho as they made their way to the dragon and to the wars to come. Again
before he reached the dragon he was called back by his uncle Ned and this time he stopped
when he was called. Aemon turning to see his uncle look at him with a look that reflected not
just his anger at his words, but some sadness too.

"Your mother would not wish to see you fight kin, nephew." his uncle said.
"And I have no wish to do so either. I am willing to see the North prosper, uncle. To see it
grows stronger than it has ever done before, but only as part of a united Westeros. I'll not seek
to fight against my kin until those responsible for my grandfather's death have paid for it, as I
said. After then it's in the fate of the gods." Aemon said.
"We will not kneel, Aemon, it's not our way." his uncle said firmly.
"All men kneel, uncle, the only question is whether it's words or a sword that brings them to
their knees." he said as he bid his goodbyes and he and Torgho climbed onto Gaelithox's back
and in the blink of an eye were flying south once more.

The Conquest of Westeros XXI.
The Rhoynish Princess and the Sun of Dorne.

Before the Doom when Valyrian Freehold was at its mightiest it looked east and sought more
lands to conquer. For more than 250 years the Rhoynish Wars raged until they were
eventually brought to an end when Prince Garin of Chroyane fell along with his city.

Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar, who had been the only one who spoke of the folly in facing the
dragons, raised ten thousand ships and filled them with every man, woman, and child that
she could gather. For years she sailed, settled, and tried to find a home until eventually she
and the remnants of her fleet made it to the shores of Dorne.

Scorned by most and considered invaders by some, they were welcomed by a young Dornish
Lord and so taken was Princess Nymeria with Lord Mors Martell and he by her, that soon
they were wed. The fleet that she'd struggled to keep together was then put to flames by
Nymeria as she declared that the Rhoynish had found a home. For nine years Nymeroa and
Mors fought side by side and sought to bring Dorne under one house's rule, their own. Then
for two more after her husband had fallen, Nymeria fought alone. Upon defeating the last of
the Dornish kings she named herself Princess Nymeria Martell the Princess of Dorne.

History oft repeats itself and now a thousand years after being driven from their home by
dragons, the line of Nymeria faced dragons once more. Pride comes before a fall and the
House of the Sun was a proud one indeed. Nymeria and her plight had been forgotten and
turned into a tale where the triumph was remembered and the failures were forgotten. The
spirit she showed was celebrated and yet the wisdom she possessed was overlooked. For the
dragons had their way with the people of the Rhoyne once before and a dragon's will is a
hard thing to withstand.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dorne 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

She truly wished that she could enjoy the night for what it was instead of spending it judging
her mother's family and taking the measure of her uncle. Oberyn she knew somewhat and her
mother had spoken often of his rashness and impulsiveness, always fondly as Rhaenys now
remembered. Doran though? Her mother's words about the Prince of Dorne were much more
guarded and Rhaenys had long thought that they were not as fond of each other as her mother
and Oberyn were.

While both tried so hard to keep their thoughts and feelings hidden, in Rhaenys's eye it was
only really Doran that did so. Something about him concerned her and she had shared those

concerns alone with Arthur where they couldn't be overheard. The knight telling her to keep
Meraxes close and to be ready to call upon the silver dragon if she needed her. His words
were no more warning than that and they caught her a little by surprise, or at least they did
until she spent more time looking closer at her uncle.

Would he dare try and take her hostage?
Would her uncle break the bonds of Guest Rights?

Doran may be her kin and he hers, but she came to take his crown from him and so perhaps
he would seek a way to bring her and Aemon to heel. It was much to ponder on and it in a
way ruined the night that she should have had. Rhaenys kept her connection with Meraxes
open and more than once over the night she'd had her dragon fly overhead and remind her
uncle that Arthur was not the only protection she'd brought. Her aunt and her cousins were of
a different sort and Rhaenys truly hoped it didn't come down to a fight for Dorne's allegiance,
simply because of them.

Ellaria had congratulated her on her wedding and said how much she wished that she,
Oberyn, and the girls could have been there. She'd offered to show her more of the sights of
Dorne when next she visited and her cousins had all asked her to come and swim with them
in the pools of the Water Gardens. Rhaenys declining for now but promising she'd do so one
day. Her youngest cousins were fascinated by the dragon and it had allowed her to at least
pretend that was the reason that Meraxes had flown and roared over all their heads more than
once. Though she knew that her uncle had taken heed of the message she had sent, or she
hoped he had at least.

"Are you now in exile too, niece?" Oberyn asked after Ellaria had taken the younger girls to
bed.
"Perhaps, Perhaps not. My Father made Aemon an offer that my husband turned down and
which I had no intention of accepting either. Yet unlike with Aemon, my absence is named as
a visit and not an exile." she said as she saw Doran listening intently.
"So Westeros is to be your home as well as his?" Oberyn asked.
"Were your own love to leave Dorne and settle somewhere else uncle, where would you be?
With your heart or parted from it?" she asked and saw the small smile on Oberyn's face,
Doran then deciding to add a question of his own.
"Yet when Aemon was exiled you stayed in Volantis, niece?" Doran asked and Rhaenys
wished to glare at him or show her anger over him bringing up something that she still felt

guilty about.
"I did and now I'm here and here to stay, uncle. Not my father, mother, the Empire, or those
in Westeros themselves will divert my husband from his path and where he walks he does so
with me by his side." Rhaenys said and caught the quick look between her two uncles.

The conversation turned once more when Ellaria came back. Rhaenys then laughing at the
tales that both she and her uncle told her of his own life, Ellaria's, their children, and even her
mother's. Some of those she'd never heard before and so she listened to them even more
eagerly. She shared some tales of her own, tales of Aegon and Daenerys, and tales of Aemon.
Those she knew brought an ever truer smile to her face and a larger frown to her uncle
Doran's.

She bid them goodnight and then Arthur refused to sleep despite her telling him to do so. He
had come to protect her and protect her was what he would do he said and not even Aemon
could have argued with him. With a small kiss to his cheek, she had bid him goodnight and as
she entered the room and saw the large empty bed it was elsewhere that she wished to be. It
took her some time to fall to sleep after she'd climbed into the bed and she found the pillow
she held tightly to herself to be no substitute for Aemon. Maybe that was the reason she woke
so early the next morning and why she dressed and broke her fast so quickly.

"We shall speak once more to my uncles before we leave, Arthur." she said after the knight
had eaten, Arthur doing so on the move and not as she had sat with her cousins.
"As you wish, Princess." Arthur said simply and though he showed no signs that the night
he'd spent outside her door had affected him in the slightest, Rhaenys promised herself that
they'd stop somewhere to allow him to rest before they flew on to join Aemon.

Her uncle kept her waiting for the meeting much longer than she liked, Rhaenys not sure if he
was trying some power play or if he'd just not expected her to rise so early. So it was nearly
noon by the time she was asked to join Doran and Oberyn in her uncle's solar. She did as
Arthur had suggested and Meraxes flew low over the Water Gardens and made her presence
known to all those there as she and Arthur walked down the corridor and past the guards. Her
dragon would remain flying in circles overhead and close enough to rain down fire if she
willed her to, just in case her uncle proved himself to be a fool.

"We're here to see my uncle." she said to the two guards and then waited a moment for the
door to be opened.

Inside she found both her uncles and the giant guard Areo who was her uncle's sworn shield.
He'd been stationed outside the room yesterday when her uncles and she had spoken and his
presence may have just been a coincidence, yet she thought not.

"Is your dragon trying to send me a message, niece?" Doran asked and Rhaenys smiled as she
took her seat.
"My dragon is eager for me to be back with her and for us to join with Aemon and his own,
uncle, as am I." she said as Doran looked to Oberyn.
"We reject your offer, niece. There is nothing you have that Dorne wishes for." her uncle said
and Rhaenys nodded.
"When the time comes and you kneel before my brother, remember that you had a chance to
gain so much because you were my kin. Think of what a united Westeros would truly mean,
uncle. What benefits it would bring to Dorne if instead of antagonistic relations with the
Kingdom of the Reach or the Storm, your relations were as friendly as those with the Empire
itself. Think on what it would mean to be kin to the queen of not one kingdom, but seven
joined as one. Then think what it means to be an enemy of that queen." Rhaenys said firmly,
her eyes never leaving her uncle's own.
"I'll accept no threats for a silly girl who's lost her mind and goes against her family." Doran
said angrily and Rhaenys laughed.
"Do you not remember my mother at all, uncle? Just like her I make no threats, no promises,
or speak no lies. I speak only the truth of things. Look to the wars to come, uncle, look and
see what a Dragonknight can truly do. When you do, when you see and as you tremble in
fear, think carefully about the moves you make. We are blood, uncle, kin. I have no wish to
spill that blood in the days to come but were I to ask it of him, Aemon would have no such
qualms, and should I wish it then Dorne will be no more." Rhaenys said as she rose from her
seat, the large guard looking to Doran as her uncle look more to Arthur than she.

She moved to the door just as Meraxes roared once more and then Rhaenys stopped and
turned to face her uncles again.

"I wish us to be joined in peace, remember that should you force me to war. Dorne may be
Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken, but it and you are not Unburnt." she said and then she and
Arthur walked out of the room.

She met none of her cousins along the way, nor did her aunt or uncle come to speak to her as
she and Arthur walked to where Meraxes had landed. No guard tried to impede their
movement or raised a spear to stop them and less than a few moments after speaking to her
uncle, Meraxes was in the air with her and Arthur on her back. Rhaenys didn't look back as
Meraxes flew over Dorne and then over the sea and it was only when they reached the
Rainwood in the Kingdom of the Storm did she even consider landing.

It would be at least another night alone before she met up with Aemon again and she felt the
need to be by her husband's side. She'd not expected her uncle to accept her offer, in truth
she'd not even gotten around to making him the one she was prepared to do. His attitude
towards Aemon had annoyed her and while it had not caused her to be more angered than she
would have liked to be, it had caused her to be far warier. With Oberyn she felt she could
have reached an accord, with Doran she was almost certain that would never be the case.
Though once the truth of Gaelithox and Aemon was known to her uncle, perhaps then they'd
think more clearly.

"Was I too harsh, Arthur?" she asked after they'd landed so that Arthur could take his rest.
"You were a Princess of the Empire, Rhaenys, your father and mother would have been
proud." Arthur said his own pride clear.
"You're wrong, Arthur." she said as she smiled at him and he looked at her confusedly "I am
no longer a Princess and the Empire is no longer my home. I'm a queen and soon Seven
Kingdoms will be just one." she said as he nodded.

Deep Den 300 AC.
Tyrion Lannister.

He had thought he'd be left behind when his father and brother marched, maybe he'd even
hoped he would have been. His father though had other ideas and so for the last three weeks,
it had been hard ground, long days in the saddle, and discomfort that he'd known. When they
finally reached Deep Den it was with a huge sigh of relief that he greeted the keep. The
thoughts of a warm bath, a soft bed, and food cooked in a kitchen rather than a camp were all
ones that brought a smile to his face.

Tyrion knew that he had it easier than most on this march, other than the horse riding that
was. His tent was far more comfortable and far more stocked than those of the common
soldier and his food and wine of a far better fare too. The truth though was he was not made

for traveling in such a way. Inns and taverns, rides that were far shorter and far less hurried
and a whore or two to keep him warm in his bed at night, that was far more his style. With his
father leading this march there'd be little of the former and none of the latter. Whores not
being something that Tywin Lannister ever allowed in his camp.

"I know it was in there somewhere." Jaime said as he rode up beside him.
"What?" he asked confusedly.
"A smile, I believe that's the first one I've seen you wear since we left the Rock." Jaime said
his own smile beaming as he still reveled in this march to war.
"Perhaps that's because I wished to remain at the Rock. I had hoped to help Jason even if it
would have meant sharing Cersei's company." Tyrion said his nose wrinkling as he mentioned
his sister.
"I had hoped so too." Jaime said, his words spoken in a tone that he didn't recognize "His
mother will help as will Genna, but he's so young to be given such a responsibility and I'd
have wished his favorite uncle there to offer him the wisdom he doesn't possess." Jaime said
and Tyrion felt a little proud before laughing.
"I'm his only uncle." he said laughing still.
"Still his favorite though." Jaime said slapping him softly on the back.

His father had left Jason as the acting King of the Rock, his nephew was the heir of the heir,
and Tyrion felt he was well suited to the task. Which was more than he could say for the
nephew that he'd brought with them. Joffrey was a sadistic little shit and Tyrion feared for
any prisoners that fell under his nephew's purview. Men, women, or children it would matter
not and he often wondered if it made the little cunt's cock hard when he inflicted pain.

Tommen thank the gods had been left behind with Jason too, his other nephew was to help
Kevan's boys see that Lannisport stayed secure. Not that he was needed or that he'd be in any
position to protect the city should the dragon look their way. It was that which had bothered
Tyrion the most on this long ride, the idea that they really shouldn't be making it. He knew
once Prince Aemon had done what he had and sent that raven that his father wouldn't or
couldn't allow it to stand. What he'd not expected though was this, a march to war against a
man with a dragon at his beck and call.

Tyrion knew his father's plan and if it worked it would be a masterstroke. In one single move,
they'd see the North, Riverlands, and Iron Born break themselves against each other with the
dragon more than likely ending them all. The Stormlands would pull on the dragon's tail and

the Reach would then join with them and between them break the dragon at Maidenpool. On
parchment, it would be a thing of beauty, but as the long days in the saddle had already
shown him, wars were not fought on parchment, and as the night ahead soon proved, the gods
laughed when men made plans.

They'd not been settled in the keep long when he was called to a meeting of his father's
council. Or to be more precise, he, Jaime and his uncles, and his father would speak before
then presenting his plans to his lords. Immediately upon arriving in Lord Lydden's solar he
knew this would not be a pleasant meeting. His father was a man who guarded his emotions
as securely as he did the gold that came from their mines, yet if you knew where to look he
could be easy to read. A narrowing of the eyes, a small flaring of the nostrils, a stance that
was more stiff than usual, and a look of fire in his eyes that sent a shiver down any who dared
to stare too long.

"The stag has marched." his father began and Tyrion shook his head when Kevan didn't
notice the tone in which he said it, his uncle thought it a good thing when his father clearly
did not.
"Then all is working according to plan, the Reach?" Kevan asked and again Tyrion saw the
narrowing of the eyes and the fire in them burn a little more fiercely.
"The Stag marched to the Riverlands and not to Dragonstone." his father said "As for the
Reach, King Gareth is dead and his son is to wed the steward's daughter." the disdain clear in
his father's voice
"They dare deny my grandniece…" Kevan said angrily before stopping when Tywin looked
to him, Tyrion looking from ihs uncle to his father and to his brother too
"They deny me nothing and have sown the seeds for their fall this day." his father said angrily
"As for the Stag while this is a foolish move, it's not without its benefits too."

Tyrion sat and listened to his father's plans and though he didn't agree with all that was said,
it was not his place to argue with the King of the Rock and so he kept his mouth shut. When
the meeting was brought to an end, an even larger one was then held in the Great Hall. His
father sitting in Lord Lydden's own seat and Tyrion wagered that the Lord of Deep Den had
never managed to cut as much of an imposing figure as his father now did.

There were no questions, no pushback, the lords simply accepted his father's will and it took
a few moments for Tyrion to realize that they knew so very little about what it was they
marched against. An army of small stature that would be engaged in battles with numerous
foes, weakened, battered, and there for the taking. That's how Tywin Lannister presented

Aemon Targaryen to them, dismissing both his dragon and his reputation as myths and lies
spread to make the Targaryen Empire seem stronger than it was. The dragon was no true
threat and would more than likely be dead before they ever needed to face it, and while the
prince's men may be blooded in war they were few and would be no match for their heavy
cavalry.

Was he a fool then he may have even believed his father's words himself, he was not and so
he did not. While it was true that the prince had smaller numbers than any of those he would
fight against, there was still the potential for him to ally with someone despite what his father
may think. As for the dragon, Tyrion had seen it and he wasn't sure if there was a thing in the
known world that could take it from the sky. What bothered him most though was that
already on this march it had been made clear that his father's plans were not infallible. So far
that had cost them nothing, against the dragon the chances of them getting off so cheaply
were not so good.

"You're back to frowning." Jaime said to him the next day as they left Deep Den behind.
"I have much to frown about." he said and Jaime looked at him curiously "You doubt father's
plans?" his brother asked.
"No, I just think we should not dismiss the Dragonknight so lightly." Tyrion said looking at
his brother.
"I'm not, I just wish to test my blade against his own." Jaime said excitedly and Tyrion loved
his brother too much to tell him that he hoped and prayed he would not.

Riverlands 300 AC.
King Qhored Hoare.

He was helped into his armor, the heavy plate taking two servants to lift it and tie it to him.
Leaning against the wall was his large double-sided ax. Its long steel shaft ran more than five
feet and the two blades which were each almost a foot wide would see much blood before he
was done. Once he was ready, he moved to the looking glass and the man that looked back at
him was one that he hoped would strike fear in the hearts of Northmen and Riverlanders
alike.

Standing at almost six and a half feet tall and firmly muscled, there were few men as
imposing-looking as Qhored Hoare. His long dark hair fell over one of his eyes and covered
both the scar that ran from brow to cheek and the dead whiteness of the eye that he could no

longer see out of. The other eye was a deep blue, the color of the sea on a sunny day. Though
just like the sea it too could grow dark at a moment's notice. With a nod, he turned and picked
up his helm and ax before walking from the room. It took him some time to reach the Hall of
a Hundred Hearths and the noise coming out of it was already almost deafening.

"The King." someone shouted as he entered the hall and the voices quietened, or it did as
much as a room full of Ironborn could ever quieten.

He moved to the raised dais where his war council was already convened. Victarion Greyjoy
sat next to his own seat and he was wearing his own heavy plate. Alongside Victarion sat
Rodrik Harlaw the Reader, Gorold Goodbrother, Sawane Botley, and Dunstan Drumm. While
in the lower seats sat some of the lesser lords along with Balon Greyjoy who looked at his
brother in envy and his brother Euron, who perhaps only the Drowned God would be able to
give a name to the look that he wore on his face. The man was mad and dangerous, but he
was his mad and dangerous man and he'd be needed in the days to come. Further down sat
the sons and heirs and just looking at Theon made him wish to grab his ax and gut the boy.
For a boy he was, as no man would have come back to his keep without a mark on him after
what had happened between the Blackfish and his son.

"The Northmen march and are soon to reach the Moat and can be allowed to march no further
than that." Qhored said looking to Dunstan and Sawane "So it to you both that I entrust this
task." he said to nods.

He didn't need to look to see Balon was glaring at him angrily, he'd already been removed
from his inner circle given what his son had failed to do and now he was being passed over
once again. Qhored found he cared not about the man's hurt feelings. His worries for his son
and heir and Yara's tears more pressing on his mind than Balon's wounded pride. Long
overdue had it been for him to put the man who sought his crown in place, and so if there was
one blessing that came from the Drowned God, it was that this had allowed for that.

"Victarion and Gorold will take the left and right flanks and I'll lead the Vanguard myself. We
crush the traitorous Tully's and their allies, break the North when they try to march to their
aid, and when we're done, we'll then pay the Old Lion a visit." he said angrily.

Allying with Tywin Lannister had been a mistake, he could see that now. Oh, Rickard Stark
had needed to die and he was glad he'd been killed and that he'd played his part in it. It was
knowing now that the Old Lion had used him and had no intent to do what he had said he

would that angered him so. Even had that not led to Harren being held prisoner he'd still have
sought revenge. Thoughts that it may cost him his son and heir were enough to demand it of
him. He'd see Lannisport in flames before the year was done, he'd vowed it to the Drowned
God, sworn it to his wife and daughter, and it was a promise that he'd do all in his power to
keep.

"What of the dragon?" Balon said and Qhored turned to glare at the man, his weasely voice
annoying him evermore since Theon had ridden into Harrenhal without his son by his side.
"Reader?" he asked turning to Rodrik.
"The dragon and his kin are not on friendly terms. The Wolf who looked South never forgave
the dragon's mother for not accepting his match and for running into the arms of a dragon and
has the dragon visited the North once in all his time on Dragonstone?" the Reader said to
shakes of people's head "Ask yourself why that is? And then worry not for the dragon seeks
no part in our affairs." the Reader added and Qhored rose to his feet.
"They took my son and so we'll take their blood. I want all of them dead, not one fucking
trout is to be left alive by the time we're done. The man who brings me the Blackfish will be
the new Lord of Riverrun. But he had better bring me him alive, for his life is mine and mine
alone to take. What is dead may never die." he said his anger and determination clear to all.
"But rises again, harder and stronger." the shout rang around the hall.

He left the hall after a nod to Victarion and made his way to his wife's chambers, where he
found both her and Gwynesse laying in the large bed. His daughter was asleep and being held
in her mother's arms, Yara speaking softly to her as she stroked her hair. When she saw him,
his wife bid him remain quiet and carefully climbed from the bed, Gwynesse making a small
moan as she did so.

"You march? His wife asked and he nodded "See to it that you return my son to me
unharmed, husband, lest your own return be not welcomed."
"I'll bring our son home safely. I swear it on the Drowned God." he said and she looked at
him for the first time with concern before she kissed his cheek and then moved back to the
bed.
Later as he rode out from Harrenhal leading an army of more than 15,000 men, 5,000 others
had already set off for the Neck to face off against the Northmen, he looked to the window of
Nagga's tower to see both his wife and daughter standing there watching. With a small nod,
he turned his head and focussed on the task to come.

The Trident 300 AC.
Aurane.

Watching as the ships were unloaded he was as always amazed by the speed of such things.
When he sailed with his own crew they'd take longer to all leave then ship it than it took
these men to do while carrying armor and leading their horses. In less than a day all their men
had been unloaded, as had all of their supplies and all their horses and by the next morning,
they were on the march. Or he and Thoros were as Daario had left the night before to meet up
with the Second Sons.

He found he liked these lands somewhat, the greenness of them and the trees and forests that
were so unlike those of Essos. There was something more welcoming about them than the
dark Forest of Qohor or the Great Grass Sea. It was a funny thought to have considering they
were anything but welcome here. They set up camp that night, posted their sentries and
Aurane spoke to Hareo who led the Unsullied in Torgho Nudho's absence. As always with the
Unsullied, they had no issues, no concerns, and just wished to be pointed in the direction of
the men they would fight against.

It was a stark contrast to how the men of the Flames of the Dragon spoke. Aurane listening as
they groused about the lands, the food, the weather, and other than the excitement they felt at
the fight to come, everything else he asked them about. They didn't mean it, he knew that and
Thoros confirmed it when he sat down beside him by the fire. The red priest offering him a
swallow from his pouch and Aurane coughing and spluttering once he'd drank some of the
vile liquid to contained.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked and Thoros laughed.
"Mine own concoction, some Dornish Sour, some of that sweet wine from the Arbor, a little
bit of peach brandy, and some of that fine Northern Ale. You place it all in a barrel, seal the
top and shake it until you lose your breath. This is what you get" Thoros said smiling as he
took a big swallow from the pouch and unlike Aurane, never coughed once.
"You can fucking keep it." Aurane said with a laugh.
"I intend to." Thoros said making him laugh louder.
"The men?" he asked and Thoros looked at him seriously.
"Always like to moan before they fight, it makes them feel good. My boys are ready." Thoros
said proudly.

"Daario?" he asked and Thoros nodded.
"Will clear the path and then our prince will open the gates and let us stroll right through."
Thoros said with no hint of doubt.
"You think it'll be that easy?" he asked and Thoros laughed.
"A man can always hope can he not? Besides, it's better when it's hard." Thoros said and
Aurane wasn't sure that he agreed.

They reached the crossroads the next morning as they marched to their destination he looked
high to the sky and smiled upon seeing Aemon and Gaelithox above them. It gave them all
comfort to see their prince and when he flew on ahead of them it added impetus to their
march. Even when they didn't see him the next morning it caused no concern. As Aurane and
those with him knew that there was no danger at their rear and that any in front would have
faced Gaelithox by now. It wasn't Daario himself but Lucearon who arrived and told them all
they needed to know and both Aurane and Thoros were glad to hear it had gone so well.

He woke the next morning to find that Aemon and Torgho Nudho had arrived in the camp,
Aurane pleased to see both of them safe and well. While Torgho Nudho went to the Unsullied
to ready them for the battle to come, Aemon took both he and Thoros to one side. Aurane
glad to see that his brother by choice seemed unperturbed by whatever had happened with the
North.

"Rhaenys?" Aemon asked and Aurane shook his head.
"How went the North, my prince?" Thoros asked.
"My kin are proud fools, Thoros. They seek to keep what they have and don't see what it is
they could have. In time one of those things may change and they may be less prideful or
wisen up. What we do here will change some minds, perhaps even theirs." Aemon said with
no hint of regret and with his usual determination.
"You think the princess will face the same with her kin, my prince?" Thoros said and Aurane
saw the small smirk on Aemon's face.
"Rhaenys is far more persuasive than I." Aemon said and while Aurane may have agreed in
some respects, he doubted it in this one.
"You'll fly?" he asked and Aemon moved to him, slapping his hand on his back.
"I will, we're clear to there and I need them to deny you first." Aemon said.
"They'll deny all the like, we'll pass regardless." Aurane said.

"That we will." Aemon said with a nod before he then walked over to speak to the men,
leaving Thoros and him to make ready for the final part of their march.

Riding through the pass he looked to the men arranged on either side of the ridges that
overlooked him. He smiled when he saw Daario wink from under the helm he wore, his blue
beard unseen somehow. Ahead of him lay the two parapets that were cut into the stone and
which were joined by the stone bridge that was covered and fortified. The pass itself was
narrow and he could see why it had never been taken before. Any who tried were marching
into a death trap or would be, had they not a dragon to call upon.

"Who seeks to pass the Bloody Gate, a voice called out." and Aurane rode a little forward, his
dark silver armor was embossed with the green seahorse of his house on his chest and the
shield on his horse's side would name him for who he was even if the armor could not be
seen.
"Aurane Velaryon, Commander of the Sea Snakes and second to Prince Aemon Targaryen.
We call upon the Knight of the Bloody Gate to lay down his arms and offer him and those
men inside the chance to breathe another day." he said to a laugh from the man.
"You can take your offer and shove it up your arse, you and your fucking prince." the man
shouted back.
"A brave thing to say from a man in cover. So be it, you've had our terms. When you get to
the hell you're soon to find yourself in, tell them it was Aurane Velaryon that sent you there."
he said as he moved the horse forward.

The arrow came and he laughed when it missed and when the order to fire went unanswered
by the men on the ridge. Daario had done his job in taking care of the men on the ridges, as
had Lord Grafton when he'd allowed the Second Sons passage through Gulltown and gave
them a detailed map of the road to the Bloody Gate. Aurane had suggested they land in the
town itself and march from there bypassing the Bloody Gate itself. but his prince had a
different idea. A better one and as he heard the roar and looked to the sky, he awaited the
flames to come.

The Conquest of Westeros XIX.
The Blackfyre Rebellion part I.

Born to Princess Daena, Prince Daemon was all that a prince should be. Smart, funny, witty,
and a demon with a sword in his hand. Perhaps it was that which led to the rivalry with

Bloodraven the False Dragonknight or perhaps it was something else. Their rivalry was onesided though and not even the gift of Blackfyre from his father Emperor Aegon the Unworthy
had made Prince Daemon think more of himself than he was. He was not to be Emperor, that
was to be Prince Daeron and so he resolved to be all that he could.

Dragonless, he applied himself on the field and studied warfare with a zeal that none could
match. In the yard, he beat all comers including Bloodraven which caused a stir and perhaps
should have made more eyes look at the lie the false Dragonknight was perpetrating. Yet for
their father, it only proved that he had a son who was a Dragonknight and another who could
beat him. What finally set the brothers against each other for true was their falling out over
another of their half brothers. Daemon standing as a champion for his half-brother Aegor
who had been named a murderer and who loudly proclaimed his innocence.

To no one's great surprise Daemon emerged victoriously and Aegor was cleared and then the
truth of why and who had named him as a murderer was revealed, to Daemon at least. A
quarrel over a half-sister's affections, a loud comment naming Daemon as the best sword in
the Empire and within days Aegor had found himself in bed with a woman he'd not known
and certainly hadn't killed. Finding their father to be an unwilling ear and with their brother
Prince Daeron in Lys, Daemon confronted Bloodraven and in the ensuing fight was forced to
run as arrows rained down upon him from men hidden in the darkness.

Fearing for his family's safety and knowing that he'd find no comfort or assurances from his
father, he and his half-brother did the only thing they could. Daemon, Aegor, and their
families readied to sail to Lys to speak to their brother and seek his help. To their dismay,
Bloodraven found comfort in their father where they did not and as they set sail they did so
after being named traitors. With Lys now lost to them, it was further east they were forced to
flee while Bloodraven told yet more tales and untruths.

The Bloody Gate 300 AC.
Aemon.

He had left the North in better spirits than he'd expected considering that they'd rejected his
offer. Perhaps it was meeting his mother's family, his uncles, cousins, and his aunt and
knowing that he had other cousins still to meet. Or maybe it was knowing more now than he
had then and realizing the nature of the game that was being played in these lands. The
simplicity and stupidity of it was something that he found laughable and he wondered how
long any of these people would have lasted in his father's court.

Had they accepted him then he'd have changed his plans, marched on the Hoares, and
brought them down for daring to kill his kin. Had he still believed it was them who'd done so
then he'd have perhaps marched their way regardless. He knew now though that while they
had played their part in his grandfather's death, others had played a bigger part and though he
couldn't prove it, he knew in his bones who the culprit was. In time he'd deal with the Old
Lion and he'd do so on his terms, but for now he had other things to do.

The North would march against the Hoares and the Riverlanders would march and spilt
between them. Baratheon sought to bend him over and fuck him from behind and his raven to
him about his brother would only fuel his rage. The Old Lion he wasn't entirely certain off
but he would perhaps seek to do what Aemon himself was. To take the winners off the board
when they were bloodied, to wait until the fight to come before joining in. If that was his plan
then Aemon couldn't fault it, for it had been his own too. Firstly though he needed to bring
more men to bear and to do that he needed to take the Knights of the Vale and make them his.

"My prince." Torgho Nudho said taking him from his thoughts as they flew over the Neck
"Men march."

He looked down to see the Ironborn march towards the Neck and saw then what it was they
intended to do. Taking the Neck was hard, difficult, and with a force that was based at Moat
Cailin it was probably impossible. Its strength could be its weakness too however and the
Ironborn sought to make that so. If the North couldn't bring its full force to bear then they
would remain trapped behind the Moat, and the simple truth was that here in the Neck they
couldn't bring their full force to bear.

"Dracarys." he said bringing the Blood Wyrm in low, the flames catching the men and horses
at the front of the line by surprise "Dracarys." he said again sealing off the retreat.

Three times more he let loose the Blood Wyrm's flames and Gaelithox as always didn't
disappoint. How many men they'd burned today he didn't know but he cared not. What he'd
done would send a message to his stubborn uncles and would help the North out too. Added
to what he was about to do it would bring men to his side before the week was done. With a
last look at the carnage he'd left behind they headed for the Vale and the Bloody Gate.

He didn't stop when he saw his army march, instead flying ahead of them to get the lay of the
land. The small fire on the mountain ridge letting him know that Daario and the Second Sons
had been successful in their task and this allowed him to fly over more of the Vale. Over the
Bloody Gate, The Gates of the Moon, and the Eyrie itself they flew. High and unseen by
those below though Aemon saw all that he needed to.

After leaving Torgho Nudho to lead his men and speaking to Aurane and Thoros, it was back
to the sky he went. Once more his flames would be needed and once more Gaelithox
wouldn't let him down. He felt her then or to be more precise it was Meraxes that was felt and
Gaelithox and not he who felt her. She was close, not close enough but close, and would
arrive not long after he had done what he intended. A part of him wished her not to see it, or
to see it as it was being done and not its aftermath.

The Blood Wyrm's flames in action were a sight to behold, but what they left behind was
only made for strong stomachs. Rhaenys had heard him tell many a tale and he'd not held
back in their telling. There was a difference in hearing a thing and in seeing it though, and he
hoped she understood the need for what he was about to do. Looking down as his army
reached the Bloody Gate and as Aurane rode forward, he readied for the destruction to come.
When the arrow flew so did he and the Blood Wyrm roared loudly.

"Dracarys." he said and watched as the stone began to melt and the men began to burn.

Chapter End Notes

Up next a split in the Vale offers Aemon an opportunity as he and Rhaenys march
through its lands. The North sees the evidence of what a Dragon can do as they march
through the Neck and as the battle grows closer a rash action changes the game.

Don't Fear the Blood Wyrm.
Chapter Summary

A split in the Vale offers Aemon an opportunity as he and Rhaenys march through its
lands. The North sees the evidence of what a Dragon can do as they march through the
Neck and as the battle grows closer a rash action changes the game.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros XXIII.
High Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen.

The High Emperor was a mercurial man, to say the least. A man who did things that no other
High Emperor had ever even thought to do. Such as marrying women from Westeros and not
Essos, and inviting members of the Faith of the Seven to his court and to the Empire in
general. He faced down opposition to his edicts and his will and as High Emperor he brought
more land and subjects to the Empire than his three predecessors combined.

Not only did he do this by knowing when and where to send the Dragonknight to bend people
to the Empire's will or to bring them back in line. He also knew far better than most how to
use the threat of unleashing the Dragonknight upon those he sought to reach an agreement
with. The use of force was a last resort, a threat to be held in reserve and though unafraid to
use that force, at times it was far more effective to use the threat itself.

A learned man, a wise man, a man of culture and of varied interests, the High Emperor was a
man who few truly knew and even fewer understood. What had truly made him risk the
Empire's security and its hopes for expansion when he exiled the Dragonknight, only the
High Emperor himself could speak on. Whether he knew what such an act would bring about,
only Rhaegar himself could say. The fate of millions was changed by one single decision
though and whether it was a risk or not, evidently the rewards were very much worth it.

A history of the conquest of Westeros,

Marwyn the Mage.

The Bloody Gate 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

She smelt them before she arrived, the odor of burned bodies was in the air, and even before
she saw the smoke she knew. When she did see the plumes of smoke rising in the sky it was
to Aemon her thoughts turned, to him and him alone. Rhaenys knew that he'd not been
harmed, had he been so then Meraxes would have felt it through her bond with Gaelithox and
the silver dragon would have flown ever more quickly to get here. It wasn't his physical wellbeing that she was worried about, but his emotional one.

Her husband had fought in countless battles and he'd always waved off her concerns about
the toll they took. She had never believed him though and had seen it in his eyes from time to
time. Never before had she been so close to him when it had just happened and when he'd
only just unleashed the Blood Wyrm's flames. So when they flew over the remnants of what
looked like a keep and she saw the true extent of what a dragon could do, her eyes sought and
found Aemon and Meraxes then brought her to where he and Gaelithox were.

He wore a smile on his face when he greeted her, Rhaenys climbed down quickly from
Meraxes back and almost ran over to him. Such was her need to hold him in her arms that she
completely forgot about Arthur and never even noticed Aurane standing off to one side. That
it had also allowed her to ignore the sounds of some men who'd not died immediately and
who were crying out in pain, was something she was grateful for later that day. For now, all
she cared about was Aemon and her eyes roamed over each and every inch of him just to be
certain that he was truly unhurt.

"Aems." she said as he took her in his arms, her words soon silenced by the kiss he gave her.
"It's good to see you safe." they both said at the same time when Aemon stopped kissing her
and instead looked deeply into her eyes.
"Were there any…Did you lose any?" she asked worriedly, knowing how much his men
meant to him.
"No, we never truly engaged with them other than Daario and the Second Sons, the fight was
just the Blood Wyrm and I." Aemon said and she saw some worry in his eyes, some doubts
that maybe she'd think badly of him for what he'd done here.

"Good." she said firmly and then his doubt was soon completely gone.
"All went well with you?" he asked and though she didn't answer, she really didn't have to so
well did he knew her.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder as Arthur made
his way over to them. Aurane joining them as the two dragons had their own reunion and
then Meraxes lay down to rest while Gaelithox took to the sky.

"He's going for food for her, I think my dragon is trying to tell me that I've been a most
ungracious host. Arthur, you'll join us?" Aemon asked with a smirk on his face and Arthur
nodded.

Taking her hand in his, Aemon led them further away from the dragon's lair and past far more
bodies than she had ever seen before. The smell was truly hitting her now and she was
relieved when she found that their camp was some distance from the fiery ruin they'd left
behind. Seeing what looked to be onions hanging from poles around the camp, she looked
closer to see that it was both onions and garlic and they had been cut open before being
placed there.

"For the smell." Aemon whispered as they reached a large open fire that had some pots of
food being cooked over it.
"I can't smell it." she said a few moments later when she breathed in deeply.
"It covers up the smell of the fire, in a few hours not even the dead will smell, but for now we
use this. Aemon said picking up a clove of garlic.

Perhaps it should disturb her that he'd found a way to mask the smell of burning flesh. Maybe
she should feel something about the fact that he'd clearly been around it so often that he'd
found the need to. Instead, it was the looks on Aemon's men's faces, the way they were able
to eat their fill which they'd not have been able if they'd had that awful smell surrounding
them. It was that she concentrated on and she knew that her husband had found this solution
not for him, but for them.

"Eat." Aemon said handing her a bowl of stew and a large chunk of bread.
"Aems, I'm not…"

"Eat." he said as he kissed her cheek.

She may have been about to tell him that she wasn't hungry, but the way she ate the stew and
bread and washed it down with a mug of sweetened summer wine would have named her a
liar. Aemon didn't eat and she called him out on it only for Aurane to tell her that he never
did. That he'd not do so until the next day as he felt it wrong to eat on the same day that he'd
killed men who'd now eat no more. Her husband's brother by choice telling her this after
Aemon said he wasn't hungry and moved away from her to make sure that all those who sat
with them had eaten their share.

"I need to speak to the prisoners, we'll speak when I get back." Aemon said kissing her cheek
once more before he and Torgho Nudho moved from the fire and walked towards the back of
the camp.
"He has a routine, princess. His own way of dealing with all he's done" Thoros said as he
took a seat across from her.
"Does he think what he's done was wrong?" she asked worriedly, not wishing for him to carry
such doubts alone.
"No. He takes no pleasure in ending life though, no comfort in what he and the Blood Wyrm
do. It's a means to an end, a necessary thing, and the only part of it that brings him any joy is
knowing that by doing so he protects those who fight for him." Aurane said looking at her.
"Does he seem sad to you?" she asked softly and Aurane shook his head.
"Far from it. Trust me, princess, this is not about sadness, it's just what he needs to do."
Aurane said and she looked to Arthur who nodded his head to show her that he agreed.

It was decided they'd not march that day, Aemon coming back and telling them that the
prisoners had refused to bend the knee, but they'd only refused because of their families. She
worried that would mean they'd lose their lives, only for Aemon to tell her that instead they'd
be used as hostages to bring their families to their side. That one or two of those who
survived were from some of the most prominent families in the Vale. The Knight of the
Bloody Gate being a Waynwood and one of the others being a Hunter.

"Come with me." Aemon said as night began to fall, Rhaenys following him eagerly to their
tent "God's I missed you." he said kissing her once they reached it.
"I missed you too." she said as he began to undress her.

They'd not spoken about her visit to Dorne and he'd not even asked her how it had gone.
Other than making sure she was well, he'd not truly spoken to her on anything of import. As
she felt his lips on the back of her neck and her dress fall to the ground, it was clear there
would be no talking now either. Rhaenys finding herself more than pleased with this and soon
to be even more pleased as Aemon's tongue and fingers began to do their wicked work.

It was only as they lay together afterward that they spoke about each of their respective
journeys. Rhaenys listening as Aemon told her that at first, his mother's family had blamed
him for his grandfather's murder, and then once they'd realized he'd not been involved, they'd
welcomed him somewhat. Though just as with Dorne, the North hadn't knelt or named
themselves an ally and would need to be brought to their knees rather than kneel willingly.

"You liked your cousins?" she asked as she rested her head on his chest.
"As much as I could with only knowing them a night. The two boys were young, but the
youngest one is a fierce little thing and though the older is quieter, there is a resolve there I
think." Aemon said.
"And the girls?" she asked curiously.
"Arya is much like my mother's journals spoke of herself, a true Northern woman. Sansa is
perhaps more suited to court, she reminded me somewhat of Dany." Aemon said a smile on
his face "Your own?"
"Arianne, Quentyn, and Trystane I spent too little time with. My cousins that I'd not met
before were much like the ones I had. I believe that Oberyn's daughters could perhaps belong
to no other man than he." she said with a chuckle as she remembered Dorea and Loreza
mimicking their older sisters.
"And Doran?" he asked.
"My uncle is much like my mother spoke to me about. Much like your own, perhaps." she
said as she turned to look at him.
"Brandon is a fool and he's too prone to outbursts to be the one in charge. Ned is more
agreeable, oh he's a proud and stubborn man too, but we can't hold that against him." Aemon
said and she giggled before she answered.
"No we cannot, after all we're not hypocrites." she said before shrieking as he rolled on top of
her and began to tickle her.
"I am not proud and stubborn, I'm determined, focussed, and resolute." he said ticking her
and kissing her cheek each time he spoke.
"Aems…Aems…" she said pushing him away as she tried to catch her breath and stop herself
from laughing too much.

He let her calm down and then poured her a mug of water which she drank gratefully before
laying her head back down onto his chest.

"How do we bring them to our side?" she asked curiously.
"The same way we bring them all to our side. They see what we can do and they kneel, or
else we do what we do and that brings them to their knees." Aemon said and she nodded.

When she woke the next morning he told her what he'd done as he left the North and the
message he'd left behind. Aemon for the first time looking and sounding as if he had some
real doubts in himself and his actions and it took her a moment to realize that the reason for
those doubts was her.

"Would those men have caused trouble for your family in the North?" she asked and he
nodded "And for us?" she asked and he nodded again "Then you did what was needed. You
knew it was the right thing to do, didn't you?"
"I knew. Just as I knew with the Bloody Gate. They need to learn, to see and though I'll not
hold back and show them firsthand if need be, they're still my mother's kin. Better they kneel
before they face me than after they do." Aemon said looking at her and she moved closer to
him so that she could kiss his lips.
"It matters not in the end, though does it?" she asked and he smirked.
"No, either way, they'll end up on their knees." Aemon said determinedly.

Stoney Sept 300 AC.
Robert Baratheon.

The girl was damned god and he lay back in the bed while her mouth did the work. He'd
spent so many times in her already that were he to give her a silver stag for each of them,
then she'd be as rich as the Lannister's, he thought with a laugh. Robert had been sure he not
be able to rise again, that he was done and finally he'd been sated. So sure was he that when
the girl had suggested she could not only make him rise but get him to release his seed once
more, he'd promised her a golden stag if she could do so.

"By the gods, girl, you've got a mouth on you." he said as he felt himself grow closer "By the
gods…."

He looked down between his legs and breathed heavily. All he could see of the girl was her
blond hair and deep green eyes and he watched as her mouth worked the last of his seed from
his now flaccid cock. She stood up and opened her mouth and he laughed loudly as he
reached over to his coin purse. The golden stag soon flying through the hair and he laughed
once again as she swallowed his seed and caught the coin at almost the same time. Should he
pass back this way after he ended the dragon, then he'd see she was brought back to Storm's
End. A girl this talented was wasted here.

"Go, you've done your king a fine service this night." he said as she ran from the room and he
stood up and moved to the privy to empty his bladder.

Outside in the tents where he'd chosen to stay, he knew his brother would be grinding his
teeth just at the thoughts of what he had been doing in this brothel. He'd listened to him
gainsay him enough about this march already and so when they'd reached the town he'd no
longer been willing to listen anymore. They were marching to battle, the chance for death
was higher than it had ever been and Stannis would still deny him what little comforts he
could find. His brother didn't understand that when you stood on the very edge of the world
and looked over, then and only then were you truly alive.

A fight, a true fight against a worthy foe, gods how he'd longed for such a thing all his life.
The entirety of Westeros had marched their way to the Riverlands. Well, all but those
cowardly Reach fuckers and the Dornish cunts, he thought with a laugh as he made his way
back to the bed. The wolves, gods he fucking hated those fucks as much as he hated the
dragons. It had been that stupid fucker Rickard Stark who'd made the suggestion that had led
to his shame. Robert smirking as he spat on the ground and wished that it had been his
hammer that had brought about the man's end.

The wolves marched, as did the fucking Reavers, the Iron Born though should stick to the
waves for on land they'd be as useless as a cock on a whore. Even the Old Lion had stirred
from beneath his Rock and Robert wished he could have seen his face when he found out that
he'd pissed all over his plans. It was the dragon though, the dragon who he wished to face and
whose bones he'd soon grind to dust. Bad enough that he was who he was, but he had dared
to threaten him, him, Robert Baratheon the Storm King.

"I'll fucking kill you boy, I'll kill you for daring to do what you've done."
"Renly, Renly.."
"Threaten me, me, dare tell me what to do."
"No one tells me what to do, no one…"

His words were spoken in anger and in worry for his brother and the chair then crashed
against the wall, the table soon following, the mugs and glasses all ending up smashed
against the floor. Even the bed itself was broken as he brought his hammer down upon it. No
one entered and no one dared to try and stop him as he thrashed the room. He held the jug in
his hand and drank it down, feeling the wine as it rolled down from his mouth and over his
chest. His breathing soon calming as did his temper as he finally wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand.

Renly had been taken by the dragon and was being held his prisoner. The damn fool had
gotten himself kidnapped and taken hostage, his guards dead, and his own life now at risk.
Stannis had wished for him to do as the dragon suggested. His brother had been telling him to
do that even before the Old Lion had made his own suggestion. All of these people telling
him what to do as if they had the right to do so. Were it not for knowing how Stannis felt
about Renly, he'd have perhaps questioned his brother's motives or courage. As it was he at
least knew that Stannis was true to their house above all.

Stay in Storm's End and leave the Riverlands to its fate. That was what the dragon had
demanded of him for his brother's safety. Don't march and don't take part in the war to come
and he'd get Renly back, do either and he'd get him back piece by piece. Were he a different
man then maybe it would have worked, was he a lesser man then maybe he'd have given in to
the threat to his brother's life. If it had been a different enemy other than the dragon then
perhaps he'd have left it to Stannis to bring Renly home safe. Had there not been a war just
waiting to happen, then perhaps it would be at Storm's End and not the Stoney Sept that he'd
spent the night rutting between some young girl's legs.

None of those things were true though, he was not a lesser man and it was not an enemy other
than the dragon. Robert dressed and picked up his coin purse and his hammer and moved to
the door. Outside Ser Barristan stood and with a nod to the knight, he made his way to the
door. He threw the coin purse on the table in front of the owner and with a last fond look to
the girl who'd brought him so much pleasure the night before, he left the brothel vowing to
return.

"How long until Harrenhal?" he asked Ser Barristan as they walked through the town.
"A week, two at most, your grace." Barristan said simply and directly as was his style.
"Good. War, Ser Barristan, just the thoughts of it makes the blood flow does it not?" he asked
to no answer from the man, or none he heard anyway as his thoughts then turned to the
dragon and the fight to come.

The Neck 300 AC..
Benjen Stark.

He'd cried when the first news had come of his sister's death. Benjen had spent days in the
Godswood at Sea Dragon Point praying to the Old Gods to make those words lies and not the
truth that he knew them to be. Though he'd known about her son or had heard tales at least
from Ser Wylis and some of the sailors who traded with them in Sea Dragon Point, he'd not
thought to meet him. After all, what could he say to a boy he'd never met about a woman he'd
not seen for the entirety of that boy's life. Had he known that Aemon had arrived at
Dragonstone, then he'd still not have sought him out. Then the boy had come to them and
Benjen had spent as much time studying him as he could.

The boy was her son, that much had been clear from the first moment he'd seen him. He had
her eyes, eyes that Benjen had not seen in more than twenty years, and eyes that looked at the
world the very same way that hers once had. When he smiled it was as if someone had taken
an arrow and shot it straight into his heart. His sister's smile had been like no others and to
see it again on someone else's face was both a blessing and a curse.

Benjen had wished to go to her, to speak to her all those years ago and had come close to
refusing his father when he denied him leave to do so. He was still a boy then and so he
resolved that once he became a man then he'd not need to follow his father's commands and
he'd be free to travel to Essos and see Lya once again. Life bows to the will of gods and not
men and Benjen Stark was no god. A chance meeting, a betrothal, wedding, and gifting of a
keep. Three incredible children and a wife he loved with all his heart and over time Essos and
Lya seemed less and less important.

Family, his own family had taken precedence over his sister and he was now feeling that once
again it was his own family that was now taking precedence over her son. He'd argued with
Brandon over his attitude towards Aemon, of how he had been welcomed both by his brother
and by his father when he'd reached out. Ned stepping in between them both before it had

come to blows. Benjen felt they'd brought this on themselves and the arguments like the one
he was now engaged in had continued as they readied to march.

"Father should have spoken to us all before making that choice, he should have allowed her
son to come to Winterfell." Benjen said louldy as they stood in Ned's solar.
"That boy wishes to take the North for himself, father was right and when I see him again…"
Brandon said angrily as Benjen grabbed his brother's shirt.
"You'll what, become a kinslayer? By the Old Gods you're just as much a fool as he was." he
shouted.
"Ben…" Ned said pushing him away from their brother.
"You think I should kneel? I should just hand him the North?" Brandon said his face turning
red as he tried to bite his tongue.
"Of course I fucking don't. I'm of the North too. I'm saying you acted a fool just like father
did. Had he allowed Aemon to come then who knows where we'd be now, but for his own
stubborn pride he refused to forgive her son for something that she was in the right to do…"
"Ben." Ned interrupted his brother's voice calm even his expression was not.
"No Ned, we all know the right of it. Father was forcing her into a marriage she didn't want,
but more than that he was forcing her away from the North. Gods, all of us were allowed to
stay in our home and she loved the North far more than any of us." he said with a sigh "We
should have welcomed her son, then and now."
"Now, given what he wants you would have had me welcome him? Did you not read the
letter, were they not his own words?" Brandon said loudly.
"Aye, but why did he write those words, Brandon? For they were not the first words he wrote
were they? He wrote them because father treated him the same as you did. Ned here is the
only one who treated him like kin, Ned, Cat, and their children welcomed him like a nephew
and cousin, while you welcomed him like an enemy." Benjen said frustrated.
"He is our enemy." Brandon said.
"Aye, you and father have seen to that. Speak to Wylis and Wendel, talk to Wyman, speak to
them, and then think on the man you've made an enemy of. He is our kin and now rather than
fight with us or for us, we'll soon be forced to face him. We can't fight kin, Brandon. We have
so many enemies now, and yet rather than think and act only when you've thought it through,
you've made one more. The most dangerous one of all." Benjen said before storming from the
room.

Perhaps he was being unfair on his brother and the fault really lay firmly at their father's feet.
They should have been allied with the Empire, the North should have benefited even more
than it already had because of Lya. While not the smartest man, Benjen knew enough to
know it was his sister's will and memory that had seen the North given so much trade and not
Wyman's negotiating skills, good though they were. They should have reached out and
perhaps he'd have met his nephew in better circumstances and had they done so then perhaps
he'd not be fearing what was to happen when they met again.

They marched the next day, Ned said his goodbyes to Cat and their children and he could see
that his brother didn't relish the idea of missing the birth of the child that his goodsister
carried. Benjen could empathize with the sad look on his brother's face as he kissed his wife
goodbye, the memories of kissing his own wife the same way not so long ago were still fresh
in his mind.

"Cheer up for fuck's sake, or you'll force me to ride with an Umber." he heard the loud voice
of his goodmother call out.
"Good to see you too, Maege." he said to a laugh from Jory who rode beside her mother.
"All is well?" Maege asked as she looked to where Brandon rode at the front of the line
beside Ned.
"All is well." he said with a smile as they too began to ride away from the Moat.

They had not been riding long when he was called to the front of the line, Brandon, Ned, The
Greatjon, Ser Wylis, and Rickard Karstark all locked in deep conversation when he, Maege,
and Galbart Glover arrived. No sooner was he standing beside them than Howland Reed
arrived and rarely had he see the man wear such a worried look on his face as he did right
then.

"Your grace?" Benjen said to Brandon as his brother looked from Ned to Howland.
"Howland, tell them what you've just told Ned and me." Brandon said with a nod to the Lord
of the Neck.
"My men were scouting near Harrenhal when they spotted a large force of men marching
towards the Neck." Howland said as the voices began to rise only for Brandon to raise his
hand and they then stopped "It seemed that Hoare wished to trap us here while he marched on
the Riverlords. My men followed and they saw it, gods, I had to see it myself to know it for
true." Howland said wiping his brow.
"Saw what?" Maege asked.

"The dragon saw the men march and it brought them Fire and Blood." Howland said and
though the Greatjon, Rickard Karstark, and even Brandon himself laughed, he, Maege,
Galbart, Wylis, and Ned did not.
"Hah, the dragon's done us a favor though he knows it not." Rickard Karstark said laughing
still.
"How many of the squids were burned, Howland?" the Greatjon asked with a chuckle.
"All of them, or close enough to make no never mind." Howland said and that at least
stopped the laughter.
"All? How many is all?" Ned asked worriedly.
"My men said there were close to 5,000 who marched, my prince. 5,000 men and horse and
other than a few who'll not make it through the night and some who'll never fight again, all
were ended by the dragon." Howland said, and Benjen noticed just how much and quickly the
mood had turned.
"He must have been there for an age to end 5,000 men. Your own weren't harmed at all?"
Maege asked.
"My men were hidden and hidden well and according to them it took him no more than four
or five passes to see them dead." Howland said.
"That's impossible, that can't…" Rickard Karstark said as Wylis interrupted him.
"We've heard similar tales from Essos, Rickard, there is a reason why the dragons and the
Dragonknight, in particular, are feared." Wylis said.
"It matter's not and we'll see the truth of it ourselves soon enough. Howland how far to these
bodies?" Brandon asked.
"A few more miles, your grace." Howland said and with that, all talk of fires and burning
were ended for now at least.

They would not be ended for long and soon enough they came upon the evidence that proved
Howland's words to be true. Around him, there were more bodies than he'd ever seen in his
life. Men, horses, armored or not it had made no difference. Those lucky enough to be
wearing leather had simply burned to ash, any wearing steel had found it melted onto them
and had been cooked inside as if they were in a pot.

The ground was scorched as far as the eye could see and men who'd tried to run had found
they could not outrun a dragon's flames. Though these men were Reavers, Iron Born who'd
meant to ambush them and force them back into the North, Benjen felt some sympathy for
them. No man deserved to die this way, quick though it may have been. Why his nephew had

attacked them he knew not and that wasn't even the thought that most occupied his mind.
Instead, it was a far more simple one and one he had no answer to. They had made an enemy
out of Aemon Targaryen and he'd just seen what happened to those who crossed the dragon's
path. Was there still room to bridge the divide between them and was a crown worth a
dragon's wroth?.

The Eyrie 300 AC.
Jon Arryn.

He looked over the scrolls and tried to find the meaning in what was happening. Rickard
Stark dead, killed by the Iron Born while traveling back to the North from Riverrun made no
sense to him. Jon wouldn't put anything past the Reavers and the Vale had its own trouble
with them over the years. Though the Bloody Gate had kept them from ever setting foot in
the Vale for true and they still kept most of their attacks at sea to the western coast.

Why had they done it now though? What was the spark that led to the flame of war? For war
is what they had brought upon themselves with this action. As the other scroll all but
confirmed giving that it carried the news that the North had called its banners and was now
marching south. Was that all that was going on he'd be able to just sit back and watch the
Reavers finally get what they'd had coming to them for years. Strong though they may be at
sea, the Northmen were even more savage than they and on land, they'd be more than a
match. It was the other kingdoms and what they seemed to be doing though which brought
about most of his worries and concerns. They and the one thing that he feared most of all, the
dragon.

Tywin Lannister, Robert Baratheon, Brandon Stark, and Harren Hoare, four kings all
marching to the Riverlands, and Aemon Targaryen was heading there too. All because after
eight and ten years the marriage that Rickard Stark had negotiated in order to build up an
alliance to remove the Iron Born from the Riverlands was suddenly about to be realized, it
made no sense. All of this made no damn sense and that was without even looking at what
was happening in the Reach and the death of yet another king. There was more at play here,
far more and all of it led back to the dragon, it had to, didn't it?.

"Jarrod, Jarrod." he called out before he began to cough and splutter, Jon reaching for and
swallowing a large gulp from his mug of water.
"Your grace?" Jarrod said as he stepped into his solar.

"Elbert, tell Elbert I wish to see him." he said as he took a deep breath and felt his chest
loosen.
"I...Your…"
"Out with it man." he said irritably.
"Prince Elbert has asked not to be disturbed your grace, he and…."
"Where is he?" he said angrily before rising to his feet.
"In the servant's rooms, your grace." Jarrod said and Jon felt his temper rise even more as he
stormed from the room.

The two guards walked behind him and were barely able to keep up. Old he may be, but other
than for the damnable cough which he couldn't shake, Jon Arryn was still a spry and fit man.
He heard the sounds long before he reached the room and he almost broke the door down, so
hard did he hit it with his hand to open it. There rutting on top of a young girl was his heir,
the man the Vale would look to when he was gone and Jon felt his temper rise again.

"You out." he shouted to the girl "You get dressed and follow me and don't dally any longer
than needed Elbert, for I am already in a foul mood this day." he said as he turned to walk
back to his solar.

Would that the gods had been good enough to gift him a son. That just one of the pregnancies
had been fruitful and brought him a true heir. Would that he had another nephew so that he
could at least have threatened Elbert with the consequences of incurring his displeasure. The
gods though were cruel and had taken both Jeyne and Rowena from him along with any
chance of an heir from his loins. Elbert was all he had and so he'd indulged him, coddled him,
gifted him all that he could, and waved off his follies and foibles as the hubris of a child of
summer. He was a child no more and winter was soon to come.

His nephew didn't keep him waiting long, his appearance at his door had been enough to
show him that this was not a request. That he didn't look ashamed or even perturbed that he'd
been caught sleeping with a servant, angered Jon and he was in no mood to hold that anger
in. it was time for harsh truths to be told as the Vale was or would soon be facing it's greatest
challenge. It was time for Elbert to show signs that he could be the king that he would need to
be, or else the Vale and the House of Arryn would not survive the wars to come.

"Its stops now, all of it. The feasting, the drinking, the sleeping with women who are not your
wife. All of it or so help me I'll uname you as my heir." he said looking at Elbert who almost
seemed to be wearing a smirk "You think I lie, boy? War is at hand and I fear it's a war that
will find its way to our door soon enough. I need you to be who you're supposed to be and if
you cannot, then I need another to take your place." he said as Elbert at least seemed a little
put out by that.
"You would name Denys over me?" Elbert said angrily.
"If it came to that, I would. Don't let it come to that, Elbert." he said his anger fading as he
saw the worry on his nephew's face.
"I'll do better." Elbert said, his nephew now sounding much like a young boy who'd been lax
in his studies.

He spent the next hour explaining the ins and outs of the realm to Elbert and was happy
enough with what he heard. Elbert didn't speak rashly or suggest actions that were foolish.
Later that night at their meal his nephew was far more attentive to his wife and drank far less
than usual and Jon spent the night watching him approvingly. Over the next few days, it
seemed even clearer to him that his nephew had turned over a new leaf, or was at least trying
to. So while he worried about what was happening outside the Vale, he was far more
comforted with what was happening inside. Or he was until Denys, Yohn, Anya and the
others arrived.

Their arrival had surprised him and yet he thought it most fortuitous or at least he had at first.
Jon welcoming Yohn, Anya, Horton, Benedar, Gilwood, Symond, and Denys to the Eyrie,
and yet when they asked for bread and salt he perhaps should have realized that all was not
well. Still, it was not until the meeting they held in his solar that the truth of their visit
became apparent to him and he had to both rein in Elbert's anger and his own when Yohn
Royce spoke the words aloud.

"We wish Denys to be named as heir and to be given command of the Vale's forces, your
grace." Yohn said and Jon looked at him with fury in his eyes.
"You do, do you? And who are you to wish such a thing of me? Am I not king, is it not my
will that decides my heir and not yours? Is it not by right of blood that Elbert comes before
Denys or any other?" he said as he ground his teeth to stop himself from shouting his words
out.
"The Vale won't support Elbert, your grace. He's not cut out to be king and certainly not to be
so given what it is we will have to face. The dragon will come and your nephew is not the
man to lead us against him." Anya said her tone soft, but her words and expression showed
the lie in anyone who thought that the woman herself was anything but hard and fierce.

"I am a prince and should be addressed as such." Elbert said haughtily and Jon rolled his
eyes.
"You are a knight, Elbert, no more and no less, you wear no crown and no one wishes to see
you wear one." Denys said looking to Elbert before turning to face him "I have no wish to be
here, no wish to wear a crown. If I could have what I wished for, your grace, then it would be
that you were fifty years younger and it was you who'd lead us into battle and beyond.
Wishes though are for children and boys of summer and none of here are either anymore."
Denys said and Jon had to admit he was impressed as he always had been by his cousin's
child.
"I am still king and I will lead us against any threat we may face. The rule of succession is
clear and Elbert is and will remain my heir." Jon said firmly.
"Then you leave us with no choice, your grace. We shall follow your lead and your orders,
but never his." Gilwood said as he rose to his feet.
"Treason, this is treason, all of you should lose your heads." Elbert said angrily and Jon saw it
then, the reason why they'd sought guest rights and he cursed them all for their treachery.
"Go all of you get out of my sight. Never did I imagine I'd live to see the day when Lords and
Knights of the Vale acted in such a way. Shame on you, Shame on all of you." Jon said as
they left the room and the Eyrie itself.

He talked Elbert down from wanting to send men after them and from sending a raven to the
Gates of the Moon to see them held and detained so that they could face punishment for their
treason. The truth of things was he now had a huge problem and it was one that had very few
solutions. As he took to his bed that night he found himself pondering on one of them and
though he hated to be forced into doing their will, he perhaps had no other choice and it may
even turn out to be for the best.

The Riverlands 300 AC.
Brandon Stark.

Other than when alone with his brothers, Brandon would never admit just how shaken he was
by what they'd seen in the Neck. The thoughts that all it had taken was a few passes of the
dragon to do so much damage preyed on his mind all the way to the Twins. Numbers, how
good you fought, the quality of your leaders and your fighting men, none of that mattered
against something that could leave behind so much carnage and he'd gone and made an
enemy of the man that wielded such power.

He laughed, japed, and to all those around him, he was the same Brandon Stark he had
always been. The only difference any of them saw was the crown that he wore on his head
and it was only since they'd left the Neck that he realized just how heavy it truly was. Now as
he looked at the two twin keeps and the bridge they needed to cross, that crown he hoped
would be put to good use. With a nod to Ned and Benjen, he, The Greatjon, Rodrik Cassel,
and Big Bucket Wull along with ten guards rode to meet the party that rode their way.

"Your grace." the thin man who led the group said to him with a polite bow of his head when
both groups were a few feet from each other.
"Lord Stevron, we seek a meeting with your father." he said with a smile to show he had
friendly intent.
"For what purpose, your grace?" Stevron asked looking not at him but at the army at his back.
"To cross your bridge, my lord, nothing more or less than that." he said smiling still.
"Very well, if you'll ride with me, my father rarely leaves his hall due to his age, your grace."
Stevron said and Brandon nodded.

When they arrived at the keep nearest to them he saw the girl standing waiting with the plate
of bread and salt. Once they'd dismounted they took a piece of each to the great relief of Lord
Stevron and they were then brought into the keep itself. It was dark, damp, and looked badly
maintained and when they were led to the Great Hall this seemed even more so. Brandon
didn't have to look to those with them to see the looks of disgust on their faces, but he did
need to school his own and so he did so as he waited for Lord Walder Frey to grace them
with his presence.

The old weasel was all that he'd heard his father name his as and though he acted infirm, he
was clearly not in one regard at least. Brandon feeling a great deal of sympathy for the young
girl that was being fondled as she stood in front of the old lecher. He hated being in the man's
presence and it had only been mere moments that he had been, and he found himself fearing
how long the man would drag this meeting out. It turned out not to be too long as they were
given passage almost far too easily and had it not for the body of Martin Cassel being
delivered to Moat Cailin by a Frey, then Brandon would have already turned and left the
room. As it was he could not and it was clear that the old fucker knew it too, the smirk he
wore on his face more than enough to show him that.

"Perhaps you and I need to speak more privately, your grace? Wouldn't want certain things to
be overheard by the wrong person." Walder said as he stared at him.

"Aye, we'd not. Is there someone we can speak alone?" he asked and Walder looked to one of
his sons, grandsons, nephews, bastards, or whatever it was that half the people in this room
were to him, the man he picked then moving to him and bidding him follow.
"Your grace." the Greatjon said worriedly and Brandon shook his head before he then turned
to follow the far younger weasel down a corridor and into a large room.

Whatever about the rest of the keep and its poor state, this room was made for a much finer
keep than this. There were Myrish rugs on the floor, a great tapestry on the wall, and the desk
and chairs were made from the finest oak. Even the wine jug was made of a fine glass and the
glasses themselves wouldn't be out of place in Highgarden or Casterly Rock he imagined.
The old weasel spent his coin on himself it would seem and he wondered what conditions the
rest of his brood were forced to settle for.

"Forgive me, your grace, I don't move as fast as I used to." Walder said as he made a
mummery of barely being able to walk and almost collapsed into his chair.
"The curse of age, my lord." he said with a soft laugh which Walder seemed to appreciate.
"That's the truth of it. Some wine, it's the good stuff, straight from the Arbor. Not the piss I
make those ungrateful fuckers drink." Walder said and though he hated the taste of wine, he
accepted it graciously.
"It's good." he said after taking a small sip of it which again made Walder laugh.
"It had better be considering the fucking cost of it. You're wondering why I'm being so
helpful aren't you, thinking that old Walder has a hidden agenda perhaps?" Walder said his
eyes focussed intently on his own.
"It had crossed my mind, I'll admit." he said with a small nod.
"You'd be a fool if it hadn't and this world has more than enough fools in it as it is, half the
fuckers sit no more than a few feet away from us." Walder said with a loud rasping laugh "I
could deny you of course, though your men would take my keeps from me eventually and I'm
not fool enough to do so. I could charge you enough to make it seem that gold is all I care for.
I could seek and demand betrothals and other considerations and perhaps even get some such
is your haste to get to Riverrun." Walder said as Brandon moved a little forward in his chair
"Relax, your grace, it's not spies in your ranks, it's knowing my lands and what is going on in
them."
"What is it that you know?" he asked curiously.
"That the Hoares have marched to take down the Blackfish, that they sent men to stop your
own march, and yet here you are. That war is upon us and it's far better to be on the winning

side than the losing." Walder said and Brandon looked more closely at the man to see he was
telling no lie that he could discern.
"You think I'll win?" he asked staring at the old weasel even more closely.
"I think you've already defeated a large force of Hoare men and that shows the truth of things.
Reavers belong on the sea and not the land. I'd wager on the North and the allies it has
amongst my fellow Riverlords more than I would the Reavers in what's to come, besides
theirs no profit in it for me if they win." Walder said with a chuckle.
"Profit?" he asked.
"Aye, I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, give the family a bad name
something like that would." Walder said laughing more fully now.
"What do you want?" he asked and Walder told him, there were betrothals but requests, not
demands and he wished for a larger say in the Riverlands once they'd seen it free from the
Hoares. Mainly though it was the respect that he wished for, to not be looked down on and to
be spoken of as truly as others were and Brandon had no problem agreeing to all that he
requested "Martin Cassel?" he asked once they were done with their agreement.
"Well, that's more difficult. I can give you the name of the man who led the attack and who I
believe cut down Cassel, but I don't know if he was the one who killed your father and I need
some assurances before I name him and tell you how to get to him." Walder said and Brandon
felt his heart begin to race.
"How do you know that he killed Martin?" he asked eagerly.
"Your man, he was the best blade you have. My son saw him fight once and it wasn't arrows
or crossbow bolts that took him down. It was a man with a sword and there's only one who it
could have been." Walder said and Brandon nodded at him to continue "Euron Greyjoy, the
Crow's Eye."

Brandon barely heard the rest of it, the Crow's Eye had killed Martin and led the attack on his
father, that was all he needed to know and he'd put the man in the ground himself.

"You'll find him at a brothel in Wendish Town, he'll be there for less than a week and so
you'll need to ride hard to catch him before he heads out to sea." Walder said almost
worriedly.
"Why's he heading to sea, the fight is here?" Brandon asked and Walder shook his head.
"I can't be certain, though I'd expect it's to bring more men from the Iron Islands. All I can
say for sure is that the Silence is docked in a cove near Wendish Town and there is a girl that
he always spends his time with when he passes through. War or not, the Crow's Eye will have
his fun and work to his own schedule." Walder said as Brandon rose to his feet.

"I thank you for this and though I'm no fucking Lannister I too always pay my debts. I owe
you Lord Frey, and I will pay you back." Brandon said and Walder nodded.
"One last thing, your grace." Walder said giving him a small piece of paper.
"Lord Frey?" Brandon asked confused.
"Where we found Martin Cassel, I think you may find the remains of your father and the
other men who rode with him there." Walder said his voice low as if he felt some sadness
about what he was saying.
"Again I'm in your debt, Lord Frey." Brandon said as he moved to the door.

Later when he spoke of the meeting both Ned and Benjen argued with him and told him to
leave it for now, but he refused to listen. Instead, he gathered a group of men he knew he
could trust and told Ned to keep marching towards Riverrun and he'd join up with them later.
He, William Dustin, The Greatjon, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, Mark Ryswell, and Howland
Reed along with thirty guards all rode across the bridge first. Their horses then being let
loose as they rode hard towards Seagard and Wendish town.

They were five miles from Seagard when they reached the copse and looking to the map that
Walder Frey had given him it took them no more than an hour or two to find the disturbed
ground where Martin had been buried. Less than an hour later they found the larger patch of
ground and Brandon dug it up himself. First with his sword and then with a shovel and finally
with his bare hands. When he saw the bodies he almost wept, as even without their heads he
could tell who some of these men were and they deserved better than this.

"Help me, help me with them." he shouted as the Greatjon and the others began to move the
bodies until finally, he saw his father's.
"Your grace, your grace." William Dustin said softly as Brandon cradled the body in his arms.
"I..they deserved more than this. He deserves more than this." Brandon said tears falling from
his eyes.
"He does and we'll see that he's given a true burial, your grace." Howland said.
"Jon, I need you to guard him, to guard them. Howland take two men and ride to Seagard,
purchase a cart or speak to the Mallisters and explain what we've found. The rest of you with
me." Brandon said before laying his father's headless body back down on the ground.
"You should wait, your grace, lets see to the bodies first and then we ride together." The
Greatjon said worriedly.

"I can't risk him not being there, Jon, and there is no one I trust more to see to my father than
you. I can't wait, I won't." Brandon said before moving to his horse and within moments he
was riding south to Wendish town.
He'd make the Crow's Eye suffer for what he did, he'd kill the man slowly and cut him apart
piece by fucking piece.

The conquest of Westeros XXIV.
The Marsh Kings.

The Neck before it was part of the North for true had been a kingdom of its own and had
named the Marsh Kings as its rulers. For many years they and their descendants held back
all of those who wished to make it theirs. The Red Kings and the Kings of Winter had all tried
and failed and some whispered that the Neck was a place of fell magic and dark practices.
Tales of Skinchangers and Shapeshifters, Wargs, and bloody sacrifices to the Heart Tree all
were spoken of in the North and beyond.

It was only when the Laughing Wolf Rickard Stark gathered an army and defeated the Marsh
King that the truth of those tales was soon known. It hadn't been magic or sacrifices and
though the talk of wargs still remained, in the end, it had been simply the land itself that had
held its enemies at bay. Rickard Stark had seen and realized the truth of this long before he
ever marched. How had he done so? you may very well ask, and there are many schools of
thought on the subject. Was he a warg himself, did he have a mind for war that others did not,
or was it simply a story of love as such tales usually are?

What is known is that upon taking the Neck and defeating the Marsh King, Rickard Stark then
married the Marsh King's daughter and so the answer was known, was it not? Tales of wargs
remained just that and the Citadel dismissed them all as rumors and myths. Rumors and
myths however can also be true and there have always been those who believed in such
things.

One of whom was the Empress of the Ice who was oft heard to say that while her own third
eye had never opened, one day her son's would, and on that day the world would tremble.
For it was Aemon and not Bloodraven who was truly meant to have a thousand eyes and one.

The Vale 300 AC.

Aemon.

He watched her sleep and just looking at the rise and fall of her chest relaxed him. Knowing
that he could reach out and touch her brought him more comfort than anything in the world,
other than actually touching her that was. Seeing the small little smile on her face as she
dreamed of something or other brought a much larger one to his own. All he had ever wished
or desired in the world was for her to be his, just as he had always been hers.

Respect from his father, adoration from the court, the love of the people, and an
acknowledgment of his worth not as the Dragonknight, but as Aemon Targaryen, a son,
brother, nephew. None of that mattered next to having the love of his sister. None of that
would have ever come close to filling the hole in his heart that not being with her would have
and almost had placed there. He laughed when she spoke his name out, evidently, he was in
her dreams too which pleased him greatly as she had always been a dream to him.

"Sleep, my love." he said softly as he placed a kiss on her lips before moving from the bed to
dress and ready for the day ahead.

He'd have liked to stay and wake with her, but he had things to do today and the first of them
was to scout the lands ahead of them before they marched. Daario had spoken of the
Mountain Clans and though Aemon had seen no evidence of them so far, the last thing he
needed was to be attacked by an enemy that really shouldn't be his. Thoros and Torgho
Nudho had both suggested he make an ally of these Mountain Clans and were he here simply
to conquer the Vale then he'd perhaps have considered it. It wasn't simply a conquest he
wished for though, he wanted their knights for his own. So to bring them to their knees with
the help of an enemy they'd been fighting long before he came here would put paid to any
chance of that.

"Let her know that I woke early, should I not have returned before she rises." he said to the
two Unsullied guards, Black Ant and Red Flea.
"We will, my prince." Red Flea said and Aemon patted him on the shoulder before moving to
the fire to grab some food to break his fast.

Arthur was up as he always was as was Torgho Nudho, both men speaking animatedly to
each other as he approached. That they were speaking of battles to come and those long since

past was no great surprise and as Aemon grabbed a bowl of porridge he sat down and let
them continue their conversation while he ate.

"You still don't sleep late, my prince?" Arthur asked once he'd seen that he had finished
eating.
"Old habits, Arthur. More so when we march though Gaelithox enjoys the early morning
flights as much as I do and so it's become almost routine." he said looking to Torgho Nudho
who moved to gather his spear, shield, and short sword.
"Rhaenys too seemed to have developed that habit after you were exiled." Arthur said and
Aemon looked at him curiously.
"I'm happy that she seems to be losing it." he said with a smile as he looked back n the
direction of his tent "Should she demand to fly after me, you'll join her?" he asked and Arthur
nodded "I take comfort in having you here, Arthur, in knowing that she has you here."
"As do I in being here, my prince." Arthur said as Aemon moved to walk over to where
Gaelithox was already waiting for him.

They flew for no more than an hour, covering all the ground they would march today and it
was only when he flew even further that he saw them. Turning back he urged Gaelithox to fly
faster still and they reached the camp in less than half the time it had taken them to fly to
where he'd seen the men ride.

"Go find Daario." he said to Torgho Nudho as he moved to his tent to wake Rhaenys.

When he saw the guards weren't there he hurried to the fire and was relieved to see her sitting
and eating with Arthur, Thoros, and Aurane.

"Aems?" she asked looking at him and he realized that he must look to her how he did to his
men and not how he always looked when he saw her.
"We have a chance for something, an opportunity has presented itself I'll need you to fly with
me, Rhae, you and Meraxes, you too Arthur. You can stay in the sky when I land but I need
you with me for this." he said and Rhaenys nodded as she put down her plate and moved to
him.
"Is it dangerous, what you're doing is it dangerous?" she asked worriedly.

"No more than always and far less than usual." he said hoping to calm her worries.

When Daario arrived, he told him what he wished for him to do, and with that, he, Rhaenys,
Arthur, and Torgho Nudho were soon on Gaelithox's and Meraxes's backs and flying to the
men he'd seen. Aurane he knew would ready the camp to march and Daario would set off to
did what he'd told him. They reached the men who'd ridden not much further from where he'd
last seen them and he almost laughed at his good fortune when he saw the open ground. With
a nod to Rhaenys and then a roar from Gaelithox, he had the Blood Wyrm drop low and let
loose his flames on a patch of ground some distance from the riders. Aemon was sure that
they were now torn between stopping and hoping for the best and riding hard praying they
could outrun the red dragon, the former winning out for now.

"Follow my lead." he said to Torgho Nudho as he told Gaelithox to land and once he had then
he and his sworn shield climbed from the dragon's back and moved to the men on horseback
that waited a little distance away.

Aemon looked to the sky briefly just to see where Meraxes was and then moved even closer
to the men and one woman that now watched each step he took with worried looks on their
faces. He saw how they looked to his armor, to Dark Sister as it rested on his hip, and to
Torgho Nudho and the spear and shield he carried in his hands. Yet it was Gaelithox and
Meraxes that all of them looked to most and the fear and awe they had in their eyes would
please the Blood Wyrm no doubt.

"My name is Aemon Targaryen, this is Torgho Nudho my sworn shield and he." he said
pointing behind him to Gaelithox "Is the Blood Wyrm."
"What is the meaning of stopping us in such a way." The woman said trying to sound fierce
but the look in her eyes each time that Gaelithox moved showed her fear to be what was truly
winning out for now.
"I have a proposition for you, Ser Denys, one for all of you and one I'd like an answer on.
Should I wish you dead you'd be dead, I think we can all agree on that" he asked to no reply
"Well at least you don't disagree " he said with a chuckle.
"We have no quarrel with you, Prince Aemon." Ser Denys said.
"But I'm making one with you, Ser Denys, so those words aren't exactly true are they. The
Vale will kneel, be it now, a day from now or maybe you'll manage to make it a whole week
before you see the truth and weakness of your position. Should it be my wish, then with one
nod to the Blood Wyrm or a call to Meraxes above your heads then each of your houses

would be left leaderless and my taking of the Vale would be even easier than it already shall
be.
I will not be giving that nod nor making that call. I offer you a parley, an offer you should
take for while your answer won't cost you your lives today, the choice you make may very
well cost you them tomorrow." Aemon said looking to the bronze armored man who could
only be Yohn Royce and the man with the blue eyes and pointed beard who wore the seven
stars sigil that marked him out as Ser Symond Templeton.
"And should we decide not to parley?" the woman, Anya Waynwood he was almost sure,
asked.
"Then you'll go on your way and when next we meet it'll not be words, but Fire and Blood
that I'll bring to you." he said and as they looked at each other he saw the nods, and then one
by one they dismounted.

His words would not be enough, he knew that and so he hoped what he intended to show
them would be. They'd think their Bloody Gate would protect them as it had in the past, but
Aemon knew what they did not. The Bloody Gate was no more and the only thing that would
protect them from him were the choices they made this day.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the late update all my updates this week are pushed a day back.
Up next, the Vale is made an offer it cannot refuse. Tywin hears worrying news. The
North and the Iron Born find themselves face to face and Olenna sends word to
Dragonstone with an offer of her own. We also take a look into Aemon’s childhood and
the time he spent with his mother. While in Dorne Oberyn is sent on a mission to see
family.

Not an Update.
Life can kick you in the teeth and slap you in the face at the same time. For the last few days
I've been trying to get things back on track and had thought myself a day or so behind, only
for life to do both.

I've just found out that my sister has passed suddenly, she wasn't ill and it wasn't an accident,
she just passed in her sleep and as of now we have no idea about the why of it. Needless to
say this has thrown all my plans out the window. I'll be taking a few days, a week perhaps
and while I can't say for sure how long, I expect to be back the week after next.

If I feel up to it I'll post something sooner, but as of now all my stories are on hold until the
week starting 21st June. I thank you all for your understanding.

Al.

To Kneel or not to Kneel, That is the Question.
Chapter Summary

The Vale is made an offer it cannot refuse. Tywin hears worrying news. The North and
the Iron Born find themselves face to face and Olenna sends word to Dragonstone with
an offer of her own. We also take a look into Aemon’s childhood and the time he spent
with his mother. While in Dorne Oberyn is sent on a mission to see family.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Water Gardens 300 AC.
Oberyn.

His brother had been right to deny the boy and he had been with him completely on that.
Denying his niece, however, that had caused him some sleepless nights. Doran was right not
to kneel, they were Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken after all, but to go against kin was not
something that Oberyn was comfortable with. Even if by the looks of things that kin was
willing to go against them, it still caused him to doubt they were making the right choice. As
did Rhaenys's words themselves, his niece laying their choices out so clearly before them.

"We are blood, uncle, kin. I have no wish to spill that blood in the days to come but were I to
ask it of him, Aemon would have no such qualms, and should I wish it then Dorne will be no
more."

Was it pride that he felt?
Was he happy to see his niece was just as fierce as his sister had always been?
Was it something else?

He found he couldn't be sure and while a wife having faith in a husband was not a great
surprise to him, Rhaenys's faith in Aemon was concerning. Oberyn had heard all the tales
about the Dragonknight and all he'd done for the Empire, some more unbelievable than

others. There was no doubt in his mind that Aemon was a capable warrior or commander of
men. Nor did he doubt that the dragons were formidable and perhaps even unmatched in
battle. What he had trouble accepting was that to face them was to bring about a certain
defeat.

Was that foolish?
Arrogant?
Was it hubris?

Once again he found he knew not and so again it was his niece's words that he found himself
reflecting upon.

"Look to the wars to come, uncle, look and see what a Dragonknight can truly do. When you
do, when you see and as you tremble in fear, think carefully about the moves you make."

Perhaps that's what they needed to do, look to the wars to come and see if they could learn
from them or if what they saw was enough to make Doran think differently. It was to these
thoughts that he rose and saw that he was alone in his room, Ellaria having risen without him
and the thoughts of that brought a smile to his face as he put on his clothes. His paramour
must have felt he needed his rest and in a way he had, though it wasn't tiredness exactly that
had been the reason for it.

He nodded to his guards and made his way to break his fast, hearing the sounds of his
children's laughter as he entered the room. Ellaria sat with his two youngest girls, Dorea and
Loreza engaged in some game with each other and not even noticing that he'd entered the
room. Across from them sat Obella, Elia, and two of his older daughters, Obara and Nymeria.
Sarella was at the Citadel earning her chain and performing her mummery while Tyene was
with Arianne no doubt.

"Morning, my love." he said kissing Ellaria's cheek.
"You seem rested." Ellaria said, a question though not truly.
"I feel rested. Good morning little snakes." he said, a large smile on his face as his youngest
girls finally noticed him.

"Papa." Dorea said throwing her arms around him.
"Ride papa?" Loreza asked and he leaned in to kiss her and whisper in her ear that they'd go
riding after her morning in the pool, his daughter then turning to eat her food more quickly as
if it would make the day pass faster.

It would turn out that he'd not be given the chance to go riding that day as he was called to
his brother's solar as soon as he'd finished breaking his fast. Oberyn walking into the room to
see Areo standing at Doran's shoulder and his brother writing hurriedly on the parchment in
front of him. Oberyn took his seat and waited for Doran to be finished, his brother barely
noticing he was there and he found himself wondering what it was that Doran was so
concentrated on. He didn't have to wonder for long as after a few moments Doran stopped
and looked at him.

"Forgive me, brother, just working out numbers." Doran said and Oberyn looked at him in
confusion something that Doran cleared up a moment later "Ours and theirs." Doran added.
"And?" he asked.
"Four to one maybe even five to one in terms of trained men, ten or more in terms of those
we could call upon if needed." Doran said and yet it brought not a smile to his brother's or to
his own face.
"Number's matter not though do they?" he asked, knowing the answer already.
"No, would that they did. Not only do I fear that their men are worth more than one or two,
maybe even three of our own, but it's also the dragon's Oberyn, how do we stop the dragons?"
Doran asked, a question that he sought not the answer for and one that Oberyn wouldn't have
been able to provide if he did.
"So we do what?" he asked and a part of him hoped that it would be an accord he'd seek with
his niece and her husband, only to find it was not them that Doran sought one with.
"Elia." Doran said catching him by surprise.
"What of our sister?" he asked curiously.
"I think it's time you paid a visit to Volantis, Oberyn." Doran said and Oberyn looked at him
to see if he was japing or not.
"You think Elia will do what, brother?" he asked not seeing his brother's mind on this.
"Speak to them, reign them in." Doran said and Oberyn shook his head "You disagree?"
Doran asked.

"You heard what Rhaenys said as well as I did. Rhaegar couldn't get Aemon to do his bidding
in the Empire, he chose exile rather than do what his father wished for. Rhaenys then did the
same, for are they not married now?" Oberyn said and Doran just smiled and shook his head.
"It's one thing to not do as Rhaegar orders, it's another not to listen to a mother who makes
her feelings clear. Do you think Rhaenys would go against her mother's wishes when it's not a
matter of the heart? That she'd deny her or not listen to her when family is involved?" Doran
said and though he felt his brother was in the wrong, he knew that he at least had to try.
"And should our sister deny me?" he asked and Doran looked at him almost annoyedly.
"Then we'll find another path. Our sister won't deny you, brother. Remind her of who she is
and that she is Dornish first."
"She is a mother first, Doran, and like with all mothers, children come before brothers." he
said rising to his feet and moving to the door "This is folly, but I'll do as I'm bid and even
speak to Rhaegar too so I know his mind on what his son wishes to do." he said and Doran
nodded.

It took him two days to organize his party to travel to Volantis and he was unsurprised when
Ellaria demanded to come with him. His girls too telling rather than asking him which
brought a smile to his face. Ser Daemon wished to join him also and when Gerold Dayne
suggested that he travel with them, Oberyn at first was going to refuse him leave to do so,
and then he changed his mind which forced Ellaria to seek him out.

"The Darkstar, Oberyn, really?" his paramour asked.
"I wish for him to annoy and provoke enough that it may see to his end." he said only half
japing.
"Oberyn?" Ellaria asked.
"I want to know why he seeks to be with me, why he wishes to be involved. But I do want to
see to his end and I have a plan for such." he said with a smile.
"Which is?"
"To send him to my niece's husband and his cousin." Oberyn said knowing how much the
Darkstar craved the sword that Arthur carried.
"You think he'd be fool enough to go?" Ellaria said and Oberyn laughed.
"He's fool enough to risk my ire on a journey by ship, I think that tells us all we need to
know."

They spoke to Arianne and he told her to keep an eye on his brother, Oberyn not sure he
trusted Doran to not do something to pull on the dragon's tail should the chance arise while
he was gone. He still hoped that an accord could be reached with Rhaenys and though he had
no desire to be on his knees, he'd do so if it meant that Dorne wouldn't burn. Heading to his
cabin with Ellaria he looked forward to the night to come and to seeing his sister again.
Though he doubted that he'd find any comfort in the words she'd speak to him and certainly
not what Doran thought he'd find.

The Vale 300 AC.
Aemon.

He looked to the man who would be king, Ser Denys Arryn looked like a warrior, and yet he
was a green boy too even despite his age. True he may have taken part in battles, though
Aemon doubted he had, he may even have killed a man, on this Aemon was more sure that he
had, but he'd never truly fought. Not as Aemon had and that gave him an edge as it did his
men too. Though the biggest edge he had in relation to the men of the Vale, stood no more
than ten feet behind him and was being watched warily by Ser Denys and those with him.

"My men ride as we speak, Ser Denys, when they arrive you and I will be going for a little
ride or our own, but first, you carry bread and salt?" he asked and it was the Bronze lord and
not the knight that answered.
"You would ask for guest right?" Lord Yohn Royce asked surprised.
"Is that not what happens during a parley? Is it not what you'd wish for given that your want
to be king here will be coming with me?" he said trying not to smirk.
"Where?" Denys asked and Aemon looked away from Lord Yohn to him "Where are we to
go?" Denys quickly added.
"To the Bloody Gate." he said as Denys turned and looked to the Bronze lord and the others,
before nodding.

Only after each of them had taken some bread and salt did he call for Meraxes to land, the
lords and lady torn between looking to the silver dragon and Rhaenys and Arthur as they
climbed down from her back. Aemon took some of the bread and salt and walked over to his
wife, Rhaenys looking him over to make sure he was unharmed before she and Arthur took a
piece of each and then taking her hand in his, he walked back towards the others and Torgho
Nudho.

"My wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." Aemon said proudly and he caught the little
gasp the lady made and the look that two of the lords gave him.

The Andals were well known to him, their piety and adherence to the rule of the Seven who
are one was something that he cared not for. His own dealings with those idiotic Septons and
Septas were enough to turn him off the idea of such a stupid religion and he was sorely
tempted to annoy the lords by telling them such. He almost wished to proclaim himself a
follow of R'hllor or the Many-Faced God just to see their annoyance grow, but he not only
wished to bring them to his side, he'd not lie and name himself something he was not.

The gods be damned was how he truly felt and while he had no problem with Thoros and his
faith or with others and theirs, he'd not now nor ever be a servant to any of them. It was
another argument that had been used against him by the Septons that had infested his father's
court. They were clever enough not to speak ill of those in the Empire or his family, nor those
who followed R'hllor or any other god. Him they named as faithless and so he was fair game,
as he was over his relationship with his sister. Something that he could see the lords and lady
weren't best pleased with and so while he'd not proclaim himself as something he was not,
he'd certainly show them what he was. Aemon leaning in close to Rhaenys and taking her in
his arms to kiss her deeply before then looking over her shoulder at each of their faces.

"Now where were we, oh that's right a parley." he said with a chuckle and he saw Arthur roll
his eyes while Rhaenys smirked as he moved away from her.
"As Lady Anya said earlier, Prince Aemon, we have no quarrel with the Empire or with
yourself." Ser Denys said and Aemon nodded.
"No, your quarrels are with Lord Jon and Ser Elbert." he said and saw the surprised look on
Ser Denys's face "You seek the Vale to be ruled by a better man than your cousin. Why?"
"I…Because the Vale needs to be run better." Denys lied.
"No, you seek it because of me." he said and saw the small gulp that Denys made at his
words "A good idea Ser, for your cousin can't protect the Vale from me or my men. Neither
can you as you'll see soon enough." he said his voice now far more serious and his eyes
focussed on Denys's.
"So this is why you come, to mock us?" one of the Vale lords said, Aemon not able to name
the man.
"My lord?" he asked seeking the man's name and not being given it "Ser Denys, you've been
most remiss and I had heard the Vale was a land of chivalry and good manners" he said his
mocking tone deliberate this time "Your companions, good ser, their names if you will."

Denys turned to look at each of them, his expression one that was hard to read but Aemon
felt he was worried about what giving their names up would mean and so he dropped his
mocking tone for now at least.

"I give you my word, good ser, telling me their names won't bring hardship upon you or
them. We are at a parley, should the parley fail then it's that which will, not me knowing who
it was I parleyed with. In time I'd make my way to each of your keeps and find you all,
should I then seek to unleash the Blood Wyrm on you I'd care not who you were when I did
so. I don't bear grudges Ser Denys, I just don't leave those alive who would garner them." he
said and he spoke the truth, he was not a forgiving man when there was no need to be.
"Lord Yohn Royce." the Bronze Lord said moving forward.
"Lady Anya Waynwood." the lady said and soon enough he'd found it was Lord Gilwood
Hunter who had spoken and Lord Benedar Belmore, Ser Symond Templeton, and Lord
Horton Redfort who had made up the others.

Six of the largest houses in the Vale and should he reach an agreement with them, it would be
enough to bring the Vale to heel very easily. He already had Grafton on his side, it didn't
leave many to stand against him and the Eyrie would easily fall to Gaelithox should it come
to that.

"Now that's so much better, so shall we get down to it." he said with a smile and a look to
Rhaenys who from here on would take the lead, Aemon almost excited to hear her speak and
show them the carrot, the stick to follow not long afterward.
"How much do any of you know about the Empire?" Rhaenys asked "The governance of its
regions?" she added when no one spoke.
"Very little, Princess Rhaenys. Other than it's run from Volantis and by your father." Lady
Anya said and Rhaenys nodded.
"It is, but something as large as the Empire and spanning such distances can't be run
completely by my father alone. Each region has a governor and in essence rules itself in most
matters, though it takes its lead from the High Emperor." Rhaenys said looking at him "The
Vale will not come out of a fight with my husband with a king, nor without suffering major
losses, however."
"What makes you think your army a match for our own?" Ser Symond Templeton said
haughtily.

"The fact I am here and unmolested, Ser, that I've been able to bring my army here and
you've been unable to stop me." he said glaring at the man and then looking to Rhaenys and
smiling at her as he nodded for her to continue.
"The proof of my husband's words is to follow, for now, we're here to discuss what not
fighting against us does for the Vale." Rhaenys said and Aemon smiled when Ser Symond
turned and looked to Rhaenys and not him.
"Which is?" Lord Yohn asked.
"As I said, you lose a king but you gain a Lord Paramount, a Warden of the East." Rhaenys
said and Aemon found himself lost in his wife's words as she explained just what that was.

They'd recreated the Empire's governorships but adapted and renamed it, looking at it with
fresh eyes and making it more suited to Westeros rather than Essos. A combination of the
self-ruled regions and the appointed governorships was what they'd settled for, the extra
caveat being the Wardenship. North, South, East, and West, four of the seven kingdoms
would be above others, the houses that knelt to them and the heads of those houses rewarded
somewhat. Subservient they'd still be, but they'd be given more freedom than others, and if
they came willingly, more so again.

It was not his first choice and he'd had to be talked into it by his wife, Rhaenys though knew
far more about the politics and how people saw things than he. Where he would seek to bring
them to their knees, his wife would ask them to kneel and while at times he'd done the same,
their approach was very much different. So much so that as he looked to the lords and lady,
he saw them consider it, contemplate it, and he almost believed they'd accept it without
seeing what the Blood Wyrm could do, almost.

"You offer us less than what we have, princess." Ser Denys said and Rhaenys shook her head
slightly at him when Aemon went to speak.
"But more than what you'll get if you seek to resist." Rhaenys said and Aemon felt surprised
by how firmly she said it and by her next words "Perhaps you need to see what it is you face,
Ser Denys, and see the folly you and your fellow Valemen would be committing should you
decline our most generous offer. My love, I think it's time for your flight." Rhaenys said
looking at him and Aemon chuckled as he moved forward.
"Once Daario arrives, my love. Ser Denys perhaps you and your companions need to speak,
we'll be departing soon enough."

Highgarden 300 AC.

Olenna.

With Margaery as queen, her own position had gone from being something informal to
something very much not. To all intents and purposes, she was serving as Hand of the Queen,
which in turn made her Hand of the King, since Mace was his usual useless self. Her first
order of business had been to send riders out and to send word to her spies in other realms,
Olenna had always kept a close eye on what was going on elsewhere to make sure her family
grew strong. Now that would stand in her good stead and while she watched Margaery and
Gwayne's every little interaction with a keen eye, her thoughts were on securing the Reach
and her family's position even more.

She had tasked Garlan with getting her a full breakdown of the army they could raise and
while impressive in size, in both experience and ability to take down a dragon, it was very
much not. Olenna finding herself now even more keen to see what Willas had found on his
trip to Oldtown and so she waited for her grandson's return eagerly. That it had been his idea
to go to the Citadel and to speak to the Maesters himself was something that filled her with
pride. Both he and Margaery showing their cleverness to her in very different ways. As while
he did that, Margaery laid down the groundwork for an alliance with the Dragonknight.

A military man she may not be, but Olenna knew odds, and from what she could see they
were very much against her. They couldn't ally with Tywin Lannister, not now that they'd
taken the crown for themselves. Robert Baratheon was a fool who'd already pulled on the
dragon's tail more than once according to the reports she'd received and while the Starks
hadn't joined with their kin, she felt it was only a matter of time until they did so. Either to
gain his help in bringing them vengeance for the death of their king or because they had no
choice. Dorne too she felt would eventually come to the dragon's side, the bonds of family
there were even stronger than the ones in the North.

It left the Riverlands and Vale as potential allies and the first was out both because of the
Hoares themselves and its location. The war when it came would be fought there, the North
would seek to pay them back for the murder of their patriarch and the Riverlands would
fracture with some joining them and others fighting for the Hoares. When the dust settled
they'd be in no shape to stand against the dragon and so her attention had for the last few days
been almost primarily focussed on the Vale.

"Is there no one." she said sighing as she placed the parchment on her desk, the list of the
great houses and their heirs and firstborn daughters frustrating her greatly.

The knock on the door was a welcome distraction and she bid them enter, smiling when she
saw it was Margaery who did so and quickly sending out for some refreshments. Her
granddaughter looked happy and Olenna had been pleased that she and Gwayne had found
pleasure in the marriage bed. Married life could be very hard to adapt to and if there were
problems added to it, then this was only more so. Margaery and Gwayne got on well enough
and the boy though a foolish young man wasn't a fool. Yet if they were suffering in the
bedroom it would have created problems elsewhere in their marriage and so she welcomed
that they were not.

"You've been locked up in her for most of the morning, grandmother, is something wrong?"
Margaery asked and Olenna shook her head.
"Just work, sweetling, his grace?" she asked and Margaery smiled, something she was glad to
see.
"He and Loras headed off for his hunt, grandmother, they'll be back this evening."
"And this pleases you?" she asked curiously, wondering if she'd taken Margaery's apparent
happiness with her husband the wrong way.
"He promised that he'd take the day for me and that it would be him that felled the first
buck." Margaery said smiling still and Olenna resisted the urge to snort.
"Then I wish him good fortune." Olenna said and despite thinking the whole thing a silly
boy's adventure, she meant that at least.
"We've received word that Willas should be arriving later today, grandmother." Margaery said
before she saw Olenna's frown "A rider came bearing the news.".

Olenna looked at her granddaughter who had seen her annoyance that the message hadn't
come to her directly and offered her a smile. The slight was far lesser than she had thought it
originally as it wasn't a note sent and no doubt her granddaughter knew she'd not wish to
speak to the rider personally. That and her own wish to speak to Willas as to what he found
out both changed her mood a little. So when the tea and fruits and soft cheeses arrived,
Olenna found herself enjoying the impromptu luncheon that she and Margaery shared.

"You've discussed the dragon with his grace?" she asked as their luncheon was coming to an
end.
"I have, he at first said that he'd lead the Reach Army himself against this so-called
Dragonknight, he'd face him across a field and offer him a duel and force him to his knees."
Margaery said and Olenna was more than happy to see that there was no smile on her

granddaughter's face or no wistful look when she spoke the words, the last thing she needed
was for Margery to think it as some grand romantic gesture.
"You've dissuaded him of such folly?" she asked and Margaery nodded.
"I have, but he's proud grandmother and he feels that the other lords feel or will feel just as he
does. It may not be easy to get him to even consider what you suggest." Margaery said, her
voice showing her own doubts.
"It's a contingency, sweetling. One of many we must consider given the threat we now face."
she said and her granddaughter looked at her doubtfully.
"Do you really believe the dragon will look our way, grandmother?" Margaery asked and
there was worry in her granddaughter's eyes now too.
"I believe that a man who conquers will seek conquest, Margaery. A man who wages wars
will wage wars and once those wars start, he'll not stop until we are all are under the dragon's
wings." she said, and that in truth was what she'd feared from the moment that Aemon
Targaryen had landed in Dragonstone and she'd found out just who exactly the man was.

After telling Margaery to spend the rest of the day with her mother and goodmother, Olenna
took a nap and waited for Willas to return. Only to find it was the first reports on the other
kingdoms that had arrived first. Looking through them she felt her worries only being added
to and not removed. The North had marched as had the West and the Stormlands, the Hoares
had called their banners, and was that not enough, the dragon had flown from his lair.

By the time Willas arrived, it was to find her almost in a state of despair, though she hid it
well to all. Her mind was considering the possibilities and what this would mean and playing
out outcomes that she discarded or put as likely to one side. Her grandson wasted no time on
frivolous things such as a welcome home either, instead, Willas had simply looked at her with
a look that said he had something to share and after the briefest of greetings they made their
way back to her rooms.

"What did you find?" she said even before she'd sat down.
"On the Dragonknight himself much, on the dragons very little. I spoke to Ebrose, Theobald,
Ryam, and Seneschal Pycelle himself, the dragons have no weaknesses grandmother or none
that the Maesters know about." Willas said and Olenna felt herself shrink just a little as she
took her seat.
"Surely there are some?" she asked as Willas shook his head.
"Gormon stopped me as I was readying to leave, he'd heard that I'd been asking about them
and so he came to speak to me and grandfather." Willas began and Olenna leaned a little

forward in her chair "He said that a friend of his, a Maester known as Marwyn would be the
only one who'd be able to help."
"Did he tell you where this Marwyn was?" she asked eagerly.
"By the Dragonknight's side, grandmother. I believe Gormon to be much mistaken on
Marwyn. Given what he told me of him, I feel this man would be no help to us. He cares for
knowledge and the reason he's with Prince Aemon is that he allows him to gather that more
so than anyone else. A man like that is loyal, grandmother, and were we to seek him out and
try to turn him to our side, I fear we'd be making a grave mistake." Willas said and Olenna
found herself agreeing with her grandson completely.
"They have no weakness, truly?" she asked and Willas shook his head.
"Grandfather and uncle Baelor told me much about the dragons, the Empire itself, and Prince
Aemon in particular. No one has ever managed to take down a dragon grandmother, other
than some half-known legend about a Rhoynish prince a thousand years ago. Considering
what happened after he did, trust me we don't want to be the first ones to do so either." Willas
said as he shuddered.
"Why not?" she asked not sure if it was what happened to this prince or some other reason
that Willas was thinking about.
"The Dragon's are the Empires true strength mother, they're what makes them who they are.
How many of them there are we don't know, but Prince Aemon's dragon is but one of them,
though the Blood Wyrm is perhaps the most fearsome and dangerous of all." Willas said and
Olenna felt herself shudder at the dragon's name "Were one to fall then all would be
unleashed upon whomever it was who did so. An example would need to be made and it
would be one that they'd ensure was well remembered."
"Prince Aemon?" she asked, not wishing to hear more about dragons for now, besides if they
were unstoppable it was better to concentrate on the man who rode them she felt.
"Is even more dangerous than the dragons themselves, grandmother." Willas said and Olenna
gulped.

It was this conversation that she played over and over in her mind for the next few days, this
and the news that filtered in from her spies, and the more she heard the more she found
herself certain that fight was not the answer. An alliance, she needed an alliance and so she
wrote out the raven and offered her terms and prayed to the seven that they'd be accepted. A
crown was something she had wished for all her life, to see her family grow strong and to see
Margaery as a queen was all she ever wanted. They were roses though and roses like
everything else could burn and what use would a crown be then.

"Send this to Dragonstone." she said to Lomys and then she stood and watched him tie the
note to the raven's leg and a moment later it flew from the window.

Blackwater Rush 300 AC.
Tywin.

He set up camp after crossing the river and waited for his outriders and messengers to bring
him the news he wished for. The Riverlands would soon be at war given what he'd found out
in Deep Den, the armies of the North and the Hoares coming together perhaps at Riverrun or
maybe even at Harrenhal itself. What Baratheon planned to do was anyone's guess, the man
was a complete disappointment and had already forced him to change his plans, as had those
fools in the Reach. He'd almost turned and marched back to the Rock when he'd found out,
only the thoughts of how that would look to his bannermen stopping him from doing so.

Tywin knew he still had the advantage, though it was a lesser one and Maidenpool would no
longer be where the battle was fought. Instead, it would be the Riverlands themselves and he
just needed to know where exactly the best place for him to march to was. He needed more
information and he hated that it forced him to wait to get it. Standing in his tent he looked
down at the map and the two routes he'd take, one on either side of the God's Eye. Were it to
be his choice it would be Harrenhal that he'd march too, the thoughts of breaking the dragon's
back while he besieged the imposing keep was one that almost brought a smile to his face.

With the way things had gone thus far, he feared it would be Riverrun or the lands around it
and he found his fingers brushing over the Trident. Either would be a hard march and timing
would be key, were he to arrive too soon then it would be a much different battle that he
found himself in, and while he'd no doubt he'd win, it would be a costly victory. Taking one
last look at the map, he moved away and readied himself for the evening meal. Tywin hoped
that the conversation wasn't as dull and boring as it always was and that his outriders would
return by the time he was done. In this, he was at least lucky and while around him people
ate, Tywin read the missives and as he did so he found his appetite soon departing him.

"Tywin?" Kevan asked worriedly seeing his face and Tywin realized he'd let his mask slip too
much, a small nod to reassure his brother, and then he ate though he had no wish to.

Around him sat his lealest lords and his brothers and his sons, all of them other than Kevan
engaged in their own conversations. When he rose to depart early, Kevan looked at him

worriedly once more and Tywin just nodded before walking back to his tent and reading the
missives once more.

At first, they confirmed all he had expected, Baratheon's army had marched past the Stoney
Sept and the Starks past Moat Cailin. The Hoares had formed up and moved to besiege
Riverrun and the dragon had left Dragonstone. It was the rest of the news that caused his
distress, talk of a prince being held captive in Riverrun and of more of the Riverlords rising
for the wolves than he had expected. Yet as always it was the dragon's moves that Tywin
looked most keenly at and this one had him perplexed.

The Vale?
Why had he marched his men to the Vale?
What was he up to?

Tywin found his fingers drumming against the table as he looked down at the map once more.
Without the dragon coming to the wolves aid that left him in a far more perilous position. If
he marched on Riverrun it would leave the dragon at his back and that was far from a
pleasant thought. Should his army be in the midst of battle when the dragon came it would be
the end of him and yet that wasn't what he was thinking most about.

Why is he there?
What does he seek to gain?
What advantage does it bring?

Later that night as he lay in his bed he knew sleep wouldn't come to him, his eyes remaining
open as he looked to the roof of the tent and so when another rider came he welcomed the
distraction, as he did the news that the man carried.

A wolf rides as expected, his anger a thing to behold.
W.

A simple message but other than signing it like the fool that Walder Frey was, it was one that
he most enjoyed reading. He'd been loath to lose the men that he'd sent to capture a wolf king
and had second-guessed himself about the viability of the plan, but the reward was very much
worth it and so he was pleased to see it playing out as he hoped. Frey was so easily bought
too, gold and the promise of favorable matches and positions for his kin and he'd done
everything he'd bid him to. The greedy fool had even suggested some of it himself making
Tywin wonder why he hated the wolves so. Not that he cared and besides having the Lord of
the Crossing in his pocket was more than worth the price.

That news at least allowed him to rest and though he didn't get a full night's sleep he got
some. Tywin waking to break his fast and finding his appetite had returned and even enjoying
watching Jaime spar over the course of the day. It was late afternoon when the next missive
came and this one not only cost him his appetite but almost the food he'd eaten earlier in the
day too.

It couldn't be true?
Could it?
All of them?
It had to be a mistake, didn't it?

5,000 men just burned away as if they were nothing, not even in a battle if the note was to be
believed. The Hoares had shown more tactical awareness than he'd given them credit for and
had it not been for the dragon, the North would still be stuck deep in the Neck. Only for the
dragon to come and to clear the path for them and Tywin worried now that he'd made an even
bigger mistake. Should the North and the dragon already be united then this was a much
different fight and it was not one he could win alone.

What to do?
What path to take?

The questions were not giving him answers for now or giving him only one answer or option
and that was one he was loathe to take. He sat in his tent and poured himself a glass of wine,
something he rarely did unless he was celebrating which he was very much not. Drinking it
down far more quickly than he had intended, Tywin took no comfort in its taste and rose to
his feet to send for his brother and his sons. There was no other course of action, no other

choice for him to make and so for now it would be a retreat and a reassessment, despite how
that may make him look.

Riverrun 300 AC.
The Blackfish.

He had sent riders to the other lords and now had to wait, soon enough he'd be under siege
and while at first his plans had been to lead one of a two-pronged attack, now it was to be the
rock that the Iron Born were smashed against. Riverrun was well provisioned and he'd
already flooded the land surrounding it. Brynden believing that he would be able to
washstand anything the Hoares could throw against him at least until the North arrived.

Edmure he knew worried that they'd not be or the North would arrive too late, but his nephew
was far more of a worrier than he, and he hadn't fully understood just how motivated the
Starks would be. The loss of their father, knowing he had Harren as his prisoner and what
that would mean, and his own ravens to them, Brynden was more than confident that they
would march and march fast. If anything his own doubts were more about the Hoares than
the Starks, as even as angered as what he'd done had made them, he feared that they'd not rise
as fully as they needed them to.

He also had some doubts about his fellow Riverlords, motivated though they were, without
someone to lead them he feared they'd not do as they must. Brynden had spoken to Jason and
to Tytos, he'd told them that this was their one and only chance to throw off the yoke of the
Iron Born once and for all and that together with the North they had more than enough men
to do so. Their plans were sound he'd told them and now he only hoped they stuck to those
plans and that he'd not made the gravest mistake of his life.

He made his way to where Prince Harren was housed, the tower serving as an impromptu cell
of sorts. Edmure had wished for him to be placed in their dungeons and it had taken all of
Brynden's powers of persuasion for him to be placed here instead. The young lad was their
prisoner true, but that didn't mean he needed to be mistreated. Besides if events played out
how Brynden hoped they would they'd need him fit and well for later. While Edmure may
think that Harren would lose his head when this was over and done with, Brynden had given
the lad his word that he would not, it was something he intended to keep to no matter what.

"Any problems with the prince?" he asked the two guards as he reached the door to the set of
rooms that at one point had been his nieces.
"No, Ser Brynden, we checked in on him no more than an hour ago when his food was
brought, all was well." Garth said and Brynden nodded as he opened the door and walked
inside.

Harren had taken to his captivity well enough and while he'd given him his word that he'd not
try to escape, the young lad being confident that once his father arrived he'd be freed, it hadn't
been enough for Brynden to give him too much freedom. Were he a Riverlander, a Valesman,
or a Northman then it would have. Brynden would be far more accepting of their words even
though he felt Harren to be truer than any other reaver he'd ever known.

"Come to gloat, Blackfish?" Harren said bitingly and Brynden shook his head.
"You know me better than that, Prince Harren." he said and the boy nodded slightly.
"Then what brings you to my humble abode?" Harren asked smirking now, trying his best to
exude confidence and calm and not truly showing either.
"I wish to speak to you about what happens once this is done." Brynden said taking a seat.
"Come to beg for your life, that doesn't seem your style, Blackfish." Harren said chuckling as
he did so.
"No, on that you'd be in the right of it. When my time comes I'll face it as I should. Your
father, Prince Harren…"
"Will see you dead, Ser, you and your nephew, you know this, you're not a fool." Harren said
though with far less conviction than he had the last few times they'd spoken.

Brynden was about to reply when Garth came into the room, the guard looking worried but
moving as if he was not and the whisper to his ear was enough to make Brynden leave the
room at once. He didn't need to look back to know that Prince Harren knew what it was that
had made him leave, nor to know that his smirk had turned into a full smile. As he moved up
the stairs and made his way to the parapets he quickly put the prince out of his mind and
instead it was the king he was concentrated on. The king and his army that had arrived and
was setting up outside Riverrun's walls and as he looked out upon them he smiled at seeing
that it was the vast majority of his men that Qhored had gathered.

"And so it begins." he said as he ordered his own men to their posts.

The conquest of Westeros XXVI.
Dragonknights part IV.
Aemon Targaryen brother of Naerys.

Prince Aemon took much from his namesake, his skills with a sword were on a par and his
love for his sister was just as true. Aemon too had been denied the woman he'd loved, but
unlike his latter-day namesake, he accepted his father's decree and watched on as his sister
married a man not worthy of her. Aegon the Unworthy was a man driven by lusts, a
dangerous thing in most men but in an Emperor one that left unchecked can know no bounds.

Despite it all his brother Aemon stood by his side, even if some sought to turn him against the
Emperor and there had always been those who had wished to drive a wedge between them.
Aegon's own actions were enough to do that and yet Aemon was far too dutiful to ever go
directly against his brother, instead doing so only indirectly. So when rumors began to
abound that Prince Daeron was actually his son and not the Emperor's and when talk began
that the Empress of the Dragon, Naerys, was to be set aside. Aemon made it clear that he'd
not accept even the thoughts of such.

As a trial readied to take place in the Grand Palace, Aemon and his dragon Tyraxes landed
in the courtyard and Aemon fought through a division of the Dragonguard to reach his sister.
Storming into the throne room with Dark Sister in his hand, the blood from the men he'd
killed to get there dripping on the floor, Aemon called out each of Naerys's accusers one by
one dared them to speak their lies in his presence. When his brother rose to demand he leave,
it's said that the roar from Tyraxes was so loud that windows shattered and the Emperor soon
sat back in his seat.

One by one each accuser admitted their lies and when it was done Aemon looked upon his
brother and warned him about treating his sister this way again. Though he threatened
nothing in words, his actions made his thoughts clear and while it never changed Aegon's
actions or curbed his appetites, never again did any doubt Daeron's parentage officially or
name Naerys as anything but true. It's said that when Aemon fell defending his brother's life
from an assassin's blade, Empress Naerys wept for more than a moon and that Tyraxes's cries
could be heard all across the Empire. Within a year the Empress herself had passed and the
realm soon had another Dragonknight to cheer on, or so they thought. As for his namesake,
though he spoke on him little and clearly respected him, that respect was tinged with anger as
well.

"True love, they named it, a love so true that not even the Empire could deny it, yet is it love if
you give up? Love if you accept it cannot be? Aemon did his duty, but for me, there is no
greater duty than to the one you love." Aemon the Dragonknight.

The Vale of Arryn 300 AC.
Arthur Dayne.

He looked to the sky and was not alone in doing so, Rhaenys despite leaning close to
Meraxes was doing likewise while Daario too kept glancing up to see if Aemon had returned.
He'd not been best pleased that the prince had flown off with Ser Denys at his back, Arthur
worrying at just how easy it would be for the man to end him given where he sat and Aemon
almost laughing loudly when he aired his concerns.

"The man is unarmed, Arthur, and will be more focussed on not soiling his breeches and
holding on than he will in harming me." Aemon said when his laughter had subsided.
"A man doesn't need weapons to kill, my prince. Should he wish it he could use his hands or
perhaps seek to dislodge you from Gaelithox's back." he said and Aemon chuckled as he
moved closer to him.
"Only the Blood Wyrm could take me from his back, Arthur. He and I are as one and we've
flown through storms, made sharp turns, and dodged arrows and spears which all tried to
unseat me, a man from the Vale wall not be the one to do so." Aemon said "Besides his
chivalry and the fear of Rhaenys and Gaeltiox's own actions will only add to my safety."
"My prince?"
"I'll leave Ser Denys in no doubt that should he not behave honorably it'll be his wife and
children that my dragon will seek out first and they who'll feel the fire before the Vale burns."
Aemon said and Arthur nodded, the threat far better than any sword to the man's neck.

So he had been less fearful when Ser Denys had climbed up on the dragon's back and then
he'd almost laughed when so had Torgho Nudho, the prince keeping that little titbit to himself
and allowing him to think he'd be flying alone. With his sworn shield behind Ser Denys, the
danger was non-existent, and had he just told him that, it would have been enough. Some
things never change though and his prince had always enjoyed making him worry a little
more than he should. Arthur feeling the smile appear on his face as he remembered what it
had been like watching him as he grew up.

Volantis 289 AC.

He stood with Rhaegar and watched as the dragon flew close to the ground, Aemon on its
back and barely hanging on. Arthur's breathing was harried and shallow while Rhaegar's was
even most frantic and he could see how the High Emperor held onto the rail as Aemon and
Gaelithox drew ever closer. Elia too bore a worried expression and yet the children did not,
Aegon smiling broadly at his brother while Dany laughed and Rhaenys cheered Aemon on.

When they reached the pole, Arthur waited with bated breath and then he heard the loud
cheer from Rhaegar beside him. The sound of it only drowned out by the cheers from the
children as Aemon grabbed the empire's flag and righted himself on Gaelithox's back. For the
next hour, they were treated to more displays of flying prowess, Aemon at one point standing
straight up on Gaelithox's back as the red dragon flew by the royal box. Rhaegar looking out
on his son with a scolding expression and yet his eyes showed just how proud of him he truly
was.

When he eventually landed, Rhaegar bid the games begin and soon enough they were treated
to a display of horsemanship and of archery that had the crowd most entertained. It was when
it came time for the swordsman to show off tie skills that Arthur once again felt his nerves
begin to rise. The fights to come were only spars and not true contests, those were saved for
the High Emperor's nameday and not for the nameday of the Empress of the Ice.

"Look its Aemon." he heard Princess Daenerys say and he looked out as Aemon moved to
stand against two members of the Fiery Hand, the crowd hushing as the spears lit up briefly
before being extinguished.
"Who told them to use spears?" Rhaegar asked worriedly and Arthur frowned as he'd
assumed this to be what was expected.
"Should we call a halt, High Emperor?" Arthur asked and he saw Rhaegar almost wish to do
so, the thoughts of his son being hurt or being shamed both competing in Rhaegar's head and
for now, it was an even battle as to which was winning.
"Aems wished to face the spears, he said swords are too easy." Rhaenys said excitedly and
both Arthur and Rhaegar looked to her.
"Too easy?" Rhaegar asked as Rhaenys giggled.
"You'll see father." Rhaenys said with not even the slightest bit of doubt in her voice.

In this she was proved right, Aemon easily dodging the spears and deflecting the blows when
they came too close. The prince doing as he'd been trained to do and not pushing for but
waiting for an opening. For the crowd and the Dragonriders, it may have been on Gaelithox
that Aemon seemed most at home, for Arthur it was with a sword in his hand. His
movements were precise and studied and there was no showmanship or showing off. He
watched with as keen an eye as Rhaegar did, both of them looking at Aemon with different
thoughts in their mind. Rhaegar seeing his son grow into becoming the Dragonknight while
Arthur seeing a boy he'd trained show off his skills.

"I told you it would be easy." Rhaenys said laughing loudly as Aemon got the first and
second man to yield, Arthur, looking on just as proudly as Rhaegar was and trying not to be
annoyed at the smirk on Aemon's face when he looked up to see him standing there.

Now.

He barely heard Rhaenys call him and was it not for Daario moving to him and placing his
hand on his arm, Arthur would have remained lost in the daydream he'd been having.
Memories of training sessions that lasted far longer than a boy of that age should have been
able to manage and of a determination of a like he'd never seen before. All joined with
memories of pranks and of a distance forming between a father and a son that Arthur had
never understood or agreed with. Why Rhaegar had felt the need for the mummery was
beyond him and he'd never truly shared his mind with him on it. He knew his plans, his
hopes, and what Lyanna herself had wanted. Arthur just didn't understand why to see them
true it required a father to withhold his affection from a son.

"Our prince returns, Ser Arthur." Daario said softly and Arthur shook the memories away as
he turned and looked to see Gaelithox heading their way.

Afemon helped Ser Denys down from Gaelitox, the other man seeming almost lost to
Arthur's eyes. The look Ser Denys's face wore was one he'd seen only in men who'd just
given battle. He was shocked, stunned, speechless, and his movements slow as he made his
way to the others and as Aemon moved to Rhaenys. It didn't take too long for him to tell the
others what he'd seen and Arthur could hear the arguments from where he stood. Aemon it
seemed didn't care about them and was speaking to Rhaenys and laughing about something
she had said, his hand holding her own as they stood by the dragons.

"My prince." he called out when he saw Lady Anya move towards them, the other lords still
speaking to Ser Denys who looked to be coming somewhat back to himself.

He moved behind the prince and princess as they walked to meet Lady Anya halfway, the
look the woman was giving them and the dragons clearly showing her fear at both.

"We accept your offer, Prince Aemon, Princess Rhaenys. House Waynwood, Houses Royce,
Templeton, Belmore, Hunter, Redfort, and Ser Denys's House Arryn are yours." Anya said
with a curtsy.
"My husband and I are most pleased to welcome you into our new kingdom, Lady Anya, we
bid you call your men and ready to march and to send a raven to Jon Arryn, he too will be
given the chance to kneel and to be a part of our kingdom, though as you have knelt first we
will reward you as agreed." Rhaenys said as Aemon looked at her and not at Lady Anya.
"Ser Denys is to be Warden, my princess?" Lady Anya asked seeking confirmation.
"My wife is a queen, Lady Anya, perhaps she should be addressed as such." Aemon said
firmly, his voice challenging.
"Forgive me, your grace " Lady Anya said looking to the princess rather than the prince.
"There is nothing to forgive, Lady Anya, Ser Denys is to be Warden, as agreed." Rhaenys
said glaring at Aemon who now wore a smirk on his face before she thne turned to smile at
the lady who nodded as she moved back to the others.

Was this it? Was it that simple? Had they just managed to take a kingdom without fighting a
battle? He looked to see Aemon being chastised by Rhaenys and to Daario and the Second
Sons who sat around almost lazily and he believed they had. Something that Aemon
confirmed a moment later when he moved to speak to him.

"It's ours, Arthur, Jon Arryn and Elbert will seek to hold out and we may even need to bring
them to their knees, but we've taken the largest houses. The others will follow and when we
march from the Vale it will be with a much larger army than we marched into it with."
Aemon said happily.
"You feel we'll need their men?" he asked, wondering if they would be useful since it had
been so easy to bring them to their knees.
"It won't all be as easy as this, here we got lucky and while we may get lucky again, luck runs
out, so yes we need theirs and maybe even more to bring all of Westeros under our control."
Aemon said and Arthur watched him as he moved to Rhaenys and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Just like the games, this had been a show, the life that had come afterward had been much
harder for Aemon and for Rhaegar, battles had been fought and won and a distance between
them was one that only grew over time. It had forged him, shaped him, and though he still
didn't agree with how Rhaegar handled his son, perhaps in that he was more right than him.
He'd find out soon enough as just like his prince, he didn't think it would be this easy going
forward.

Riverrun 300 AC.
Ned Stark.

The riders were lucky it was he and not Brandon that rode at the front of the army. Given
how angered the Greatjon was and their own worries over their king, they were lucky indeed.
He'd been wroth when Brandon hadn't returned and then angered when he saw the bodies and
he and Benjen had paid his respects. To desecrate them so and to then just leave them as they
had, the Hoares would pay dearly for all they'd done. So after sending an honor guard back to
Moat Cailin, they'd ridden hard and been surprised to find no outriders or signs of an army in
their way.

He wondered if King Qhored believed that the force he'd sent to the Neck stop their march
had been successful and so was laxer than he should be. Or was it just the Iron Born way and
they were so used to being the aggressors they'd forgotten how to defend? Whatever the truth
of it, it mattered not. Their surety or laxity was to his and the North's benefit and so they'd
marched without obstacle or interference.

The lands and keeps they passed were guarded well and yet not fully garrisoned and it had at
first concerned him that more of them had answered the Iron Born's call. Howland though
assured him that the Mallister's were with them and he doubted the Blackwoods would seek
to ally themselves with the reavers. When the riders were spotted it was the first encounter
they'd had in this war, other than the dead his nephew and his dragon had burned in the Neck.
Ned not sure what to think about what Aemon had done, only knowing he was grateful that
they'd not needed to face those men and fearful that something lived that could cause such
carnage.

"We ride, my prince?" The Greatjon asked eagerly as the riders drew closer.

"No Jon, not for now. They ride towards us and can see us just as clearly as we can them, let's
see what they want first." he said as the Greatjon bristled.
"A parley, with them?" he heard someone say almost dismissively.
"We'll parley and offer terms, then and only then do we offer steel." he said loudly to some
grumbles.

They were soon silenced as the riders drew closer, the Ravens and Weirwood of House
Blackwood and the Silver Eagles of House Mallister identifying the men for who they were.

"Prince Eddard." Lucas Blackwood said when he, the Greatjon, Maege, Rickard, Roose, and
Howland rode out to meet them.
"Lord Blackwood, Lord Mallister." he said looking to Lord Jason's heir, Patrek who rode with
Lucas and their men.
"Prince Eddard." Patrek said with a small bow.
"My father, Lord Jason, Lord Mooton, and Lord Bracken all await your orders, my prince."
Lucas said and Ned breathed a sigh of relief, he'd hoped that the ties that bound them had
held true and that the agreement his father and goodfather had come to all those years earlier
still stood.
"How many men, Lord Lucas?" he asked.
"Just shy of ten thousand, Prince Eddard. We're camped a few miles east of Riverrun." Lucas
said and Ned nodded.
"The Blackfish?" he asked worriedly.
"Besieged at Riverrun, my prince. The Hoares have brought their full force to bear, a little
more than 20,000 men I'd wager. " Patrek said and Ned looked to the Greatjon and the others
to see how pleased they were by the news.

They had the numbers, even without the Riverlords, with them they had more than enough
and he suspected the Blackfish had pulled all his men into the keep too. That would give
them another four maybe five thousand men. If he caught the Hoares in the middle of a siege
this could be a rout and should the Blackfish be able to add his force to their own, then
victory was almost guaranteed. He told Lucas and Patrek to ride back to their forces and to
tell their fathers to make ready and he and his lords rode back to lead his army forward.

It would take them two days to march to Riverrun if they did so at the pace they'd been
marching, Ned telling Lucas and Patrek that it would be three though as he wished the men to
be fresh and not overly tired when battle was given. As they camped that night he spoke to
his lords and gave them their orders, he'd lead the vanguard himself with the Greatjon and
Rickard Karstark. Benjen would have command of the left flank along with Galbart and
Maege and Roose the right aided by the Mountain Clans and Howland.

"You think it a sound plan, brother?" he asked Benjen after the others had left.
"Aye, I do." Benjen said before sighing "Brandon should be here, Ned, and not off on some
fool's errand." Benjen added when Ned looked at him questioningly.
"Aye, he should. Fucking wolfs blood." he said and it garnered a laugh from Benjen as his
brother poured them both an ale.
"Aemon, Ned, what are we to do about Aemon?" Benjen asked.
"We're on the verge of one battle, Benjen, I'd prefer to think on that than on another yet to
come." Ned said partly because it was the truth and partly because he knew not what to do
about his nephew.
"You saw what I did, Ned, Brandon will antagonize and belittle, and should the dragon be
brought to bear…"
"What would you have me do, Benjen? I can only advise." Ned said his voice loud but more
frustrated than angry.
"We need to advise then, Ned, both of us. Brandon will think like father did, that taking the
Riverlands in some way makes us untouchable, but father was a damn fool and while I mourn
the man, I hate him too." Benjen said before taking a large swallow from his mug "The Moat,
Sea Dragon Point, Winterfell itself, we may be able to hide behind the walls of them, but
what then? We can't face him, Ned, not only because he's our kin, but 5,000 or 50,000 what
does it matter if he can do to them what he did to the Hoares?"
"Let's get through the fight to come, Benjen, then we'll worry about the next one." he said and
Benjen nodded.

His dreams robbed him of his sleep that night, Ned imagining the North in flames and an
army of the finest men he ever knew simply being burned away in the blink of an eye. He
saw the Wolfswood ablaze and men, women, and children starve as they hid behind the great
grey walls of Winterfell and he heard his sister's voice through it all.

"He is your blood, your kin. Kneel or be brought to your knees, Ned, for should you face my
son that's the only choice you have."

When he woke he threw cold water on his face and found that it was not yet light. The day's
march then seemed almost never-ending to him as he felt his tiredness come over him all at
once. He was glad of the slower pace and that they'd have one more night's rest before they
needed to give battle. This one at least being undisturbed and when he woke that morning it
was to find himself starved and yet unable to eat.

Soon enough they were ready to ride once more and as they did he offered up a prayer to the
Old Gods to give him the strength to do what needed to be done. It was noon when they saw
the army ahead of them and Ned finally found his mind free of all other thoughts but the fight
to come. Well, almost all other thoughts as he ordered his men into position and spoke to
Benjen before his brother took up his own.

"For father." he said softly as he gripped his brother's hand.
"For father." Benjen said just as softly.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry, it's taken so long for the update, most know the reasons so I'll not go into them
here, other than to thank you all for bearing with me.
Up Next Brandon is surprised in Wendish Town, In the Vale Aemon and Rhaenys face a
king. The Starks and the Hoares settle their differences in a bloody battle as Robert
Baratheon marches towards them. While in Volantis Rhaegar deals with rumblings from
the High Council and questions of Faith.

Rivers of Blood.
Chapter Summary

Brandon is surprised in Wendish Town, In the Vale Aemon and Rhaenys face a king.
The Starks and the Hoares settle their differences in a bloody battle as Robert Baratheon
marches towards them. While in Volantis Rhaegar deals with rumblings from the High
Council and questions of Faith.
For those who dislike such things, there is Lemon in the Aemon pov, it's marked where
it starts and ends.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XXVII
The Vengeful Wolf.

It had been Brandon the Shipwright who built the largest fleet the North had ever known. The
king having a wish to see what lay beyond the shores of the North and to the west of Westeros
most of all. For years they toiled and by the time he was done, the Northern Fleet was the
largest in the known world. Not even the great fleet of the Ghiscari Empire or the combined
fleets of the Valyrian Freehold came close. Until the Empire itself was formed, none ever
would.

What could have been had they used such a fleet in the right way instead of a pointless folly?
To use it to secure and build up the North rather than to seek out lands that no one had ever
returned from. Yet it was to those lands that Brandon looked and after setting sail never to
return North again, it was the ships that his son blamed.

Vengeance is a fool's errand, a wasted endeavor. One that leads down a dark path and one
that as the Dragonknight was wont to say, requires you to build two coffins. For Brandon the
Shipwright's son his vengeance was taken out on ships and the yards that built them and his
actions led to the North giving up a chance to rule the waves. For others, it led to far larger
losses. Yet for the Dragonknight it was never to be vengeance he sought, his goals were far
truer than that.

"Make no mistake, Marwyn. It's not revenge I'm after, it's a reckoning." Aemon the
Dragonknight.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Wendish Town 300 AC.
Brandon Stark.

Despite not wishing to, he'd rested before riding to the town himself. The words of those with
him hitting home as they told him that the last thing he would want was to arrive too tired to
fight the damn squids. Though he didn't get much sleep, he did feel refreshed as they rode the
last few miles. So much so that he was actually laughing and japing at he did so. Willam
Dustin, Mark Ryswell, Theo Wull, and Ethan Glover along with a dozen guards making up
his party, and he much preferred to be with these men than any others, save for his brothers
that was.

Ned and Benjen though had their own tasks to do and he had no fear that they'd not see the
Hoares fall, even without him. As for him, he'd make the man who actually struck the blow
pay and see him dead by his own hand. Then and only then could he think of anything other
than the vengeance and justice he sought. Though as they rode towards the town, it was to
conversations not of justice but of his nephew that he was forced to listen to.

"Do you really believe it were the dragon?" Mark said to Theo.
"What else could do that, Mark? I know naught that could and you heard what were said as
well as I." Theo said, his voice sounding worried to Brandon's ears.
"Thank the gods they were fucking reavers." Ethan said to laughs.
"Aye, thank the gods." Willam said and Brandon found his eyes were on him.

It took no more than a moment for Wiliam to ride up beside him, Brandon was certain what
the topic of conversation would be and he found himself surprised to be almost eager for it.

"Your nephew, my king. What are your plans with him?" Willam asked, his voice low and
quiet.
"Honestly?" he asked looking to his friend who nodded "I know not, Willam. I'm not fool
enough to not understand what it means that he has such power to call upon. I'd not have
believed it possible had I not seen the dragon for myself and then those bodies in the Neck."
"Aye, me neither." Willam said worriedly.
"I curse him you know." he said softly, a confession needing to be heard and yet not.
"Your nephew?" William asked confused.
"My father." he said with a loud sigh "I curse him for what he cost us all. Lyanna may have
only lived a few more years after the last time I saw her, but by the gods, it was years I'd have
welcomed. Her son, did you see the boy?" he asked a note of pride in his voice as he spoke
"Only she could birth such a lad, a wolf, and a dragon too."
"You mean to kneel?" William asked shocked.
"I wish I could. I wish it was what my father had done. I wish we'd reached out years ago and
had brought mine nephew close, and to have known her son. To have shown him the true
north, I wish for many things and the damnable thing is I know better than most that wishes
are for naught." he said almost dejectedly.

He said no more, instead finding himself lost in thoughts as they soon saw the town in front
of them. Those thoughts about his nephew for now being replaced with the thoughts of the
men he'd come here to face. Swords were unsheathed and they rode slowly into the town,
Brandon looking warily at the windows and at the lack of people around as they did so. When
the old man came running their way they almost cut him down, so surprised were they to see
him.

"Who are you?" Theo asked angrily, his sword had been the one that had almost taken the
man's head from his shoulders.
"Jarlos, my lord. I run the inn, are you here to help us?" the old man asked hopefully as
Brandon took a closer look at him.

He was younger than he looked, Brandon putting him no more than a few years older than
himself. Though he was beaten down by life and by something else it would seem, as the
marks were still clear on his face and neck. That he was scared and yet pleased to see them
was clear. Brandon wondering just what it was that had caused both of those feelings.

"Euron Greyjoy, he's here?" he asked moving his horse closer to the man.
"Aye, he and his men, they're in the inn, my inn. They're armed my lord, armed and…"
whatever he was about to say was lost to him, Brandon quickly moving with the others to
form up outside the inn.

He called out Euron's name once and then twice to no answer, Brandon then looking to Ethan
and Theo and wondering if they should just storm the inn. The dangers of doing so were what
in the end decided his course of action.

"Are you a craven, Greyjoy, a coward? Come out and face me, come out and die." he shouted
loudly.

The sound of the crossbow bolts hitting home went unnoticed only because of the fall from
their horses of first Theo and then Ethan. Brandon and some of the others soon jumping from
the backs of their own and moving to try and find cover. When the doors of the Inn opened,
Brandon found his eyes drawn to it and to the giant that moved his way. The plate armor he
wore seeming incredibly thick and the greatsword he wielded was moving far faster than a
blade that size should. Yet it was the red and black cloaks that he and his men wore, the
three-headed dragon sigil on those cloaks that he found his eyes drawn to.

His own sword was soon swinging as he cut down men that moved his way and moved closer
to the giant who he'd just seen gut Willam Dustin. The rage he felt was true now, the wolf's
blood all that coursed through his veins, and the man nearest him lost a chunk of his cheek
because of it. Brandon biting into that cheek and pulling back and spitting out the piece of
flesh as he then cut down another man who came too close. Around him, his men were
fighting a losing battle, crossbow bolts, pikes, swords, and more numbers than he had
brought with him all playing their part. Though he felt his own fault to be greatest of all as
he'd led his men into a trap.

Instead of scouting ahead and getting the lay of the land, he'd allowed his wish for vengeance
to overrule his common sense. He'd been a fool and he wondered now if his nephew had
planned this from the moment he'd come North. His mind questioned what deal had Aemon
given Walder Frey and should he not have just cut him down when he arrived at the Moat.
Had he time for thinking, then there would be other thoughts going through his head, but the
time for thinking was long past and all he had time now for, was fighting.

"Take the Stark, alive." the Giant said as he cut down another of his guards and Brandon
laughed at that.

They didn't have the men to take him alive and he'd either go down fighting or he'd beat them
all and walk from this place. Either way, before his time was done, he was going to slay a
fucking giant.

"You, are you a man? Do you fear to face me?" he shouted as he cut down another one of the
men who attacked him.
"Careful wolf, my king may wish you alive, me I care not." the Giant said and Brandon just
laughed as he moved towards him.
"Fuck you, fuck your king." he said as his sword caught the giant across the helm.

He was fast, impossibly so and Brandon did well to dodge the blows aimed his way. His own
hit home but had no effect as the plate was just too damn thick. Still, he cut and thrust and
was a far better blade than the man he faced. Yet so focussed was he on the fight in front of
him that he didn't notice the one around him was at its end. Almost twenty men he'd led here
to their deaths, good men and true the lot of them, and some amongst them were the closest
friends he'd ever known. When he finally saw they had all fallen it infuriated him and his
blows began to make purchase even against the heavy plate.

The blow that ended him came not from the giant, but from the crossbow of a man behind
him. Brandon falling to his knees as he felt his lifeblood ebb away. He heard the roar of the
beast he had faced as he cursed the man who'd fired the bolt for interfering. Hearing the giant
say that Tywin wished him alive confused him for a moment before he then understood that
this like everything he'd faced since meeting Walder Frey, was just another mummery. It
wasn't his nephew that sought his end or that had killed his kin, it was a mangy cat who
sought but more gold.

"My nephew will burn you all." he said as he closed his eyes "Barbrey, forgive me." the last
words he spoke as he breathed his last.

The Vale 300 AC.

Ser Denys Arryn.

Flying on a dragon was like nothing he could have ever imagined and was that all he was
doing then he'd have welcomed it and looked forward to telling the story one day. It was not
and though he had considered taking a firmer grip on the man in front of him and dragging
him to the ground, he stayed his hand. That Aemon Targaryen was so sure that he'd not try to
harm him was disconcerting and it wasn't simply because of the man who sat behind Denys,
the silent shadow as he'd come to think of him as. The prince it seemed knew their ways and
their nature and knew that he'd not break guest right, even though a part of him told him that
he should.

Had he tried to, then he believed the man behind him would have seen to his end long before
he harmed the man in front. So he tried to enjoy the experience and found that he could not.
The closer they got to the Bloody Gate the more fearful he was about what they'd see once
they got there. Denys certain that the words that Prince Aemon had said were true and that he
had indeed taken it, for was he lying then he'd not take him to see it. Still, even those words
didn't prepare him for the sight he saw when they flew over it.

Denys looking down in shock as it was no more, the walls, the towers, the gate itself, all had
simply melted away. He almost fell off the dragon's back when they landed and then he
stumbled towards what remained of the Bloody Gate, once he felt the ground beneath his feet
again. The anger he felt soon forcing him to turn and move towards the prince. Guest right be
damned he thought as he ran as fast as he could, hoping to reach him before he met his end.

"One word and Torgho Nudho will end you, that you live still is only because I deem it so."
Prince Aemon said as he looked down upon him, Denys laying on the ground with a spear
pointed to his neck and not truly knowing which of them it had been who'd taken him down.
"They were good men, true men." he said, his voice showing more pain than anger.
"Who were given the opportunity to kneel and to stand down." Prince Aemon said, "I took no
pleasure in their deaths, but they were hundreds. I now give you the chance to save
thousands."
"Their bodies, where are their bodies?" he asked when with a nod from the prince the spear
was removed and he was let back to his feet.

He was bid to follow the prince and as they walked his anger began to dissipate, somewhat at
least. War was a terrible thing and men would die because of it and they were in a war

whether they liked it or not. Once the dragon had looked their way it had become inevitable
and given what he'd done to the Bloody Gate and the men who guarded it, it was not a war
they could win. Knights and lances were no match for dragons, walls and keeps no barriers to
them either. The harsh truth was that getting out of this war with just hundreds dead was the
very best they could hope for.

"My men saw them given as decent a burial as time allowed for." Prince Aemon said and
Denys looked out to see a number of graves, far too many and yet far too few as well.
"There were survivors?" he asked and the prince nodded.
"We took some men prisoner, some I'm sorry to say didn't last the night, others are with my
men and being held for now."
"For now?" he asked hopefully.
"Some of the men we hold are kin to those with you and so once you and your companions
bend the knee, then at your request I'll give them leave to join you." Prince Aemon said
looking at him curiously.
"I thank you, my prince." he said with a small bow, something that the man with the prince
seemed to appreciate.

With a last look to the graves and a prayer to the Seven, Denys joined the prince and his
guard and they walked back to the dragon. His eyes looked at the giant red beast even more
warily now that he'd seen evidence of what it could do. Before they climbed on its back he
asked if Ser Donnel and Gilwood's brother Ser Harlan were amongst those who survived and
was relieved to find that both did. Bringing the other Lords and Lady Anya with him would
be hard enough, had their kin being amongst the dead then he feared it would be impossible.

Upon arriving back at the camp, he immediately went and spoke to the others. Ser Symond
and Lord Yohn were both angry and almost demanding retribution. Anya and Gilwood were
relieved that their kin still lived and that they'd be freed upon their kneeling. There were
raised voices and some saying they'd not accept the offer they were made, Lord Yohn looking
to him for guidance, and Denys knowing exactly what it was that he needed to do.

"We cannot beat him, we're outmatched. You'll see the Bloody Gate for yourselves in time,
and no doubt Donnel and Harlan will have much to say on it, as will the rest of the prisoners.
It's gone and I don't mean it's been sacked or breached, I mean it's gone, melted away. Not
Runestone, Ironoaks, Longbow Hall, Ninestars, Redfort, or Strongsong can stand against a

dragon's rage, not even the Eyrie is safe from its flames." he said looking to each of them and
seeing his words hit home.
"You would have us kneel, have us give up our independence?" Yohn asked, and Denys was
relieved it was not in an angered way.
"The prince said something when I called him out for the men we lost, they were hundreds,
we kneel and save thousands, and for me, that's worth more than a chance to name myself
king." he said as the others nodded.

It was Anya who was chosen to make the deal, their oaths sworn once she'd done so, and the
new Queen of the Vale herself who'd bid him kneel and named him as the Lord of the Vale
and the Warden of the West. Though they'd still need to deal with Jon Arryn and with Elbert
before that could be a title that meant much. They were invited to join the camp and were fed
well, Yohn asking when the king, for that's what Aemon was now, wished their men to join
them and being surprised when he was told he did not.

"We ride to the Eyrie, my lord. Lord Jon and Ser Elbert will be given the chance to accept the
new world they live in and then and only then will I seek you men to join mine own." Aemon
said looking at them.
"There are more wars to fight, your grace?" Anya asked curiously.
"Seven Kingdoms are to become one, my lady, so I think there'll be more fighting to come."
Aemon said and he swore the man seemed almost eager for it, and yet he'd taken their own
with less than a war if truth be told.

He woke the next morning to find that their men had been brought to them. Anya hugging
Donnel tightly while Gilwood did the same to Harlan and he was surprised when Anya asked
for and was given leave to return to Ironoaks. The queen overruling her husband on that.
Though she'd still be riding with them until they reached the Gates of the Moon and as they
set off he realized why the queen was being so forthcoming.

These men marched like none he'd ever seen, their pace something he had trouble keeping up
with, let alone Lady Anya and as they camped that night, he was not the only one who
welcomed his bed. It took them three days to reach the Gates of the Moon and he worried
that Nestor wouldn't see the sense in opening up the keep to the King and Queen. Lord Yohn
asking for and receiving permission to make his cousin see sense, something he was relieved
to see. Later that night he watched as the raven was sent to the Eyrie and as he slept he
wondered if he'd soon see a dragon's flames for true, or would Jon Arryn realize just as he did
that the war was already won.

The Gates of the Moon 300 AC.
Aemon.

*Lemon warning*

He stood behind her, his finger slowly untying the ties that held her dress up as she leaned
back against him. The small little shiver she gave as it fell to the floor was soon a much
larger shudder as he placed a kiss on her neck and her exposed shoulders. That he was
already naked and hadn't allowed her to see him was something that he knew both annoyed
and excited her. Aemon felt her get her own back on him a little when she pushed back
against him. Rhaenys was now without her dress and was wearing only her small clothes, her
skin brushed against his own and sent a tingle down his spine.

"No." he said when she went to turn around "Not yet." he whispered softly in her ear.

His hands began to move up her sides, brushing ever so gently against her as they did so.
When he moved one to her breast her own hand pressed it down harder and kept it trapped
there. Aemon hearing the small laugh she made and quickly moving his other hand to her
head so he could turn it to the side and allow him access to her lips. As he kissed her, he
lifted her in the air and moved back towards the bed. Both of them collapsing into it and
Rhaenys laughing as he cushioned her fall.

"Aems." she said her voice husky as she finally saw him and how ready for her that he truly
was.
"Rhae, my love."

He kissed her deeply, her tongue fighting with his own and winning this battle, though he
knew it would not be the only one they fought tonight. His hands were everywhere and while
he wished to linger, he also wanted nothing more than to touch every single inch of her and to
explore her completely. Something that it seemed his wife wished for too. Rhaenys laying
back on the bed and allowing him to take in the sight of her, before then bidding him forward.
Her breasts were two perfect little spheres topped off with the darkest of nipples. Which he
was soon tasting with his mouth and he welcomed the deep breath she took and just how
erect they were when he was done.

Kissing down to her flat stomach, he blew gently on her belly button and the giggle she made
soon had him laughing too. When he reached the juncture at her thighs, it was his own
breathing that was deep. She was shaved completely, something that he knew she'd picked up
from a visit to Norvos and it allowed him to see every inch of her.

"Beautiful, so beautiful." he said his eyes looking up at her as he moved forward and his
tongue brushed against her sex.

Nothing tasted as she did and he as always couldn't get enough. Rhaenys moaning loudly and
he knew he was making sounds too, though he couldn't hear them or cared too much about
them. His entire focus was on bringing her as much pleasure as he could and soon enough he
felt her move closer to the edge. So he then redoubled his efforts, his tongue making long
sweeps while his lips sought and found her nub and his fingers slipped inside her.

"Aems, God, Aemonnnnn…." the long-drawn-out cry was like music to his ears and as he
helped her back from the chasm that she'd fallen into, he smiled when he began to taste her
again.

This time she wished for more than his fingers or his tongue though and she almost ordered
him to take her then and there. Aemon moving more quickly than he had intended and rather
than enter her slowly, his wife's hands on his arse made her own intentions clear. He heard
the pained gasp she made as he pushed completely inside of her in one stroke. When he tried
to still, to stop moving and let her get used to him, she was having none of it. Her nails dug
into the cheeks of his arse and the look she gave him was as wanton as he had ever seen.

"Take me, Aems, take me." she said hungrily.

He would like to say his stamina won out, that he spent the night pleasuring her and though
he took her over the edge two more times, he felt it lasted far shorter than it could have. His
own pleasure demanded it of him, as did hers and when he felt his release build, he couldn't
hold back. Rhaenys calling out his name as she felt it too, was far more than he could handle.

"Rhae." he cried out, his voice loud and his need urgent, and then he felt himself spill inside
of her.

*Lemon Ends*

As he dressed he looked down at his wife while she slept, both of them had exhausted each
other the night before and found their pleasure more than once. Leaning down he placed a
soft kiss on her cheek and heard her moan his name and then he made his way from the room.
As usual, the first part of his morning was spent sparring, Aurane, Thoros, Torgho Nudho,
and Daario joining him while Arthur looked on. Though this morning there were others
watching too. Ser Denys and some of the Knights of the Vale along with one or two others
had made their way to the sparring yard when they heard he was there.

Once he noticed them he began to put on a bit of a show, Aemon seeing the small smirk on
Arthur's face as he did so. By the time he was done, Rhaenys too had woken and made her
way to him and so he quickly drank some water and greeted her with a kiss before they then
set off to break their fast. The Lord of the Gates of the Moon, Nestor Royce, and his daughter
Myranda had been reluctant hosts and yet pleasant ones. They sent the messages to the Eyrie
that he and Ser Denys had written out and now all they had to do was to wait. One more day
he'd give them and he'd made that clear in both his and Ser Denys's notes. One more day
where they would have the chance to kneel and should they not, then he'd bring them to their
knees.

"You didn't wake me." Rhaenys whispered in his ear as they ate, sounding slightly put out.
"You're not a morning person, and I wake far too early as well you know." he said seeing her
nod, the small kiss he gave her garnering him a smile as well.

They had barely finished eating when Marwyn came walking into the hall, the Mage bearing
a note in his hand and Aemon feeling himself tense up as it was handed to him. Depending
on what it said, he'd either be preparing for another parley or the Blood Wyrm would be
about his business this day. As he unsealed it he could see each of the faces in the room
looking at him eagerly. After he read it, he handed it to Rhaenys to allow her to do the same
before he spoke.

"Lord Arryn and Ser Elbert will be here on the morrow." he said to some relieved looks, one
from Ser Denys in particular.
"They seek to parley?" Daario said almost disappointedly.

"Perhaps, it seems your Arakh must remain sheathed for now, my friend." he said and he saw
Daario was indeed disappointed at the thoughts of it.

He and Rhaenys spent the early part of the day with the dragons and then he called a meeting
with his men as they laid out their plans for what was to come next. It would be to the
Riverlands he'd ride once they were done here, he, Rhaenys, their men, and the Knights of the
Vale. By then his uncles should have dealt with the Hoares or would be in a position to do so
and if they had not, then he'd offer his aid for the price of their fealty. If they had then he'd
make them a different offer. Either way by the time he was done, the Riverlands at least
would be under his control as well as the Vale.

Then it would be to the Stormlands he looked and it was that he was looking forward to the
most. To see Robert Baratheon brought low was something that if his goal wasn't conquest,
he'd have already done by now. That night after he and his wife had exhausted themselves
once more, Aemon slept a dreamless sleep. Rising the next morning he went about his
routine and then broke his fast with Rhaenys. The two of them once again heading to the
dragons and it was while they were with them that Jon Arryn arrived.

"He's here, my prince." Thoros said and Aemon saw Rhaenys look nervously at him.
"Come my love, it's time to have our arses kissed by a king." he said with a chuckle, seeing
her frown at him before she laughed a little too as they made their way to the keep.

The meeting was to be held in the large open courtyard, Aemon having picked there by
design. He and Rhaenys along with Torgho Nudho and Arthur walked into it and he saw that
it had been laid out as he'd asked. Tables on both sides, seats around one side where Ser
Denys, Lord Yohn, and the other lords who'd already knelt to them sat. To the other side, sat
his own men, Aurane, Daario, and Marwyn who had parchment and paper in hand ready to
record this for posterity. Jon Arryn sat with a man who was older than Ser Denys and bore
some of the same features and yet it was the older man himself who was easily the most
impressive of the two.

"My lords, my lady." he said and kept the mocking from his tone as he took a seat, the man
beside Jon Arryn not able to keep his tongue as he did so.
"You are in the presence of a King, Targaryen, you should speak to him with respect." Ser
Elbert said almost in a snarl.

"Men earn my respect by how they act, Ser, you for example have certainly not done so. As
for your lord being a king, king of what pray tell? For as of now the extent of your lands is
that keep high in the mountains, be wary how you speak next good Ser, lest that too is taken
from you." he said, his voice firm and carrying across the courtyard and though Ser Elbert
bristled, Jon Arryn kept him in check from that point on.
"We came to parley, Prince Aemon, I suggest we do so." Jon Arryn said and Aemon nodded
before turning to Rhaenys.
"Indeed we did, Lord Arryn. Ser Denys and these good lords along with Lady Anya have
seen fit to declare for my husband and me, as has Lord Grafton." Rhaenys said catching even
Ser Denys by surprise "Our army is here, our dragons are here, and while you may think
yourself safe in the Eyrie, should we wish it you'd find you're very much not. Ser Denys,
inform Lord Arryn of what you saw at the Bloody Gate." Rhaenys said as Aemon reached out
to stroke her hand softly, trying to make her laugh and finding his efforts to be in vain.
"The Bloody Gate is no more, most of the men who guarded it have perished in the fires his
grace brought to them. Less than fifty men survived to fight again. Were Ser Donnel here he'd
speak to you of it himself, Ser Harlan can should you wish it of him. Faced with the risk to
the rest of the Vale and knowing that keeps, knights, horses, and men are no match for
dragons, I and those with me have knelt and pledged ourselves to King Aemon and Queen
Rhaenys." Ser Denys said and when Elbert went to rise, Jon Arryn pulled him back to his
seat.
"For a price no doubt." Jon Arryn said though he looked to him and Rhaenys and not Ser
Denys.
"Everything comes with a price my lord. The price of your life and your men's is your crown
and your fealty. Ser Denys is to be our Warden of the East and Lord of the Vale, Ser Elbert is
stripped of his place as heir and you, my lord are free to live out your years how you see fit."
he said his grey eyes focussed on the unblinking blue ones of Jon Arryn and though it was
him who blinked first, it was not for the reason any may think. Aemon calling for and feeling
Gaelithox and Meraxes as they flew overhead "Or you fight and face not my wife and me, but
our dragons." he said as Jon Arryn and Ser Elbert looked up and saw them both flying over
their heads.

They were asked for and he gave them an hour to think about it. Aemon then giving Ser
Denys and the other lords leave to speak some sense to the man and then spending his own
hour japing at his wife's expense while facing her own japes at his.

"My wife was a true dragon, and yet she kept her flames at bay." he said cheerfully.
"One of us must, for my husband it seems wished to let his own loose." she said and how she
was able to hold up her glare for so long was beyond him, Aemon being the one to break first
as he laughed and shook his head.

"Ser Elbert irks me, the man is a blowhard full of bravado. He reminds me of the duellists in
Braavos, though I'd wager without the skill." he said to laughs from every one of those with
him and even Torgho Nudho wore a small smile.
"You think they'll force us to fight?" Rhaenys asked nervously.
"As I said, my love, the man is a blowhard, I'd prepare for it."

He was right in his assumption, Jon Arryn refusing his offer and Ser Elbert going so far as to
offer an insult to him as he did so. The man was lucky that it was he who he insulted and not
his wife and that Aemon actually respected the right of parley. As the lord and the fool he'd
named his heir made to move, an idea struck him and he found himself far too keen to
suggest it. Aemon moving forward before he could be talked out of it.

"I have a counteroffer, Lord Arryn. One that at least offers you the chance of victory." he said
and the man should have been warier of the smile on his face than he was.
"Which is?" Jon Arryn asked.
"Single combat, your best against mine own. Should you win then my wife and I will take
our men and our dragons and leave the Vale not to return. However, when you lose you'll
offer up your fealty wholeheartedly, what say you?" he said as Rhaenys looked at him
nervously while his men did anything but.
"To the death?" Jon Arryn asked and Aemon decided to give the man an out.
"A yield is acceptable to me, my lord, is it to you?" he asked and Jon Arryn nodded.

He was surprised at the choice of a champion, not at the man himself but that he'd agreed to
it. Ser Denys saying that he had no choice as it was well known that he was the best blade
and for him not to step forward would be unforgivable to all in the Vale. It made him
reconsider fighting the man himself, but he'd given his word to his wife he'd not. Arthur had
then made it clear that he really did need to name a champion which left him no choice on
who to call on.

"Bring him down quickly, Arthur, with the least damage physically as you can." he whispered
in Arthur's ear as he stepped forward and unsheathed Dawn.
"I'd be honored to, your grace." Arthur said.

Less than a few moments later, Lord Jon and Ser Elbert were both on their knees declaring
their fealty. Ser Denys had suffered only a knock to his head from Dawn's hilt and some
knocks to his ego as a great swordsman. Arthur was not just better, he was in a different class
altogether. After easily dodging the strikes that Denys sent his way, he'd then simply moved
inside his guard and caught him hard with Dawn's hilt and ending the fight.

"I Jon Arryn, do swear my fealty to their graces, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys of the
House Targaryen, I do so freely and without prejudice from now to the end of my days, and I
pledge my house in perpetuity." Jon Arryn said, cowed but not broken Aemon believed.
"Rise Lord Jon and be accepted into our kingdom." Rhaenys said and Aemon smiled as he
knew though this was only the beginning. Jon Arryn would not be the last king that swore to
them before they were done.

The Conquest of Westeros XXVIII
Faith.

Valyrian's had always worshipped their own gods, the fourteen flames each named after one
of them and until the Doom, never had any other faith made inroads. When he arrived on
Dragonstone, Aenar still prayed to the gods of his forefathers. Aegon though when he began
his conquest of Essos was far less resolute in his faith. While still ostensibly a follower of the
gods of Valyria, he was not devout and not fervent in his worship. Perhaps that was why
Aegon had sought and found answers in the faith of fire and why by the time Rhaegar sat the
Imperial Seat it was R'hllor that was the pre-eminent god in Essos.

Yet the High Emperor allowed other faiths to practice and to be welcomed throughout the
Empire and even allowed the Faith of the Seven a place at his table. Most believe he did so to
appease the Empress of the Sun and yet there were those who felt he had other reasons.
Whatever the truth was, Septons and Septas had arrived and Septs were soon built in Volantis
and elsewhere. Though it was only among the old Andals that the faith garnered any true
support.

The rules and tenets that they wished their followers to live by were not ones that most would
adapt too and their efforts to convert the High Emperor and especially his children had fallen
on deaf ears. None more so than with the Dragonknight himself, who had found their piety
and prudishness unwelcome and who soon earned their displeasure with his courting of his
sister. Why Rhaegar allowed them such leeway was unknown to all but him. The High

Emperor worked to his own plans and as always it was left to the Dragonknight to see those
plans to fruition.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 300 AC.
Rhaegar.

He'd done it again, looked over his shoulder to speak to a man who was not there. Rhaegar
chastising himself for not remembering where Arthur was and why he'd left. His guards
while good men and true were not the Sword of the Morning and while he didn't feel any less
protected, he did feel the loss of his friend's counsel. The walk to the courtyard felt like it
took an age as they moved silently. So he was more than happy to mount his horse and ride
quickly to the Dragonpit rather than dally as he was oft wont to do.

The sight of the High Emperor and his guards racing through the streets of Volantis must
have been an interesting one, he thought with a smirk as he felt the wind blow his hair behind
him. When he saw it loom in front of him, he felt his excitement grow and he knew that the
golden dragon was already there waiting for him. It had been far too long since he and Arrax
had flown together and he longed for the peace of mind that he only found when they were in
the sky.

"I'll be back in a few hours." he said as he climbed down off his horse, Rhaegar moving to
Arrax in hurried steps and then stroking the dragon gently as he felt his trill.

In moments he was on the dragon's back and without words needing to be spoken they were
soon in the air. Arrax almost gliding effortlessly across the sky and it was only when he saw
the Grand Palace that the dragon truly began to beat his wings. Rhaegar wore a smile on his
face that was only ever seen by a few select people as he welcomed the joy that flying
brought him. Soon the city itself was left far behind and now Arrax himself gave in to his
own feelings of happiness at having him with him once more. The golden dragon flying high
and then tucking in his wings as he dropped almost to the ground before he then soared once
more.

When he saw the mountain in front of them, he bid Arrax take him there, and almost as soon
as he did so they were flying in circles over it. His dragon making sure that it was safe for
him to land before he did so. Once he did, Rhaegar leaned forward and thanked him, and then
climbed down off his back. He could still hear him behind him as he looked out on the wide
expanse of land and reached into his pocket to take out the letter and read it once more.

My Emperor,

I bring you tidings of your son and daughter and of their plans in Westeros. Some of which
I've played mine own part in. The Northmen have not welcomed the prince as he would have
wished and the Land of Storms seeks to antagonize and provoke. For the longest time, Prince
Aemon has stayed his hand, but that time is no longer. We seek to march, to conquer, and
conquer we will. The Prince's determination to do so as strong as ever as is his love for the
Princess. They are happy, my emperor, happy and content and though we march to battle, I
have no fear or doubt in my mind.

I shall keep you informed of our success and I remain ever vigilant to the Prince's safety and
now to the Princess, as well.

Your faithful servant,
Daario Naharis.

It should not surprise him and yet it did, the Starks remained as prickly as ever and Rickard
had still not forgiven what he felt a slight. Were his love alive to hear this then he would have
feared for her father's safety, and for the first time he took the tiniest amount of comfort that
she was not. His heart went out to his son as he knew how Aemon would take this, but he
was grateful that it was not something he needed to face alone, and if anything it would only
strengthen his resolve.

"He's doing it Lya, it has begun." he said softly into the wind, before turning to walk back to
Arrax and to head back to the city.

When he arrived back at the Grand Palace it was to see his other son walk his way, Aegon
wearing a frown on his face, and Rhaegar quickly finding out what the reason for it was.

"Some of the councilors have heard about Aemon and Westeros, father, I believe the Septon's
flow of information rivals even our own." Aegon said quietly as they walked.
"The council must have expected this, the men are not fools." he said, and yet he wasn't sure
that was entirely true.
"Expecting is not the same as knowing, father. Aemon conquering is not the same as
expecting it may be his goal." Aegon said and Rhaegar chuckled.
"True enough, arrange a meeting for the morrow, a full meeting." he said and Aegon nodded
"I'll speak to our friends from the faith and find out their minds before then." he said.
"Is she…has Rhaenys arrived on Dragonstone?" Aegon asked his worry for his sister clear.
"She has." he said and saw the relieved breath his son took.
"All is well with you and your wife?"
"Things are better, father." Aegon said, his smile a true one he believed.

After he had washed and changed, the dust from flying leaving him with no option but to do
so, he sent word to the Sept and told his men to see the Septons brought to him. Rhaegar
making his way to his solar to hold the meeting with the men and to listen to their complaints
about his son. He'd not been unaware of the words they'd spoken of Aemon while he was and
was not in residence at the Grand Palace. Though unlike what Aemon may have believed, he
didn't let them speak so out of apathy. His reasons for doing so were far more important than
the discomfort the words may and had caused his son and he hoped in time he'd be forgiven
for them.

"High Emperor, Septon Chayle, Septon Maynard, and Septa Mordane." Torgus said, his
guard bidding the two men and a women enter the room when Rhaegar gave them the nod to
do so.

Torgus himself and two other guards stood at their backs when they took their seats and
Rhaegar saw how uncomfortable that made them, enjoying their discomfort greatly for once.

"I believe you have some issues with my son, Septon Chayle." he asked looking at the older
man.
"I do not, High Emperor, however, the faith does have some concerns." the Septon lied.

"Which are?" he asked.
"Is it your intent to allow Prince Aemon to seek lands in Westeros, High Emperor?" Septon
Maynard asked and Rhaegar sat silently for a moment, not answering and just looking at all
three of the members of the Sept that sat in front of him.
"To allow him to wed his sister?" Septa Mordane asked and he noticed how her expression
was filled with disgust at the mere thoughts of it, something that his glare soon had her doing
her best to hide.
"My son as well you know is a law onto himself, Septon. I've made my feelings clear on
Aemon's actions in relation to my daughter and it has resulted in the exile of my youngest
child. What Aemon does away from my lands are not of my concern and are out of my
control." he said, the answer one that he'd readied many years earlier.
"The faith won't take kindly to this, High Emperor. Westeros is not Essos and while your rule
here is absolute, there are those who would stand against the prince should he seek to
conquer and more should he then seek to wed the princess." Septon Maynard said, the words
not as good a threat as the man may imagine.
"Indeed. What would you have me do?" he asked as if he cared for their opinion.
"Recall you son and daughter, High Emperor, recall them and make it clear that Westeros is a
land that follows the Faith of the Seven who are One and will not bow down to any who
impugn that faith." Septon Chayle said and Rhaegar hid his smirk as he looked at the man.
"How am I to do that, Septon? Would you have me go to war with my son to force him to
bend to my will? If I'd not do so for mine own reasons, what makes you think I'd do so for
yours?" he asked looking to each of them.
"High…"
"Silence." he said raising his voice and his hand as he looked to see Septa Mordane shrink
back in her seat and hold her tongue "Westeros is not Essos as you rightfully say and the
Empire has no business there. What Aemon does is his own concerns and he will do so with
or without the Empire's and his father's consent. Feel free to test him shall you wish it, you'll
find him a man who is not as understanding as I am to the concerns of the faith. Perhaps you
should have considered things more carefully before you spoke of him how you have and for
how long you've done so."
"High Emperor, the faith.." Septon Chayle said.
"Operates in Essos by my leave and now in Westeros it has another dragon to contend with.
Were I you, I'd consider your next moves most carefully as while I may be a forgiving man,
Aemon is very much not." he looked at each of them as he spoke the words, his own threat
hitting home far more truly than theirs had.
"High Emperor." Septon Chayle said with a small bow as he rose to his feet and the others
did likewise, Rhaegar watching them as they left the room.

He waited until they were gone before he poured himself a drink and wondered just what
form their resistance to Aemon's rule would take. In time he'd send for Benerro and tell him
to make ready, soon it would be red priests that preached as openly in Westeros as he had
allowed the Septons to do in Essos. Payment for a debt that was yet to be incurred.

The Conquest of Westeros, XVIV.
The Kings of Winter.

Known for their fierceness in battle, the Kings of Winter were revered in the North, none
more so than Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf. Tales of his exploits were the stuff of dreams for
Northmen who wished for war. His victories were spoken of with great fondness when any
threat to the North was raised. From his throwing back of the Andals and defeat of Argos
Sevenstar whose body he displayed on the bow of his ship when he sailed to Andalos. To the
villages, towers, and righteous fury he brought down upon them in their own lands.

He took the Three Sisters as his prize and defeated rebels from the Rills and yet it wasn't
these that truly made his legend. Aiding the Night's Watch he inflicted a defeat upon the King
Beyond the Wall and the Wildings that brought peace to the True North for a generation.
When Harrag Hoare invaded the North and his son Ravos the Raper took Bear Island it was
once again to Theon the Hungry Wolf that the North looked and once again he did not
disappoint.

After slaying Ravos by his own hand, Theon then led his armies and expelled the Ironboorn
from the Stoney Shore not resting until the North was free and in Northern hands once more.
Many kings came before and after and many legends rose about their achievements, but when
war was upon them it was to the Hungry Wolf that Northmen called for guidance and he that
they channeled. Many centuries after Theon had fallen, it was to another wolf they looked.
This was a far quieter one and as battle neared, the men of the North waited to hear him
howl and to see him show his fangs.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

The Battle of Riverrun 300 AC.

Ned Stark.

Ned looked down upon the field below him, the men of the North lined up behind and to his
right and left. The Riverlords would arrive during the battle itself and crush the Hoares from
the flank. Inside the keep, he knew the Blackfish would see to his own men, and in time
they'd ride out to join him. He knew that in sheer numbers alone they more than held the
advantage. As they did in position too, the Hoares and the rest of the Ironborn had been
caught just how he had hoped and as he looked to the Greatjon and to Rickard Karstark he
saw both men nod.

"Ahoooo…Ahoooo….Ahooooooooo."

The horns rang out and the charge began, Ned, taking out his sword and riding hard as the
Ironborn tried to form up quickly. The arrows that he had feared never truly came. So by
surprise had they caught them that they'd never had a chance to get their archers into position.
While around him one or two Northmen fell to those few who'd found a bow, it was far less
than it should have been and not one came close to him personally.

He swung his sword and felt the jolt as it crashed into a reaver's skull, his horse was already
past the dying man and onto the next one in the blink of an eye. Behind them, their infantry
raced forward and those they didn't cut down with their charge would soon face their fury.
For now, those in front of him faced his own. Ned cutting down men while his horse raced
past them. Perhaps it was cockiness or maybe it was just pure bad luck that took him from his
horse's back. Though given the size of the man who'd pulled him from it, maybe it was
simply his size that had been the reason.

"Die wolf." the man shouted moving towards him, his ax barely missing Ned's head as he
rolled away.

Rising to his feet, he blocked the next blow and was soon joined by more and more men of
the North. Ned not having time to wonder if they too had lost their seats or had they simply
given them up to rush to their prince's side. It brought a smile to his face when he heard the
booming voice and out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw the greatsword swing.

"Umber, Umber." The Greatjon said over and over as Ned then began to concentrate on his
own fight.

"Hoare...Hoare... Hear my howl." he shouted and then he attacked the man with the ax
furiously.

The first swing almost took it from his hands and Ned moved closer as the reaver seemed less
sure of himself now. He dodged the blow aimed at his head and caught the man with a slash
down his back, injuring but not ending him. That would come a few moments later when
after he blocked another blow, Ned then moved in and kicked the man hard in the leg forcing
him to a knee. There would be no rise from him as the blow he aimed at him was a thing of
beauty and the sound of his head as it rolled way was one that he took great pleasure in.

"For the North, for the fallen, for King Rickard Stark." he said as the Greatjon cheered and
they moved on to find more men to kill.

Benjen.

Watching his goodmother fight was like nothing he could describe. No man was fiercer than
Maege and in her hand, a mace was a thing of beauty. Beside him all the way, they both
moved through men as if they were nothing. Any daring to come to close were soon brought
to their knees by her mace or his sword and around them, the men of Bear Island and Ser
Dragon Point were just as deadly.

They'd caught them napping, in some cases literally as Benjen had seen sleeping men
dragged from their tents to face pure Northern fury. Where the true warriors amongst these
men were he knew not, only that those they'd faced had been no match or no obstacle to their
progress. He heard arrows fly and looked worriedly to Maege only for her to shake her head.
Benjen soon seeing it was their own archers who were taking shots and doing so without
harassment.

"STARK." a voice called out and he turned to see a tall man bearing a red sword, its blade of
a far better quality than his own.
"DRUMM." he shouted back and then he and the man were face to face.
"I'll gut you Stark, gut you and make your woman my salt wife." Denys Drumm said and as
Benjen looked at the ugly scar-faced man he laughed loudly, something he was not alone in
doing as Maege and the men of Bear Island looked his way.

"Be thankful that it's not my wife's mace that seeks your end, for you'd find she like to take
her time killing fools like you, me I say I end you quick and I'm much in need of a new
blade." he said to louder laughs and then the sounds of fighting as Maege and their men
found their own Ironborn to kill.

Loud and annoying he may be, but Denys was a decent blade and Red Rain was more than a
match for his own. Benjen finding himself being forced back at first and lucky not to fall
more than once. He searched for an edge, a weakness, and found there were few. Then he
reached to his belt and took out his knife as the two blades crashed against each other. Again
and again, he blocked and parried, Denys, holding the edge and yet not landing a blow.

"I bet she tastes good, my new salt wife, maybe I'll take her and your girl a the same time, I'll
need to wait for your youngest, though maybe not." Denys said smiling and though he was
enraged, it wasn't that which Benjen gave in to.

Instead, he feigned tiredness and let Denys dictate the pace, Benjen moving back and back
until suddenly he moved forward. Blocking Red Rain with his sword, he found himself inside
the man's guard and the dagger soon hit home. Benjen saw the shocked look on Denys's face
as he fell and then he moved his sword and pushed it down through the man's neck and
watched him breathe his last. Placing his own sword back in its sheathe, he picked up the
Valyrian Blade and held it in the air, hearing the cheers around him as he did so.

"Benjen."
"Benjen."
"Benjen."

He moved to Maege who looked at him proudly, her eyes drawn from him to the sword he
now wielded, and she wore a warm smile on her face.

"He fucking talked too much." he said to a loud boisterous laugh.
"Come goodson, there are more of them to kill and that new sword of yours will look far
better with some squid blood on it." Maege said slapping his back and Benjen looked to see
the Northmen pushing forward and then he heard the cheers as the gates opened and the
Blackfish rode forth with his own men.

The Blackfish.

By the seven it was a glorious sight, Brynden looking on as the Hoares and the rest of the
Ironborn were swamped by more men than he had ever seen. The North had caught them
completely by surprise and he wondered how that had occurred. Qhored may be a horrible
cunt, but he was no fool and yet looking to the carnage beneath his walls that's what he'd
name him as. Seeing the Wolf banners, the Flayed Men, and the Black Bear was a welcome
sight. When he saw the Silver Eagle and the Ravens and Weirwood of Jason and Tytos
though, that brought a true smile to his face.

The Riverlords had come to play and play they were, their charge coming from the right
flank, and were the Northmen not already more than enough for the Ironborn to contend with,
they'd soon have even more. Brynden leaving his place on the battlements and hurrying down
the stairs in his eagerness to taste some blood before the fight was done.

"You have the keep." he shouted to Edmure and his nephew nodded, they'd argued over who
should and who should not ride out and he'd won.

Edmure was the Lord of Riverrun, the heir to his family's legacy, and out of the two of them
the only one that would see an heir born. They would win today, victory was all but assured
and his nephew needed to be alive to take advantage of that victory. Not that Brynden had
any intention of dying here today, far from it. Mounting his horse, he found himself to be just
as keen for the inevitable feasting to come. More than he'd been for any feast he could
remember if truth be told.

"Ser Desmond, my blade seeks blood, how fares your own?" he asked nodding to the Master
of Arms and to Ser Robin Ryger the Captain of the guard.
"It's hungry, Ser, hungry for Ironborn and to see that what is dead fucking remains that way."
Ser Desmond said to loud laughs from him and the men they'd lined up.

Almost a thousand mounted men, half what he could call upon but there had not been enough
room even in using every piece of space he could to form them all up. With a nod to the
gatekeepers, he turned to his men and raised his lance high before he spoke loudly.

"For far too long we've suffered under the yoke of the Hoares and the Ironborn scum, today
we throw off that yoke once and for all. Out there good men of the North and Riverlands seek
our aid, they fight and we fight with them. For the Riverlands and for Riverrun."
"For Riverrun." the shouts sounded out as one and as the gates finally opened he bid his horse
forward. A walk at first, a trot then as he rode under the gates and across the drawbridge, and
finally as he felt the ground beneath him, he kicked his mare into a charge.

The first man he caught looked almost stunned to see him and soon enough he had caught
another two. His lance finally falling as he saw the Northmen in front of him. Drawing his
sword, he began cutting down men on either slide. A downward slash to the right, a thrust to
the left, one, two, three, he stopped counting at four. When he saw him in front of him he
thanked the gods. A worthy foe to face and though he could have ridden to him and fought
him from up high, he felt the man deserved better than that.

"Greyjoy." he called out as he jumped off his horse, Victarion looking his way and the ax he
bore soon being held far differently than it had been.
"Blackfish, good I was tired of killing men with no names." Victarion shouted, his Kraken
helm muffling the sound.
"One of us is to die here today, so let's talk no more and see to the bloody buisness." he said
moving to the large man and while around him men fought their own battles, he was
concentrated only on the one.

While men laugh the gods make plans though and it was to be no epic fight that he faced here
today, no tale to be spoken of for years to come or song to be sung. The arrow caught him in
the shoulder and he fell to his knee, Victarion moving from him to slap Theon Greyjoy across
the head. Brynden then seeing the spit of blood from his mouth that the boy was forced to do
afterward.

"He was mine, you fuck." Victarion said looking at his nephew.

Death it was to be and an inglorious one at that, Brynden waiting for the blow to come only
to find that again the gods had different plans for him. It wasn't Ned Stark who forced
Victarion away, though it was he and his men who had come to his aid. Whether it was to
save his nephew or for some other reason, the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet was nowhere to
be seen and as he was helped to his feet, Brynden felt the wound and was happy to see it was
not as bad as he had feared.

"I thank you, my prince." he said as Ned let go of his arm.
"My wife would never forgive me if her favorite uncle perished." Ned said with a small smirk
on his face that soon turned into a full laugh.
"Her only uncle, you mean." Brynden said as he laughed along with his goodnephew
"Aye, that too." Ned said as Brynden looked around, the scene was one of complete carnage
and the victory looked to him to be complete, though he knew there was more to ending the
Ironborn than simply beating their men.
"Hoare?" he asked.
"It seems the Ironborn have need of a new king, Brynden, Qhored is dead and fallen to a
northern blade I'm most pleased to say." Ned said as Brynden looked to see Benjen Stark and
some others in the distance.
"Yours or your brother's?" he asked only to receive a shake of Ned's head.
"The Smalljon took the honor, Brynden, now come we've defenses to form up and pickets to
place."
"Ned?
"Robert Baratheon leads an army our way and I know not why." Ned said confusing him.
"Today?" he asked.
"No, he'll be here in a day or two, three at most."

He was helped back to the keep by his goodnephew, Brynden hearing men cheer Ned's name
loudly, as they did his brother who he'd found out had gained himself a new sword. Walking
back allowed him to see the extent of the victory though he worried about what wars or
battles there were to come. A Storm King and a Dragon were soon to look their way no
doubt. Still, he breathed in deeply and felt the air to be different as the stench of the Ironborn
polluted it no more.

Chapter End Notes

The next update is in two weeks' time.
Up Next the full extent of the North’s victory is revealed as the Ironborn survivors seek
a course of action and Robert Baratheon and his army arrive to a battle already won and

seek an alliance. With the Vale under his control, Aemon gathers their knights and
marches on the Riverlands and to Harrenhal. Oberyn arrives in Volantis to carry out
Doran’s will and in the West Tywin plots his next move while a raven from Highgarden
makes it’s way to a queen.

You Gotta Fight for the Right, to Parley.
Chapter Summary

The full extent of the North’s victory is revealed as the Ironborn survivors seek a course
of action and Robert Baratheon and his army arrive at a battle already won and seek an
alliance. With the Vale under his control, Aemon gathers their knights and marches on
the Riverlands and to Harrenhal. Oberyn arrives in Volantis to carry out Doran’s will.
While a raven from Highgarden makes its way to a queen.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Riverrun 300 AC.
Stannis.

There were times when his brother could be a complete and utter fool, and this entire march
had to Stannis's mind been one of them. Why he'd taken it upon himself to march their army
from the Stormlands to the Riverlands was beyond him. Oh, he knew the logic and reasoning,
even the tactics of such a thing, but it was incredibly stupid and at no point had his brother
come up with an answer for either of the two biggest questions or obstacles they faced.

How did you beat a dragon?
What if the North had joined their kin?.

To the first Robert's reply was that dragons were overrated and that the Targaryens had
overstated their usefulness. They were just beasts no more and no less and as he had proved
each time he went hunting, man would always triumph over beast. It was perhaps the most
stupid thing he'd ever heard and so Stannis had tried to come up with his own plan to deal
with Aemon Targaryen's dragon. Something a forced march didn't really allow him to do. For
now, it was archers and crossbowmen. Had he the time then it would have perhaps been
scorpions made specifically for the task. The fact that he nor none of his men had actually
seen a dragon other than high in the sky and from some distance away, only making that task
that much harder.

Yet it was the second question that had him tearing his hair out and showed just how much of
a folly this entire endeavor was. Robert saying that the men of the Stormlands would simply
ride over the Northmen and the prince's men and cut them down with ease. That he himself
would take Brandon Stark's head and shove it up this pompous prince's arse. While that may
bring him laughs and make for good cheer as he drank himself into a stupor, it didn't solve
the fucking problem one bit. His brother may not rate the men of the North and some of their
men may feel likewise, Stannis knew better.

It wasn't just the Moat that held the Andals back all those years, true it was that which they
were broke upon, but it was hard fucking bastards that broke them. As for Aemon's own men,
while he may not have many, they were far more bloodied than their own. Perhaps Robert
was right and just as the dragons, Aemon Targaryen's reputation was overstated, Stannis
though didn't believe so. He was certain that at least some of what he'd heard about the young
prince was true and that along with the thoughts of facing a dragon and hard fucking
bastards, gave him more than pause. Throw in his worries about his brother, and not the one
leading them into this stupid fucking war, and he had not slept well on this march. What he
now heard would perhaps only add to his sleepless nights.

"The Siege has been broken, my king. The Hoares are defeated." Lord Beric Dondarrion said,
the man and his outriders having just arrived back from their scouting trip.
"How many losses did the North take?" Robert asked and Stannis was relieved that the
question was at least an intelligent one.
"Few by the looks of it, my king. It seems the Riverlords have joined up with them too. I saw
Mallister, Blackwood, and the Tully sigils among the Northern ones." Beric replied.
"Numbers Lord Beric?" Stannis asked.
"More than our own Lord Hand. They've also put up pickets and spikes." the Lord of
Blackhaven said worriedly.
"What of the Dragonspawn?" Robert asked angrily.
"I saw no sign of the Targaryen banner, my king."
"Thank you, Lord Beric, I'm sure you and your men are tired and hungry, go eat and rest and
we'll speak later." he said as Robert glared at him.

His brother didn't speak until Lord Beric had left and his first words were chastisement for
sending the lord away. Robert was as petulant as ever and reminded him that he was the
bloody king and not him. Stannis allowed him his rant, waited until he was finished, and then

took a large swallow of his wine after which he began to speak softly, hoping his words
resonated.

"We have lost the element of surprise, Robert. Are outmatched in number and position and
should Prince Aemon arrive and we were in the midst of battle, it would be to our cost." he
said looking to his brother and seeing the beginnings of the rant before it started.
"You would have me do what? Slink away like a fucking craven? Refuse to give battle
because you fear we would lose? I want them crushed, the wolves, the Riverlords, and the
fucking Dragonspawn. One by one or altogether it matters not, I'll fucking crush them all."
Robert shouted rising to his feet.
"This is folly, Robert. You are a better king than this, a better leader of men. When you're
outmatched you seek a different path. A retreat is not shameful." he said to an angry glare
"But not what I was suggesting." he added quickly and to a confused look.
"Then what the fuck are you suggesting?" Robert asked, Stannis happy to hear more intrigue
than anger in his brother's voice.
"Parley Robert. Parley with the North and see if there is room for an alliance between us
both." Stannis said and closed his eyes when the rant began anew.
"You would ally me with fucking wolves, after what they did, after how they shamed me."
Robert shouted.
"I would see our people on the winning side, Robert, and not smashed against the walls of
Riverrun and fucked in the arse by a dragon." he shouted back "I've said my piece. Better we
ally against one enemy than face each of them together or separately. Blood will be spilled,
I'd see it was more of theirs than it was of our own."

He had reached the front of the tent when Robert called him back, his brother surprisingly
listening to him and his words hitting home far more quickly than he had dared to hope.

"Would the wolves, parley?" Robert asked and Stannis turned and nodded.
"They've not yet allied with the dragon, Robert. So perhaps they find his price too steep and
one they'd not wish to pay and better them than the lions." he said which at least got a laugh
from his brother.

They camped that night and early the next morning, he, Ser Davos Seaworth, Ser Barristan
Selmy, Ser Jon Wylde his goodcousin, along with a dozen men at arms, all setting out under a
flag of parley. It took them no more than two hours ride to reach the camps at Riverrun and

seeing what he did there, he was even more certain this was the only course of action open to
them. Or at least the only one that his brother would consider.

"How many, Ser Barristan?" he said quietly to the older knight.
"Were I to hazard a guess, I'd name it close to 40,000 Lord Hand." Ser Barristan replied and
Stannis found he couldn't argue with those numbers, and it put their own 25,000 at a big
disadvantage.

Combined, however, it was 65,000 men and perhaps a third or more of that mounted. Even a
dragon may find those numbers far too much to handle. They were allowed to ride through
the camp without being stopped. True they were given looks that left him in no doubt they
weren't welcome, but until they reached the gates of Riverrun itself no one even approached
them. Ser Barristan though pointed out how their movements were and had been shadowed
by two different groups of riders ever since they came close to the camp.

"What brings you here, stranger?" a voice called out from the walls above the gate, Stannis
looking to see a grey-haired blue-eyed man and hearing Ser Barristan whisper 'Blackfish'
under his breath.
"My name is Stannis Baratheon, Hand to his grace King Robert Baratheon, I've come to
request a parley between my king and the King in the North." he said firmly.
"My brother is elsewhere, but aye, go fetch your king, Prince Eddard will stand in King
Brandon's stead." another man said, this one dark-haired.
"Here today in four hours. You'll offer guest right?" he asked looking up at the younger man
and seeing that he bore the long faces the Starks were known for, his mind trying to find the
name of him and not being able to for now.
"Aye, we'll give it." the Blackfish replied.
"Then I look forward to returning with my king." he said and though he tried to make it
sound true, he feared he had not, just as he feared how Robert would behave in the upcoming
negotiations.

They rode back to their own camp much faster than they had from it and again they were
shadowed until they had ridden some distance away from the camps at Riverrun. Robert
didn't give them much of a chance to rest and Stannis felt his brother was more looking
forward to being indoors and perhaps to bedding a servant than he was the actual
negotiations. Something the ride back to Riverrun proved to be true. As his brother wondered

if the Tully's picked the choicest of the Riverlands ladies to serve at their keep or had Qhored
and the reavers plucked every pretty flower for themselves.

He hoped he behaved as suiting a king and not as was his usual wont. Stannis fearing that it
would be Robert himself that was the biggest obstacle to an agreement with the Starks. Just
as much as he feared what form that agreement may take. Renly was unwed, but a prisoner,
and while of an age to be wed, he didn't think that the Starks had anyone to offer up. It would
perhaps be through Shireen that this alliance would be forged and he begged the gods, her
mother, and her own forgiveness for what he may be about to do.

The conquest of Westeros XXX.
Harrenhal.

Over forty years it took to build the great keep, forty years and who knows how much stone,
coin, and blood was spent to see it raised. The Hoare Kings had sought something to show off
their power, a seat as imposing as the great keeps of Winterfell, Storm's End, and Casterly
Rock. A seat as impregnable as the Eyrie and as impressive as the Wall itself and the men
who'd built it had succeeded beyond all King Harren's dreams.

Men came and went, kings fell and rose again, while Harrenhal remained as it had always
been. It stood as the true source of power of the Hoares in the Riverlands and on the
mainland of Westeros. As long as they held it, they still held sway of those who lived in its
shadow. But a large keep requires a large force to hold it. A large force to man its walls and
large forces required the supplies to keep them fed and Harren had made some big mistakes
in building it where he did.

The Ironborn belonged at sea and not on land, they needed to be near the water so their ships
could supply them and the further they moved away from the sea, the weaker they became.
Harrenhal had large walls and high towers, its thick stone could withstand anything a
catapult or trebuchet aimed at it. Stone however melted, Towers burned and Dragons brought
the fire. Yet it was not with dragons that the Dragonknight intended to take the mighty keep,
or not directly at least.

"They say Harrenhal is impregnable. I say give me ten good men and some climbing spikes
and I'll impregnate the bitch." Aemon the Dragonknight.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Balon Greyjoy.

He had been shamed by not being given a command and left behind to see the keep protected.
Not that he had the men to do so as Qhored had taken almost all of them with him. Yet as he
saw the ragtag group that arrived at the gates, he began to think he'd been done a great favor.
Theon, Victarion, and Euron were among them while Maron and Rodrik were not, and all in
all he'd name it as less than 4,000 men who'd returned. That they'd been beaten was clear,
how badly they'd been beaten and who had fallen was not. Balon hurrying from the tower
he'd been looking down at them from, to the courtyard below eager to find out all he could.

The queen it seemed had arrived long before he had and had obviously heard the news of
their defeat. Balon was more than keen to find out the full extent of it, so he bid his son and
brothers join him and watched as the rest of the men who'd made it back scurried off to drink,
bathe wounds or lay with their salt or rock wives. Theon looked the worst for wear and his
face was pale as it had even been, Victarion looked like a beaten man, while Euron as always
wore that same crazed look in his eyes that even made him a little afraid of his brother at
times.

"Your brothers?" Balon asked to a shake of Theon's head which forced him to look at
Victarion angrily "My sons, where are my sons?"
"With the Drowned God or at the wolves' mercy." Euron said with a chuckle "Either way
they're fucked."
"Brother?" he asked turning to Victarion.
"I need a fucking drink. We'll speak then." his brother said with a sigh before walking off.

Euron sloped off to do only the Drowned God knew what and Theon moved to him as if he
was waiting for a hug or embrace. He would get neither and should he seek one then it was to
Harlaw and his mother he'd send him. Noticing the expression on his face, Theon too hurried
away leaving Balon to look at the few men who'd survived and to smile at the opportunity
this gave him. It took him an hour to find Victarion, his brother had gone for a bath of sorts

before he had made his way to one of the smaller halls and now sat over his ale along with
some of his men.

"Send them from the table." he said and his brother nodded to the men, leaving the two of
them to sit alone and speak in peace "Tell me?"
"It was a slaughter, a rout, brother. I know not what happened to the men the king sent to stop
the Northmen, though they must be dead. We besieged Riverrun and they took us right up our
fucking arses. So fucking confident was the king, that we had no outriders, no defenses and
they rode right through us." Victarion said bitterly.
"Qhored?" he asked eagerly.
"Dead."
"You saw him fall?" he asked to a nod of Victarion's head.
"Him, Drumm, so many of them, brother. It's only a matter of time until the wolves march on
Harrenhal." Victarion said his worry clear.

It was one he shared, not that the keep would fall to the Northmen. Not in an assault anyway,
but a siege, they'd fall eventually in a siege. Especially considering they no longer had the
men to relieve the keep should they be besieged. In time they'd be starved out and not even
the large walls of Harrenhal would be enough to protect them from the wolve's fury. What to
do? What was he to do? How best was he to take advantage of this situation?

Had they not been beaten so resoundingly, then he'd have the queen killed and simply take
the throne for himself. Prince Harren was a prisoner and no threat, and even if he was
released he was still but a green boy. As for any other claimant, none had his cunning of
provided a better option. Besides if he took the keep then none could argue as he'd have paid
the Iron Price for his crown. Without the men to secure his position though, killing the queen
and taking the keep meant very little. He cursed his misfortune and his fall from grace, as
he'd not even be able to access the vaults to take the gold he knew was there.

"We sail." he said after far too long a silence, his words catching Victarion so by surprise that
he spluttered his drink onto the table.
"Brother?" Victarion asked confused.
"The Riverlands is not ours any longer. It belongs to the wolves now and maybe soon to the
dragon. Should we be here when they come then we're as fucked as the Hoares are. Besides a

Kingsmoot will need to be called and it won't be here that it'll be held." Balon said with a
smile.
"You seek a crown? What of Prince Harren?"
"As fucked as his father was before him." he said with a chuckle "How many of our men yet
live?"
"Less than a thousand, much less, five hundred perhaps." Victarion sounded far too worried
about men who could be replaced, and if Balon played this right, they'd soon have more than
enough to secure his crown.
"Make them ready to leave. The ships are ready?" he asked and got a nod as his answer as he
rose to his feet "Make sure my son is not in his cups and ask don't tell your brother to come
too."
"You'd leave Euron behind?" Victarion asked smiling a little at the thoughts of it.
"I'd feed him to the fucking wolves myself if it didn't make me a kinslayer." he said to the
first laugh he'd heard from his brother in some time.

He made his way from the hall to the queen's chambers, eager to offer his sympathies and to
speak of a plan he had no intent of following through on. Queen Yara barely heard his words,
she and the princess both offering each other comfort and as he looked at the younger girl he
considered taking her with him. Balon even offered to do so when he spun his tale about the
need to sail to Pyke and to rally more men, but the queen was having none of it and his words
fell on deaf ears.

It was a shame, marrying her to Theon would make things even easier and keep the Botley's
in line. Balon knowing it would be them more than any who'd threaten his crown. With
Aeron on his side, he'd bring the Priests of the Drowned God on board. His brother would
preach and tell them that he had been chosen to lead them in their time of need. With them,
with his own words and given the dire situation they now found themselves in, the Driftwood
Crown would be his. In time he'd bring them back to where they should be, bring more of the
Greenlands under their control, for now, they needed to be back out on the sea.

The moon was high when they rode out of the keep, Euron joining them rather than staying
which annoyed him greatly, but at least proved that his brother was mad and not a fool. It was
to the south and not the north they rode. Their ships were docked near Maidenpool and
though it would take some time for them to reach the Iron Islands it was a far safer journey
than traveling through lands that were no longer safe for any Ironborn to traverse. This was
what the Hoares had forgotten, what too many years of living in the Greenlands had made

them forget. Islands, not inland, on the sea and not on the land. That was where they
belonged and under King Balon Greyjoy, that was what he'd give them.

Riverrun 300 AC.
Ned Stark.

He'd heard no word from Brandon and so had sent men to find his brother. Yet it would not
be before the Storm King arrived that they'd do so. Ned had been wroth with his brother for
agreeing to the parley without speaking to him first. Benjen explaining that had he, then he'd
just have agreed to it anyway and it was not something he needed to concern himself with
when he had other things on his mind. His brother was right of course, yet still, he'd let him
know of his annoyance, Benjen just laughing it off and telling him it was better him than
Brandon hosting this sit-down.

"Our brother would either start a war with the Stormlands, or a drinking content with its
king." Benjen said laughing.
"And you think I wont?" he asked.
"You don't really like ale all that much, brother mine." Benjen said grinning at him and
making him laugh a little too. For as annoying as he could be at times, he preferred to see
this side of his brother, he'd been far too serious since their father's death and Aemon's
meeting with them.

The scale of their victory against the Ironborn was clear very early on after the battle. They'd
been decimated, routed and while some of his men had wished to chase those who retreated,
Ned had not let them do so. Better his men and the Riverlander's were well-rested before they
moved to take Harrenhal. Than had they spent all their energy while chasing down beaten
men. Finding out that the Storm King was bearing down on them was only another reason for
his course of action.

While waiting for the parley to come, he'd made his way to look over their prisoners and to
speak to Prince Harren. They'd captured some sons and heirs of the main houses of the Iron
Islands. Maron Greyjoy, Ser Harras Harlaw, Tristifer Botley, and Greydon Goodbrother
amongst them. Ser Harras had killed six men and would have perhaps killed more if it was
not for Benjen. His brother told him that he'd already paid the Iron price for one Valyrian
sword today and he'd have no trouble doing so for another. Ser Harras then agreeing to stand
down if he was given Benjen's word that Nightfall would be sent back to his House and not

kept as a spoil of war. Whether it was honor or the fact he now wielded his own, Benjen
agreed to let the sword be sent back should Ser Harras lose his head.

As he entered the room that served as Prince Harren's cell, Ned wore a smile as he thought of
how proud he was that Benjen now wielded Wolfsblood. The sword had been renamed from
Red Rain and he thought it an apt one given the color of the blade. Seeing his smile the
prince glared at him and Ned quickly schooled his features, he'd not come to gloat and
belittle the young man, nor to take comfort in the death of his father. Instead, he'd come to
speak and speak plainly.

"Your father is dead, his army beaten. In time you'll be given leave to see to his body, but
first, we must speak you and I." Ned said looking to the young prince and seeing his
shoulders sag before he straightened himself and stood tall once more.
"How am I to meet my end?" Harren asked with none or little fear, something that impressed
him a little.
"Ser Brynden tells me that he already spoke to you about what was to come. I seek not your
life, just your crown, and the lands your family took that are not yours." Ned said, his voice
firmer than he knew it could be.
"We took those lands, bled for them, we paid the Iron Price." Harren announced and Ned
shook his head and sighed.
"And now so have we. The Riverlands are no longer yours, in time Harrenhal will fall and
while I've not come to seek your end, make no mistake I will not shy away from seeing it
done if it must. You and I will parley with your mother, I'll give you leave to then set sail and
head back to your islands, but that's as far as my mercy will allow me to go. Should I need to
fight and should I lose men in taking your keep, then I'll answer that with blood. Listen
carefully on this and note my words, for it's not only your blood that I speak of." Ned said
and the boy paled as the truth of his words hit home.

He disliked doing it, but he needed them gone and Harrenhal to be free of them. A siege
would take too long and winter was coming. Ned had no intention of staying in these lands
any longer than he needed to. His father had been avenged and the Riverlands were or soon
would be, free of the Hoares. Now he had other enemies to deal with, at least one he felt.
Though Aemon had made his own intentions clear too.

It was just before dusk that they arrived, the King of the Stormlands, his bother, and some of
their most important lords along with their guards and men at arms. In another world this
man would have been his goodbrother, the North and the Stormlands joined in bonds of

kinship. In this one, they were very much not and as he looked to Robert Baratheon, he found
himself grateful for that. There was something about him that he disliked right away. Be it the
look in his eyes as he all but sneered at them or the way he carried himself as if he was better
than they.

"King Robert." he said as he stepped forward, the Storm King towering over him and looking
fierce if incredbly bored.
"Prince Eddard, I had hoped to treat with your king." Robert said sounding annoyed.
"I'm afraid I'll have to suffice. Bread and Salt, your grace." he said as the servants stepped
forward with the plates and Ned watched them carefully as each and every man took a piece
of each, only breathing easily once they did.
"We've prepared a feast to celebrate our victory, King Robert, perhaps you'd prefer that to
negotiating at this late hour?" Benjen said, his brother wearing what looked like an easy
smile, yet Ned knew it was not one of his truest ones.
"Aye, I believe I would, Prince Benjen." Robert Baratheon said the first glimpse of humor in
his face since he'd arrived.

Later that night.

He stood on the parapets looking down at the rows of tents and the lights that still shone near
some of them. The feast had not been something he enjoyed. Robert Baratheon was an oaf
and the idea that his sister could have ended up wed to that man was not one he wished to
entertain. Were it not for the Greatjon then he'd have perhaps have had words with the man,
instead, he allowed Jon Umber to drink and make merry with him.

"I thought I'd find you here." he heard Benjen say from behind him.
"He still drinking?" he asked not turning around.
"Aye, man can put it away all right. Likes the servants too." Benjen said making his head spin
around to face him.
"Willingly?" he asked and Benjen nodded.
"Aye, though whether it's the crown or the man himself, I know not." Benjen said, joining
him for true now.
"You find out what they want?" he asked curiously.

"An alliance Ned, I'd imagine against Aemon." Benjen said softly.
"I can't give them one." Ned said turning to look at his brother.
"Because you're not the king?" Benjen asked.
"No, because I'm not a fucking fool." he said to a laugh from his brother, a slap on the back
too as he turned to head to his bed.

He had hoped it would be Cat he dreamt of, instead, it was Lyanna, and had he not been
already certain that she and Robert Baratheon would have been a terrible match, then his
dreams would have shown him that they were. Ned saw Lyanna with Aemon in her arms, his
sister looking happier than he had ever remembered her being. The silver-haired man who lay
beside her in their bed kissed her softly on the cheek and the way she looked from him to the
babe left him in no doubt.

A dream it may have been, but his sister loved Rhaegar Targaryen. Ned was certain of that
and when he woke and broke his fast the next morning it was with that in mind that he made
his way to the large room that had been put aside for the talks between Robert Baratheon and
himself. He was one of the first to arrive, him, Benjen, Maege Mormont, The Greatjon,
Brynden Tully, and Jason Mallister. On the other side of the table, he could see Prince Stannis
the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Connington, Lord Gulan Swann, Lord Eldon Estermont, and
Lord Caspar Wylde. The king was most notable in his absence.

"My lords, my prince" he said as he took his seat.
"Prince Eddard." Stannis replied.

King Robert arrived a few moments later, looking like a man who'd drunk and spent the night
abed with a woman, something that he knew he had. That the first thing he did was ask for
wine, did not go unnoticed to Ned or to his lords, something that even the Greatjon frowned
at.

"I'm not a man who stands on ceremony, so let's get to the heart of things." Ned said irritably.
"We both have the same problem, Prince Eddard. A dragon has come to take what is ours and
I find I like the crown on my head. I propose an alliance between the Stormlands and the
North, an alliance with but one goal. To see the dragon gone from our lands. To seal that
alliance." King Robert said looking to Stannis who nodded "A marriage between my niece
the Princess Shireen and a prince of House Stark of an agreeable age. What say you?"

Ned looked to the others and saw the eager looks in their eyes, all of them keen to hear his
answer. Benjen, Maege, The Greatjon all probably knew it already, as did Ser Brynden, while
Jason Mallister he doubted did.

"My nephew came to see us before we'd truly marched. He and that great big beast of his. I'd
never seen the like of it before, none of us had and so we had no idea of what it was capable
of. Oh, we'd heard the stories, as no doubt I'm sure so have you." Ned said seeing a nod from
Stannis and Lord Jon Connington "But hearing is very different from seeing. Would you care
to know what it was we saw?" he asked and heard Robert growl before Stannis answered.
"If it has bearing on your decision, Prince Eddard." Stannis said.
"it does not, but mayhap it will on your own." he said as he looked to Stannis, Robert, and the
others "King Qhored sent 5,000 men to stop our march, they would have caused us a fair
problem too had we need to face them. Though by the time we got to them they were long
past causing anyone a problem." he said to laughs from Maege, Benjen and the Greatjon "Do
you know what 5,000 men burned away to nothing but ash in minutes looks like?"

There was no reply as he looked to see the worried expressions on five of the faces across
from him and the angry look on one.

"It's a terrible sight, and my nephew did that against men he had no quarrel with. He did that
because those men stood in our way and we are his kin. We may have our own issues with
what my nephew seeks to do, but kin we still are. Aemon Targaryen may not have my name,
but he has my blood, and blood trumps all." he said rising to his feet.

He saw Stannis reach forward to stop Robert from doing likewise and then Ned reached
down to take a mug of water that he drank down in one swallow before speaking again.

"I welcome the offer, but on behalf of the North and King Brandon Stark I find I must
decline." he said as he went to move away, Benjen and those on his side of the table quickly
joining him.
"I'll fucking put your nephew in the ground, Stark and when I'm done, it'll be you that I come
looking for." Robert shouted angrily and Ned saw Benjen hold his hand out when the
Greatjon went to move towards the Storm King.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, your grace. You're going to fucking need it."
he said with a smirk as he turned and walked from the room.

They left within the hour and he knew he'd made an enemy here today, not that he worried
too much about ever having to face that enemy.

The Vale 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

The Eyrie was a unique keep, and flying over it on Meraxes with Gaelithox by her side only
made it look prettier to her eyes. She had wished to land there, to see inside but it was not to
be. Instead, they'd just flown over it to show Jon and Elbert Arryn that while it may be
difficult for men to take it, it was not nor would it be for dragons. Aemon had wanted that
message sent and sent clearly. Her husband not trusting the former heir to the Eyrie and Vale
to live up to the agreement they'd come to.

Jon Arryn would as would Ser Denys, Yohn Royce, Anya Waynwood, all those who'd spent
time with them, would accept the new order they'd imposed upon them. Elbert Arryn had too
much to lose and so Aemon was sure that in time he would not. Rhaenys deferred to Aemon
on that point, he understood the nature of some men far better than she did. Where she saw
the political, he saw the martial. Some men he said would never kneel while others believed
themselves too good to do so. It was the latter type that he'd named Elbert as.

With the Vale now theirs, they had begun to march to see that the Riverlands joined it.
Marwyn had seen that ravens had been sent out from the Gates of the Moon to the keeps of
the Lords that traveled with them. By the time they left the Vale, Aemon reckoned they'd
have more than 20,000 men at their command. More than enough to bring first the Riverlords
and then the rest of the realm to heel. Though Rhaenys believed that some would come to
them and seek them out long before they ever readied to face them across a field of battle.

The North she hoped would for Aemon's sake and Dorne for her own. Others perhaps once
news of what they'd done here had spread and the more they took quickly, the easier it would
be for those to kneel willingly. Robert Baratheon wouldn't knee and nor would Tywin
Lannister according to Aemon. Not even seeing the Bloody Gate in front of them would
make them do so. It wouldn't cow them, give them pause or see them fearful. Not as it had
Ser Denys and now the others that were with them as they too saw it for the first time.

"Will this not stop, Elbert?" she asked Aemon as they rode through the charred remains of the
gate and the towers that had once been the barrier to the lands beyond it for many years. Until
Gaelithox had changed all that in the blink of an eye.
"That man is too much of a fool to be scared." Aemon said and she looked to see that while
the others all looked worried, Elbert looked unperturbed.

It took almost two weeks for the Knights of the Vale to be gathered. Almost 18,000 men and
more than two-thirds of them were mounted. Along with their own, it was more than enough
and as they camped on the borders of the Vale, Aemon took to the sky on Gaelithox and
Rhaenys watched as he and Torgho Nudho flew off to check out the lay of the land. Daario
and the Second Sons had already ridden on ahead of them. Their own mission was unknown
to her though she felt just like Aemon, that it was simply scouting that they were doing.

Arthur stayed by her side, ostensibly to guard her, though with Aurane, Thoros, and their men
she felt no danger and Meraxes rested nearby just in case. She had found the Lords of the
Vale to be most accommodating. Ser Denys was a good man and one she felt they could form
a much better relationship with in the future. In time he'd see the benefits of what their new
regime would bring to Westeros and to the Vale and Rhaenys looked forward to
implementing some of her ideas to help both prosper.

Lord Yohn, Lord Horton, and Ser Symond, despite having some difficulty regarding her and
Aemon being wed, too seemed to be men she could work with, and even Aemon seeming to
like them somewhat. The Bronze Lord, in particular, she'd found. Aurane and Thoros had
begun to speak more to the lords and to their sons. The tales both of them told of their
campaigns in Essos providing further evidence, if it was needed, of why kneeling had been a
good idea and of the reasons for their confidence in the battles to come. She would have liked
perhaps to meet some of the men's daughters and wives to get a read on them, but that would
not be something that would be happening for some time she feared. As she was readying to
take to her bed for the night and trying not to be upset that it was to be alone, Marwyn came
hurrying towards her.

"A word, my princess, if I may?" the Mage said and she nodded as she bid him take a seat
beside her "An eagle from Dragonstone." he said as soon as he sat down, Rhaenys looking at
it and then at the Mage as she wondered how he had received it.

She knew that he'd trained his birds himself, that he had found them to be much better than
ravens both in ensuring they always arrived where he wished them to and that they could be
used on the move. Something very helpful when men were far away from cities or towns, but
how he'd been able to get them to work here was a mystery to her. One that he wasn't about to
share with her and looking to the scroll she held in her hand, one she was less keen on finding
out the truth of. for now at least.

The seal was one she didn't recognize, a green hand with its palm opened and as she broke it
to read what it said, she smiled. An invitation to a sit-down and a negotiation for an alliance.
Reading the words she could easily see what was not mentioned and yet there was enough in
what was to suggest that Lady Olenna Tyrell knew enough about them and what role they
may be willing to offer her, for her to make the first move.

Highgarden she knew little about, other than what she had read and it was the same with the
Reach. Aemon had mentioned that the Gardeners could call on perhaps the largest force in
Westeros and that if it came to it, he'd hope it was one battle rather than a series of small
ones. Something that once again she didn't truly understand his reasoning for. After finishing
the letter she turned to Marwyn and asked him to tell her as much about the Reach as he
could. The Mage was only too happy to do so and what she heard made her heart beat that
little bit faster.

It was the breadbasket of Westeros, the single largest food-producing kingdom and second
only in wealth to the Westerlands. The Reach stretched from the Stormlands to Dorne and
bordered the Riverlands on one side and the Westerlands on the other. Should they take it
without an actual battle as well as then taking the Riverlands, it would be a tremendous boon
to their campaign. Not only would it bring them food, wealth, and men, but they'd control
almost all of Westeros other than the West, North, Dorne, and the Stormlands and they'd be
able to call upon an army larger than all the other kingdom's combined.

"You can see a letter arrives at Highgarden, Marwyn?" she asked and the Mage nodded "I
need some parchment and ink."

The Mage got up from his seat and raced off to get her what she'd asked for, Arthur and then
Aurane taking his place when she bid them join her.

"From the King of the Reach's Goodgrandmother." she said handing Aurane the letter who
then handed it to Arthur once he finished reading it.

"You intend to agree to this, my princess?" Aurane asked curiously and for the briefest
moment, she doubted she was doing the right thing, but only for a moment.
"I do. Should we be able to bring them in through a negotiation. then that's two kingdoms
we've taken without a fight. It adds to our strength and would serve us as well in any further
negotiations as victory in battle would do." she said firmly, no doubt at all in her voice and
she saw both Aurane and Arthur smile.
"I look forward to seeing Highgarden, it's supposed to be a most beautiful keep. Those I've
seen thus far have been sorely lacking beauty and none compare to any in Essos." Aurane
said and Rhaenys found she agreed and did not.
"You don't find Dragonstone to be beautiful, nor High Tide?" she asked and Aurane
chuckled.
"Imposing perhaps and true both are beautiful in their own way. Neither though are beautiful
for beauty's sake, my princess. None look like the Summer Palace in Lys, or the Grand Palace
in Volantis.." Aurane said wistfully and she almost found herself growing a little sad as she
wondered when or if she'd ever see either of them again, only Marwyn's return stopping her
from falling further into melancholy.

The eagle flew off no more than a moment after she'd written her reply, its destination
Dragonstone where a raven would then carry the message on to Highgarden. Once it had left
she took to her bed and she was just drifting off to sleep when Aemon returned. Rhaenys
smiling broadly when she felt his arms go around her and she snuggled in close to him. More
than happy to find she was wrong and that she wouldn't be sleeping alone.

The Conquest of Westeros XXXI.
The Empress of the Ice and the Empress of the Sun.

The nature of the relationship between both empresses was much speculated upon. Some say
that the High Emperor shared his bed with both at the same time, others say he alternated.
There are those who say that as much as the Empress of the Ice loved the High Emperor, she
loved the Empress of the sun just as fiercely and just as true.

What is known is that both shared an equal love for the children and treated each of them as
if they were from their own wombs. That on the day the Empress of the Ice breathed her last it
wasn't just the High Emperor who was inconsolable. The Empress of the Sun's pained cries
resonated through the Grand Palace for hours and for days afterward and it was only
spending time with the children that brought a smile to the Empress's face.

No one knows of the plans that were agreed between them, the words that were spoken to
each other that were far away from prying ears. There were none who in the Empress of the
Sun's presence would dare speak ill of the Empress of the Ice or name her as anything less
than her equal, either while she lived or since she had passed. The Dragonknight was oft
heard to say that he had two mothers, two who he named as so and two he was proud to be
the son of. Perhaps that alone showed the depth of feelings the two Empresses had for each
other, and perhaps that is all that needs to be said on the subject.

A History of the conquest of the Dragonknight.
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 300 AC.
Elia.

She had laughed when Rhaegar told her what the Septons had tried to demand of him, even
more so when he said the High Council had raised its own concerns. Under the guise of
worrying about the trade from Westeros and one or two of them even going so far as to
suggest that they should demand Aemon to desist his campaign. The High Council, or some
of them at least, had tried to dictate Rhaegar's course of action.

As if his exiling of Aemon had not shown that he couldn't force him to bend to his will. They
now suggested Rhaegar force him to return. Elia had thought them to be far cleverer than
this. Some of them even going so far as to say that should Aemon take Westeros then it
would be evidence to all that he was not coming back to Essos and thereby a risk to the
Empire's security. Then a moment later suggesting that the Empire take action against the
very man they wished to then use to frighten away any potential threats.

Start a war to prevent a war, was a good plan, for a fool. Something that Rhaegar was very
much not and even if she didn't agree with his plans regarding Aemon and now Rhaenys, her
support of them was guaranteed. Elia knew that despite the falling out Aemon had with
Rhaegar, despite the exile, and even despite carving out a kingdom of his own, should they
call he would come. He and Rhaenys both. Were the Empire to be ever truly in danger, it
would be Aemon who'd lead their armies and Gaelithox that came to their aid. She knew it,
Rhaegar knew it, Aegon, Viserys, Dany, and those on the High Council who had sense, knew
it. As they did the potential boon that a united Westeros under Aemon would bring them.

Yet as she waited by the Imperial seat to welcome her brother and his brood to Volantis and
the Grand Palace, she knew that boon was some time away. Oberyn's visit and its timing were
not a coincidence. What he'd come for was as clear to her as day, as was upon whose behest
he was making this visit. Smiling though she was when he, Ellaria, and the oldest of his girls
walked into the room, it was a false one that she wore. She loved her brother, truly, and even
Doran despite their differences. Yet he was not her daughter, not her son, and it was to her
own family that she owed her allegiances first and foremost.

"Prince Oberyn Martell and his Paramour Lady Ellaria Sand." the herald called out as Oberyn
came and dropped to a knee in front of Rhaegar, her brother's eyes more on her than on her
husband.

Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken Dorne may be, but they were just a fly to an elephant when
compared to the Empire and all who entered this room knelt if they wished to ever leave it
again. Ellaria gave a perfect curtsy and the smile that Elia offered her was a much truer one.
The woman had made her brother happy and she owed her greatly for that. It was the same
with her nieces, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene were all as different as they were the same. She
noticed Ser Daemon Sand and another man who she couldn't name. the silver hair was it not
broken by the dark streak that ran through would have named him as Valyrian, yet he was
clearly from Dorne.

"Prince Oberyn, Lady Ellaria, you and my goodnieces are most welcome in the Grand Palace.
I look forward to your company and to you joining my wife and our family for dinner
tonight." Rhaegar said more as a goodbrother than the High Emperor she felt.
"As do I, High Emperor. Empress." Oberyn said looking at her and she nodded to him.

Elia had them escorted to their rooms and then sent for Oberyn to hear exactly what he had
come to say. She had thought of giving him time to settle, allowing him to bathe and change,
and even waiting until the morrow to have this conversation. In the end, she felt it best to
have it out now. Once it was they could then at least enjoy the rest of his stay in Volantis as
brother and sister, put aside Dorne, the Empire, and Aemon and just enjoy each other's
company. More than that she could spoil her nieces and spend time with her goodsister. For
though Ellaria and Oberyn weren't wed that's what she was and had always been to her.

"Prince Oberyn, Empress." her guard said and she nodded to him to allow her brother inside.

Oberyn walked in and immediately moved to hug her and kiss her cheek, Elia welcoming
both and bidding him take a seat.

"Have you eaten? Drank?" she asked and he shook his head, Elia calling for refreshments to
be brought to them and then looking her brother over.

He was still as fit and healthy as always, age not seeming to have taken any toll on him
whatsoever. His eyes sparkling as they always did when they were together and she so very
much wished it was to be a much friendlier conversation than she knew it was to be.

"What does my bother seek?" she asked as the food and drink were brought in and placed on
the table in front of her.
"To spend time with his sister, see his nephew and enjoy all that Volantis has to offer, sweet
sister." Oberyn said, his words true as ever.
"And my other brother?" she asked as Oberyn picked up a peach and bit into it, his smile
upon tasting its sweetness not remaining on his face for long.
"For a sister to intervene." Oberyn said and she laughed, louder and more fully than she had
thought to do so.
"And I thought you were the foolish one." Elia said after a few moments.
"Dorne has no wish to be conquered, Elia. Not by words or not by deeds." Oberyn said more
seriously.
"Those who are conquered never do, brother. I take it an offer was made?" she asked.
"By my niece who is now married to her half-brother." Oberyn said trying to surprise her, he
did not succeed. Elia had known from the moment Rhaenys left what was her intent to do and
Aemon's own was even clearer to her.
"Who bears the blood of Dorne in her veins and who would no doubt see that Dorne suffered
little under her control." she said testing the waters.
"Yet we seek no one to control us, Elia. We wish to be left in peace and should any threaten
that peace…"
"Fight against Aemon and you will lose, brother. I say that not because he and Rhaenys are
wed and not to bring you to heel, but because I would see my brother and his children alive

and I have no wish to mourn their loss. Make Aemon your enemy and not even the god
themselves can help you. " Elia said hoping that her words hit home.
"It's not the gods I've come to for aid, Elia." Oberyn said looking at her with a look that even
she couldn't read.

She rose to her feet, reached down and poured some wine in a glass, and then drank it far
more quickly than she had intended. Pouring herself another which this time she sipped, she
moved over to the window and looked out it for a few moments. The silence in the room was
only broken by the sound of Oberyn biting into another peach and pouring himself a glass of
wine.

"Rhaegar sought to tell Aemon what to do, he ordered him no less. Rather than accept the
will of the High Emperor who told him that he could not have that which his heart desired
most of all, Aemon accepted exile. It surprised me to hear that in the two years since that
exile, Aemon hadn't already conquered Westeros. On the day that I realized that Rhaenys had
left to join him, I knew it was only a matter of time before the news would reach me of their
marriage and of the conquest beginning" Elia said, a small smile on her face before she
removed it as she turned to face her brother.

Oberyn was looking at her curiously and seemed surprised by the expression she now bore as
Elia moved to the table and took her seat once more.

"Aemon cannot be controlled, Oberyn, he cannot be brought to heel. Not I, not Rhaegar and
no force that I know can do so, other than one. It was Rhaenys who flew to Dorne?" she
asked, readying to drive home the point.
"It was." Oberyn said.
"Then no one can stop him, no one will stop him from what he wishes to do. Doran will find
no comfort from the Empire, nor from me. I'll not go against my daughter's wishes and she
and Aemon are as one. Kneel, Oberyn, kneel or be brought to your knees. They are the only
choices that you, Doran, and Dorne have, and should it be the latter then the cost will be high
indeed." Elia said shaking her head, almost pleading and yet not by the end of her words.
"That's is your final word?" Oberyn asked as he rose to his feet.
"Speak to Rhaegar, speak to others. Talk to the men who fought by Aemon's side. I've said
my piece and I'll speak no more about it. I look forward to spending time with Ellaria and the
girls and with my brother, but yes, you've had my final word on this." Elia said firmly and
Oberyn nodded before moving to her.

"I look forward to doing so too, Elia." Oberyn said smiling as he kissed her cheek and then
turned from her and left the room.

She moved back to the window and wiped the tear that fell from her eye. Her words may
have resonated with one of her brothers, she doubted that when they were relayed they'd do
so with the other.

"Damn you, Lyanna." she said softly, though she didn't mean the words that she spoke.

The Trident 300 AC.
Aemon.

His uncle had defeated the Hoares and done so comprehensively and yet it was not that he
was thinking about as he flew back to his wife and his men. It was the army that was bearing
down on Harrenhal and that was seeking to take his prize from him. The banners of the
Stormlanders were clear and he knew that they now aimed to do what he himself had
intended. Take the keep at Harrenhal for themselves, which was something he could not
allow to happen.

As they flew he examined his options. Gaelithox and he could end this march, bring the
flames to the Stormlanders, and see to their ends. He could if he wished have Rhaenys and
Meraxes join in, though he wasn't sure if he truly wished for his wife to see the full horrors of
war just yet. If he and the mounted men set off early on the morrow they'd intercept the army
of the Stormlands long before they reached Harrenhal. Aemon looking down at the river
below and seeing the camp that had been set up, and so he told Gaelithox to land.

He'd sent Daario to scout out the lands around the great keep, and to see if there was a way to
take it without having to force his way in. Besieging it was not something he truly wished to
do and be it either true stealth or force, Harrenhal would be his before the week was ended.
Torgho Nudho climbed down off Gaelithox first, Aemon a moment later and he then saw
Daario moved towards him. They'd not be staying long and not just because he wished to be
by Rhaenys's side as she slept. He needed to give Aurane, Thoros, and the Knights of the
Vale their orders and to have them ready to ride early the next morning.

"My prince." Daario said confusedly.

"A change of plan, Daario. The Storm King rides to Harrenhal and intends to take it as his
prize. He's a day or so behind our own men, but I intend for us to be what he sees long before
he sees the keep." he said to a smile from Daario and Valarr.
"Good a battle, I've been so bored." Daario said making Aemon chuckle, Grey Worm smiling
a little too.
"I'll meet you by the river, where the three combine. We'll await Baratheon there." he said to
a nod from Daario and Valarr.
"The dragons?" Daario asked.
"The Blood Wyrm and Meraxes will be in the sky if needed. This I intend to do ahorse." he
said to a worried look, one that soon faded when Daario saw his smirk.

With his orders given, he and Torgho Nudho quickly flew back to their own camp. Aurane
telling him of the letter from the Reach and that Rhaenys had replied and Aemon informing,
him, Thoros, and Arthur of Robert Baratheon's movements.

"We ride and ride hard. I want to reach the river before him and one there force him into a
fight." Aemon said and Aurane nodded his agreement while Arthur asked him if he was sure
this was what he wished to do.
"I don't want them decimated, Arthur, beaten and broken yes, but I wish for most of them to
reamain alive." he said to a surprised look from Thoros and Aurane.
"Why my prince?" Thoros asked, clearly not seeing the bigger picture.
"Dorne and the North." he said to a nod from Arthur and Thoros though perhaps not sure,
then nodded too.

He didn't tell Rhaenys until the next morning, instead just held her in his arms and let her
sleep. When they broke their fast she told him of the Reach and then he told her about Robert
Baratheon and his plans to deal with the Storm King. His sister was not happy with them,
though she accepted them and while he, Arthur, Aurane, Thoros and the Knights of the Vale
rode horses to the Trident, she was joined by Torgho Nudho on Meraxes and they and
Gaelithox flew.

It took longer than he expected, King Robert was a slower marcher than he'd given him credit
for. Aemon arriving within a day and Robert and the Stormlands army then taking more than
two. He laid out the ground so they couldn't be attacked, made it so that a parley was not only
sought but imperative, and awaited the call when it came. Telling Rhaenys to stay with

Meraxes and to follow Gaelithox's lead, he, Ser Denys, Jon Arryn and Lord Yohn, Aurane,
Thoros, Arthur, and Torgho Nudho all rode out to parley with the men of the storm.

Numbers-wise they were evenly matched, though his men were all mounted other than the
Unsullied who'd arrived while he'd waited for the Stormlands army to do likewise. Position
wise he held the edge, should Robert attack he'd find surprises awaiting, and should they be
needed, the dragons too. Yet the plan in his head as he rode towards the Storm King and those
with him was a bold one and one that he felt may very well work out. He saw the man
himself from some distance away. Robert Baratheon was a giant of a man, broad of chest and
a good four or five inches taller than Aemon himself.

The antlered helm he wore look ridiculous though, while the giant Warhammer that was
strapped to his back was a lethal-looking thing. Those men with him looked like warriors too
and Aemon felt his excitement begin to build. It had been far too long since he'd had a true
fight, far too long since Dark Sister had tasted the blood of an enemy in battle. Bharbo hadn't
even faced him and while his blade had removed his head from his shoulders, it was en
execution and not a fight. Today he felt that it would be a fight that he'd faced.

"King Robert." he said with a small respectful bow, while Robert glared at him and those
with him took in the Lords of the Vale that he now rode with.
"Dragonspawn." Robert spat and Aemon chuckled.
"Your brother sends his regards." Aemon said and saw another man reach out to stop Robert
from breaking parley "Though he'd be concerned to see us face each other across a field. It
could be hazardous to his health don't you know." he said to another glare.
"If you have harmed my brother…" Robert shouted.
"I have not, though I believe I made some requests to ensure his safety, requests you've seen
fit to ignore." Aemon said to even louder shouts.
"REQUESTS, REQUESTS HE SAYS, DEMANDS, ORDERS…"
"Your grace." the man who'd stopped Robert earlier said, a man he was now sure was his
brother, Stannis, a more agreeable sort according to what Renly had said.
"Go back to you keep, your grace. Turn your army around and go back to your keep and I'll
seek not to follow you. Turn back and think carefully on your next move and wonder if the
crown you wear is that important. I'm willing to offer you terms, to see your brother returned,
all it'll take is for you to kneel and name me your king." Aemon said and if looks could kill
he'd be a dead man thrice over, more than that perhaps as he'd had many men shoot those
looks at him before.

"I'll grind your bones to dust, kneel, I'll see you dead long before you dare ask me to do so
again." Robert said loudly.
"Then since it's a fight you seek, so be it." he said and closed his eyes before calling the
Blood Wyrm and Meraxes to him.

The two dragons flew over their heads and he saw the looks on all but Robert's face. Fear was
such a great tool to be able to wield and only a fool didn't fear dragons. When the flames
were let out into the sky, he saw that fear grow and he smiled.

"Westeros belongs to the dragons, King Robert. My battles are fought in the skies, and you
don't have any wings." he said as he stared at the other man, Robert almost red in the face.
"Coward, Craven. I heard tell you were a warrior, boy, and yet it's up there you wish to be, far
from my hammer where it's safe for little princelings to tread." Robert said with a loud laugh.
"Oh, you're not wrong, your grace. I do far prefer to be atop my dragon and looking down on
those beneath me. However, I'm well equipped to fight a fool such as you on the ground
though should the need arise. What say you? You're a faithful and Leal man of the seven, a
warrior of the faith. I call for a trial of seven, you and your best against me and mine own."
he said looking directly into Robert Baratheon's deep blue eyes and seeing the eager look that
he stared back at him with.
"My prize when I see to your end?" Robert asked as he grinned now.
"Your brother will be returned to you. My army will stand down and name you their king.
The Vale which has sworn to me will do the same and a letter will be sent to my father along
with the dragon's absolving you of any blame for my death. For though I'll offer a yield to
any man, I doubt you or I will accept one from each other." he said looking to Robert who
nodded.
"And for you, Prince Aemon?" Stannis asked to a glare from his brother "What prize do you
seek?"
"When I win, the Stormlands will name my wife and myself their king and queen. They'll
swear fealty to us both and agree to come when called and to be a part of our kingdom. I'll
seek no more from them than their own king has already sought." Aemon said.
"Agreed, two hours by the river. I'll enjoy killing you Dragonspawn, there are few things in
life that I'll enjoy more." Robert said as he turned to ride away.

He turned to Arthur who was looking concernedly at him as were Lord Yohn and Ser Denys
surprisingly. Aurane, Thoros, and Torgho Nudho all wore the same eager look while Aemon
smiled.

"A good day to kill a king, is it not." he said as he rode back to the camp to make ready his
seven.

Chapter End Notes

Up next The Starks receive devastating news. A trial of seven takes place and a great
keep falls. Oberyn speaks to more people in Volantis about Aemon and Olenna receives
a reply to her request, while news reaches Casterly Rock and Tywin finds himself at a
loss for what to do next.

The Magnificent Seven.
Chapter Summary

The Starks receive devastating news. A trial of seven takes place. Oberyn speaks to
more people in Volantis about Aemon and Olenna receives a reply to her request, while
news reaches Casterly Rock and the Lannisters find themselves at a loss for what to do
next.
A longer chapter to make it up for the delay.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros XXXII.
Faith II.

The Valyrian Freehold worshipped the Pantheon, a selection of gods each of whom had
responsibility for different aspects of daily life. From Arrax the Ruler of the Gods, who ruled
over Law, Order, Justice, Governance, and Strength to Melys the Goddess of Love and
Fertility. Meraxes who was the Goddess of the Sky to Gaelithox the God of Fire, Stars, Moon,
Sun, and the Dawn, and who was Meraxes rival. Their dragons just like the Fourteen Flames
were more often than not named after the gods they had once worshipped but had long since
abandoned.

After the conquest of Essos and the establishment of the Empire, it was the Red God who
gained the most ground. R'hllor the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and
Shadow had already been popular in Essos, in the light of the Empire that popularity simply
exploded, and why not? For where Dragons not fire made flesh? Were they not the living
breathing symbol of R'hllor's will? While Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya may not have
believed so, they did understand the power that religion can have and they embraced that
power.

The Empire though was vast and only grew even more so over time and those who ruled it
knew one thing, to impose religion upon someone and force them to abandon their gods, that
way led to wrath and ruin. So the Empire became a haven of many gods, the Black Goat, the
Many-Faced God and R'hllor standing above the others and R'hllor above all. And so it went

until the High Emperor married a woman from Westeros and the Faith of the Seven which
had been pretty much wiped out in Essos suddenly began being welcomed once more. Were it
not for the High Emperor taking another woman from Westeros as his second wife and had
that woman not been a follower of the Old Gods, then who knows how far the Faith of the
Seven may have risen.

Why Rhaegar Targaryen did what he did no one but he knows. Why he allowed his son to be
belittled and spoken about by the Septons and Septa's how they did, only he can tell. Was it
part of some great master plan of his? Who can tell. Was it to instill in the Dragonknight a
hatred for the men and women who served the Seven who are One and preached their words?
Perhaps. What I can say with surety is what Aemon himself would say and that was this.

"We are mere playthings to the Gods and they care not for what we do, who we love, or how
we spend our lives and so why should I care for them. Let them judge me if they dare, for I've
judged them long ago and have found them wanting." Aemon the Dragonknight.
A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

The Trident 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

She did as he had asked and watched the parley from high in the air atop Meraxes. Gaelithox
flew no more than twenty feet away from her though it was the Blood Wyrm and not simply
Meraxes's favorite flying companion that she shared the skies with today. It was more than
just a difference in what Gaelithox was called that had named him the Blood Wyrm. Aemon
having explained that when he flew on his dragon or his dragon flew alone, his dragon was
like two different beings. Gaelithox was relaxed and fun, a dragon who enjoyed the sky and
being in it as much as she, Aemon, or Meraxes did. The Blood Wyrm was a war dragon, ever
alert, ever watchful, and ready in the blink of an eye to unleash a dragon's fury on those
below.

Rhaenys welcomed that it was he she flew with today as not only did it mean that her
husband was protected but it made Meraxes more of who she should be too. When she saw
the groups separate and Aemon and the others head back to the camp, she looked to the
Blood Wyrm to see him turn and follow. Meraxes didn't need to be ordered to do so, her
silver dragon knew what it was she wanted before Rhaenys did at times. Aemon had told her

to do as the Blood Wyrm did and so when he landed so did Meraxes. Rhaenys then climbed
down off Meraxes's back quickly before running to where Aemon was waiting for her.

The feel of his arms around her brought her comfort and protection as they always had. None
more than her mother's when she was a younger girl had ever been able to offer her more of
either. Even her father's had paled in comparison to how Aemon's embrace would make her
feel. Looking into his eyes she could see he was unconcerned and that could only mean that
things had gone according to plan and so it would not be a battle that was to occur here today.

"He went for it?" she asked and Aemon nodded.
"A Trial of Seven." Aemon said confusing her somewhat.
"I thought you said…" she began only to be interrupted by a kiss which she didn't welcome
as much as she normally would, Aemon looking somewhat confused himself when she
moved away from him "A champion, Aems, I thought you said you'd offer a champion to
face off against one of his own?"
"I changed my mind." he said and she looked at him annoyedly "This works much better for
us, Rhae." he then added far more sheepishly.
"How?" she asked as they walked back to their tent, Torgho Nudho and Arthur no more than
a few feet away from them as they did so.

He didn't speak much on the way back, waiting it seemed until they were even more alone to
speak to her and his silence bothered her. She'd simply expected Arthur to just beat whoever
the Storm King would put up. No man he had in his army would be a match for the Sword of
the Morning and while she doubted it would mean the army wouldn't need to fight, she hoped
it would. Even if it did not or if the Storm King broke and refused to live up to agreed terms,
then the Blood Wyrm would certainly be unleashed making the result of the battle a forgone
conclusion. Yet for some reason, Aemon had changed his mind and she liked it not.

"The Faith." Aemon said as they entered the tent.
"What of those fools?" she asked and saw the small smile that briefly appeared on his face.
"Westeros follows the Faith, mostly that is. The Ironborn follow their Drowned God and my
mother's family the Old Gods, but Baratheon, most of the Riverlands, the Vale, West, and
even your uncle's, they all follow the Faith of the Seven." Aemon said as he poured two mugs
of water and handed her one, one that she took gratefully as flying on a dragon was thirsty
work.

"Aems, you care not for the Faith of the Seven, nor the fools that follow it." she said and saw
his slight nod "As for the Gods…" she laughed.
"True, I respect Thoros and his beliefs, and those among my men who name whatever god
their own. I don't look down upon them or tell them they're wrong. The Faith of the Seven
who are One, those who preach that faith, fuck them and their seven gods." Aemon said still
not answering her questions.
"Then why?" she asked and then it hit her, not the answer to that question but the nagging
thought that had been at the back of her head, probably since he told her his plan, suddenly it
broke its way through to her lips "You're not fighting him, Aemon." she said determinedly,
worriedly, her hand shaking just a little and some drops of water being spilled from her mug.
"Did you think I'd name Arthur? That were it to be champion against champion I'd said
another in my stead?" he asked surprised and somewhat shocked she thought.
"You would not have?" she asked her voice raised just a little.
"I fight mine own battles, Rhae. I trained to wield this damn thing." he said his hand on Dark
Sister's hilt "You think against a man like Baratheon I'd not have wielded it?" he asked his
earlier annoyance subsiding.
"He's a king, he'd not have…" she said, her worries now more to the fore as she felt Aemon's
hand touch her face softly and she leaned into the touch.
"He wants me dead, champion against champion he'd have named himself just to face me,
Rhae. This way I get to go into the fight with others by my side." he said trying to reassure
her and yet she could see in his eyes that her reassurance or her anger at him fighting
wouldn't be enough to change his mind and wasn't the reason for what he was doing.
"I don't wish you to fight." she said softly and he nodded before kissing her once again.
"I was born to fight, Rhae, it's what I'm truly good at." Aemon said more than a little proudly.

She knew that was true, that there was no man save for Arthur who came even close to
Aemon with a weapon in his hand. Aurane with his own sword, Daario with his Arakh,
Torgho Nudho with his spear, or even Thoros with his fiery blade, none came even close.
Who was better between him and Arthur was something only they knew, while they'd sparred
in public occasionally it had always been clear that the true testing of their blades was
something they did only in private. So she knew he would fight and in her head, she knew
that the Storm King and his men would be no match. Now if only she could get her heart to
stop worrying and threatening to burst from her chest.

"Why the Trial of Seven, Aems?" she asked once more, trying to concentrate on something
other than the danger he was placing himself in.

"Just like with the Bloody Gate I wish to send a message. To the faithful and to the people
that these false Septons and Septa's claim they serve. Let them name my mother a heathen
whore if they dare or name me as a faithless bastard. We'll see what happens when they try
and rally the men and women of Westeros against a man who dares to love his sister and
shows no shame for doing so." Aemon said and she smiled at that, the one thing she'd never
been in doubt of other than his love for her was that he felt no shame for it, even when she
had "Let them preach their poisoned words all they wish and then let them explain how
against men who worshipped the true gods I was successful in something they consider so
sacred."
"You still hate them so." she said as she looked at him and saw him nod.
"They named what I have in my heart as an abhorrence, a sin against the gods. That what I
feel for you is wrong and will see us both cast down in the Seven Hells. Oh, they did it only
to those who'd listen and father gave them the freedom to say such things." Aemon said with
a bitter look on his face when he mentioned their father "But say it they did. They forget
themselves, their place, and that the gods care not what we do or who we love. The gods have
fashioned us for love and the love I have for you is good and true. So damn any man who
names it not and if I need to take the Blood Wyrm and burn every last damn Septon and Septa
and send them to their gods for saying it, then so be it." Aemon said his words like ice while
his eyes were pure fire as he spoke.
"Aems." she said softly as she wrapped her arms around him and felt his head on her
shoulder.
"This is so I don't have to." he said softly and she nodded.

The Trident 300 AC.
Trial of Seven.
Aurane.

He far preferred this than a full-on battle, even knowing they'd win that one too. This was far
easier to control and easier to keep yourself safe in. In battle, so many things happened at
once that you couldn't just concentrate on the man in front of you. It was hurried, frenzied
and danger came from everywhere at once. This, this was like a spar in the yard. True the
consequences should you lose were more serious, but who planned to lose? Not he and
certainly not any of the five men he walked out with, the sixth was not one he knew and so he
didn't know or care what his mind was on this. Aemon, Arthur, Torgho Nudho, Daario,
Thoros, and himself, he'd back them against fifty of these Westerosi. Ser Elbert Arryn, him
he'd not back against any man and he wondered why it was that he'd volunteered so
determinedly.

"Who is the seventh, Aemon?" he asked as they walked to where the Knights of the Vale were
sitting.
"I had thought one of Daario's men but Rhaenys tells me I've to name one of the men of the
Vale." Aemon said smirking.
"Tells you?" he asked his own smile full.
"What can I say, my wife has found her fire, brother." Aemon said as they reached the others.

Lord Yohn Royce had stood up to step forward after Ser Denys had volunteered and then
been talked out of it by both Aemon and the other lords. His position was too important for
him to be risked and Aurane tried not to laugh at the irony of Aemon being the one who told
him that. Though he knew his brother by choice wasn't truly risking himself in the fight to
come. As Lord Yohn had readied to speak, Ser Elbert had then stood up and spoken most
eagerly and eloquently, saying the Vale and House Arryn needed to be represented and
Aemon had agreed, for reasons that Aurane still wasn't quite clear about. Then he'd spoken to
him and the others and had made clear his wishes for the fight to come and yet had told Ser
Elbert them not.

"Torgho Nudho, the brother, Prince Stannis. Should he fight I'd see him beaten but not killed."
Aemon said.
"This one will see it so, my prince." Torgho Nudho said with a bow.
"Not at the risk to yourself, my friend." Aemon said and Torgho Nudho nodded, the hint of a
smile on his face at Aemon's words "Arthur."
"My prince."
"Ser Barristan. We've heard tell that he's the best swordsman in the Stormlands, perhaps even
Westeros itself." Aemon said looking to the Sword of the Morning.
"Then it shall be an honor to cross blades with him, my prince." Arthur said and was it any
other man then he'd be smiling as he did so, Arthur though was not.
"And us?" Daario asked looking to Aemon.
"I know not who else he'll name, so just win. Take no chances and just end it quickly. I'll deal
with Baratheon." Aemon said almost gleefully.
"If Stannis falls?" Aurane asked looking to Aemon.
"Then Renly is going to be the head of his house, is he not." Aemon said with a chuckle and
he was relieved to see him enjoying himself so much.

That relief was something he felt even more keenly now, Aemon was laughing and japing
with them as they rode to where Robert Baratheon and six men awaited. Were Aemon more
serious than he was then Aurane may worry somewhat. If he was simply performing a
mummery for their benefit, then he'd know. Had he not brought Marwyn to both look after
the wounded should there be any and to write down what happened for that damn book of
his, then he'd be truly concerned. Looking to the men with Robert, he named them for the
others and told them what he knew of them.

"Robert, Stannis, Barristan we know. The big fellow is Rolland Storm the Bastard of
Nightsong and beside him Ser Godry Farring whose words are far more fierce than his blade.
Next to him is Ser Richard Horpe and lastly, the red-headed man is Lord Jon Connington.
Competent but other than Barristan and Robert himself, none should cause issue." Aurane
said and he saw Aemon's little nod as he looked at him.

When they reached the seven they were to face, he could see Robert's huge Warhammer, its
spiked points causing him a moment's distress and so he looked to Aemon and his armor.
Though he doubted the man would get a chance to land a hit on the Dragonknight who now
wore a much more serious expression on his face. Beside Robert, Stannis and Barristan both
were eyeing up the men with him and seemed surprised that Ser Elbert had come while on
the hills behind them their army stood watching on as some way off did their own.

"I'll accept a yield from any man, other than from your king." Aemon said and Aurane saw
immediately how Robert tensed and grew angrier.
"No man will yield to you, boy, and none will accept your own." Robert bellowed and
Aemon simply nodded.
"So be it. May your gods welcome you into their embrace and those you love mourn you but
fleetingly." Aemon said and with that helms were put on and weapons were drawn and
Aurane found himself face to face with Ser Godry Farring. His smile was a true one as the
blades clashed together.

Barristan.

Rarely had he seen men so confident and it concerned him greatly. Like others, he'd heard the
tales about the so-called Dragonknight, and the young man certainly carried himself how a
warrior would. Were he not facing his king then Barristan may worry even more, but few

could match Robert blow for blow when he swung his Warhammer. Nor could many breach
his armor, the heavy plate not limiting his movements despite its weight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the king's antlered helm and the darkness of Prince
Aemon's armor. Stannis was to his left facing off against a man wielding a spear and was
wearing a small buckler tied to his arm and the sounds of blades coming together ran out in
the large expanse of the field they fought in. The River carried on its merry way with not a
care to them and yet the fight that they had brought them closer and closer to its edge and
Barristan shook his head having already told the king that this was not where the fight should
be.

Robert though was too damn proud to move it and felt he'd picked the ground and not the
Damn Dragonspawn as he'd named the prince. Barristan though was now even more sure that
he had not. Would that was all he had the need to concentrate on and that he could be
standing closer to his king and be ready to cut the Dragonknight down if needed. Instead, he
found himself face to face with a swordsman whose skills even he was in awe of. Many years
earlier he'd heard tale told of the Sword of the Morning from Dorne, yet Arthur Dayne had
not attended the tourneys or traveled anywhere that Barristan had been and so he'd not seen
him for himself. Today he wished he was looking at him from afar and not facing him across
a field, as it was clear the tales didn't do the man justice.

"Aaaarghhh." he heard the pained cry and with a quick glance, he saw that Jon Connington
had fallen, though whether he was dead or simply injured he knew not.

He wished he could move to him and to offer the aid of his sword but he could not. The man
in front of him wouldn't allow him to and as his blade came far too close for Barristan's
liking, it was that he concentrated on for now. Not that he'd not been doing so or even
admiring the blade itself. Dawn was a thing of beauty to behold and in the hands of the man
who wielded it even more so. Parrying a thrust he heard another pained cry and saw another
of their men had fallen and yet he couldn't see who it was, the blade in front of him too
relentless to allow a moment's breath or respite.

Dodging another blow he aimed two of his own which were turned away almost
contemptuously and then he felt the pain in his side. The thrust coming so quick and so
unexpected that he'd not had a chance to move out of its way. He felt the blood drip and
swung his sword only to feel another pain this time in his leg and before he could react to it,
his sword and he were both on the ground and some distance apart.

"Yield Ser, for I've no wish to end a brave man here this day." Ser Arthur said and as
Barristan looked to see Stannis and Robert both fighting for their lives and Jon Connington
and Ser Godry Farring both laying unmoving on the ground he cursed that he had no choice
but to do so.
"I yield, Ser Arthur." he said, and then he heard a man run to him and he looked to see a
Maester tending his wounds, his fight was done and so was the Stormlands as now six faced
four and two more looked about to fall, two men of Westeros and the Stormlands and not
these men of Essos.

Thoros.

Ser Rolland Storm was a giant of a man and yet Thoros feared him not. The man seemed
confident and composed and yet Thoros worried about him not. Instead, he moved forward
and faced the man and with a nod, said his prayer and then watched that confidence and
composure leave the man he faced and be replaced by doubt and panic. Fire had a way of
doing that to even the bravest man and seeing a sword alight for the first time had always
garnered him the same response. As he swung his flaming blade he knew what to expect
before Ser Rolland did and he took full advantage of it.

"My God gives me his favor this day, perhaps that should give you pause, Ser." he said as he
flashed the sword close to Ser Rolland's helm.
"I fight for my king and in the light of the true gods." Ser Rolland said almost snarling and
Thoros nodded.
"My God is the Lord of Light, behold his majesty." he said as the flames grew both hotter and
brighter and Rolland moved back, almost tripping over his feet in order to do so.

Thoros heard the first man fall, Jon Connington was no match for Daario's blade and soon he
heard the next one as Ser Godry found Aurane to be far too fierce. In the distance, Arthur
wielded Dawn against a man far more skilled than any but his prince and the knight himself,
and Thoros once again welcomed having the Sword of the Morning here with them in this
endeavor. Prince Stannis were he not wished alive would not be so by now as Torgho Nudho
was far more skilled than he, and as for his prince. Robert Baratheon may wield his
Warhammer like the Warrior reborn but Aemon was who the Warrior would name his own.
Were his prince to care what a false god thought of him that was.

Aemon glided while Robert strained and when he saw Ser Elbert move to help his prince, it
caught him by surprise. What happened next almost cost Thoros his life as he saw Ser Elbert
aim a strike at Aemon's head and were it not for the one that almost cost him his own, it
would be to Aemon's side he moved. To get there though he needed to win his own fight and
so he put more power into his swings and let the flames burn to their fullest.

The heat from his blade didn't affect him as it did Ser Rolland. Thoros was well used to
R'hllor's power and it only brought him warmth while others feared it so. Ser Rolland was no
exception and all skills and poise the man may have possessed had deserted him as he fought
the flames and not the man that wielded them. Each time he connected with the giant man's
armor, sparks would fly and Rolland would almost stumble in his haste to both get away from
the sword and to check if he burned for true. So Thoros ensured he caught him often and
finally found the opening he wished for.

"Yield." he said as he held the flaming sword close to Rolland's face, the man had been easy
to trip after he'd caught him on the shoulder and a spark had made its way into the visor of his
helm.
"I yield." Ser Rolland said and Thoros turned to offer his friends and his prince his aid.

Ser Richard Horpe.

These Essosi were cocky cunts, the prince most of all and he looked forward to seeing him be
put in his place. He had hoped to face one of them and yet it was a Valeman that moved to
him and so he decided to end him quickly. Yet the fight didn't happen, or to be more precise
not the fight he'd expected as instead Ser Elbert asked him to perform a mummery. It was not
one he'd have considered had not the words Ser Elbert said rang so true.

"Be at peace, Ser Richard, for I'm not a foe." Elbert said as the blades came together.
"I find that hard to believe, Ser, given where we find ourselves and all." he replied with a
chuckle.
"You think I wish to serve some fuck from Essos, that I willingly gave up my right to the
crown that was supposed to be mine own?"
"I care not for the why, Ser, only the fact that you're here facing me now." he said as he
almost caught the Arryn heir in the neck, a quick dodge saving the man's life.

"For a reason, Ser. I came here to backstab the fuck, to be in a position to end Aemon
Targaryen for once and for all. It's the only place I can do so as he's too well guarded in camp
and has a fucking dragon as well." Ser Elbert said and Richard glanced to the air to see the
dragons as they flew overhead.

They were things he'd never have believed were true had he not seen them with his own eyes.
Beasts that made a battle an exercise in futility according to some and seeing them for true,
he believed it so. It was why when offered this chance to end the Dragonknight's attempted
conquest he'd welcomed it. Richard had offered himself up with no hesitation or concern and
it was now why he found himself listening as Ser Elbert laid out his plan.

Their fight became a mummery and their blades never came close to hitting home and then
with a look to him and a nod, Ser Elbert was gone and moving to the prince, and then an
Essosi wielding a curved blade gave chase. Richard moved quicker than the Essosi and stood
in his way, the man's expression going from cocky to angered in moments. He didn't have a
chance to take stock of the blue-haired man, nor to comment on his stupid beard and
mustache. Instead, it was the man's curved blade and his words that he found himself
focussed on.

"That fool just signed his death warrant, just as you friends over there did." the man said
pointing to Ser Godry Farring and Lord Jon Connington "Now yield and do so quickly and
you'll live to see another sunrise."
"Fuck off you Essosi…"

He never got to finish, the man moving so fast that he was almost a blur and the feel of the
cut from his curved blade took him to his knees.

"Naharis. Daario Naharis should your gods ask you the name of the man who sent you to
them." the man, Daario said as he swung his blade and then Richard heard or saw no more.

Stannis.

They were lost, done for, this fool's errand was now at an end. Ser Barristan lay dead or
dying, though at least was getting aid. Ser Godry, Jon Connington, and Ser Richard Horpe all
likewise were unmoving and seemed dead to him. Rolland Storm may still breathe but he was

done and so it was just he and Robert who fought on. The how and why of him doing so was
and had been clear to him for some time. With Robert still living he had no choice and with
the man in front of him not seeking to end his life, the fight had gone on for longer than it
should.

Instead of killing him, the man simply sought to tire him out and was looking for a chance to
end this once he did so. This Unsullied who wore little armor and bore a spear in his hand
and a buckler on his wrist while carrying a short sword and larger shield on his back. At first,
Stannis had been sure the reason he had not been harmed was that he was just as if not more
skilled than the man he faced. Even despite the discomfort, he had found himself in while
trying to deal with a warrior using a spear and moving how the Unsullied did. It was a unique
action, his thrusts were timed to perfection, and his movements were fluid meaning that
Stannis's blade never came close to striking him or his spear.

Even when he'd thought to break the shaft of it and brought his sword down hard, it was to
find nothing but air. The man was far too fast, far too skilled and soon it became clear that it
was him and not Stannis himself that was the reason he'd lasted so long. When Ser Elbert
Arryn turned cloak and moved to attack and not help the prince and when the Unsullied he
faced saw it, Stannis's day was done. The fight taking on a different meaning and the first cut
catching him so much by surprise that he cried out.

"Aaaarghhh."
"Yield." the Unsullied said.
"Fuck you."
"Aaaarghhh." the pain of the spear in his shoulder making him cry out again and almost drop
his sword.
"Yield."
"F…"

The blow brought him to his knees and the next to the ground for true. Stannis feeling
himself drift off to a sleep that he knew not if he'd wake from. Yet the blows had been to
knock him out rather than to end his life and so he felt it would be one he would. What world
he'd wake to when he did, that he knew not but he doubted very much it was the same one
he'd known when his eyes had closed.

Robert.

The fucking Dragonspawn had dared to offer his men terms and so he'd see the fucker's head
was mounted over the hearth in Storm's End. With hammer in hand and helm on head, he
moved to him and as he did so he roared out loudly.

"Ours is the Fury." he said as he swung his hammer to find no one there.
"Who the fuck cares." the Dragonspawn replied.

He swung again and missed once more, the fucker was too fast for his swings and he felt the
thin blade that he bore crashing against his plate. Robert laughed behind his helm, as while he
may be bearing Valyrian Steel it would take more than that to pierce his armor. Around them,
men fought and he was confident that they'd see these invaders dead. Even were they all to
fail though. Should each and every single one of them fall, it mattered not. The Dragonspawn
would not live to see another day dawning and he'd feast over his fallen corpse before the
night was done.

"Stay and fucking fight, coward." he said as the Dragonspawn moved away from another
swing of his hammer, Robert getting frustrated as none of his wings had come close.
"What's the matter old man, can't keep up." the Dragonspawn said and Robert found himself
backing up as the thin blade got inside his guard more than once.

He heard the first pained cry and smiled as he took another swing and missed yet again. The
fucker was fast he'd give him that, fast and he was annoying him greatly.

"One of your men has fallen, Dragonspawn, and he'll not be the last." he said confidently.
"Really, I doubt very much it was one of mine, though perhaps the Valeman should not have
taken part." the Dragonspawn japed.
"You think you're men a match for mine own, truly." he scoffed.
"I think were it not for my wish to face you then I could have sent Ser Arthur to end your
seven alone. So no we're not a match for your men, we're as beyond them as I am from you."
the Dragonspawn said and Robert swung and missed yet again.

He felt the pain only briefly when it came and never even wondered how he'd managed to not
just pierce his armor but to hit the fucking bone too. That it was his off arm allowed for him
to keep fighting as if he'd not been hit. Again he swung his hammer and again he missed and
so he pushed forward and tried to drive the Dragonspawn to the river and to a place where he
couldn't so easily dodge his strikes.

Blocking some strikes he moved inside the Dragonspawn's guard and kicked out, sending the
fucker back some feet and crashing to the ground. He moved quickly to him, his hammer in
hand and ready to end this once and for all. Only to watch as the fucker rolled away and
popped back to his feet and then easily dodged the swing he aimed at his head. Another cut
and another moment of pain followed. Robert replying with a swing that he couldn't believe
had missed and then he rolled his eyes and sighed when he saw Ser Elbert coming to the
Dragonspawn's aid. Only it wasn't his aid he came to.

"I'm with you, King Robert, lets end this dragon fuck." Ser Elbert said and Robert smiled,
two against one he liked those odds.

Yet to his fury the Dragonspawn easily dodged Ser Elbert's strikes while still doing the same
to his own. The pained cry from Ser Elbert was soon drowned out by a gurgle as a spear
came out the other side of the man's throat and he fell to the ground.

"My thanks, Torgho Nudho. The fight?" the Dragonspawn asked and Robert despite wanting
to do nothing but attack, found himself listening keenly.
"Awaits you to end it, my prince." the Unsullied said and Robert felt his rage boil over at both
these and the Dragonspawn's words.
"Then I had better do just that."

He felt the water around his ankles, the river he'd sought to drive the Dragonspawn to instead
being one he'd sought some respite in. His fury had been met with speed and cut after cut and
he felt himself weakening as the Dragonspawn advanced.

"Your mother was to be mine, boy, you would have been my son." he said angrily.

"And the world would have been a poorer place because of it and I'd have been a kinslayer
this day." the Dragonspawn replied catching him by surprise.
"Fuck you and your whore of a mother." he shouted as he swung his hammer and felt it hit
home for the first time.

Yet as he looked he saw that his blow had just glanced off the armor and he for some reason
was on his knees. The pain and the fact that he had a sword in his chest were not clear to him
for more than a few moments. Even when the Dragonspawn pulled the sword back out and he
felt his lifeblood pour out of him, it still didn't fully sink in. Only when he looked to his
armor and saw that he'd pierced it in a spot he'd already pierced it before did it truly hit home.
It was not a thought he'd have for long nor would he have time to admire the precision of the
strike. Robert falling and crashing down into the water and against the rocks that made up the
river bed.

"Lyanna." he said as he breathed his last.

Riverrun 300 AC.
Howland.

He couldn't believe it had happened again, were it not for the bodies that he carried in the
carts he'd have never believed it. To lose one king to an ambush was more than he could bear,
two, he knew not how to deal with. Nor more importantly, did he know how he was to
explain to Ned and Benjen Stark or to the North that their king had been killed and had his
head removed, just as his father had before him. Was that the only news he carried, it would
have been enough to have caused the sleepless nights he'd had since leaving Wendish Town.
Yet it was not and the weight of the other news he bore was far too heavy for him to bear.

The thoughts that it had been kin who'd done this were hard enough to take. Cursed is the
Kinslayer was something that all true men of the North believed and yet it wasn't even that
which really kept him awake at night. It was the thoughts that if indeed Prince Aemon had
done this, then they were truly fucked. How did you avenge yourself against a man with a
dragon? What price that vengeance? And how many lives would it cost the North to see
justice done?. Those were the thoughts in his head and the reason for his despair when he saw
Riverrun in the distance. Howland steadying himself on his horse as they rode to the keep.

"The princes, where are they?" he asked the Tully guards at the gate when he reached it.

"The Great Hall I believe, my lord." the guard replied and Howland turned to the men with
him as they entered through the gates.
"Let no one disturb the bodies until me and the princes arrive." he said and his man nodded.

After he'd dismounted and made his way into the keep, he was grateful to find that there was
no one he knew between him and the Great Hall. Or at least no one who would have forced
him to stop. Entering the Great Hall he saw no sign of either prince and far too many faces
that would have questions that he couldn't answer as of yet. So turning to one of the guards
he asked again and was told that Ned and Benjen were in Lord Edmure's solar.

How he made it to it without being stopped, he knew or cared not. Howland was both happy
to not have run into more questions and now apprehensive about the ones he was soon to
face. When he tried to enter the solar the guard refused him leave to do so and so he had to
wait until he was announced before he was let inside. He welcomed the moment's respite and
steadied himself before entering the room. Benjen and Ned both turned to look at him and
Ned rising to his feet when it took him a moment to speak.

"Brandon, Howland, where is my brother?" Ned asked agitatedly.
"I'm sorry, my prince. He and the men...I'm sorry…"

Both brothers slumped and were they not already standing he wasn't sure they'd have been
able to. Before he knew it he was following after them and though no words were spoken, he
knew they soon would be and that they'd be angered ones. For now, though it was grief that
led the way and that grief only became even more apparent when the two brothers looked
upon the bodies of the men who had ridden with Brandon Stark and at his own.

"Who?" Ned Stark asked, his voice as cold as the North on a winter's day.
"Prince Aemon's men." he said to a glare from Benjen Stark.
"You're certain of this?" Ned asked and Howland shook his head.
"I brought a witness who named them as such, my prince." he said softly.

Was he though? Was Ned Stark a prince or was he their king now? He wasn't certain though
he'd wager it was the latter. Robb Stark was the heir of the heir when Rickard was king, but

he'd not been named as the Prince of Winter and so by the law was not Ned Stark their king?
Faced with a green boy and a man that had led them in battle and won them a great victory,
who would the North choose? More than that, faced with the threat of dragons, who would
they seek to lead them? Robb Stark or his father? Was he to wager he'd name it as the latter
and around the courtyard as news began to spread he could already see men look to Ned
Stark as their king. He saw the Greatjon, Maege, Roose Bolton, and Rickard Karstark along
with Galbart and Robett Glover. Howland only then giving thoughts to the other good and
true men the North had lost along with their king. As they moved to him, he readied himself
to speak only for Ned Stark to do it for him, his words those of a brother and a king.

"My brother and the men who rode out with him are dead. Killed by men we know not and
just as my father and those who fought by his side, their bodies desecrated. I swear to each
and every man here, on my oath as a Stark and a brother. I swear before the Old Gods
themselves that the men responsible for this will feel pain before they leave this world.
They'll know no peace or find no comfort and the Heart Trees will soak up their blood while
they die slowly. For my brother, for those who rode with him and for blood and vengeance, I
swear it." Eddard Stark said his voice carrying in the silence of the courtyard and his words
were heard by all.
"My brother's words are mine own. For the king, for those who rode with, remember them
and remember them well. "Benjen Stark said and Howland watched as both brothers held
their hands up so all could see and cut their palms allowing the blood to drip to the ground,
sealing their words in blood.
"The North Remembers." Ned Stark said as his blood dripped to the ground.
"The North Remembers." Benjen Stark repeated his own blood doing likewise.
"The North Remembers." Howland said as did each and every Northman in the Courtyard
and he'd dare to say so did others who were not there.

Both Galbart Glover and his brother Robett cut their own hands, as did Rickard and Rodrik
Ryswell and some of the men from the Mountain Clans who'd known and were mayhap kin
to Theo Wull. How much blood soiled the courtyard from cut hands he knew not, but the
Blood Oath had been sworn and none would rest until it was fulfilled, that he knew all too
well as he cut his own hand.

The Conquest of Westeros XXXIII.
Governance of an Empire.

While the High Emperor's rule was absolute, the Empire was so vast that it was almost
impossible for one man to control it all. Delegation was the only way it worked and so a High
Council was formed to look after various different parts of the Empire's running. Governors
were selected to stand in rule over the major cities and sub governors to rule over the minor
ones or large regions and even small regions. It was not quite Westeros's Lords and Ladies
all who swore to their own kings, but it was a distant cousin to that type of rule.

Each of the major cities governors was a Dragonlord in their own right and some had more
than one dragon in their bloodline. House Targaryen had almost split during the Dance of
Dragons and it had taken some time for the Blakcfyres to be both welcomed back into the
Empire's embrace and to wish to be wrapped in its loving arms once more. The High Council
itself was made up of some of the most powerful families in Volantis along of course with
members of the House of the Dragon. Again here the High Emperor sat above all and his
word was law, never to be challenged or questioned once it was spoken.

Prince Aemon had never sat the High Council though it was his right to do so, his brother
Prince Aegon finding himself more at home amongst the political maneuvering that went on
amongst those so close to power than the Dragonknight had ever wished to be. So it was left
to Princess Rhaenys to take her brother's place and learn by their father's side, while the
Dragonknight did what Dragonknights are oft wont to do. She learned those lessons well and
when it came time for Westeros to swear itself to one man and one man alone, it was the
princess and not the prince who decided what role each were to play.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Highgarden 300 AC.
Willas Tyrell.

He dressed for the day ahead and made his way to the aviary before breaking his fast, keen to
spend some time alone with his thoughts and amongst the peace that he always found with
his hawks. There was much to think about and he knew it would be a long and trying day, just
as each day had been since his grandmother had sent the raven to Dragonstone. Awaiting a
reply that was so key to their future kept them all on edge. He and his grandmother most of
all since it was they who were mapping out that future while others played differing roles in
seeing it come about.

Margaery had ensnared the King completely, his sister was happy enough with her husband
and though he knew she'd wished for the crown even more than the man, she was more than
willing to give it up if it kept their house strong. Her husband was a proud and young man
though and young proud men sought glory and so he'd tasked Garlan and Loras to dissuade
him from that line of thinking. There would be no glory found against the Dragonknight and
the only thing that Gwayne or they would find should they seek it, is death.

Garlan was far better in this regard than Loras, as his youngest brother could at times be a
fool and dreamt of his own glory on the battlefield. It had taken a slap to his head, literally,
from their grandmother to make him understand that despite the size of the Reach and the
army it could call upon, there was no winning this war. Willas still sighing when he thought
about the foolish plan that Loras had about sneaking up on the dragons and killing them
while they rested. Were it the prince and the princess that he'd now found out was the prince's
wife, then mayhap it would be interesting, but alas his brother was not that clever and it was
the dragons that flew that he sought to kill.

As he entered the aviary and set about feeding the hawks and their Eyas's he smiled as he
thought about how his grandmother had clipped Loras around the ear as if he was an errant
child. After she'd done so then he himself had explained the reality of what he was suggesting
and how it would end badly for them, and even more so should they be successful. The true
might of the Empire would quickly be brought down about their heads and not one member
of their house or family would survive by the time they were finished with them.

"They would end us all, root and stem, Loras. Grandmother, mother and father, Margaery,
Garlan, you and me. Each of our aunts, cousins, their husbands, wives, and children, none
would be left alive when they were done. Not our keeps, not our men, not the entirety of the
Reach could stand against them, that's what your fool of an idea would bring upon us, Loras.
All that avails would be flight and who can fly further and faster than a dragon?" Willas said.

It had worked, he believed it had at least as his brother spoke no more about killing dragons
and while he was sure he still spoke about facing them in some vain attempt to beat them in
battle, he did so far more quietly. Others in the Reach did not. Randyll Tarly was a proud and
stupid man who looked at numbers and named both the dragons themselves and those who
rode them as overblown and overrated. There were brave and foolish knights, stupid lords
who wished to hold onto what they had and didn't understand that to fight risked it all. Some
he'd brought round to his way of thinking, others it would need the dragons themselves to do
so. Should these proud men choose to fight and should they not kneel, then they'd do so
alone.

He fed his prized hawk the fresh meat and stroked her feathers while enjoying feeling their
softness. She was the queen of the skies or at least had been until the dragons had arrived on
their shores and even she knew sometimes it was better to accept food from another's hand. A
cage could be gilded and while confining there were opportunities too and though some were
already taken from them, the prince's marriage had seen to that, some were not. Willas had
convinced his grandmother not to seek Margaery as a second bride for the prince, despite the
advantage that would bring. Instead to look to the future more and think of children to come.

"My lord, your grandmother wishes you to join her." a guard said taking him from his
thoughts and Willas nodded as he hurried to join his family and break his fast.

It had taken them some time to gather as much information as they could about the
Dragonknight. Willas reading through every little snippet studiously as he tried to sort the
truth from the lies. Trying to judge the myths from facts or tales and he was sure that more of
what he read was true than not. There was little reason to lie when the truth would suffice and
those in Essos who'd faced Prince Aemon and his men and had lived to speak of it, spoke of
it often enough. Tales of the Blood Wyrm and what it could and would do were only less
chilling and thought-provoking than the tales of the man who was feared maybe even more
than the dragon that he rode upon.

One tale that had taken the longest time to reach them though was one that made him glad
he'd told his grandmother not to make the request of the second marriage. An exile for a love
that you'd not give up is not something that would be given or accepted lightly. That said love
followed after you and was now your wife, that was not a man who'd be willing to share his
life with another. Had they reached out to him earlier, before the princess had arrived then
who knows? But now that path was closed to them and it was to the future that they would
need to look.

He never made it to the room where his family was breaking their fast, Left was waiting for
him as soon as he entered the keep and he was immediately brought to his grandmother's
chambers. With a nod to Right who stood at the door, Willas entered to find his grandmother
sitting at her desk, the note she held in her hand and the look she gave him enough to tell him
why he'd been summoned so abruptly.

"They answered." he said taking a seat and looking to the note.
"Read." his grandmother said as she handed it to him.

Willas needed no second invitation, truth be told he was keen to see what it said himself and
as he looked at it he found himself almost in a state of disbelief. If this was true and he had
no doubts it was, then they hadn't just made the right move, they'd made the only one. Hard
enough as it would have been to face Prince Aemon and his own men along with the dragons,
he'd just added a force that on its own would be a difficult one for them to subdue.

"The Vale," he said almost whispering "How?" he asked though who his question was aimed
at he knew not as he read the note again.

Lady Olenna,

My husband and I would be most pleased to meet with the Reach and its king and are willing
to discuss the terms of your entry into our kingdom just as we did with the Lords of the Vale
who march by our side this very day. In one moon we'll meet you at Tumbleton where terms
will be offered but not negotiated upon. That you have reached out to do so before we looked
your way stands you in good stead and you may find more favor than those who've not. Look
to the Empire my lady, see how our friends and allies are treated, and look to those who stood
against my husband and what befalls them and know we wish you to be the former as it seems
so do you yourself.

My husband and I look forward to speaking to you and your king and queen in person, to a
happy conclusion to our talks, and to a future that we can help build together.

Queen Rhaenys Targaryen The First of her Name.

Looking to his grandmother he was surprised to see the smile on her face, not that they'd not
gotten the outcome that she'd intended but because of the surprising news regarding the Vale.
It took him a few moments to understand why she was wearing that smile and when he did he
wore one too. Those who doubted this as the right course of action would soon be shown the
folly of that line of thought and as he rose to his feet and his grandmother looked at him
curiously, he knew she'd be smiling even more truly after he left.

"I'll get his grace to call the banners, some at least. I believe Lord Tarly will be most keen to
ride, grandmother." Willas said and his grandmother nodded.

"That he will, send your sister to me will you, we've much to discuss."
"Of course, grandmother." he said as he walked from the room, his steps more purposeful as
they'd be leaving Highgarden very soon and leading an army when they did so, though one
for show and not to fight.

Volantis 300 AC.
Aegon.

He enjoyed having his uncle and cousins here and Dany seemed more than pleased to have
some girls her age to speak to. His aunt missed Rhaenys greatly as did he and though she was
not short of friends, as a princess she was treated differently and so she enjoyed being with
people who did not defer so much. Both his father and mother, however, had very different
opinions on Oberyn's visit, the politics of it, and what it truly meant being the reasons no
doubt. While he agreed with them, he wished so much for it to be as a family that they
enjoyed his time here.

Talisa had always gotten on well with Ellaria and to see the two in deep conversation was
something he welcomed as was his own with his cousins. Though far too soon it was over
and the night had come to an end. When his uncle asked him to join him on the morrow,
Aegon had agreed even though he knew what their topic of discussion would most likely be
about. It was with thoughts of this that he headed to his rooms with Talisa and his wife
thankfully refrained from asking him about them until they were alone. Though once they
were she waited no more.

"Your uncle is here about Aemon isn't he?" Talisa said as she undressed, Aegon torn from
taking his own clothes off or watching as she removed hers, the latter winning out.
"He is, I believe he's spoken to father and mother already, so no doubt it'll be me and then Vis
who are next on his list before moving to the High Councillors." Aegon said as one of his
wife's breasts came into view.
"You really think he'd speak to the councillors?" Talisa asked curiously.
"After what I and Vis say to him, I do yes." he said as she turned from him, the sight of her
back though wasappealing nor as delightful as the sight of her breasts were or at least not
until her peach of an arse came into view.
"Does he really think anyone can get Aemon to stop what he's doing?" Talisa asked moving
to the bed, Aegon hurriedly taking his clothes off to join her and seeing the glint in her eye at
his eagerness to do so.

"I understand what he wishes, truly. Dorne is a proud land and a land that my uncles have
ruled over without interference until now." Aegon said and Talisa looked at him more keenly,
though whether it was because of the sight of his almost naked body that was the reason or
the words that he spoke he knew not.
"Yet if Aemon wishes it he'll take it will he not?" Talisa asked confidently knowing the
answer already no doubt.
"Oh, Aemon wishes it. My brother didn't accept his exile lightly." he said knowing Aemon's
mind on this long before most had.

His brother had been denied the one thing that he truly wished for and while he'd never fight
against their father or go against his orders, he'd never accept being told he couldn't have the
woman he loved. Had Rhaenys not denied him when he left, then Westeros would now
already be under Aemon's control. Her reluctance and unwillingness to go against their
father's wishes had bought the Seven Kingdoms almost two years, with her by his side, it
would buy them no more. Aemon would not let any man rule over him again and then next
time he met their father he'd be a king in his own right, of that Aegon was certain.

"Come to bed, my love." Talisa said seductively and for the rest of the night, it wasn't
Aemon, Rhaenys, or even Oberyn that his mind was full of, only his wife.

When he woke he broke his fast with Talisa and his family and watched as she, Ellaria, and
his youngest cousins went to spend the day together while Dany and the older girls did
likewise. With a nod to his father and kiss to his mother's cheek, he joined Oberyn and
Viserys as they made their way through the Grand Palace and after bidding one uncle
goodbye for the day, he and the other made their way to the stables and to the horses that
awaited.

"Ready to fly on a dragon, uncle?" he japed as he climbed up on his horse's back.
"Never and always, nephew." Oberyn said with a chuckle and they began their ride to the
Dragonpit.

It was one he enjoyed immensely, Oberyn keeping things light and amusing and speaking
nothing about Aemon other than his marriage to Rhaenys. Aegon was keen to hear how his
sister was doing and to hear how happy she was, something that Oberyn said more than once
much to his joy. If Rhaenys was happy then so was Aemon and Aegon had always only
wished the best for both of them. Aemon was his rival to be sure, the things he could do were

beyond Aegon but then as his brother had often told him, "So are the things you do in regard
to me, brother mine" theirs was a friendly rivalry if at times one that got out of hand.

He never doubted his brother's love for him nor his own for his brother and both of them
loved their sister fiercely and truly, if very differently. Aegon knew that should the Empire
call or should he need his brother's assistance then Aemon would come. It was something he
never had a doubt about, despite what the High Council may think. Nor had he ever doubted
that when his own time came to sit their father's seat, that Aemon would have been his most
Leal supporter. As they reached the Dragonpit he wondered if his uncle was about to try and
tell him that he would not. If he was about to paint his brother as a threat to his future as
others had tried to do for many a year.

"Caraxes." he said softly as he climbed down off his horse and saw the green dragon waiting
for him.
"How do they always know, nephew?" Oberyn asked with a large smile on his face as he
looked to Caraxes.
"We are bonded him and me, he knows what I wish long before I do and today I wish to fly."
he said as he moved to Caraxes's head and looked into his deep violet eyes, the dragon trilling
under his touch as he brushed his forehead against its own.

Within moments both he and Oberyn were on Caraxe's back and then in the blink of an eye,
they were in the air and flying over the city. They weren't alone as Nightwing soon joined
them, his aunt's dragon always eager to be part of a flight, and were it not for what he was
doing here today then he'd have asked her to join him. For more than two hours they flew
over the city, Aegon enjoying the flight far more than he'd expected and yet not keen to go
beyond the city for some reason. Eventually, he felt Caraxes's hunger, and the choice was
taken from him. The dragon heading out beyond the city and out over the bay, and Aegon
enjoying Oberyn's gasp when his dragon saw the whale and let loose its flames.

Rarely did they stay on their dragons while they ate, yet today for some reason he felt a need
to and so he waited until Caraxes had eaten his fill and the remainder of the whale was then
lifted from the water and carried back to the Dragonpit for others to enjoy. When they landed
and he saw Nightwing and Tessarion his uncle's dragon both land too, he thanked his dragon
on their behalf and he and Oberyn made their way to their horses though didn't mount.

"Speak your mind, uncle, here you may do so freely but elsewhere you may not." he said
turning to Oberyn who nodded.

"Your brother seeks conquest." Oberyn began and Aegon was pleased he'd name him as such,
he'd not done so when he'd first met Aemon and neither he nor Rhaenys had accepted him
being called theri half brother "He seeks that which is not his to take." Oberyn added.
"As all conquerors do, uncle."
"Dorne is a free land, nephew. We seek no conflict with your brother, nor do we seek to be
conquered or brought into a united kingdom that we've no wish to be a part of." Oberyn said
his voice rising a little at the last part as his true feelings became clear.
"Nor do any who are conquered, uncle. Yet what is it you wish of me that my mother and
father haven't given you?"
"An ally, nephew. A voice to speak for our interests." Oberyn said and Aegon shook his head.
"Against my brother's? My sister's? Even were it something I'd do, which it's not, I have no
power to force Aemon to do my will." Aegon said meaning each and every word, he had no
desire to tell Aemon what to do and couldn't do so had he such a desire.
"You'll be High Emperor one day." Oberyn said and Aegon chuckled.
"Not only is that many years in the future and Dorne will have knelt or been brought to its
knees long before then. But one High Emperor couldn't get Aemon to do as he wished, what
makes you think another could?" Aegon said before adding "You know the truth of Aemon,
uncle. The things he's done in the Empire's name, Caraxes is a fine dragon, as are Nightwing,
Tessarion, and Arrax and yet I doubt any are a match for Gaelithox and even all together
would mayhap not be enough, certainly not once Meraxes joined the fight." he said hoping
his words hit home.

It took him a moment to realize that his words may sound as if he may consider stepping in
on Dorne's behalf or as if he'd thought of it, which he had not and so he decided to be more
clear.

"Do you know of my brother's namesake? The first Aemon the Dragonknight. Have you
heard the tale of him and Empress Naerys?" he asked and Oberyn shook his head.

He told him the tale of how the High Emperor had sought to shame his sister-wife and name
her son as their brother's bastard. How the Dragonknight had flown from the war he was
fighting in and had cut down any man who stood in his way and threatened the High Emperor
himself for daring to shame their sister so. From that day on no one named Daeron as
anything but true and no one dared speak ill of Naerys lest Aemon found out.

"You want to know what my brother thinks of his namesake, uncle?" he asked as he smiled at
the memory and Oberyn nodded "That he was a fool, a weak man who gave up the woman he
loved because he would not fight for her. Father may have exiled Aemon, but make no
mistake, uncle, he left only because Rhaenys willed it so. Had she said that she wished to be
his wife and father had continued to refuse them leave to wed, then Aemon would not have
left so peacefully or so easily. Stand between my brother and what he wants and there is
nothing he will not do and no force strong enough to stop him. Not even a High Emperor can
see it done." he said firmly.
"So you'll not stand with family, nephew?" Oberyn asked though there was no bite or
accusation in his tone.
"Always, but Aemon and Rhaenys are my blood and I stand with them above all." he said and
Oberyn nodded.

Oberyn stayed for another week, as he'd suspected he spoke to Viserys and to members of the
High Council, though he seemed to be just going about the motions and didn't do so with any
great intent. His mother told him that her brother was doing Doran's wishes and he'd already
come to the conclusion that he'd be bringing back to Doran and to Dorne. Kneel or be
brought to your knees, for the Empire had already chosen its side in this war and its side was
the one that would win.

Casterly Rock 300 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

They had marched to war they'd not fought in, his father had simply turned their army around
and marched them back to the West. Tyrion had explained it to him and yet he'd not truly
understood it. From where Jaime sat nothing had changed from when they'd started their
march to when it had ended and so he couldn't comprehend why his father was so willing to
lose face in such a way. Even when news came in about what Prince Aemon had done he still
felt it made no difference. They knew he was capable and that his dragon was powerful, yet
still they marched, so why now retreat?

It wasn't until they reached the Rock itself that he began to understand. Other news having
reached them by then and none of it good. The North beating the Hoares so comprehensively
and something about the Vale joining with Prince Aemon that made little or no sense and
then even worse for his father's plans, the Mountain's mistake. He had told him not to send
the brute to do the task, that it needed someone far more clever than he and while he'd
volunteered and had already killed one king, his father had set it so far in motion that he'd not
been able to play his part in the capture of another.

At first, he'd thought the news good, Brandon Stark dead was a good thing was it not? If his
father's death was then surely the son's was too? Or so he'd thought. Yet his own father had
ranted and raved and even The Mountain had withered under the force of his father's gaze.
Whatever plan he had in mind for Brandon Stark was now in tatters as was their plan to join
Robert Baratheon, bring in the Reach or catch the dragon unawares. It was only that they'd
not actually fought in this war that meant they'd not already lost it as mistakes such as the
ones they'd made would have ended them if they had.

Jaime was out of his depth in the strategy of such a campaign and far preferred the simplicity
that a battle offered. He believed that faced with the Dragonknight and with a sword in his
hand he could end the threat he posed. That he'd win not only the safety of his family and his
house with such a victory but he'd win a place in the songs and tales that were yet to be
written about this war. There was no man who could match him with a blade in hand, no man
who came close and so he pondered on how to make it so. Yet this too was beyond him and
so it was to Lannisport and his brother that he went only to find that Tyrion too was as lost
and confused as he.

"Brother, have a seat." Tyrion said as Jaime entered the tavern.
"You're drunk." he said to a loud laugh.
"My brother is most astute but no you're wrong, I'm not nearly drunk enough. Innkeeper,
more wine." Tyrion shouted loudly.
He was not a huge drinker and so he sipped on his own while Tyrion poured glass upon glass
and drank it all down far too quickly.
"You wonder why I'm drunk? What ails me?" Tyrion said and Jaime nodded and so his
brother continued "That our wise and clever father is a fool, and we've been outplayed at each
and every turn, Jaime. That and knowing that as of yet, we've not even been in the same
game."
"What do you mean?" he asked not understanding and again hating that he did not.
"The Dragonknight has not yet looked our way, not for true, brother. The moves he's taken
have caught our beloved father by surprise and yet the Dragonknight has been making them
against others and not us." Tyrion said perplexed.
"So that's a good thing, is it not?" Jaime asked.
"Not knowing that he'll look our way soon enough it's not." Tyrion said before drinking down
his wine.

Jaime ended up drinking his own down just as quickly as Tyrion explained more. He listened
as his brother spoke of how each plan their father made had achieved little or nothing. Even
when Jaime had tried to argue about his killing of Rickard Stark, Tyrion had dismissed its
importance. Instead telling him that one day they'd face a reckoning because of that and it
was one he feared none of them would live through. It was morose, despairing and he put it
down to the drink and not what his brother truly thought. They were the Lions of the Rock
and not even dragons were as fierce as they. That's what he told his brother and though it
brought a smile to Tyrion's face and made him laugh, it was not for the reason he had hoped it
would be.

Later as he helped Tyrion back to the Rock his brother told him some of his father's other
plans. A marriage between them and the Baratheon's, Myrcella for Robert or Jason or
Tommen for the Princess Shireen. Jaime looking at his brother incredulously as the thoughts
of Myrcella with Robert Baratheon or even his son with Shireen were abhorrent to him.
Robert was a brute and Jason deserved better than a simple-minded doe. The Reach he could
agree to, the Stormlands he would not. When Tyrion then said they should kneel and bide
their time he'd been lucky that he'd fallen to sleep just after or he and his brother may have
shared strong words this night. Instead, he'd slept drunkenly and Jaime had him brought to
his rooms while he made his way to his own.

The next morning he broke his fast with his family and then sparred with the boys and put
them through their paces. Later that day he found himself alone with his brother once more
and found out his father's latest plan, it was one that again he didn't understand or
comprehend and one that Tyrion never truly tried to explain. His brother instead telling him
that he was being sent on a fool's errand to Braavos of all places and at least he'd get a chance
to enjoy the favors of the famous Black Pearl as that was all this trip would accomplish.

"Father must have a plan, brother." he said almost hopefully.
"A stupid and idiotic one. Why seek help in Essos? who there will go against the dragons? As
for the Iron Bank, I know not who this Baelish fellow is but they are not powerful enough to
go against the Empire." Tyrion said annoyedly.
"Aemon is not the Empire, brother." Jaime said almost smugly.
"No he's not, but I'll find nothing in Braavos other than perhaps a courtesan's company, that I
know." Tyrion said and Jaime was surprised his brother was so annoyed by the task and the
journey.

It wasn't until days later that he considered the reason for that. While his father had sent a
decent guard with him, but should things go badly or should the Empire or even Aemon

himself find out, they'd not be enough. Their father may have sent Tyrion to his death or at
least put him in a position where it could happen and Jaime liked it not. Not that he could do
anything about it, though if his brother was harmed then it would not just be the man who did
so that he'd see was made to pay, but the man who sent him to harm too. Even though that
man was his own father.

The Trident 300 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He never enjoyed killing a man, not even a fool like Robert Baratheon, though he at times
welcomed their deaths and what they meant. Was it someone who'd acted against him or
who'd cost him his own men's lives then he'd welcome their deaths too. Someone who
disrespected his family or worked against their interests, they too he'd been happy to see dead
and more so if it was by his own hand. Still, he'd never enjoyed it and despite Baratheon
bringing this onto himself with all the letters and annoyance he'd caused him since he'd
arrived in Westeros, and to Aurane even more so than he, he'd not enjoyed killing the man.

What he did enjoy was seeing his men unhurt, seeing all of them had come through their
fights just as he had expected them to. He enjoyed seeing Torgho Nudho take down Ser
Elbert Arryn after the fool had tried to backstab him. Aemon had seen him coming and had
known from his movements just what he intended and in time he'd have taken him down
himself, but Torgho Nudho had done it for him and Aemon had most enjoyed seeing Ser
Elbert fall. As he did seeing that Stannis Baratheon lived still, the man was someone he felt
he could work with far better than either of his brothers.

"Thank you, my friend." he said moving to Torgho Nudho and clasping his arm with his own.
"You are unhurt, my prince?" Torgho Nudho asked and Aemon nodded.
"We were victorious yet again, my friend." he said and he enjoyed seeing the small smile on
his sworn shield's face.
"As this one knew we would be." Torgho Nudho said simply and directly as was his style.

Aemon looked to see who else if any had lived on Robert's side. Marwyn was treating Ser
Barristan and Ser Rolland Storm sat unarmed and unhurt though given he had faced Thoros's
fiery blade that was not a surprise. Ser Richard, Ser Godry, and Lord Jon Connington would
breathe no more and Aemon mourned them not. Three from seven and one of those only
because he'd willed it so, he moved to Arthur and the others and heard the dragons land long

before he saw them. Aemon barely getting a chance to speak to any of them before Rhaenys
grabbed him and almost dragged him away.

"I'm unharmed, Rhae, truly." he said as her eyes roamed over his body and checked him inch
by inch which brought a smile to his face.
"This is not funny, Aemon Targaryen." she said her annoyance clear and he chuckled before
kissing her to stop her from harming him herself.
"I know, it's done, Rhae we have two of seven and we've not fought a battle for true." he said
and she looked at him and nodded.
"Three if what Lady Olenna says is true." she said and then he kissed her again.

Taking her by the hand he walked to the dragons to speak to Gaelithox and let him know he
was unhurt and then moved to Marwyn and Stannis who was coming round from the knock
that Torgho Nudho had struck to his head.

"Marwyn?" he asked needing no more than that for the Mage to get his meaning.
"My prince." Marwyn said with a small bow of his head "Both men shall recover, my prince.
Ser Barristan will need some days to rest while Prince Stannis will feel some pain in his head
for a little longer but no other ill effects." Marwyn said and Aemon looked to the parchment
that stuck out from the Mage's pack.
"Your words?" he asked pointing to the parchment.
"Preserved for posterity, my prince." the mage replied happily and Aemon moved to Stannis
who was looking at him and around for Robert.
"Your brother has fallen, Prince Stannis. I'll give you and your men the night to mourn him
and prepare his body for whatever ceremony you deem is needed. Ser Richard Horpe, Ser
Godry Farring, and Lord Jon Connington breathe no more and they too will need to be
attended to. Ser Rolland can escort you back to your men while Ser Barristan will need
further treatment and so he'll be escorted back to where he can get it." he said looking
directly at Stannis who seemed saddened by the news and not yet angered by it.
"We expect you to live up to your brother's agreement, Prince Stannis. On the morrow, you
and the Lords of the Stormlands will kneel and you'll be named as Lord of Storm's End and
Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and from then on your men will be ours to call upon
when we wish." Rhaenys said and Stannis nodded reluctantly but truly Aemon felt.
"It will be done, your grace. My brother?" Stannis asked before clarifying "Renly, I speak
of."

"Will be released and returned to the Stormlands once you've knelt, Prince Stannis, he has not
been harmed or mistreated, and other than a few bruises when he was captured, no man of
mine has laid hands upon him." Aemon said and he saw the relieved breath that Stannis took.

With that he and Rhaenys turned and made their way back to the others, Aemon quickly
sending for a cart to carry Ser Elbert's body and Ser Barristan to their camp and readying the
words he would say to Lord Jon, Ser Denys, and the others. In a way, this was the best
possible result as he had no faith that Ser Elbert would have been anything but an annoyance
and inconvenience that would have needed to be dealt with some time in the future. At least
this way it was over and done with and the man had shamed himself in his death, something
he could use should it needed to be. It took some time for the horses to be readied and when
Arthur himself helped Ser Barristan to the cart both Aemon and Rhaenys looked to each
other.

"He respects him." Rhaenys said as they set off to ride and Aemon didn't have to speak to
Arthur to know that was true.
"More than can be said for him." Aemon said as Daario and Thoros threw Ser Elbert's body
onto the cart a moment later.

Had it been up to his men then they'd have left his body to rot on the ground. All of them
knew what Ser Elbert had tried to do and it was only that Torgho Nudho had moved quickest
of all or it would have been an Arakh, sword, or a flaming blade that had ended his life.
Aemon hoped that the watching Vale knights had seen enough to know what had happened
and when they finally reached the camp it was to find out that they had.

Marwyn was helped by some of the Unsullied and Arthur to place Ser Barristan in the tent
and with full access to his supplies, he was now in a far better position to heal the man while
Aemon and Rhaenys moved to their own. His wife made him eat and drink something before
he spoke to the men of the Vale and readied for the next steps in his plan. From here it would
be to Harrenhal, the show of force hopefully would be enough to gain them the keep rather
than having to take it. Though he felt it would require some sort of an attack to do so.

The Westerosi were a proud people and while some understood the benefits of kneeling or at
least understood what he could do to them should they not, others would not be so easy to fall
to their knees. So far he'd gotten far luckier than he had hoped. He'd taken the Vale by stealth
and speed with a little shock and awe thrown in courtesy of the Blood Wyrm. Yet its own
internal politics had played just as big a part as anything he'd done. If Rhaenys was right,
which she usually was, then the Reach wished to kneel rather than fight and he'd just taken

the Stormlands with little to no effort. Dorne, The West, and The North could all be trickier
and more bloody affairs and that two of those were against kin was something he felt angered
and annoyed about. They'd been the ones he'd hoped would kneel first and now he wondered
what it would take to bring them to their knees.

"Aems eat." Rhaenys said and he smiled at her as he took a bite out of the bread and ate a
little of the meat before washing them both down with some water.

At least she was here with him and able to stop his mind from concentrating on war and war
alone. Harrenhal, Harrenhal, and from there he'd take stock and see what move he'd make
next. He'd reassess the board and decide what game he wished to play and how he was going
to win that game. Aemon had no doubts that he would, no worries that he'd bitten off more
than he could chew. The only concern he had was just how far he'd have to go before the war
was done and what would she think of him should he be forced to wake the dragon that had
slept thus far.

Chapter End Notes

I had expected to be less busy with TDC over and done with but my boss got ill and I
had to cover and so here we are a little later. It really is true, God laughs when we make
plans.
Up Next, Oberyn Says goodbye to Volantis after a conversation with a prince and some
councilors and with a warning from Rhaegar in his ears. Aemon and Rhaenys accept
Stannis’s fealty and their combined army marches to Harrenhal to take the great keep.
Olenna meets with some reluctant lords and the Reach begins its own march while in
Riverrun news of Aemon’s movements brings calls for justice and vengeance that Ned
finds hard to deny. We take a look in the North at the rule of a prince and in Volantis
Dany makes a choice that sends the House of the Dragon spinning and brings more
dragons to Westeros.

All Roads Lead to Harrenhal.
Chapter Summary

Oberyn says goodbye to Volantis after a conversation with a prince and some councilors
and with a warning from Rhaegar in his ears. Aemon and Rhaenys accept Stannis’s
fealty and their combined army marches to Harrenhal to take the great keep. Olenna
meets with some reluctant lords and the Reach begins its own march while in Riverrun
news of Aemon’s movements brings calls for justice and vengeance that Ned finds hard
to deny. We take a look in the North at the rule of a prince and in Volantis Dany makes a
choice that sends the House of the Dragon spinning and brings more dragons to
Westeros.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Not in chronological order.

The conquest of Westeros XXXIV.
House Baratheon .

Though separated and on their own paths, the bonds between the newly formed House
Baratheon and House Targaryen still ran deep. Orys knew full well that should he ever be in
need then the dragons would come. While Aegon and his sister-wives were always aware that
should the conquest fail, they always had a Leal ally in Westeros who would offer them safe
haven. It was comforting too to know that their holdings in Dragonstone and the Velaryon's
in Driftmark would never be at risk while Orys and his blood held sway at Storm's End.

Over time though even the bonds of blood grew weaker, absence may make the heart grow
fonder when it comes to love, it does not when it comes to allies. House Baratheon charted its
own course as one of the most warlike houses of the Seven Kingdoms and Aegon and his
descendants found forging an empire left them little to no time to renew old bonds or
remember past history. Out of sight became out of mind and even when it came to trade
deals, House Baratheon received no more favor than any other house or kingdom in
Westeros.

When the bad blood between both houses started though, few can say. Some put it down to
proximity and arguing over trading routes between House Velaryon and House Baratheon.
Others say that over time those at Storm's End feared that the Empire would look west and
from Dragonstone to the Stormlands was only a brief flight on a dragon's back. Perhaps
though it truly was born or at least in the case of King Robert Baratheon, truly took hold
when the ship carrying his parents back from a visit to Volantis sank in Shipbreaker Bay. It's
said that in his grief he blamed the dragons and if that's so then what happened with the
Empress of the Ice and a broken betrothal was only more wood to feed the flames. Whatever
the truth or the reasons, the Trial of Seven and the death of King Robert ended the animosity
and House Targaryen and House Baratheon were finally back on the same side once more.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Riverlands 300 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

His fingers brushed through her hair softly, moving it from her face and back to the pillow
that she rested upon. Through his dark grey eyes, he watched the small little expressions she
made as she slept. Little frowns, smiles, and once even looking as if she was concentrating on
something really hard which almost made him laugh out loud, all of them were welcomed by
him greatly. They'd celebrated with the men and spoken on what was to come and then they'd
retired for the night. Each of them was as eager as the other to be alone and to get lost
together. Their lovemaking had been both hurried and rushed and slow and very much not
and it had allowed for him to rest easy as they both fell to sleep. Now though he was awake
early as he always was and it gave him this time to just be at peace and enjoy looking at his
beautiful wife.

Aemon had always known he was built for war and that it was his destiny to wage it, win it,
strike down the Empire's enemies, and be the sword and shield at his father or brother's side.
When he was but a boy his mother had told him that he had a destiny even bigger than that
and that his name would ring out around the world louder than any Dragonknight's before
him. What that destiny was he knew not as the gods had seen fit to take her from him before
she could tell him more. Looking down on Rhaenys as she slept, the only thought he had in
his head was that his destiny lay beside him. It had been her, always her, and no one but her
and so after placing a soft kiss on her cheek, Aemon rose quietly from the bed.

He dressed in his armor, despite there being no true danger for him to face this morning. Old
habits die hard and a warrior's habits were what kept them alive. With a last look to the bed,
he then moved from the tent and nodded to the guards knowing that when she woke she'd ask
for him, just as she always did. Aemon made his way to the fire to see Thoros sitting alone by
it. The red priest was looking into the flames and did not notice him until he'd sat down
beside him.

"Do you seek answers, my friend?" he asked when Thoros looked to him.
"I do, my prince. R'hllor has gifted me with some though I know not their context or
meaning." Thoros said and Aemon bid him continue "Qarth, my prince. I saw visions of
Qarth and of the Blood Wyrm."
"Future visions?" he asked worriedly.
"Past ones, my prince. Of our own time there and what we did." Thoros replied.
"You're sure it was a vision and not a memory?"
"I saw it in the flames, my prince. The same as any R'hllor gifts me."
"Then give him my thanks, Thoros, for I believe I know what it is your god wills of me." he
said rising to his feet, Thoros looking at him curiously only for Aemon to shake his head and
make his way to speak to Daario.

He didn't make it to his friend's tent, as seeing Arthur outside the tent that held Ser Barristan
Selmy it was to there he went instead. Both he and Rhaenys had noticed the respectful way
that Arthur had helped Barristan onto the cart and the knight had since spent time with the
man once he'd woken. It seems he was doing so again and it made Aemon even more curious
to know his thoughts.

"Arthur."
"My prince."
"He is well?" he asked and Arthur nodded.
"Marwyn says the wounds won't fester and that he'll be back to his feet and wielding a sword
again before the week is done." Arthur said and yet it was what he didn't say that Aemon
began to think on.
"What is it about this man, Arthur? I know he earned your respect during the fight, but there's
more to it than that, what intrigues you so?" he asked when he found he couldn't quite figure
out Arthur's mind.

"I wish for more true blades around you and the princess, my prince. This is not Volantis and
while your men are good and true and perhaps more capable than any we may find, I'd seek
men from Westeros too." Arthur said and Aemon looked at him curiously.
"You wish to replicate the Imperial Guard?" he asked and Arthur smiled.
"A Kingsguard, my prince, one fit for the King of the Seven Kingdoms." Arthur said and he
looked at him almost hopefully.
"You would stand as it's Commander?" he asked to a nod "And you believe Ser Barristan to
not only be worthy but amenable?" he asked to another nod "Then you have my leave to form
such a guard, Arthur. I'd feel more comfortable knowing Rhaenys was surrounded by men
that you yourself picked."
"Men from the Seven Kingdoms, my prince?"
"Soon there will be only one kingdom, Arthur, so yes, men from Westeros."

He spent the rest of the early morning speaking to his men, sparring with one or two of them
and then being joined by Rhaenys to break his fast. Aurane, Daario, and Torgho Nudho,
Thoros, and Arthur along with Lord Royce and Ser Denys Arryn all then readying to ride
with him and Rhaenys accept Prince Stannis's oath of fealty. They did so by the river, the
same spot where he'd killed Robert Baratheon though other than he and Torgho Nudho none
of them would be able to tell. The prince arrived with a dozen of his lords, some looking to
him with anything but love in their eyes while others seemed almost relieved. Above them, in
the air, Gaelithox and Meraxes flew and both dragons were in playful moods it seemed. Still,
their presence served as a reminder that should they be needed they could be called upon with
ease.

"Your grace, your grace." Stannis said to Rhaenys first and then to him as they joined him
and the Lords of the Stormlands.
"Prince Stannis." he said and the first hints of smile he'd seen on the man's face began to
form.
"Not after this, your grace, but I thank you for the courtesy." Stannis said as he nodded to his
men and dropped to his knee "I Stannis Baratheon, the head of my house, do hereby pledge
myself and my house to their graces, King Aemon Targaryen and Queen Rhaenys Targaryen.
I do so freely and with no reservations and swear myself to them from this day to the last of
my days and my house to theirs in perpetuity." Stannis said his voice firm.
"We accept your oath and swear to ask no service of you that shall bring your house into
dishonor. You and your descendants shall always find meat and mead at our table and warmth
by our hearth. The bonds of family that unite us are now renewed, Rise Lord Stannis as the

Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Lord of Storm's End." Rhaenys said and Stannis did
as he was bid while his lords swore their own oaths to them and to him.
"Bonds of family, your grace?" Stannis asked curiously.
"The founder of your house, King Orys, was the Conqueror's brother, Lord Stannis. We are
kin of a sort and as kin we welcome you once more." Rhaenys said and Stannis looked
perplexed for a moment but then seemed to accept Rhaenys's words.

She'd shared this with him on the ride to the Riverlands, his sister's knowledge of their
family's history far superior to his own as their father would tell her tales that he'd never told
Aegon nor him.

When he'd spoken to Marwyn of it, it was with a foolish thought in his head. Cursed is the
kinslayer was well known even in the Empire and so he'd asked both the Mage and Thoros
whether he was inviting a curse upon himself by taking Robert Baratheon's life. Not that it
would have stayed his hand if he was, but he had wished to know regardless. The blood they
shared was so diluted that to expect it so would make any man who killed another, a
kinslayer, Marwyn had said and Thoros had agreed. Hearing Rhaenys name them as kin
though, made him hope they were right.

"What are your orders, your grace?" Stannis asked.
"Harrenhal, Lord Stannis. I seek Harrenhal." he said and Stannis and his lords along with
Lord Royce and Ser Denys looked at him worriedly while those who knew him best did not.

Volantis 300 AC.
Viserys Targaryen.

He stood in front of the looking glass and ran his hand down his pristine black coat, the red
accents standing out just as much as the chain he wore around his neck. His silver hair hung
loose but was neatly combed and slicked back, a part of it resting on his shoulder as if he'd
placed it there. Through his lilac eyes, he examined himself and felt he was ready for the day
and so he turned to walk from the room and left the empty bed behind him. Walking to break
his fast the only sounds he could hear was the ones he himself made and as he entered the
room, he smiled and welcomed the noise that he was hit with.

"Papa."
"Papa."

The twins ran to him and within moments he had them in his arms, Rhaella playing with his
hair while Aerys tried to stick his fingers in his mouth. They were so full of life, so eager to
explore each and everything they saw around them, and yet it was still he that took their
attention most of all.

"My little dragons, have you both eaten without me?" he asked to shakes of their little heads.
"No Papa."
"We waited."
"Only a little." they both said together.

The sound of their voices brought a smile to his face and he took his seat at the table between
them both, while Serra looked at them all with a chiding look on her face. His wife was
always the early riser between them both, more so since the twins were born and at times she
said that he indulged them far too much.

"Very well, then we shall all eat together so you can both grow as big as Tessarion." he said
to little laughs from his children.
"They'll make a mess of your clothing, Vis." Serra chided.
"Good, then I can be late for my meeting." he said to a shake of his wife's head, the smirk he
gave her only half returned.

He had fallen for his cousin the moment he'd met her, both of them had been in Lys for the
same reason and when they had both bonded with their dragons at the same time, that had
been the only sign he had needed. At first, Rhaegar was against the match, not because he
didn't wish him to be happy but more for the politics of it. Serra's father may have sought a
more localized match for her and Rhaegar himself may have had different plans for him.
Upon seeing them both together though he'd agreed almost at once, his dictate about
marriages between family members not applying to cousins, thanks be to the gods.

The twins had come many years later, both of them having almost given up on the chance of
children only to be blessed by two that any parent would wish for. It had been why he was
reluctant to take up the seat of governance that Rhaegar had wished for him and why in the
end he was governor only in name. Serra's brother standing in his stead while he spent his
time in Volantis and served on Rhaegar's High Council. If anything he felt needed more here
than there anyway as since Aemon's departure it was here that the truth of those who served
them was to be found.

"Vis. Vis. I told you so." Sera said chidingly.
"They're children, my love, they're going to be messy." he said as he wiped the porridge from
his formerly pristine coat.
"Sorry, papa." Rhaella said and he leaned down to kiss her while tickling her stomach at the
same time, his daughter shrieking and kicking her little legs in a vain effort to get away "Stop
it, Stop it Papa." she giggled, and eventually he did, Serra looking at them both and
pretending to be annoyed.
"I didn't make mess, mama." Aerys said and Viserys saw the smile that appeared on his wife's
face.
"Of course you didn't my good little dragon."

All too soon the meal was done and he was back in his room changing his coat before he
made his way to the meeting. The sparring yard was full and he noticed one man standing
alone, a man who kept looking his sister's way, and something about the man annoyed him
greatly. It wasn't that he was showing an interest in Daenerys, his sister's beauty and charm
would always attract attention, it was something that he couldn't quite put his finger on and
he liked it not. Before he had a chance to greet his sister and take further stock of the man,
both were gone from the yard. Dany off with Prince Oberyn's daughters and the ladies that
she spent her time with since Rhaenys had joined Aemon in Westeros and the man had
moved off to spar further in the yard somewhere.

"Prince Viserys." he heard the voice call out and he looked to see Oberyn twirling his spear
"Care for a spar?" Oberyn asked with a smirk.
"I prefer to do my fighting from the air, Prince Oberyn. Do you think your spear a match for
Tessarion?" he asked to a shake of the man's head.

He enjoyed the banter with Oberyn and had always found him good company when he would
visit his goodsister, this visit though was different. Viserys had already been told by Elia of

what Oberyn had come for and how she herself had reacted to it and he'd found out from
those he was friendly with on the High Council of how he'd already sought them out. Varys
then telling him more about the ones he was not friendly with and what responses the prince
had been given.

While Aemon had no friends for true on the High Council, his nephew not being one to
mince words or hold his tongue and not taking up the seat that was rightfully his having seen
to that, he had no true enemies either. There was not a man brave enough to risk the
Dragonknight's wrath and all knew that it was far better to be on Aemon's side than in his
way. It was something he and Rhaegar had argued about, his brother only telling him that
Aemon's path was his own and they had already played their role in it, whatever that meant.

Standing there watching Prince Oberyn easily beat all comers, he readied to say his own
words on his nephew. They would not be ones that the prince or his brother would like and
he'd gain no aid from him in whatever plans he had in regards to Aemon. Instead, he'd offer
him advice that he hoped he would take, and then he would go to the real work of the day. It
took longer than he had expected for Oberyn to finally call an end to his sparring, Viserys
wondering if he was deliberately making him wait or if he just got lost in the movements of
man and spear, and he'd wager it was the latter.

"You know why I wished to speak to you?" Oberyn asked after he'd wiped the sweat from his
brow and then swallowed his mug of water in one large gulp.
"I do, for you are not so subtle in your movements at court, Oberyn." he said with a chuckle.
"I am here at my brother's request, Viserys. I need no subterfuge or have any wish to be
caught up in some plot against the Empire or the High Emperor."
"Just his son." he said to a nod and another chuckle.
"As I said, I'm here at my brother's request. So tell me what it is you wish me to know and
then we can both get back to doing that we'd much prefer to be doing."
"Kneel or be brought to your knees, Oberyn. You've seen how the Empire works and I've no
doubt my niece and nephew will seek to replicate it somewhat and were Dorne to kneel then
I've no doubt they'd give you and it far more freedom than they would others. You can be
Qarth or Braavos, Oberyn, the choice is yours." Viserys said, his lilac eyes looking directly
into Oberyn's black ones.
"Servitude is still servitude." Oberyn said softly.
"That all depends on who it is you serve. Qarth of Braavos, either is better than Chroyane."
Viserys said and Oberyn looked at him disbelievingly.

"You put far too much faith in your nephew, Viserys. It took the entirety of the Freehold to
bring Chroyane down." Oberyn snorted.
"It would not have needed so had they Aemon on their side. Trust me on this, Oberyn. You
have not true idea of what my nephew is capable of. Should he but will it then Westeros
would burn and not even combined will you stop him. I've said my piece, think carefully on
my words for we are kin by marriage and I'd like to see you again. Yet I'd not mourn your
loss."

He left the prince there and by the time his day was done, his children were already being put
to bed. Viserys forgoing his meal for now so that he could sit by their bedsides and read them
a story. Serra stood at the door listening while he did so and once he'd kissed both Rhaella
and Aerys goodnight, he joined his wife for their meal.

Days later when he heard that Oberyn had left, he wondered what words he'd bring back to
Doran and what words Rhaegar had spoken to him before he did so. Putting those thoughts
aside, he made his way quietly to the room and opened the door, and once again he smiled
and welcomed the noise that greeted him.

"Papa."
"Papa."

The Reach 300 AC.
Olenna.

Though not the full army of the Reach, the calling of the banners had gathered almost 30,000
men in quick time and was it any other opponent they were dealing with then Olenna
wouldn't even consider what she'd already decided upon. The truth of things was that 30,000
or 70,000 it mattered not, men were useless against dragons, and it was not just the one that
they'd have to face had these fools gotten their way. Princess Rhaenys was a Dragonrider too
and while not as dangerous or lethal as her husband and his own dragon, the Princess along
with Prince Aemon was far too much for them to handle.

When you then added in that somehow they'd managed to take the Vale already and so could
now bring their knights to bear, it only proved her even more right. Words and not fighting
men were the best weapon they had to call upon and a crown meant nothing if the man who

wore it or sought to do so was dead. Gwayne thanks to Margaery had come to realize that,
though his pride may still prove to be an issue. Now it was time to make these fools do the
same.

At the king's behest, they'd come and they'd marched to provide an escort and show of force
to the dragons, or so Randyll Tarly had said. The old fool was the loudest of the voices in the
king's ear telling him that the tales of Prince Aemon's deeds had been exaggerated and that he
didn't believe the Knights of the Vale could be subdued so easily. In this, he was joined by
Mathis Rowan and some others. Lord Ashford, Garlan's goodfather Lord Fossoway and her
own goodson Paxter Redwyne. The fool who bragged that his ships could win this war all on
their own and only quietened when Margaery quickly pointed out that ships burn.

She had been so very proud of her granddaughter for that and for how after each time they
riled Gwayne up, it was Margaery that whispered in his ear and set him straight. Olenna
herself had kept quiet on the march, she'd said her piece in Highgarden and would again
before they met the Targaryen's in Tumbleton. Her fool of a son had bid her stay at home lest
they ended up coming to blows with the dragons and she been sorely tempted to slap him
hard on the head while she told him that her entire reason for coming was so that didn't
happen. Somehow she held herself in check instead by force of will alone. As she sat in the
carriage alone with her thoughts she wondered how Margaery was getting on at the front of
the lines. Her granddaughter had earlier offered to ride alongside her husband much to his
delight and Olenna's relief.

"Grandmother." she heard the sound of her grandson's voice and bid the carriage to stop,
Willas dismounting from his horse and climbing in to sit across from her once he did so.
"What news?" she asked eagerly, hating being out of the loop even for the few hours that they
rode each day.
"Tarly is being his usual foolish self. He's busy filling the king's head with tales of glory and
of how no army can stand up to the men of the Reach and with the king's leave he'd lead the
vanguard against this so-called Dragonknight." Willas said and she wasn't the only one of the
two of them to roll his eyes.
"I'm sorely tempted to ask Gwayne to give him leave to do so, just to watch the fool burn.
Would it not end any hopes we have of a peaceful agreement with the dragons, then I'd do so
too." she said and saw Willas's smirk "What else?"
"Word from our men in the Riverlands. It's true that the Starks have beaten the Hoares and
that King Qhored is dead." Willas said and Olenna nodded and bid him continue "Something
happened with King Brandon, grandmother, though I cannot find out more as of yet. Other
than it was Prince Eddard who led the army and beat the Hoares."

She looked at him curiously and tried to make sense of it, neither of them able to and in truth,
it really made little difference to their own course of action. What he said next however really
did.

"King Robert is dead, grandmother." Willas said and she looked at him incredulously.
"How?"
"It seems his army and Prince Aemon's came face to face at the Trident." Willas began before
she interrupted him.
"There was a battle?" she asked and Willas shook his head confusing her even more.
"The details are not quite clear, but no battle was fought and as far as I can make out, Prince
Aemon and King Robert faced off and fought each other without their armies." Willas said
and she looked at him nodding her head for him to continue "After the prince killed King
Robert, Prince Stannis knelt and the Stormlands have pledged to the dragons as well as the
Knights of the Vale."
"You're sure of this?" she asked and he nodded "And the Vale it's true?"
"It's true, Lord Royce and Ser Denys Arryn march with the prince's men and while this latest
news is not fully clear, I believe it since it comes from the same men, grandmother."
"Word will have been sent to Cider Hall no doubt, when will we arrive at the keep?" she
asked eagerly.
"By nightfall."
"See that the king is made aware of this from your own lips, Willas. Then when the news is
imparted in Cider Hall it will ring even more true."
"I will, grandmother." he said and she smiled at him as she bid the carriage stop once more,
Olenna knowing that he'd do as she bid unquestioned.

It seemed to take an age for them to arrive at Cider Hall and the news had arrived there too
just as she'd hoped it would. Their meal that night was one she much enjoyed as she did
hearing Tarly and others still name this news as lies and still brag that they could win this war
with no need to parley or negotiate or to take whatever crumbs fell from the dragon's mouth.
Through it all Olenna looked at the king and watched as Margaery did her duty to her family
by contradicting all that these foolish lords would say.

She found no need for herself to speak as Willas did what Mace was unable to, as Garlan did
and as Gwayne did the same and by the time it came for her to retire for the evening she was
feeling in a very good mood. The sound of the footsteps behind her and knowing who it was
who came her way soon ended that and she bid Paxter, Ser Jon Fossoway, Mathis Rowan,
and Randyll Tarly to join her in her rooms. Olenna letting them shout out their arguments and
make their threats and even allowing Tarly his little snipes at her expense before she spoke.

"In the blink of an eye and by all accounts, Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenys have taken
two of the Seven Kingdoms with not so much as a battle being fought. The 5,000 or so men
he brought to Westeros has now swelled to what? 50,000, 60,000" she said seeing Mathis nod
while Randyll glared at her spitefully, the fool still not best pleased that it was Margaery and
not Talla that was queen "King Robert Baratheon has fallen to the Prince's own hand and the
Old Lion has tucked his tail and hurried back to hide at Casterly Rock."

She paused and took a sip of her wine before continuing, her eyes carefully watching as Ser
Jon looked worried, Mathis concerned and Paxter far more with her than against her, while
Randyll perhaps barely listened to the words she spoke.

"Do you really believe that the North and Dorne won't kneel to their kin too? Especially once
news reaches them of what the dragons have already done? If tales are true the Bloody Gate
is no more and the Neck is full of ashes of Ironborn who dared to pull on the dragon's tail.
You would see the Reach in flames? See it's very best men outmatched on land just as they
would be in the air or at sea. Something you've come to realize, Paxter, despite your earlier
foolishness."
"Your speak to plain, my lady." Paxter said annoyedly.
"That I do, for plain words leave no room for dispute or misinterpretation. We cannot fight
this prince, we must not fight this prince. That is the situation we find ourselves in, parley or
die, for there is no third choice." she said firmly as Randyll rose to his feet and stormed to the
door.
"You are not the Reach, my lady, and it's better to die on your feet than to live on your
knees." Randyll said and she couldn't resist it, the words just came out of her mouth before he
could leave.
"Horn Hill is stone and wood, Lord Tarly. Stone melts, wood burns and the Dragonknight is
not a chivalrous knight who leaves his bad feelings on the battlefield. Pull on the dragon's tail
as the Ironborn have and you may very well find that it will be your house and your keep that
he seeks to use next to send a message to us all."

The sound of the door slamming as he left the room was loud and she saw that her words had
hit home with the others present, far more than they had with Randyll Tarly.

"That man is a fool who seeks glory where there is none to be found. We've been given leave
to parley, better to do so and judge those against us than wish to fight them regardless." she
said to small nods, and after they left she sipped on her wine and contemplated whether or
not Randyll Tarly's death needed to come sooner or later.

Riverrun 300 AC.
Ned Stark.

In barely a few moons he'd said goodbye to his father and now his brother. The raven he'd
send to Winterfell bearing the news of Brandon's death was the hardest he'd ever had to write,
as was the one he'd sent to Cat at the Moat. The words he'd spoken to both her and his son
regarding the crown they'd bestowed on him were ones he'd never wished to write, just as
much as the crown itself was one he'd not wished to wear. Yet the Lords of the North were
right, Benjen was right and it had to be him and not Robb who took up the crown.

"The King in the North."

He shuddered at the memory of the meeting where the Greatjon, Maege, and his own brother
had blindsided him and named him their king. His words that he didn't want it and that it was
Robb who was Brandon's heir were shouted down and the truth of the matter was that he
knew it had to be him. What they faced demanded it of him, justice for his father and brother
demanded it of him and the North itself demanded it of him. When the Blackfish and the
Lords of the Riverlands had sought to name him as their king too, that was where he drew the
line.

He knew it had been his father's and his goodfather's wish for him to be king but he could not
be, not now that he wore the Winter Crown. Usurping one son was one thing, two was a step
too far, and should they wish it then they could name Bran their king when he came of age
and someone as his regent until then, something they did, almost. They had named the
Blackfish as regent until the war was done and would seek to revisit it in the peace that
followed. As for the war that was to come, that would begin sooner than he wished and it was
with a heavy heart that he made his way to the Great Hall for the meeting that was soon to
begin.

"You were always a dour fucker, but by the old gods do you look even more miserable now
your grace." Benjen said as he walked towards him, his brother's eyes were full of mirth
which was a far more welcome sight than the tears that Benjen had shed these last few days.
"Given what we're about to do, I've got the right to be miserable have I not." he said and
Benjen nodded.
"This is a fool's errand, Ned. Better to send men to seek a parley than to march an entire army
to Harrenhal." Benjen said as the two of them began walking again and the sounds of revelry
rose from the Great Hall as they neared it.
"I can't risk more men dying, Benjen. Not if we're to come out of this with our lives." he said
almost a whisper.
"You still believe it to be true?" his brother asked hopefully.
"Aye, it's true. Now we just need to prove it to them." he said and with that, they walked into
the Great Hall.
"The King in the North."
"The King in the North."

The cheers went up and almost shyly he waved his hand bidding them stop which they did
after a while. He nodded to the Blackfish and to Lady Maege who was deep in conversation
with his gooduncle and then took his seat. The room finally began quietening down and he
waited for it to do before he rose to his feet.

"Our scouts bring back word that the Knights of the Vale now ride with the dragons." he said
to loud hisses "Which means my nephew now has more men to call upon than we believed.
His wife too rides with them which means he has two and not one dragon to call upon, and
we've all seen what one can do." he said loudly as the hisses calmed "It seems that Harrenhal
is the prize that he seeks and in that he's not alone as without Harrenhal falling, this war is not
done."
"Then we march and stick our swords up his and his dragon's arses."
"The Knights of the Vale are no match for the men of the North or the Riverlands."
"For King Rickard, For King Brandon."

He let them shout themselves out before he spoke again, better to do so than to try and hush
them when their blood was up.

"I know not whether I believe my nephew played a part in my father's or brother's deaths.
The man that Lord Reed brought back may have named them as so, but things he said
troubled me too and I fear we're being led into a fight that we should not be." he said to
confused looks and to what he knew would be arguments were he not to speak the rest of his
thoughts quickly "Should it prove true then justice and vengeance will be ours, on that you
need not fear. The Blood Oath has been sworn, my lords, I'd simply see that the blood we
spill because of it be the blood of the right men and not the wrong ones."

His words seemed to calm them down, for now, the lords were behind him though he knew
not how long that would be true for. The part of them that wanted blood was a part that he
himself knew all too well and yet, he was more than sure that the blood that needed to be
spilled wasn't his nephew's. That and even if it was, he knew not how to accomplish it should
the need arise. He'd listened to the words the man that Howland had brought back from
Wendish Town had spoken and though on the surface they named Aemon as responsible, to
Ned certain things didn't ring true.

"You dare accuse me of such a thing. You dare name me a kinslayer, you think I'll brook such
an insult?"
"When I wish a man dead I look him in the eye or face him across a field. Ambushes to kill a
man are for lesser men than me, so mark my words and mark them well. When I come for
you, you'll see me coming, your grace."
"I'll not seek to fight against my kin until those responsible for my grandfather's death have
paid for it, as I said. After then it's in the fate of the gods."

The words and the passion behind them, the truth of what he'd done to the Ironborn at the
Neck. When if he was their enemy he could have simply have allowed them to ride into the
ambush that awaited and them and then faced them when they were weaker. How Aemon
spoke of his mother and how much he'd wished to see the North, to be invited to the North,
all of it ran false for a man who'd ambushed two kings and killed them in such a manner.
Either his nephew was a far better mummer than he believed him to be or more was going on
here than met the eye. Ned believing it to be far more the latter than the former, as what point
was there being a mummer when you held all the advantage.

"We march on the morrow, Ned?" the Blackfish asked and Ned wondered how long he'd been
quiet and how many times someone had tried to speak to him while he was simply sitting
there lost in his thoughts.
"Aye. Harrenhal, to answers or to battle." he said and he prayed to the old gods that it would
be the former.

The conquest of Westeros XXXV.
House Targaryen.

The last true scions of Old Valyria and the only members of the forty to survive the doom,
House Targaryen bore all the traits that made Valyrians stand out. From their silver hair and
oddly colored eyes to a beauty that men and women would lose their minds and sell their
souls to possess. Added of course to the ability to control the skies and ride on beasts that
were fire made flesh. The desire to be joined with House Targaryen, be it to a prince or
princess, had been something that those in Essos who'd named themselves noble had all
known at one point.

Political gain, desire for wealth and honors, even in order to see that their own lands were
left untouched, all of this paled compared to the desires and lusts that sharing a bed with a
people whose beauty was so renowned, enflamed. Over the years few had been lucky enough
to be welcomed into the beds of the dragons and the need to keep magic and control over
their dragons had seen brother wed sister, uncle wed aunt and cousin wed cousin.

Still, there were the lucky few, House Velaryon perhaps far more than most, and those of the
old blood, pureblood, and the noblest of families of the great cities of Essos had found favor
from time to time. The Unworthy shared his bed with any who caught his fancy. While tales
had been spread of promiscuous Princes and Princess and even Emperors and Empresses,
though how much truth there was amongst the lies no one can tell. What is known is that
when a dragon loves it loves with all it has and those lucky enough to earn that love are truly
blessed. Those who try to take it from themselves or force it to happen, they're not so lucky.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 300 AC.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Her bags were packed and then unpacked, Dany feeling such a fool as she gathered all her
things and packed them angrily before calming somewhat and realizing this wasn't some
jaunt she was going on. Not some visit to one of their cities with her brother or goodsister,
her niece or nephew. This time she'd be going further and farther than she had ever gone
before and there would be no room for luxuries on Nightwing's back.

Some warm clothing, some coin, food, and a knife to protect herself though she'd not truly
need it with Nightwing by her side. A part of her now wishing that she had the knife a few
days earlier when she'd been cornered by that fool. Had she had it on her person then she'd
have cut him or attempted to. As it was she'd almost been…no, not even he was fool enough
to do that she thought as she shuddered at the memory.

Was it her fault?
Had she led him on?
Was she being a tease as he'd named her?

She didn't believe she was, she'd been friendly, charming and she'd admit she'd found him
attractive and interesting and so she'd been flirtatious. They'd danced and she'd enjoyed it, but
when he went to kiss her she'd made it clear that she didn't wish him to. When he'd touched
her where he should not she'd slapped his hands away and it was only when Nightwing came
to her aid that he'd stopped and walked away. Ser Gerold muttering under his breath things
that she cared not to think about anymore.

Why had she not just gone to Rhaegar?
Spoken to Elia or Viserys?
Why not see him pay for what he'd said and what he'd tried to do?

She still wasn't sure of the reasons, try as she might she couldn't understand her reluctance to
see him pay and yet, and yet, she wished him to pay all the same. Perhaps it was that she
feared his words would be believed over hers and that while he'd be punished for what he did
and tried to do, she'd face scorn and ridicule for leading him on or for the part she played in
his actions. All she knew was that after he'd left her alone she'd then run to the one person

who could tell her that she had not. The one person who would tell her that it was him at fault
and not her, only to find the room as empty as it had been for moons.

"Why did you leave me behind?" she said softly, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes as
she sat down hard on the bed.

To say she missed Rhaenys would be an understatement. Each day that she woke since she'd
left it would be with the briefest smile on her face at the thoughts of what the two of them
would get up to, only for it to be quickly wiped away when she remembered she was no
longer here. Not to spend time with her, to gossip over men she may or may not like, or to
ponder on potential matches that Rhaegar may make for her. Nor to simply hold her hand and
tell her everything would be well when Dany felt sad, angered, or worried about something
or other.

It was why it was to Rhaenys's room she had run and why her mind was now set on the
course of action that it was. Wiping her eyes, she rose from the bed and took the pillowcase
that she'd filled her things with and hid it for later that night. With a look at herself in the
looking glass to make sure she looked presentable she then made her way to break her fast
and even after she'd done so and had found that Prince Oberyn had left and that Ser Gerold
Dayne had left with him. Yet it still didn't weaken her resolve for what it was she felt that she
must do.

She'd been silly, naïve, thinking him to be the same type of man as his cousin and finding his
looks to be appealing and so ignoring the other signs that showed he was very much not. Had
Rhaenys been here with her then she'd have warned her, told her the truth about the man long
before Dany had put herself in a position to almost be…to nearly be…

"No, he would not, he dared not" she said determinedly.

If Aemon had been here then it would have been in the sparring yard that the lesson was
delivered to Ser Gerold Dayne and it would be delivered most harshly. Were her nephew to
find out what he'd tried to do then the man would not have walked away with less than a scar
or two. If Aemon had let him walk away at all that was. She missed them, both of them and
her days weren't just dull without either of them here, they were unbearable. So she'd
resolved to join them, to find them, and to be by their sides for as long as they allowed her to
be.

The wait until night fell was a long one, Dany simply going about the motions as the hours
passed until it was time for her dinner with her family. Whether her goodsister noticed her
mood or was just being extra attentive, she knew not, but she feared it would lead to her
being discovered. Thankfully though she ended up in her room alone and with her guards
outside her door. She waited until the darkest part of the night and then placed the letters on
the table by her bed before moving to the window. With a last look at her room and with a
resolute nod of her head, she began the climb down to the ground and hurried through the
grounds of the Grand Palace and out over the wall that Rhaenys had shown her and to the
streets themselves.

"You knew didn't you." she said happily to Nightwing as the dragon waited for her in the
Dragonpit "Take me to them." she said once she'd climbed onto her dragon's back and with
the truest smile that she'd worn in moons, they quickly took to the sky.

Winterfell 300 AC.
Robb Stark.

He wasn't usually bored when he stayed at Winterfell, his time would normally be spent by
his grandfather's side learning how to be the Prince of Winter and future king when his time
came or by his uncle's side learning what it was to be a man. Sometimes he'd be the Stark in
Winterfell and would need to sit in the Lord's Seat and not the Winter Throne while he served
in his grandfather and uncle's stead. Normally the thoughts of such would be enough to raise
his excitement and interest, but then normally there wouldn't be a war going on while he did
so.

Cregan and he felt left out, thought of as lesser than other boys of their age and upon learning
of their cousin and the things that Aemon had done before he'd even reached the age they
were now, that feeling only grew. Answering petitions, resolving disputes, making sure that
their stocks were set and their treasury was full, that all felt so dull and boring compared to
leading men in battle and earning renown. Wielding a sword against a worthy foe not in the
sparring yard but in a true fight or leading men in a charge into the enemy's ranks, that boiled
the blood far more than seeing taxes were paid or deferred.

Had it not been for Lady Wynafryd's arrival and the words that his aunt Barbrey had spoken
to him about what had been his grandfather's wishes, then only the old gods knew how he'd
have not lost him mind by now. At Barbrey's request, he spent time with the lady, and though

at first she didn't stir his heart how Alys did, in time she stirred it perhaps even more. It made
him surer of the match and keener for it and the time they spent together was the most
enjoyable time he'd had since he'd been left behind while the North went to war. It was not to
last and the words that he read from the raven's scroll shocked him to his very core.

"This can't be…Are you sure it's from my father?" he asked Waldron and the Maester
nodded.
"It bears the seal of the king, my prince." Waldron replied.
"My cousin, see that he's sent to me and Maester...speak no more on this." he said and
Waldron replied that he would not and moved to the door, while Robb felt the tears stream
down his face.

His uncle, a man who was as close to him as his father truth be told, his uncle was dead.
Ambushed just like his grandfather had been and his body had been sent back to the Moat
and would be sent on to be placed at rest in the crypts beside his father and the other Winter
Kings. Robb could barely believe it, he didn't wish to and the thoughts of having to speak to
his aunt and tell her the horrible truth, no, he couldn't bear it.

"You sent for me?" his cousin said jovially as he entered the room.
"Sit." he said and Cregan finally noticed his expression "Read." he said his voice short and
curt as he handed his cousin the raven's scroll.
"This can't be…it's a lie, a…this can't be." Cregan said "Father, uncle Ned?" he then asked
almost panicked.
"Both are well. My father sent another raven as did your own." he said handing Cregan the
two scrolls that Waldron had given him that he'd not even noticed at first.
"We should gather the men, we need to ride…."
"We need to mourn our King. I needs must speak to Aunt Barbrey, she has to hear this from
me. Gather the household in the Great Hall, I'll make the announcement once I'm ready to do
so."
"How can you be so unfeeling?" Cregan asked angrily and that it was his grief that made him
do so was the only reason he didn't earn a punch to his head for daring to name him so.
"I've cried my tears before you arrived and more will fall before the night is done. For now,
I've things that need to be done and if I don't do them then who will?"

"Aye, I'm sorry, cousin." Cregan said a moment later and he smiled a sad smile at him and bid
him do what needed to be done.

The walk to the embroidery room where his aunt, her ladies, and Lady Wyanfryd were
spending their day was a long one, or perhaps it was that his footsteps were slow and his
desire to get there was non-existent. Entering the room he received a smile from Wyanfryd
that soon left her face and a worried look from his aunt Barbrey that did not.

"I need to speak to my aunt alone, can you ladies excuse us." he said his voice tight as he
tried to rein in the emotions that he was feeling.
"Of course, my prince. My lady." Wyanfryd said as she rose and the others joined her, leaving
him alone with his aunt who shook her head and didn't say a word.
"I'm sorry, Aunt…"
"No, Brandon, nooooo." she cried out, her pained shouts breaking his heart even more than it
already was.

He'd needed to have Waldron give her Dreamwine, his words, Cregan's, none of them were
enough to make her pain feel any less and he knew that it would only be time that did so.
Once he was sure she was asleep and that her ladies in waiting would be close by, he then
made his way to the Great Hall and took his place in the Lord's Seat before Cregan brought
the room to silence. As soon as he did so, Robb rose to his feet and looked out at all those
present. Guards, servants, smallfolk, all of those closest to Winterfell that needed to know,
with the rest of the North soon to find out from the ravens that he'd had Waldron send out.

"My uncle Brandon has fallen. Taken from us just as my grandfather was before him. The
King in the North is dead." he said to loud cries.

He let them shout, cry out, swear justice and vengeance, and then he told them of his father
and what he would do.

"Prince Eddard Stark, my father, has been named as the new King in the North. He and my
uncle Prince Benjen along with the Lords of the North have sworn the Blood Oath and will
not rest until the men who killed my grandfather and uncle have paid for their crimes. To
King Eddard Stark. The King in the North." he said raising his mug as Cregan stood up
beside him and did the same.

"The King In the North." Cregan shouted loudly.
"The King In the North."
"The King in the North."

Sitting at his grandfather's desk later that night he felt himself on the verge of tears once
more. When the knock came to the door he didn't even hear it nor did he notice when
Wyanfryd stepped inside. How he made it to where she stood, he knew not. Only that once he
did the battle was lost and he felt her arms around him as he sobbed against her shoulder.

"They killed my uncle." he said crying full tears now.
"I know, my sweet prince, I know. They'll pay for doing so, let it out, let it all out." she said
softly as she held him and stopped him from falling to the ground and he did as she bid him
and let out all the anguish and sadness that he felt.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Daario Naharis.

He'd sent word back to the High Emperor that Aemon had taken the Vale and they'd named
him their king. That he'd done so without even a true fight and had simply sent them a
message to bring them to their knees. The Riverlands and Stormlands were soon to fall too
and the North would come around as well. Leaving only the Reach, West, Dorne, and the
Iron Islands to follow. By the time the letter had made it to the ship that would take it to
Volantis, he found out that he would need to send another.

The Trial of Seven had been more successful than even Daario had dared to hope it would be
and the Reach was seeking to be welcomed into their embrace rather than to be forced into it.
He was just finishing writing the words on the new letter when Aemon called for him to join
him. They would reach Harrenhal on the morrow and the prince didn't believe that those who
still remained in the keep would surrender, not even to the force they'd assembled. So it was
he and Aemon alone who made their way to the Blood Wyrm and it was only once they
reached the dragon that Aemon laid out his plan.

"According to all who've seen it, Harrenhal can't be taken, Daario. But you and I know far
better than that." Aemon said.
"That we do, my prince."
"Your night eyes still as good as ever?" Aemon japed.
"Not as good as yours but they rarely steer me wrong." he replied before smirking.
"Then shall we."

The flight wasn't a long one and the night was moonless which hid them from view even
more so than the height they flew at. Looking down at the lights that burned throughout the
keep allowed them to see some if not all of what they'd face. Yet it was only when they flew
over the place with none that both he and Aemon saw the true plan begin to form. After
landing and making sure they were right and then waiting some time to see if they'd been
noticed, it was back to the camp they flew, and once back on the ground again, Aemon turned
to him.

"How many?"
"Ten, twenty would be better." he replied.
"It can be done?" Aemon asked looking at him.
"It can be done."
"Good, get some sleep, we have a big day ahead of us on the morrow." Aemon said patting
him on the back before stopping "And tell the men that you intend to bring not to drink."
"I'll do my best, my prince, but men drink." he said to a chuckle from Aemon as they walked
back towards their tents.

He added it to his letter, sure that they'd see it was done and so he was eager to let Rhaegar
know that it had been. Tasking Jaedor and Valarr to gather ten men, he told them what they
would be doing and not to drink, neither man listening to him on the last point and he knew
that Aemon had meant it as a jape. The next morning he woke early and was unsurprised
when Aemon came to him soon after. Though he was by the man who walked with him. The
old Stormland's knight had earned Ser Arthur's respect and had beaten Aurane, Daario
himself, and Thoros in a spar, falling only to Aemon and Torgho Nudho. He'd recovered from
his wounds and was being welcomed into Aemon's service, though it seemed his prince
wished to see him bloodied first.

"Ser Barristan will be joining you, should the need arise. Introduce him to the men as you
break your fast. We march once we do so and should arrive at the gates of Harrenhal by
noon." Aemon said and Daario nodded.

The old knight was quiet and contemplative and yet for some reason, Daario felt comforted
by his presence. Should it come to pass then tonight they'd either sup together inside the halls
of Harrenhal or move behind the walls and face blood and death before the cock crows and
the morning sun rose again. He hoped it was to be the latter, it was dull sitting around and his
lady called out for blood.

"You think they'll accept the prince's terms, Ser Barristan?" he asked as they rode toward the
gates.
"The king's terms, Daario." Ser Barristan replied.
"Your king, my prince. It's the same thing. See if he corrects either of us?" he said smirking
and was pleased to see the annoyed look appear on Barristan's face.
"They'll not accept terms, the Ironborn are too stupid for such." Barristan said and Daario
nodded, he didn't believe they would either.

It was a lady that came out to negotiate when they reached the keep. One who seemed fearful
by their numbers and by the dragons that flew overheard, but who put on a brave face of
showing that she was not.

"What brings you to my gates to disrupt my peace?" the woman said, the Queen of the
Ironborn he'd heard her named.
"To accept your surrender, of course." Aemon said and Daario saw how the woman's
expression changed and how Princess Rhaenys glared at her husband.
"Forgive my husband and his manners, your grace. Though his words spoken so brusquely
are still true. We offer you safe passage back to the Iron Islands, and we will allow you to
leave with all your wealth and under our protection." Rhaenys said and Daario looked at her
incredulously, all their wealth? that wasn't part of the plan, was it?
"And should we not comply?" the Ironborn queen asked her mummer's bravery in full effect.
"Then you leave us no choice but to give fight." Rhaenys said firmly.
"Our walls are thick and though we're outnumbered we can hold back a larger force than you.
We're well-stocked with food and men, so I reject your terms." the queen said and Aemon

chuckled.
"How will your walls do against them." Aemon said as Meraxes and the Blood Wyrm roared
and let loose their flames in the sky above their heads " How will your men hold off the army
that we've assembled? Pride comes before a fall, your grace, don't let it do so before your
own. There is no aid coming to you, no one to stand in my way in seeing your keep fall and
so I offer you one last chance to reconsider. An hour, I give you an hour to decide..." Aemon
said and then his words were interrupted angrily.
"I need no hour, be gone go back to the foul lands you come from, Prince Aemon, for you're
not welcome here and the Drowned God spits on you and your offer." the queen said as she
spat on the ground and Daario turned to Barristan and shook his head before rolling his eyes.
"And yet here I am and with no one strong enough to make me leave. Pray to your Drowned
God and see if he's got balls enough to face a dragon. I wager you'll find that he like the other
so-called gods will hide in his halls and cower as the truth is shown to them and you. There
are no gods, your grace, and the closest you'll ever get to one is where you stand right now.
Pray that he feels merciful should you be fortunate to face him again." Aemon said and even
Daario chilled at his words and how he spoke them.

He'd seen his prince angered over the years and had watched him let loose his rage and yet it
was times like this that he truly feared him. For it was at times like this even those who knew
him best had no idea just how far Aemon would go.

The siege towers were built or at least looked as if they were. The army was formed up and
their camp was set up as if they were readying for a siege and yet for those who knew better
or watched it more closely they'd see it was a mummery that was being performed. It was the
Westerosi that Aemon had put to this task, while their own men readied for a far different
one. Thoros and his Flames of the Dragon, Aurane and their cavalry, Torgho Nudho and the
Unsullied, and Aemon himself strolling not amongst the men of Westeros but the men of
Essos and those he named as his own.

When night fell he and his men along with Ser Barristan made their way to the dragons to
find Aemon waiting for them. It was a tight squeeze on the Blood Wyrm's back but they all
managed to take their places and other than Ser Brristan, they all welcomed the flight to
come. The old knight was far more nervous than any and it was only when they landed in the
Godswood that he opened his eyes, or so Daario would wager.

"Get into position and when the Blood Wyrm roars, do as you must." Aemon said quietly and
then the dragon was back in the sky.

With a nod to Jaedor and Valarr and a look to Lucearon who stood by Ser Barristan's side,
they began to move through the empty Godswood and made their way to its gates. Bows
were soon made ready, arrows aimed and as they sat and waited, he looked to Ser Barristan
who to his surprise wore an eager look on his face. For Daario and the Second Sons, this was
something they'd done more than once over the years. He wondered if the Knight had ever
done anything like this in all of his.

"How long do we wait?" Barristan asked and the sound of the Blood Wyrm's roar may well
have been enough for the question to be answered, just in case it was not, he did so anyway.
"The waiting is done, the fighting is what comes next." he said to some quiet chuckles and to
the sound of arrows flying through the air.

Soon enough he was cutting down men with his Arakh or stabbing them wherever he could
with his Lady as they moved closer to the gates. He lost two men before he reached them and
would have lost Lucearon and Jaedor too were it not for Ser Barristan who wielded his sword
like it was an extension of his arm. The man was as much an artist as Arthur or Aemon were,
he was one who painted on no canvas and one who only painted in red.

"Low." he heard the shout and then he felt the wings as the Blood Wyrm flew close to the
walls, the flames taking care of the last of the men, and then he and his men were at the gates
themselves.
"Help me." he shouted and while Barristan watched their backs, he, Valarr, and Jaedor
opened the gates and he heard the sound of the Blood Wyrm as the dragon landed outside of
them.

Within moments he was looking at Aemon's red armor as his prince made his way towards
them with Dark Sister in hand. Soon enough the sound of the horses as they rode to the gates
and he smiled as they turned and looked to the inside of the great keep itself.

"Shall we." Aemon said and Daario chuckled as he and his men along with Ser Barristan
followed the prince as he strode forward and moved deeper into the grounds and to the prize
of the keep itself.

How many men they cut down before Torgho Nudho joined them with a detachment of
Unsullied he knew not, only that he swore he saw Ser Barristan stop to watch as Aemon
wielded his sword. Dark Sister could be a thing of beauty or a bloodthirsty bitch and tonight
it was the latter that they were all treated to. It was early the next morning that the keep was
theirs for true. Aemon taking his seat on the throne that had been built for the Hoares and not
moving from it until Rhaenys arrived.

"You were not supposed to fight, Aems." the princess said as she checked him over for
wounds, of which he had none.
"I couldn't let Daario have all the fun, Rhae." Aemon said earning him a laugh from those
with Daario that he'd fought beside and a slap from his wife that was perhaps just as well
earned.

By noon they'd found the Ironborn queen and her daughter, the two of them looking terrified
as they were brought in front of Aemon, and Rhaenys and Daario smirked at the look on
Aemon's face as he readied to speak.

"I told you not to place your faith in gods, Lady Hoare. Fear not though for I feel merciful
this day and my wife would think ill of me were it not so." Aemon said as he took Rhaenys
hand in his and raised it to his lips to place a kiss upon it.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next, Aemon and Rhaenys share some quite time together as he explains more of his
plans. The North arrive to a fallen keep and tensions rise as Aemon meets his uncles and
learns of the death of Brandon Stark. Tyrion arrives in Braavos and has a meeting with a
mockingbird and Rhaenys proposes a peaceful settlement with to the North and
Riverlands before she and Aemon and the dragons head to Tumbleton to meet with the
Reach. In Dorne, Oberyn arrives home and finds Doran has been busy while he was
away.

Our House in the Middle of Our Lands.
Chapter Summary

For those who dislike such things there is some Lemon right at the start of the chapter,
it's marked where it begins and ends, so you can skip past it if it's not your thing.
Aemon and Rhaenys share some quiet time together as he explains more of his plans.
The North arrives at a fallen keep and tensions rise as Aemon meets his uncles and
learns of the death of Brandon Stark. Tyrion arrives in Braavos and has a meeting with a
mockingbird and Rhaenys proposes a peaceful settlement with to the North and
Riverlands before she and Aemon and the dragons head to Tumbleton to meet with the
Reach. In Dorne, Oberyn arrives home and finds Doran has been busy while he was
away.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XXXVI
Dragons II.

Over the years many dragons just as their riders have carved their name in the annals of the
Empire. From Balerion the Black Dread, Vhagar, and Meraxes who were ridden by the
conqueror and his sister-wives to Meleys the Red Queen, Vermithor the Bronze Fury, and to
the Dragonknight's own Gaelithox the Blood Wyrm. Some have had had multiple riders such
as Balerion who by all accounts was the oldest and longest-lived at his death, while others
have had one or even none.

Some have been known to travel far and wide after their rider's death and are believed to
have themselves then perished in Valyria. A return back to their homeland once the bond
between rider and dragon has been severed becoming a rite of passage. For those who
survive the breaking of such a bond, it's to Lys and the new home of dragons they travel.
There to await another bond to be formed or to live out their days alone and unbonded.

Other than the dragons hatched by a Dragonknight none others have ever been seen to hatch
by any other than their rider or those who shepherd them on Lys and how long they live after
a bond if formed or broken is a closely guarded secret of House Targaryen and one they

share with no one. What is known is that once a bond is formed between a dragon and its
rider then nothing or no one can break that bond other than the god of death himself and a
bond between a Dragonknight and their dragon is rumored to be stronger even than that.

Myths and legends state that when a Dragonknight falls so does their dragon and yet there
have been tales of Vhagar, Caraxes, and others still flying out there somewhere. West of
Westeros, East of Essos, South of Sothoryos, or North of Ulthos. In the Lands of Always
Winter or the Lands of the Never Setting Sun. Whether that is true or not no one can tell for
sure. As is the way with all myths and legends though, truth is lost among the tales and is out
there waiting to be discovered. One day perhaps we'll find it for ourselves.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Aemon.

Lemon Begins.

She moaned loudly as he took her nipple in his mouth, Rhaenys both arching her back so he
could take it more firmly while at the same time almost pulling away from him when he bit
down gently on it. His hand moved between her legs, his finger lightly brushing over her sex
as he teased, promised, and yet delivered far too little for her taste. When he stopped moving
his hand and his fingers she cried out and demanded he continue.

"Aems, please…"

As much as he wished to draw it out and make her beg, knowing that the release she'd find
would more than makeup for it, he could as always deny her nothing. So he bit down a little
harder and moved one of his fingers inside her, feeling how warm and wet she was for him
and how tightly she gripped the most welcome digit. When his thumb brushed over her nub
she called out loudly, Aemon thinking she sounded so much like her dragon at that moment.

He let go of her nipple and felt her sigh at the loss of the pressure of his mouth and then he
heard her excited gasps as he began to kiss down her stomach and made his way to the space
between her thighs. The cold air he blew against her did little to cool her down or to stop the
fires that were threatening to be unleashed and when his tongue reached out to taste her, he
half expected to be burned by the flames.

"Aems, Aems…"

Slowly at first, he let his tongue brush over the entirety of her sex, from top to bottom and
then back up. He pushed it inside her and she cried out, he licked it slowly over her nub and
she moaned and then he felt his own fires begin to rise and his hunger for her took over.
Rhaenys tasted like the very best meal he'd ever had and he devoured her completely. Long
after she'd fallen over the first peak he was still lost in what he was doing.

When her hands began to push at his head, when he felt her fingers in his hair and felt the
pain as she both pushed him away and pulled him closer, he redoubled his efforts. His tongue
was joined by one and then two fingers, his other hand holding her open so he could look at
her and reach more of her at the same time. He felt her thighs as they wrapped around his
head and then the world went silent. Were it not for the shaking of her body as he came, again
and again, he'd not have known that his work was achieving its desired effect.

"Stop, Aems…Please, I...Oh Aemon…."

He kissed each of her thighs when she stopped shaking, then began to kiss up her stomach,
her breasts, her neck, and finally her lips. Seeing her eyes closed he wished so much to make
her open them and look into his own, yet he knew she need some time to recover and so he
moved off of her and poured them both some wine. A few moments later she opened her eyes
and he handed her the glass which she drank down quickly.

"My turn." she said and then he felt her tongue on his chest as she kissed her way down his
body.

Rhaenys didn't tease, she didn't waste a moment's time trying to draw out his pleasure,
instead, he felt her tongue touch his manhood only briefly and then he was inside her mouth.
He almost dared not to look at her as she sucked his cock, so sure was he that the sight would
be more than he could take, that he almost dared not to. Curiosity, eagerness, knowing it

would only add to his pleasure, whatever you wished to name it, it won out and he almost lost
himself at the sight she presented to him.

"I can't, I need to be inside you." he said almost unable to get the words out and he swore she
smiled when she slipped his cock from her mouth and moved up so that she was now holding
it in her hand and brushing it against the wetness of her sex.
"Tell me."
"Rhae."
"Tell me." she said smirking now as she allowed just the tip to slip inside.
"I love you." he said and with each word she took more and more of him inside of her until
she'd taken all of him.

Once she had done so it was time for payback for her little game and so he grabbed her hips
and placing a hand on her back he bent her forward so she was laying on top of him. With his
mouth close to her ear he began to whisper.

"Tell me."
"Aems.
"Tell me."
"I love you, I love you, I love you." she said as he began to move inside of her, his thrusts
powerful enough to make her catch her breath each time.

It didn't take them long to settle into a rhythm, the two of them knew each other's bodies so
well that within a few moments she was riding him as he pushed up inside of her. Aemon
timing his thrusts with her descent and feeling both of them drawing ever closer to their
releases. She laughed when he rolled over so he was on top, her eyes alight as he was now in
control and he chuckled when she slapped him when he moved too slowly.

"Aems."

That was all it took, one word and he was as lost as he ever was when he was with her. His
movements quickened, his hands began to move between them and sought out her nub, and
then he felt it as she began to fall over the edge and as he fell with her. No more words were
spoken, no names called out, just two sets of eyes looking deeply into each other as both of
them gave in to the intense pleasure they'd only ever known with each other.

Lemon ends.

Sleep came easily to them after they'd exhausted themselves with their lovemaking. Aemon
finding his to be a dreamless one and waking up far earlier than Rhaenys as usual. Despite
wanting to spend his morning in bed with his wife, he rose and dressed and instead went
about his morning routine. Nodding to the two guards he'd had placed on their door, he
moved through the keep and down into the open yards below. Harrenhal was just as
impressive inside as it was out and the more he saw of it the more he was sure he was making
the right choice.

When planning his takeover of Westeros the first thing that came to mind, other than the
details of the conquest itself, was what to do once he'd conquered the lands. He and Aurane
had spoken as he had with Marwyn and some inescapable truths had soon come to light.
Dragonstone for all it offered was not Volantis and wouldn't serve as the capital for the
kingdom he wished to forge. He needed somewhere far more central and while in time he'd
need a port city, for now, what he needed more than anything was a defensible keep and lands
that could provide for it. Which had made Harrenhal pretty much the best and only choice.

Seeing the inside of it as he moved around the keep, judging its defenses through the lens of
them being guarded by his men and thinking about the ground with dragons in mind, he was
sure now he'd made the right choice. He was just reaching the sparring yard where he heard
her voice call out to him, Aemon turning to see that Rhaenys had followed after him and was
moving towards him quickly. A look on her face that showed her annoyance and one that
almost brought a smile to his own.

"I told you to wake me., Aems." she said glaring at him.
"You're not a morning person, Rhae." he replied to a shake of her head.
"I wished to explore, now come, show me."

The determination in her voice and how she grabbed his arm left him with no other choice,
not that he wished for one. He had intended to show her the grounds and more of the keep
itself, to have her give her opinion on whether or not this would suffice as the seat of their
House and as the capital of their kingdom. She had looked so peaceful while sleeping that
he'd not had the heart to wake her and so he had intended giving her more time before he did
so, he was glad she disagreed with that plan.

"Is that the Godswood?" she asked pointing to the gates and he nodded, he'd mentioned it as a
place for the dragons to name their own and she'd seemed keen to see it for herself. Other
things though had soon drawn her attention which had led to them retiring early the night
before.
"It is. It's far too big to serve simply as a place of tress and serenity. We can give half of it to
the dragons and still have more than enough spaced to use as was intended."
"Does it have a Weirwood?" she asked excitedly and he nodded, Aemon then leading her to
the giant white tree.

It was huge and very impressive, even the hateful face that was carved into it appealed
greatly to him, as did the small stream that ran just a little way off from it. Rhaenys too
seemed impressed by it and when Aemon led her to some small rocks she was more than
happy to sit down on them beside him.

"Mother Lyanna was so right, it is peaceful." Rhaenys said after a few moments of silence.
"She said that about Winterfell." he said softly, his wish to visit the keep his mother was born
in still as strong as ever.
"All of them, Aems. She said anywhere that had a Weirwood as its Heart Tree was peaceful.
It was why father tried to…" Rhaenys looked at him when she mentioned their father
knowing how difficult a subject he could be for him at times, Aemon though had made peace
somewhat with what his father had done, his anger at him had subsided greatly now that she
was by his side.
"He tried." he said and saw her small smile, for all the issues he may have had with his father
over the years, his love for his mother had never been one of them.
"Do we really wish to spoil the peacefulness here by making a Dragonpit?" Rhaenys asked
and Aemon shook his head.
"It won't be a Dragonpit. Rhae. We make a place that's sheltered and feels like a cave and
leave the ground around it as it is. The dragons will forge it into how they wish from that
point." he said and she nodded.

The rumble of her belly soon had them walking from the Godswood, Aemon looking to see
that Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan had joined them without him noticing and he nodded to
both men. As they were walking through the gates he saw Aurane walk his way. The look on
his brother by choice's face was one that didn't bore well for the peaceful day doing little he
had intended to enjoy.

"What?" he asked more curtly than he had intended.
"The northern army rides this way, Aemon. All of them." Aurane said and Rhaenys looked at
him worriedly before Aemon shook his head.
"The keep is unassailable to an army, any army other than us that is." he said reassuringly to
his wife before he turned to Aurane and Ser Arthur "Have the gates closed and the men form
up on the walls. We'll soon find out if my uncles wish to parley or have they made a far more
stupid choice." he said and rubbing his hand down the soft material of the clothing he was
wearing, he knew it was time for him to change into something far more appropriate.

The conquest of Westeros XXXVII
The Dragon Nursery of Lys.

A rite of passage, a forming of a bond, the proof of just how strong the dragon blood your
carry inside yourself truly is. Many things have been said about the Targaryen pilgrimage to
Lys. Sometimes a dragon may call out to a newly bonded, sometimes it may seek them out
and at others, it's only when they make the pilgrimage that the dragon makes its feelings
clear. When the Targaryens decided it was to be done this way no one can truly tell. Some say
it was Visenya herself who decreed it so, others point to the fact that the nursery only opened
during the reign of the Conciliator and so it's to him and his wife Empress Alysanne the Good
that the tradition is ascribed to.

Some who travel to the nursery seal their bond with a dragon that had previously bonded to
another, while others come away with a hatchling of their own. More come away with none
and why that is no one can truly tell. There are more than enough dragons for every member
of House Targaryen the Dragonknight had said more than once, though never had he uttered
the reason why some remained dragon less. The closest he ever got to do so was during a
conversation with his wife the Queen Rhaenys when he opined that magic was a tangible and
true thing and that only so much magic could be allowed to exist lest it ran out.

His Granduncle many times removed and his namesake, Prince Aemon the Wise, once was
heard to say that in times of great need the dragons would come. That were it ever to be
required bonds would be formed and those without dragons would soon join their kin and fly
high in the sky. That until or unless that day came, dragons waited and watched and judged
only those worthy to be bonded to. True or not I cannot say, for some secrets and truths were
not mine to discover and only known to those of the blood.

The thoughts that there were more dragons than riders though were comforting as was the
knowledge that worthiness played its part in seeing a bond be formed. What it would take to
see them all be brought to bear was not something worth thinking about. Though at night my
dreams were filled with images of the sky full of dragons and of how glorious a sight that
would be.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

She had hoped for a day spent by her husband's side, which she supposed she was getting
still, though just not how she had wished. Standing and looking at herself in the looking glass
she looked like a true daughter of the Empire. Her black dress was tinged with red and other
than the sigil she wore, she'd have looked as she would have was she back in their father's
court and readying for an official gathering. It wasn't three heads of the dragon that she bore
on her chest though, but two. The silver head of Meraxes and the blood-red one of Gaelithox.
Both dragon's heads facing each other and the two dragons themselves coiled around each
other in a lover's embrace.

With a nod to no one in particular, she turned and walked from the room. Ser Arthur and Ser
Barristan both waiting for her and the white cloaks they wore made them stand out even
more. While they still wore the same armor, both men looked closely enough attired to mark
them out as being part of the same order. In time her and Aemon's sigil and specially
designed armor would become something all members of the Kingsguard wore. For now, this
would have to suffice. She walked to the large Great Hall, its sheer size making it as big as
the Imperial Seat in the Grand Palace of Volantis, though its decoration would need some
work to make it their own.

Taking her seat on one of the two large chairs, Aemon having got ride of the throne as he
wished for two to be commissioned for them both to sit on, she sat and waited. The wait
didn't take long and seeing Aemon walk her way and wearing a smile on his face, she quickly
rose to her feet and moved to him.

"It's to be a parley, some riders have arrived to ask for leave for my uncles and their lords to
meet with us both." Aemon said and she nodded relieved.
"Do we invite them inside or do they seek it elsewhere?" she asked and Aemon shook his
head.
"They do It here, Rhae. They come to us, we don't go to them." he said and she looked at him
curiously.
"Aems…"
"They aren't family, Rhae. Not until we know where they stand. For now, they're like any
other kingdom we seek to bring to heel. The only dragons here are you and I, it's time for us
to….
"Be dragons." she said finishing off what their granduncle would tell them before each
meeting or ball, feast, or dance they attended, the smile on her face one that Aemon wore too
and she leaned forward to kiss his lips softly.

It took some time for the Northern King and his lords to arrive. Rhaenys sitting on her seat
nervously as while what Aemon said was true, it was very much not as well. They may have
been a kingdom that they wished to bring to heel, but they were also kin. These were the first
members of her husband's other family that she would meet and she wished it was under
better circumstances. Her desire for them to like her was just as strong as her desire for them
to accept Aemon and her as who they were.

"King Eddard and Prince Benjen Stark. Sers Brynden and Edmure Tully. Lord Jon Umber,
Lady Maege Mormont, Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Rickard Karstark, and Ser Wylis
Manderly." Marwyn shouted out, the mage serving as their herald for his own reasons "Lord
William Mooton, Lord Tytos Blackwood, Lord Jonos Bracken, and Lord Jason Mallister." he
added while she took in the sight of the men in front of her.

Aemon's two uncles looked like brothers and shared looks with what she could remember of
his mother. Neither of them had Lyanna's beauty though as their features could best be
described as plain. The two Tully's shared looks too, the older man's auburn hair was more

grey tinged and the younger's was more vibrant but it was close enough to name them kin.
Lady Mormont was as far from a lady as one could imagine, she wore britches and looked as
fierce as any of the men with her, even the large almost giant like one. There was a clear
difference between the Northmen and the Riverlords she noticed. The men from the North
looked rougher around the edges and would be more to Aemon's liking than the smoother
Riverlords.

On their side of the Great Hall, Ser Denys Arryn, Lord Yohn Royce, and Lord Jon Arryn
stood representing the Vale. Aurane, Daario, Thoros, and some of their men stood too while
behind them both stood Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, and Torgho Nudho. She had no fear the
men in front of them would break guest rights, Aemon had already assured her so, and Ser
Barristan and Marwyn had both agreed with him. So it was more for a show of power than
anything else that they presented themselves this way.

"You stand in the presence of their graces, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys of House
Targaryen. The Dragonknight and the Queen of the Sun, Dragonriders to Meraxes and
Gaelithox. The Lord and Lady of Harrenhal and Dragonstone." Marwyn said and she saw the
moment the man was going to speak before he perhaps even had the thought to do so.
"King and Queen of what?" the large giant-like man spat out disrespectfully.
"Of whatever I wish it to be Lord Umber. You should keep that in mind before you next
speak in such a manner. Here you may have guest rights, out there you do not and I've
already shown my blade is truer than your own, that should be enough to give you pause
about facing it for true." Aemon said and his words even chilled her a little such was the
coldness he spoke them with.
"We are not here to trade insults or barbs. My husband has made it clear he will not tolerate
such and it gets us nowhere. Wars have been fought for stupider things I wager but few of
them. Let's not start one because of harsh words and cock measuring." she said and she saw
the small smirk on Lady Mormont's face.
"There are those amongst my men who believe you responsible for our king's death, your
grace. I am not one of them but on their behalf, I must seek answers." King Eddard said and
Rhaenys looked at the man curiously.
"As I told King Brandon and yourself when last we met, I played no part in my grandfathers'
death and I seek to bring his murderers to justice. I gave my oath that I'd seek no hostilities
with the North until I did so, was this not true?" Aemon said looking at his uncle.
"It was."
"Yet your lords think I would break my oath and attack more kin of mine unprovoked? That I
would become a kinslayer twice over? I've many things I may need to answer for, your grace,
that is not one of them. I once again give you my solemn oath that I played no part in our

kin's death, I do so even though I have no need to speak on such. I accept your need to ask it
of me, but I'll accept it no more. The next man who names me a kinslayer will do so with a
sword in hand and across from them I'll be holding mine own and we can let that man's gods
decide if it's the truth I speak or not." Aemon said and she was pleased he kept his anger in
check because she could feel it come off him in waves.
"I accept your oath and your words, your grace." King Eddard said and Aemon nodded at his
uncle.
"There is much we need to speak of, discussions that need to be held and accords reached or
not. You are all welcome to say in Harrenhal as our most welcome guests or to stay with your
men should you wish. Tonight we invite you to a feast to celebrate our taking of this keep, on
the morrow we shall speak on what's next to come." Rhaenys said and then she and Aemon
rose and walked from the Great Hall, Ser Arthur, Barristan, and Torgho Nudho following
after them as they did so.

Less than an hour later she was sitting in a much smaller room with Aemon beside her and
Torgho Nudho and Ser Arthur at their backs. Looking to the door as it opened she smiled to
see King Eddard and Prince Benjen being led in by Ser Barristan and she rose as Aemon did
to greet them.

"Uncles, may I introduce you both to my wife, Rhaenys. Rhae, these are my uncles, Ned and
Benjen." Aemon said and the difference in how he spoke from earlier on was startling.
"I've long looked forward to meeting you both." she said happily as both men smiled at her
and she saw it then, Aemon and Lyanna were both present in those smiles.

Dorne 300 AC.
Oberyn.

For almost the entirety of the journey back to Dorne he contemplated on what he'd learned.
Elia, Rhaegar, Aegon, Viserys, Varys, and some of the other council members and even the
aged and blind Aemon Targaryen had all told him pretty much the same things. Only fools
messed with the Dragonknight and were he and Doran to be so foolish then they'd find no aid
from the Empire. If anything they may find they'd made an enemy of it instead. Was that all
he'd learned in Volantis then it would have been enough, but it wasn't. In talking to some of
the soldiers, the leaders of the Empire's armies, and the red priests from the Great Temple,
he'd learned more, much more.

He'd heard the tales of Aemon's exploits over the years, as a man who cared for military
matters they'd interested him greatly, and even though when he'd heard them it was with no
intent to ever need to face Aemon himself, he'd still listened to them all. It seems though he'd
listened only to the cleaned-up versions of them. The versions told to the masses and not the
ones spoken in hushed whispers by men who'd seen the truth of them or the carnage left
behind when Aemon had won one of his victories.

When it came to war, there was no limit to what Aemon would do to win, that's what he'd
been told by men he respected. Men who he knew would march against any army all told him
the same thing. They were relieved that Aemon was on their side and not against them and
they pitied those who had found themselves on the opposite side to the Dragonknight. It
reminded him of something that Arthur Dayne had told him many years earlier, something
said after they had sparred and something he'd not taken much note of at the time.

"Dragonknights are the true weapon of the Empire, Oberyn, just like dragons they're forged
in fire and Aemon is like Balerion the Black Dread reborn."

It had made little sense at the time, comparing a boy to a dragon had just seemed odd to him.
Over the years he'd given it little thought and even after Aemon's letters and Rhaenys's visit
he'd not given it much mind. Now though he was finally seeing what Arthur had meant, the
analogy finally becoming clear to him and as he stood and watched Sunspear come into view
he shuddered. Aegon and his sister-wives had forged an Empire and while Visenya and
Rhaenys and their dragons had played their parts, it was Balerion who perhaps had won them
their victories more than most. Not just by what the black dragon had done, but by what it
represented, Dread.

"My love. Ari awaits." Ellaria said from behind him and he realized he'd been off in his head
for far too long and so he turned and placed a kiss on her cheek before taking her hand and
making his way to ready to disembark.

His niece was happy to have him back and they spent that night in the Old Palace being
feasted and enjoying good Dornish fare. The next morning they made their way to the Water
Gardens and once again Oberyn found himself in his head. Ellaria was speaking to him as
they rode in the carriage and he had barely heard a word she'd said.

"Forgive me, my love." he said softly, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips.

"What bothers you so, Oberyn?" Ellaria asked worriedly.
"The news I have for Doran will not make him pleased and I worry what actions he would
have us take. Elia made it clear, as did many others, Dorne can not hold against my niece and
her husband." he said and was surprised by how firm his voice was.
"We are unbowed, unbent, unbroken, Oberyn. Not even dragons can make us so."
"You sound too much like Doran, my love. Sooner or later every bows and bends or they end
up broken, and given who we face, burnt."

He hated that his words caused the look on his love's face, the worry and doubt he'd just
instilled in her was something he wished he could take away, but if he couldn't do so for
himself, then he could not for her either. When she changed the subject he welcomed it and
this time he did listen to what she had to say. Finding out that Ser Gerold had behaved how
he'd expected him was not a surprise and no matter what course of action Doran sought to
take, Oberyn's course with the Darkstar had been just been set. The man was fool enough to
try the same behavior with his niece and so it would be to his uncle that he'd send him. He'd
wager it would be the last he or Dorne ever saw of Ser Gerold Dayne.

When they arrived at the Water Gardens it was to his daughters that he went to first rather
than Doran, surprised to find that his brother was actually with them when he did so. Though
given the look on Doran's face it was more because he'd expected this was what Oberyn
would do, rather than because he too had wished to spend his time with the younger girls.
After a far too brief greeting with his youngest daughters and with a promise to spend time
with them later in the day and to do as they wished of him, he, Doran, and Areo Hotah made
their way to his brother's solar and he spent the next few hours speaking of all he'd done and
seen.

"Our sister has abandoned us." Doran said angrily.
"She has picked her family over us, brother, as you or I would should it ever come down to
it." he said knowing full well that was it a choice between him and Arianne or Obara and
Quentyn, Nymeria and Trystane or even he and Doran, his brother would make the exact
same choices as he would and as Elia had.
"Aemon is not her family"
"Rhaenys is." he said before adding "And she sees him so, regardless of who his mother
was."
"Allies, did you find allies who wish to see Aemon brought low?" Doran asked eagerly and
Oberyn shook his head.

"Far too many men fear him, brother, they fear what he would do were he to turn his attention
their way, and yet even more so than that, they wish him on their side should any dare
threaten the Empire and they know that he would come should it be so."
"What of our nephew, is he not fearful of his brother seeking his crown?"
"Aegon fears Aemon as much as you fear me, brother." he said and Doran nodded.
"Then we are left with no choice." Doran said and Oberyn breathed relievedly only to end up
shocked at what his brother said next "An alliance has been proposed, one I was unsure of but
now I find it our only course of action. A union between our House and House Lannister,
sealed with a wedding, and together we can do what alone neither of us can."

When he woke up that night from the nightmares that had come it was to find himself
covered in sweat which was no real surprise. Hus dreams had been of fire and of the desert
alight and he had felt the heat from the dragon's flames and had liked it not.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Ned Stark.

He half expected to see Harrenhal's walls melted or signs of the dragon's flames to be
everywhere he looked and yet there were none. A part of him thought they'd arrive at the
keep being besieged or had it fallen, sacked, and yet he and the Lords of the North and
Riverlands had found neither. There were those amongst them who wished him to attack his
nephew's men the same way they had the Hoares, but they could not. For unlike the Hoares
they'd not caught these men by surprise and even without the dragons, the numbers were far
too weighted in his nephew's favor.

The Vale and Stormlands had both fallen and now named his nephew and his goodniece as
their King and Queen. Still, some on his side felt the North and the Riverlands should fight
against Aemon, his men, and those he'd brought to his side far more quickly than any could
have imagined. They hadn't even had time to speak to Stannis Baratheon or Jon Arryn, to find
out their reasons for kneeling and why they didn't look displeased by doing so. Less than an
hour after being greeted by a king and queen and sending The Blackfish, Howland, Maege,
and the Greatjon to find out all they could from the Stormlords and Knights of the Vale, he
and Benjen had found themselves sitting across from his nephew and his sister who was now
his wife.

"King Eddard, Prince Benjen. I hoped you've found your rooms to your liking?" Rhaenys
Targaryen asked and Benjen replied for them both while he found himself staring at the
women who'd captured his nephew's heart so completely that he now sought to forge a
kingdom because of her.

Rhaenys was a beautiful young woman, her skin was tanned and her hair was as black as a
raven's feathers. She had the most incredible dark purple eyes and wore an easy smile on her
face when she spoke to Benjen. Each movement she made was graceful and every so often
she'd touch Aemon lightly or stroke his hand and his nephew seemed to study her just as
much as Ned was doing right now. Sitting and looking at them both reminded him of himself
and Cat, of Benjen and Dacey, and of Brandon and Barbrey and perhaps it was that last one
that caused his expression to change and drew Aemon's attention to him.

"What happened to King Brandon, uncle?" Aemon asked and Ned was pleased to hear him
name him so, he hated the formality and wasn't used to being addressed as king or to be seen
as such.
"He and his men were ambushed in Wendish Town, by men who made themselves seem to be
your own." he said with no recrimination or accusation in his voice and it was something that
Aemon seemed pleased by.
"That's twice now people have sought to blame me for my kin's murders. The tarnish to my
name I cannot and will not accept and yet on this I find I care not. My grandfather wished not
to know me and refused me leave to come North and see where my mother was born. My
uncle, I believe understood I played no role in his death and I swear on my mother to you
both that I played no part in either of theirs. I meant what I said Uncle Ned, Uncle Benjen, I
am willing to suspend all hostilities with the North until the men responsible are found and
face the fate that is demanded of them." Aemon said firmly and Ned saw Benjen nod and yet
he could not, he was here acting a king too and not just an uncle.
"And after?" he asked.
"We offer you the same as we offered the Lords of the Stormlands or the Lords of the Vale,
with one added proviso. As kin to my husband, House Stark will gain extra favor under our
rule. We would name your our Warden in the North, King Eddard, and see you given the
same freedoms as Braavos or Norvos. You'd be a kingdom in all but name and would benefit
from our favor more so than any other save for mine own kin in Dorne." Rhaenys said and it
was a tempting offer and yet one he could not accept.
"My lords won't kneel, your grace, were I to ask it of them then I risk losing their support."
his words he hoped struck home and they did but not how he wished them to.
"I've said I'll hold my hand until we find the men responsible for killing our kin, uncle, but
once we do and should the North still not have sworn to me, then I'll hold my hand no longer.
You saw what I did to the Ironborn at the Neck, I did so to aid my mother's family and to men

that I named as no enemies of mine. Speak to the Lords of the Vale and have them tell you
what I did at the Bloody Gate. Speak to the Lords of the Storm and ask them where Robert
Baratheon now rests and who sent him to meet his gods" Aemon said, his voice like ice and
fire combined, and Ned looked on as Rhaenys took his nephew's hand in hers "My wife
would seek a peaceful accord, uncle, as would I, but I've often sought peace from those who
choose war before and each time it ends the same and I get my way. I will get my way on this
too, have no doubt of that."
"What of the Riverlands, Aemon?" Benjen asked giving Ned time to think over his nephew's
words.
"The kneel, uncle. They kneel and swear themselves to Rhaenys and me and Harrenhal
becomes our seat. Unlike the North they get no offer of being like Braavos or Norvos, they
don't even get the choice of being Lys or Pentos. Harrenhal may not bear the beauty of
Volantis but it shall serve the lands around it the same way, as the seat of House Targaryen
and as the capital of the one kingdom that seven shall soon be." Aemon said and Ned could
hold his tongue no more.
"I will speak to my lords, though I fear I already know their responses to your offer, your
grace. As for who killed my father and brother, on that we serve a common cause, nephew.
So I accept your offer to cease any hostilities between us until those responsible are found."
he said rising to his feet and he saw Rhaenys look to Aemon and then the small nod his
nephew gave her.
"My husband has long wished to visit his mother's birthplace, King Eddard, to walk the
grounds of Winterfell and to see its heart tree and meet those who may have known things of
her that he was not aware. I had hoped we would reach an accord and an offer to visit would
be extended, but since you believe we will not, I would ask on his behalf for that offer to be
extended now." Rhaenys said and Ned looked to Benjen who nodded.
"We look forward to your visit, your grace, and your's too, nephew." he said with a soft smile
on his face.
"Rhaenys." she said happily.
"Rhaenys." Benjen said as they turned to walk to the door.
"Uncles, I thank you for the chance to see where my mother was born and implore you both
to speak to your lords. Have them see the light uncles, don't force me to bring them the
darkness that I'm capable of." Aemon said and Ned was sure he heard regret in his voice.

As he and Benjen walked down the corridor and made their way to meet with the lords they
did so in silence, Ned only speaking when they were far enough away so that his words
would go unheard.

"Well?" he asked quietly.
"We see what the lords say, but you know what we must do." Benjen said and Ned nodded.
"Aye, kneel or be brought to our knees." he said as they reached their rooms.

Braavos 300 AC.
Tyrion.

Seeing the Titan and Braavos itself was enlightening, as was seeing just how differently the
people were compared to those back at the Rock or in Lannisport. Other than the times that
traders would come to Lannisport and he'd be lucky enough to be there, or his trip to
Dragonstone, he'd not really had much contact with Essosi and he'd rather forget his trip to
Dragonstone. He'd actually thought he'd achieved something, that he was to be heading back
to his father a success, only to find out he'd been played completely. Something that had been
hard for him to take and had made him just as keen as his father to seek a way for Aemon
Targaryen to be brought low.

Where this any other city than Braavos he'd fear for himself here because of his reason for
coming. The empire's reach was long and any who dared threaten one of its sons or daughters
wouldn't last long in a city that was directly under its control. Braavos though had more
freedom, more leeway, and was run almost like a free city. It was more akin to Lannisport
than Casterly Rock. Still under the empire's control but not as tightly as other cities were. His
research had led to many discoveries and as they walked around the city, he tried to put that
research to good use.

Courtesans and their pleasure barges, Braavosi challenging people to duels, the Sealord's
Palace, and the Red Temple. He looked for and saw them all and then he saw the two
buildings that had truly captured his interest from the books he had read. The House of Black
and White looked much smaller than he had expected, though perhaps it was how far away he
was from it and the island it sat upon. Home to the infamous Faceless Men, it was a place
that he would need to visit before he was done here. Yet the building he was more focussed
on was as imposing in its own way as the Rock was.

The Iron Bank loomed large over the square it dominated, its thick walls seemed carved out
of some stone he'd not ever seen before and it just oozed wealth to him. He made his way to
the large double doors and was surprised to see no guards and no one else trying to enter,
Tyrion looking around before he pushed the door which opened easily. Entering the building

he was even more impressed by what he found inside. While barren of any decorations or
obvious sign of wealth, for the keen eye those signs were still there and he had a keen eye.
One that was taking in every inch of the large open hall and the numerous doors that led to he
knew not where.

"Father would be impressed." he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

He was still standing there taking it in when the man came to him. Tall and thin and no older
than himself, the young man had a look of boredom on his face and Tyrion almost
embarrassed himself by naming him a banker rather than the servant he was. The young man
moved as if he hadn't a care in the world and the bored expression only changed when he
reached him. A small put-on smile was now being worn as he greeted him.

"Welcome to the Iron Bank of Braavos, how may we be of assistance today?" the young man
said in an accent that lilted slightly.
"I've got an appointed to see Petyr Baelish." he said as firmly as he could, glad to hear there
was no nervousness in his voice and that he'd kept that where it belonged.
"I'm afraid he is not here, Lord?" the young man asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Prince Tyrion Lannister." he replied not sure if he could get away with lying to even this
servant and worried if he did that he'd not get his meeting.
"Ah, Prince Tyrion. A letter was left here for you, now if you'd please take a seat." the young
man said and Tyrion noticed how his voice had changed and his expression too now seemed
more friendly.

He was about to ask him where Baelish was only for the young man to move away from him
and leave him with no choice but to take a seat. Tyrion looking around the room until he
found some chairs against a wall near the middle of it and moved to them. He was annoyed
that this was how he was greeted and that Baelish hadn't had the courtesy to meet him
personally. Yet he for now forced that annoyance down deep inside and waited for the young
man to return, thankfully he didn't have to wait too long.

"From Petyr." the young man said fondly as he handed him the letter "If that will be all,
Prince Tyrion?" he asked before Tyrion had a chance to even open the letter, Tyrion suddenly
getting the impression he'd just been dismissed.

"May I know where Baelish is?" he asked and the young man smiled at him and shook his
head.
"If Petyr wishes you to, then it shall be in the letter, if not, then I'm not at liberty to speak on
it. The Iron Bank's business with you is concluded, Prince Tyrion, we wish you the best of
luck in your future endeavors."

That truly was a dismissal and angrily he rose to his feet and moved to the door, the young
man watching him all the way until he had left and Tyrion felt his anger threatening to get the
better of him as he walked out into the square. Opening the letter he read it and felt somewhat
calmed by the words it said, the meeting was simply postponed for a few days and he'd not
wasted his time coming here. Though he was still annoyed that Baelish wasn't there to greet
him personally. He was Prince Tyrion Lannister of House Lannister, the son of King Tywin
Lannister, a Lion of Casterly Rock, people deferred to him not the other way around.

His annoyance lasted until late into the night, the wine and food they'd eaten in the place he
and his men had taken their rooms and the company of the young girl he'd paid for, finally
making him forget the earlier slights he'd received. With a couple of free days, until Baelish
was to deign him with a visit, he spent the first of them sightseeing and purchasing gifts for
his niece and nephew. He hoped for a glimpse of the Black Pearl or better yet a chance to
taste her favors for himself, but her client list was long and the woman picked and chose who
she lay with for reasons other than coin. So on his third day in the city, he and his men hired a
small boat and were brought to the House of Black and White.

Only he was allowed inside and after entering he found he was more scared and nervous than
ever before. So much so that when the young woman placed a hand on his shoulder, the yelp
he let out was a loud one. Her expression never changed though, she simply ignored the fact
that he'd cried out like a girl and was standing there shaking still and simply motioned for
him to follow her to the fountain in the middle of the large open room. He did as he was bid
and as they reached it he saw the man sitting there with his hand in the water. The grey robes
the man wore were threadbare and other than his red hair and its white streak there was
nothing remarkable about him at all. Tyrion though felt in this man's case, appearances were
deceitful.

"A man wishes to know what service you ask of the Many-Faced God." the man asked, his
accent different than the Braavosi he'd heard speaking since arriving in the city and so he
wagered he was not a native.
"My name is…"

"A man knows a prince's name, so once again a man asks what service do you ask of the
Many-Faced God."
"I seek a man killed." he said and the red-headed strange speaking man simply nodded
leaving Tyrion so confused that he didn't speak for a few moments and it was the man and not
he who actually spoke next.
"A man would require a name."
"Aemon Targaryen, The Dragonknight." he said adding the title when he remembered there
was another Aemon Targaryen who was much older and less of a threat to the one he and his
father wished dead.

Two days later.

This entire visit had been a complete waste of time, he'd achieved nothing, and even going
home empty-handed had its appeal where once it did not. He felt he needed to be away from
this city and soon. His sleep was nonexistent, his libido even less so, he had no appetite for
food and only drank to settle his nerves. At any moment he expected to find a Faceless Man
standing over him or to have guards from the Empire coming to have him dragged off to
Volantis.

The words spoken to him by whomever it was he spoke to in the House of Black and White
had been enough to leave him in no doubt that he had outstayed his welcome there and
probably here too. Not only were they refusing his contract, no matter the price he offered but
word of him seeking it would be discussed with others. He shuddered at just who those others
would be, be they more of the Faceless Men themselves or someone in the higher echelons of
the Empire's hierarchy. Either way, it would be better for him if he was long gone from this
city beforehand. He was in the middle of gathering his things when Baelish arrived. Tyrion
was stunned to see the man standing at his door and it was the clothing he wore and the
words he spoke which made him welcome him inside and not slam it in his face in fear.

"Prince Tyrion, I see you got my message. We have much to discuss."
"Such as?"
"The fall of dragons, my prince, the fall of dragons."

Harrenhal 300 AC.

Ser Brynden Tully.

Walking around a keep that you'd only ever seen from the outside was a unique experience
and one he was not likely to forget, as was seeing dragons for the first time. Never before had
what he'd heard about something been so completely overshadowed by what the truth of them
truly was. Seeing them in the sky was impressive, seeing them on the ground was frightening.
As was looking around at the army that Aemon Targaryen had now gathered for his own.

A dragon and 5,000 men were already a tall order for any of the Seven Kingdoms, two and
more than 50,000 was just too much to ever be taken on. It would take the remaining kings
coming together and uniting their forces even to have a chance and not only was that never
going to happen, but Brynden was pretty certain even if it did the result would be the same.
With Harrenhal now in his possession as well, he far surpassed the threat that Qhored and the
Hoares had always posed to them. They couldn't force him to give up the keep, nor could
they beat him away from it and as he talked to Lord Yohn Royce and asked why the Vale had
knelt, it became clear that they couldn't even hide in their own keeps.

"He did what?" he asked incredulously.
"The Bloody Gate is no more, Ser Brynden. Had I not seen it with mine own eyes I'd not
have believed it. He and his dragon just made it irrelevant and though I mourn the men we
lost there, good men and true each and everyone one of them, I like Lord Denys can't argue
with the King's reasoning nor blame him as much as I'd like to."
"He attacked your lands, Lord Yohn, killed your men, and yet you don't blame him for such?"
he asked while shaking his head.
"We lost less than a thousand men, Brynden. Men I'll mourn as I said, but men who in death
have given a service to the Vale few in life could ever match. For were it not for the Bloody
Gate and the men who perished there, then I and my fellow Knights of the Vale would have
marched out to face King Aemon and his army. We'd have marched and far more than those
who already do would be mourning the lives he took." Lord Yohn said and Brynden looked at
him disbelievingly.
"You're saying there is no hope? That kneeling is the only option?" he asked and Lord Yohn
chuckled.
"Aye, that's what I'm saying. Not even flight avails for who can fly faster or for longer than a
dragon. He's a good sort, once you're on his side. His wife too, and though I'd not have
thought so had he not done what he did. It's for the best that we named him king and the Vale
will prosper because of it." Lord Yohn said with a sigh.

"His wife is his sister, Lord Yohn, that's an affront to the Seven." Brynden said and he felt the
man's hand on his shoulder.
"A word of advice, Ser Brynden. Never speak those words aloud again lest you wish to lose
your head and be thankful that I'm understanding of the shock and turmoil you're going
through. You've just insulted my queen and were this not today then I'd take mine own issue
with you. Were King Aemon to hear you say those words then there is not a man nor god that
would save you from his wrath."
"And this is the man you'd have me kneel to?" he asked disdainfully, the idea of a man
seeking his death for him speaking up for his gods was not a pleasant one and the thoughts of
kneeling to such a man were not thoughts he wished to ponder on for long.
"Insult a man's wife and you reap the whirlwind, Ser Brynden. Insult a king's and it's
dangerous to your health. Insult my king's and what happened at the Bloody Gate, at the
Neck, those would be pleasant alternatives to the punishment you'd receive, believe me. King
Aemon accepted exile rather than do as his father the High Emperor wished, his love for his
wife is as strong and true as any I've ever seen before, name that as wrong and be it on your
own head. For not I, not King Eddard Stark and the Lords of the North and not each and
every man of the Riverlands could save you then." Lord Yohn said before he walked away
from him and Brynden looked at the retreating figure through much different eyes than he
had when he greeted him.

After lunch that day he spoke to Stannis Baratheon and the Lords of the Stormlands, finding
out what had brought them to their knees and he was stunned to hear about a Trial of Seven
and what had happened during it. Seven of the finest warriors of the Stormlands including,
King Robert and Barristan the Bold, had faced off against King Aemon and his men. Lord
Jon Connington, Ser Godry Farring, Ser Richard Horpe, and King Robert himself had fallen
along with Prince Elbert Arryn who had turned his cloak and attacked King Aemon while he
and King Robert fought. Hearing that it was Aemon's own blade that ended Robert Baratheon
proved that the man was not just a king in name nor just a man who relied on his dragon. He
was a formidable warrior in his own right that only worried him even more so.

At the meeting with King Eddard and the Northern and Riverlords later that day he was
stunned to hear King Eddard suggest that kneeling was the only course of action. The Lords
of the North, some of them at least shouting this down loudly. While amongst the Riverlords
there was more than one who bore the same look on their faces as he and King Eddard did.

"We all know what the Dragonknight did to the men who awaited us at the Neck, how easily
he simply ended more than 5,000 men. Just he and his dragon ended them in mere moments
as if they were nothing." King Eddard said his voice firm and enough to quieten the angered
shouts for now "I've heard it said and no doubt some of you have too, that the Bloody Gate is
no more, that again it was Aemon and his dragon who saw it so."

"Aye."
"Aye, we've heard it said." voices called out from those sitting in the large room. Both
Northmen and Rivermen amongst them.
"Two kingdoms already have knelt and then they marched here and took this keep without
fighting a battle. Aye, let that sink in before we speak more on this. This unassailable keep
was taken with nary a battle being fought, proving that it's not just might my nephew
possesses, but insight too." King Eddard said.
"You would have us kneel, my king? Give up all that we are?" Lord Karstark shouted out.
"I would have us live, our people live." King Eddard said and then Prince Benjen stood up.
"I know what thoughts are in your minds, for I share them and my heart names this as wrong
too." Prince Benjen said "Yet like each and every man here I've got a family whom I love and
who my first job is to protect. There are Northern sons and daughters that we all seek to see
grow to be the fine men and women they'll become. War against King Aemon will put paid to
that. For either none of us will be around to see them as they age or they themselves will fall
long before they do so." Prince Benjen's words sending shivers down some of the men and
women present.
"I was named your king by the will of the North, I can only do as you bid me to. Fighting
against my nephew is not only akin to Kinslaying but it's a fight I don't believe can be won.
Robert Baratheon believed he could do so and his bones lie ready and waiting to be taken
back to Storm's End. His brother kneeling rather than seeking vengeance for his loss. The
Vale saw their defenses wiped away in the blink of an eye and even though defeat was
certain, were still offered gracious terms, as have we been."
"What terms, Ned?" the Greatjon shouted out loudly.
"That we'll be a kingdom in all but name, that we while sworn to my nephew, won't be
treated as lesser than any. Family ties mean something to King Aemon, he seeks justice and
vengeance for the deaths of my father and brother, for they are his kin too. He offers us the
chance to kneel rather than to be forced to our knees and yet he offers us the chance to rise
back to our feet just as quickly. Allegiance, not subservience is what he offers, I say we take
it, but on this, it's not me who'll decide." King Eddard said and again the voices rang out and
the words he heard surprised him.

When the meeting was done he spoke to his Goodnephew and Prince Benjen, asking them
what it was that the new King had in store for the Riverlands and he was surprised by what
he heard and yet not at the same time. Harrenhal was to become the Capital of the newly
formed kingdom, one that already included the Vale and the Stormlands and that he and his
fellow Riverlords knew that they had no choice to accept. As for the Lords of the North, a
stubborn lot they were, but not a foolish one and with some further considerations which his
Goodnephew was sure would be forthcoming, they too would fall to their knees.

In less than a few moons Aemon Targaryen had taken four of the Seven Kingdoms for his
own, he'd fought no battles, besieged no keeps, and won no wars, not on the field at least.
Would the other three come so easily, Brynden knew not, but as he watched the dragons fly
over his head while he and the Riverlords rode back to their keeps, as he watched them head
off to he knew not where. He was glad he was part of the four and not one of the other three.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the delay, some may know the reason for it, but work has and is a nightmare. It
will be at least two more weeks for another update, and possibly closer to three, unless
things change, so I ask you to bear with me.
Up Next Aurane leads a force on foot to Tumbleton and is surprised by another dragon’s
appearance. Aemon and Rhaenys arrive to meet a Queen of Thorns, a reluctant king, and
a prickly lord. Tywin finalizes an alliance with Dorne and Tyrion and Petry speak while
Ned is reunited with his family and word spreads of the fourth kingdom to kneel.

And Then There Was Five, part one.
Chapter Summary

Aurane leads a force on foot to Tumbleton and is surprised by another dragon’s
appearance. Aemon and Rhaenys arrive to meet a Queen of Thorns, a reluctant king, and
a prickly lord. Tywin finalizes an alliance with Dorne and Tyrion and Petry speak while
Ned is reunited with his family and word spreads of the fourth kingdom to kneel.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros XXXVIII
House Velaryon and the Empire of the Ice.

For what reason the Empress of the Ice sought to restore House Velaryon to its former lofty
heights, no one can be entirely certain. Did she simply seek a man to stand by the
Dragonknight's side and to serve without question or was it a brother by choice she sought
for her son? None can truly tell. Other than in Aurane Velaryon she chose wisely. Despite the
shame and fall of their house, the Empress of the Ice ignored all complaints and from early
on, Aurane was always there by Aemon's side.

Through their education, their training, the battles they fought, and the travels they embarked
on, both men grew closer to each other than they did to their own blood. When the prince was
exiled, there was not a doubt in anyone's mind that Aurane would follow and in doing so he
was to take his house to heights that had not been seen since the Sea Snake himself. In time
he was given charge of a navy that not even the Empire itself could match. He helped build a
city that rivaled Volantis itself and brought trade to Westeros the like of which it had never
known before.

It was through Aurane that once again the two houses were joined and that once again a
dragon could be called upon that bore a rider of Velaryon blood. Aurane who led the attack
on the Stepstones and brought that under Aemon's governance and no man did the
Dragonknight trust or love more than he. It's said that when Aurane breathed his last breath
that Aemon wept and the Blood Wyrm's roar was heard all across the known world.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Aurane.

He was given command of the cavalry and together with the Knights of the Vale and half his
own men, he and Daario set out to ride and ride fast to Tumbleton. That they used what was
basically trails and unfinished roads should have slowed them down and yet it did not.
Though both he and Daario knew that in time Aemon would seek this country to be filled
which much more certain routes between each of the major towns and cities.

The Knights of the Vale that rode with him didn't seem perturbed too much by the quality of
the ground that they covered and surprisingly seemed well able to keep up with the pace that
he and Daario set. However good these men were in a battle was yet to be determined, but in
this regard, they were a match for their own men and he welcomed it. On their first night at
camp, he spoke to some of the men with him and found them to be friendly enough sort.
Aemon had said that these men held to their honor as much as his family from the North did
and once their word had been given, they could be trusted. For Aurane and Daario though
you only ever completely trusted the men who'd bled with you and so they remained vigilant.

It was mainly the heirs and younger lords that he rode with. Two of Lord Royce's sons, Andar
and Robar, Lord Redfort's heir Jaspar, Ser Harrold Hardyng who was somewhere in the line
of succession of the Vale, and Ser Denys Arryn who despite being the new Warden of the
East had requested to be part of their party. All in all, there were a little over three thousand
mounted men. Half of them his and Daario's men and half the Vale Knights and should it
come to a battle, they'd be vastly outnumbered. Or they would be if they didn't have two
dragons to call upon. Aemon and Rhaenys would set out two days after they had and if they
timed this right, they'd all arrive to treat with the Reach King at the same time.

Readying for his bed, he was stopped on the way to it by Ser Denys who asked him what was
their plan should they arrive before the dragons, something which made him chuckle.

"I believe our king will arrive either before us or just as we do, Ser Denys. Knowing how
much he likes to make an entrance, I'd wager with us." he said much to the other man's relief.

"We've always had issues with the men of the Reach, Lord Velaryon. Some of them are ever
prickly and see their cavalry as a match for our own or their chivalry as superior to ours. "
"Is it?"
"No, I'd match our men against any in any of the Seven Kingdoms." Ser Denys said almost
affronted.
"The Seven Kingdoms are no more, Ser Denys. But I take your meaning. I would fear not
about slights or them being prickly, not when they have a dragon to concentrate on, and
having come to know some of the ways that Westerosi act, I'd say it will be Aemon they
focus their silly games on." Aurane said as he readied to bid Ser Denys goodnight.
"They'll soon learn he has no time for such." Ser Denys said with a smirk and Aurane nodded
and then took to his bed.

His sleep was a peaceful one and he woke up the next morning and made his way to the
nearby stream to wash, finding Daario and some of the Second Sons already there. With a
nod to his friend, he dipped his head into the cool crisp water and welcomed the jolt it sent
down his body. After they'd eaten it was back to the ride and though they rode just as fast,
this time he took in more of the country they traveled through.

It was a pretty country he felt, a place where a man may wish to settle and a part of him
wished it was to be his. Instead, it would be given to one of the men under him or one of
Daario's Second Sons. His own place was to be some distance further. Daemon planned to
build a new city at the base of Blackwater Bay, a city to rival any in Westeros and even some
in Essos. That was to be his seat in the newly formed single Kingdom. A place where he
could control the seas from Driftmark and Dragonstone to Gulltown and the newly formed
city. No coin would be spared to make it and Harrenhal worthy seats Aemon had said. As
impressive as Volantis or any of the major cities in the Empire and run by them and not by his
father.

It was a pretty dream and one that would take years in the making. When Aemon had first
suggested it to him, he'd almost laughed. Had it come from any other man, even Daario,
Thoros, or Torgho Nudho, he would have. Aemon and his determination to see a thing done
never left room for doubt. He'd said they'd conquer these lands and so far he'd been proved
true. Though Aurane had expected this war to be far more of one than it had thus far. Not
even Aemon he suspected could have imagined it would go as easy as it had up to now.

That night they camped, drank, japed with their own men and with the men of the Vale.
Daario even naming them as decent sorts, which for him was a compliment beyond measure.

It was the next day as they rode that he heard it in the sky. The sounds of the dragon's wings
beating and the roar it made when it saw them, was one that had the Vale Knights panicking
just a little and his and Daario's men were surprised that Aemon and Rhaenys had caught
them up so soon. Only for the Vale Knights reaction to perhaps be more of the apt one as he
then looked to see that it wasn't Gaelithox or Meraxes he was looking at.

"Is that?" Daario asked from beside him.
"Nightwing. It seems we have a princess to greet, my friend." he said smiling, though he
wondered what had caused Princess Daenerys to fly to Westeros and how Aemon and
Rhaenys would react upon seeing her.

It was a bit of an idiotic thought actually. Rhaenys and Daenerys were as close as sisters and
Aemon was ever protective of his aunt, even if he rarely was around her. With a nod to the
Vale Knights and Ser Denys to let them know that this strange new dragon and its rider were
known to them, he and Daario rode to where Nightwing had landed. The relieved look on
Daenerys's face when she saw them both, was welcomed and worrying at the same time.
Aurane finding himself fearing that something had happened in the Empire or to his or
Aemon's family and so his greeting was perhaps less effusive than it could have been.

"Princess?" he said to a frown from Daenerys as she climbed down of Nightwing's back.
"Is that any way to greet someone you've known all your life, Aurane Velaryon?" Daenerys
said cheekily and he laughed as first he and then Daario were embraced.

While like with all of the High Emperor's family, protocol and propriety were well known
and demanded of them, Daenerys and Rhaenys would only stick to it when absolutely
needed. Once out of the sight of any who would find such behavior unbecoming, both
princesses would do their utmost to put you at ease. Or they would if you were someone they
considered worthy of such. He, Daario, Thoros, and perhaps Torgho Nudho more than any,
had always been men they thought highly enough of to be that way with.

"All is well, Princess?" Daario asked and he was glad the other man had done so when he had
not.
"All is well. My niece, nephew?" She asked worriedly.
"Shall be along in the next day or two. We travel to treat with one of the men who name
themselves kings, shall you be joining us?" he asked and she smiled beamingly at him.

"I think I'd like that very much. Have you food?" Daenerys asked and he heard the small
rumble of her belly.
"Come, we'll stop for luncheon, and then I'll introduce you to some of the King and Queen's
new subjects?" Aurane said as he moved to walk back to the camp, Nightwing quickly taking
back to the sky at a nod from Daenerys.
"King and Queen?" Daenerys asked confusedly.
"Aemon and Rhaenys. There is much you need to know, princess, much indeed."

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Ser Garlan Tyrell.

Listening to the talk of some of the knights and lords made him realize just why his
grandmother had so much disdain for most of them. While he had no first-hand experience of
Aemon Targaryen or his army, he had heard the tales and it was now being said that Ser
Arthur Dayne was with him. A swordsman of a quality that even he had heard about. It was
men like Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan Selmy, his own granduncle Ser Gerold Hightower and
even father back Ser Ryam Redwyne, Ser Criston Cole, and others who Garlan had modeled
himself on.

They were who he aspired to and so he'd taken note that Aemon was spoken of in the same
way and had allegedly been trained by the Sword of the Morning himself. Even more so than
he had the feats he'd been said to have achieved in Essos, the battles he'd supposedly won and
the fact he had a dragon to call on, it had been the swordsman he may be and the one who
was by his side that Garlan had found most interesting. So to hear Randyll and Dickon Tarly
or Loras and the King speak of the man who would be king so disparagingly, he'd found
himself mimicking his grandmother and rolling his eyes.

There was perhaps not a blade as good as him in the Reach, few even in the realm. Ser
Barristan, Ser Oswell Whent, wherever the man now was, and Prince Jaime Lannister were
the only ones he had heard of or knew about who'd be a match or would perhaps take the day.
He found himself keen to know if Aemon Targaryen was another and keener still to test his
blade against Ser Arthur's. Though not for the reason that some of the others wished to.
Garlan wished for a test of skill, these other fools wished to test it for real or claimed to at
least.

"My match, your grace." Loras said happily and Garlan turned to look to his brother and
goodbrother.
"What's that now, one each?" Gwayne replied with a chuckle.
"Two to one to me, your grace." Loras said and before they could begin to spar once more, he
noticed Margaery and her ladies walking their way.

With a bow of his head and a kiss to his sister's cheek, he greeted his queen, though how long
she was to remain so was unknown to him. Whispering in her ear about the follies of the
morning conversation and knowing full well that she'd better than any dissuade Gwayne from
his most foolish of thoughts, he then made his way to his grandmother to give her an
accounting of the morning's activities. Something she would basically demand of him were
he not so diligent in his duties. He had made it no more than a few feet when he heard the
loud gasps and then he was standing there open-mouthed as he looked to the sky.

They'd expected two dragons and two dragon riders. Aemon and Rhaenys Targaryen and
their dragons Gaelithox and Meraxes. Looking to the sky he could see what seemed to be the
famed red dragon and the silver of the other, yet it was the dark black one that had taken him
and others by surprise. Or as much surprise as something larger than a ship can take you by
that was. All three dragons seemed to do a complete circle of Tumbleton and while men
beneath them moved to arm themselves, Garlan was sure that they were not here to break
parley and so he himself did not. He did however escort Margaery and Gwayne indoors and
then he hurried to his family's rooms to find his grandmother staring out the window with
Willas by her side.

"Who is the third, grandmother?" Willas asked and he was glad his brother did so before him.
"I know not, those men in the distance Willas, an escort?" his grandmother said and Willas
nodded.

Garlan moved to the window and looked to see the men ride towards the town. There were
maybe two or three thousand and while few banners were shown, he did see some that were
clearly the Knights of the Vale. Something he informed his grandmother of at once. With that,
he, his grandmother, Willas, and his father made their way to the front of the keep and
readied to welcome the Targaryens to a meeting that would define their future.

He was pleased to see the strained looks on Tarly and his son's faces. As well as the more
worried frown on Gwayne's and while he disliked seeing Margaery so perturbed, she at least

didn't seem frightened. Listening to the words that were spoken and then waiting for the
actual arrival, he began to see the battle lines being drawn. Be respectful but firm, show them
the courtesy they deserve but don't seem overly willing to capitulate. His grandmother's
words may perhaps fly over some of the heads of those there, but as long as Gwayne
understood and listened to them, things should play out to her plan, or so he hoped.

"The dragons have landed outside the city, my king. The men seen on the hill are indeed the
Prince and Princess's escort and only a small party rides our way." Ser Jon Fossoway said to
the king, loud enough for his grandmother to hear which was the man's true intent.
"Very good, Ser Jon." Gwayne said as firmly as he could manage, his nervousness was clear
for Garlan to see and yet most would not.

It took some time for the riders to make their way through the city, but finally, they were in
sight and he looked at them eagerly. There were men who were clearly Essosi, one who had
blue hair and the same colored mustache and wore a curved blade on his hip. Looking
through the group he saw two men in white cloaks and the second one of them shocked him
somewhat, though not as much as it did Loras.

"That's the Bold himself, I don't…" Loras said only for a glare from their grandmother to
silence him.

Garlan looked to the other man and was sure that he could only be Ser Arthur Dayne,
noticing the hilt of the sword that must be Dawn could be seen over his right shoulder.
Between both the men in white cloaks rode a tanned man who seemed to have a spear
strapped to his horse's side and a silver-haired man who was speaking to a woman that he
could only describe as the most beautiful he'd ever seen. She too was silver-haired and she
was laughing at something the man was saying. Were it not for the other two riders and his
wish to see Aemon Targaryen for himself so he could at last judge the man somewhat, then
Garlan may not have been able to stop looking at the girl.

He did however manage to move his eyes away and once he did, he saw both Prince Aemon
and Princess Rhaenys clearly for the first time. The princess was as beautiful as the silverhaired girl, though in a much different way. Her hair was almost as dark as the man's beside
her and her eyes were the most striking purple he'd ever seen. It took him a moment to
remember that her mother was the Princess Elia of Dorne which explained her tanned skin
and though she wore no true expression on her face, he felt she looked amused. As for the
man beside her, he certainly looked like the warrior people named him as. Well built, well

armored, the thin sword hanging by his side being the famed Dark Sister and while the
princess wore an amused expression, his was anything but.

Prince Aemon's face looked as if it was carved from stone, there was no hint of amusement or
enjoyment, no sense of surprise or worry. Was he to name it as anything, then he'd name it as
preparedness. The prince looked as if he was prepared for this to go wrong at a moment's
notice and what made that a little worrying was that he almost looked as if he wished it to.
That he was almost daring them to break parley or to attack and Garlan found himself
wondering how anyone could be that confident that things would turn out as they planned.

The prince dismounted first and helped the princess off her horse while Ser Arthur, Ser
Barristan, and the tanned spearman all moved to surround them protectively. Behind them,
the blue-haired and the silver-haired men both dismounted, and then he watched as the
second of those moved to the silver-haired woman, and once again he found himself looking
at her more closely than the others. He had thought her beautiful from a distance, seeing her
now a little closer to where he stood, he felt that naming her so would be a disservice. She
was more than beautiful, she was otherworldly, ethereal, and her violet eyes when they
caught his own were like nothing he had ever seen before. The small smile she gave him
almost stilled his heart and he was still under her spell somewhat as she and the others moved
forward to be greeted.

"Prince Aemon, Princess Rhaenys, welcome to Tumbleton." Gwayne said in a friendly
enough way though it seemed it was not friendly enough or there was some other reason that
the prince was displeased with the words.
"My wife is a queen, King Gwayne, she should be addressed as such." Aemon said leaving
no doubt that he expected his words to be adhered to.
"Forgive my husband, your grace. We were unaware of a change in your titles and meant no
disrespect." Margaery said as Gwayne stared at the unyielding face of Prince, no King
Aemon.
"Then none was given, Queen Margaery. Despite what my husband may think." Queen
Rhaenys said, the latter words spoken almost chidingly to her husband, her brother, and that
itself had been yet another topic of conversation amongst those not best pleased by what his
grandmother intended from this meeting.
"Indeed." Aemon said and he swore he could see the beginnings of a smirk on the king's face
and then as one all three dragons roared and that smirk grew a little larger.
"Will you accept guest rights, your grace?" his father asked shakily and he along with the rest
of those there all breathed relievedly when the king nodded.

Once they were given, he escorted the Targaryen party to their rooms so they could freshen
up and make themselves comfortable until the welcome feast began. Walking with them or as
close to them as he was allowed to, he found himself staring at the king and queen and seeing
just how easily they interacted with each other. It was as if what had happened outside was a
front, a mummery of sorts, and yet he knew that wasn't exactly it. More that this was who
they were when among people they cared for and felt comfortable with, which in of itself was
comforting enough.

"Do you require refreshments, your grace?" he asked once they reached the rooms and with a
look to Queen Rhaenys, King Aemon nodded "I'll see them sent to you at once." he said, and
then within moments they were inside the rooms and their guards had taken their places so
quickly and so assuredly, that it was clear this was something they'd done many times before.

Walking back to inform his grandmother that they were settled, he found himself thinking
once more of the silver-haired girl and he wondered if she was a Targaryen too. Either she or
the silver-haired man must be given the presence of the third dragon and for some reason, he
was certain it was her that was. What that meant to the upcoming talks he knew not, but the
mere fact they could have another Targaryen princess in their midst would surely raise his
grandmother's interest. So he hurried to speak on what he believed to be true and found
himself keen to find out if he was in the right of things.

The conquest of Westeros part XXXIX
The Iron Bank.

Not long after Braavos was formed, the Iron Bank then came into being. Formed originally
by six and ten men and seven women, its original purpose was simply to store the wealth that
had been garnered and to protect it from those who'd seek it for their own. These three and
twenty founders were each given a key to a large underground mine of which its location is
still unknown to any but the keyholders of the Iron Bank to this day.

While ostensibly a bank, for many years the Iron Bank involved itself in the many disputes
that were wont to occur in both Essos and Westeros from time to time. Sometimes they would
back one side or the other, sometimes both, but no matter who won or who lost, the Iron Bank
would always get its due. It's said that the Iron Bank believed that with the fall of Valyria they
would become the most dominant institution in the known world. That those who ran the bank
believed in the golden rule, that he who had the gold, made the rules. Whether this is true or

not, no one can tell. What is known is that at a meeting between the conqueror and his sisterwives, a pact was agreed to and the Iron Bank kept its wealth if not its power.

Like other long-standing institutions or traditions in Essos, the Empire cared not for what
they did as long as it didn't interfere in the running of the Empire itself. So now the Iron Bank
no longer gave coin to those involved in battles or wars that threatened the peace and
stability of the Empire, nor played both sides in a dispute. Instead, they simply deferred and
accepted that the Empire and the High Emperor himself were to assume that role. It was this
neutrality and willingness to keep to the terms of the pact between its keyholders and the
Empire that had allowed it to survive and flourish for so very long, and only a fool would
seek to break this pact and risk the Empire's wrath.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Braavos 300 AC.
Petyr Baelish.

He had not expected the Lannisters to reach out so quickly and so he'd not been there to greet
the dwarf when he arrived, something that annoyed him greatly. Even being assured that
Tyrion had not met anyone else at the Iron Bank didn't fill him with any great comfort. For
was his role in what was to come to be found out, it wouldn't just be the Targaryens who
sought his head. The Iron Bank itself was content with its place in the Empire and would do
nothing to risk the dragon's displeasure. He on the other hand didn't care if he earned it or
not, as long as he won in the end.

No that wasn't quite true, were he to earn their displeasure it would lead to only one thing, his
death. So he cared, it was just that unlike the fools he worked with, he was willing to take the
risk because the reward was so very worth it. The thoughts of what that silver hair would
look like spread out on a pillow in his bed and how firm that young nubile body would feel
under his fingers, were more than worth any risk.

This was not to say he didn't intend to limit that risk as much as he could and so he had used
more intermediaries than anything else in setting forth his plans. Perhaps he should have used
one with the dwarf too and had he been aware of his visit beforehand, perhaps he would have.
It was too late for that now, he was exposed and his part in the treason to come was out would

be there, or would be if it failed. His only true safety net was to ensure it did not or to
provoke a wrath so true that no Lannister would ever be able to speak of his part in this plot.

He looked to the dwarf as he entertained himself with the two girls, Petyr smiling at the fact
that despite him being only half a man, Tyrion Lannister had the appetites of a fully grown
one. It had been a couple of days since he'd met the Imp of Casterly Rock and he like all
Westerosi spoke of things in a way that showed just how little of the world they really knew.
Tyrion actually believed he was to come here and gain an army, to find allies to take down
the dragons, and while that was in a way true. It would not be how he believed it to be.

Other than the Dothraki who were gathering under a new Khal of Khals, there wasn't a force
in Essos willing to pull on the dragon's tail. Even with Prince Aemon no longer serving as the
sword and shield of the Empire. Dragons travel quicker than armies and so not only would
the entirety of the Dragons be brought to bear was the Empire in real danger, but Prince
Aemon too would return to fight by their side, no matter the dispute he had with his father.
No, to beat the dragons you needed to make them fight each other and so he would and when
it was all said and done, she would be his.

"Have the imp brought to me when he's finished entertaining himself." Petyr said and then he
made his way to his own rooms, knowing it would be some time until Tyrion had sated
himself.

Laying down on his bed, he reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer before
taking the picture out and holding it in front of his face. Her silver hair, her violet eyes, the
dress that seemed to be painted on, Daenerys looked like a true vision and he felt himself
begin to stiffen. Try as he might he couldn't deny himself the pleasure he would feel and so
his hand moved down and untied his britches freeing his now fully hard cock. With merely a
few strokes he had spent, and after cleaning himself, he fell to sleep holding the picture
tightly. It was a poor substitute and yet it allowed him to dream of the one dance he'd had
with Daenerys. The one time he'd held her in his arms and had lost himself to her completely.

He woke up with a start and after washing and changing his now stained clothes, he made his
way to his office once more. The sleep had been full of the best of dreams and so he was in a
most pleasant mood when Tyrion finally made his way to join him. Like him, the Imp too
seemed to be in a pleasant mood and so the conversation was cordial and the wine flowed,
only of them drinking it truly. They like they had up to then spoke on things that weren't what
either of them wished to. Though tonight it was to end much differently as after a short while,
Petyr began to speak on how to beat Aemon Targaryen and what Tyrion would need to do.

"Gold, Prince Tyrion, your family has more of it than any other than the Empire itself, more
of it than I can lay my hands on." Petyr said looking to the Imp.
"Surely the Iron Bank…"
"You're not speaking to the Iron Bank, my prince, you're speaking to merely one of the
keyholders. Oh don't get me wrong, I'm a wealthy man and I live most comfortably, as you've
no doubt seen." he said to a nod from the Imp "But for the endeavor you wish, gold is
required and far more than I can manage to provide."
"How much?" Tyrion asked warily.
"To kill a prince, a million gold dragons at least." he said and Tyrion didn't seem surprised or
disturbed by the price.
"A Faceless Man?" Tyrion asked and even if he didn't know that they'd already denied the
Imp and would any who asked, he could see it was a test he was being given.
"The House of Black and White would refuse any contract against the Royal Family, my
prince. Their ties to the dragons go back right to the Conqueror himself and are unknown
even to me." he said truthfully and he hated that he didn't know what it was that held their
hand when it came to the Targaryens.
"Who?"
"Have you heard of the Sorrowful Men?" he asked and Tyrion shook his head "A group based
in Qarth and one who for the right price care not who their target is."
"Even Prince Aemon?" Tyrion asked disbelievingly.
"Even Prince Aemon. However the price itself is not just for them, would that it was." Petyr
said shaking his head "They'll do the deed for perhaps two hundred thousand, the rest of the
coin is so the conditions are set for Prince Aemon to fall. Have you heard of Khal Drogo?" he
asked to another shake of Tyrion's head.

It took him some time to explain who Drogo was and that Aemon had killed his father. How
the son had sworn revenge and yet was not yet in a position to seek that revenge. Left to his
own devices it would take Drogo years to gather the wealth that was needed to provide for
his Khalasar and so the vast majority of the Lannister coin was to go to him.

"You wish us to pay a man to attack the Empire?" Tyrion asked incredulously.
"I wish you to give Prince Aemon a reason to return, Prince Tyrion. Or you can let him run
rampant through Westeros and in time he'll find himself at the gates of Casterly Rock itself.

For be assured, nothing but this will stop him."
"My father…."
"Sent you here to make a deal did he not?" he asked and Tyrion's slight nod was enough of an
answer for now.
"What would you have me do?"

Two days later he watched as the ship set sail for Pentos and Drogo's manse. The coin was
the last thing that Drogo needed to launch his attack and once he did, Aemon would come.
Yet that was only half the plan he had in mind and while the Sorrowful Nen would target a
prince, it was not the prince that Tyrion of his fool of a father wished dead. To start a dance of
dragons one needed to give a reason for it and what better reason than one prince who had
finally tasted power seeking to end another who was born into it. When Prince Aegon fell it
would be to Prince Aemon that the blame would be attributed and the ensuing fight would
bring about a chaos the Empire had not seen in many a year. Chaos was a ladder he intended
to climb and to see bring a princess to his bed.

"I'm nothing if not an agent of chaos." he said smiling as he turned and made his way back to
the Iron Bank and readied for another day.

Casterly Rock 300 AC.
Tywin.

There had been no word from Tyrion and while it annoyed him, he felt it was more the
situation he found himself in that was the cause of that. If he was not so perturbed by the
events that had happened in the Seven Kingdoms since his son had set off for Essos, then he'd
be able to simply accept that not enough time had passed for a message to arrive. Instead, he
paced his room, was short with his family and especially his servants, and almost dreaded
each time the door opened and another missive was handed to him.

The things they said, the news they brought, and the way each one weakened his position,
even more, were all troubling. Considering he was already facing some doubts with his
leadership over the debacle of his failed march, each raven carried news that would only chip
away even more at the fear, loyalty, and respect his bannermen had for him and he needed
some good news, and fast. Alas so far good news was in short supply and after reading the
latest missives once more, he walked from his solar and through the halls of Casterly Rock.

Soon enough he found himself in the Hall of Heroes and looked at the statues and armor of
his fallen kin. Kings one and all and most had seen their house thrive and prosper under their
rule. Their armor was polished and shined and it sparkled when the candlelight hit. Tywin
had ever been fascinated with this place and with the thoughts of one day resting here. He
would go down as the greatest of all the Lannister King's, the one who'd brought the Seven
Kingdoms to heel and who'd forged a dynasty. Or so had been his plans. Plans that while
they'd at times suffered setbacks, he'd never had any doubt would eventually succeed.

Now, he feared another fate was to be his. The Lion who lost the West, he thought as he
shuddered slightly. All his plans, all his dreams, everything he had worked for would be for
naught and his dynasty, his family, would end with him. No, he'd not allow it, no matter the
cost or what lengths he was forced to. He would not be cowed and before he met his gods and
was reunited with Joanna, Westeros would hear him roar.

Walking out from the Hall of Heroes it was with a renewed sense of purpose, just as it always
was each time he visited and spent time with his ancestors. Soon enough he was back in his
solar and as if the gods themselves had heard his vow, the raven scroll awaited him. Seeing
the sun and spear of House Martell, he broke the seal eagerly, and before he was halfway
through reading it, he wore a smirk on his face. Finally, he'd reached out to find someone of
equal mind and spirit, someone that he could unite with to see the dragon brought low.

King Tywin,

I find your offer most interesting, however, I do have some changes that I wish to make. Your
granddaughter Princess Joanna and my youngest son Prince Trystane are to be wed at the
earliest convenience. As for other matches, I feel that one will suffice for our purposes and to
seal our alliance. I look forward to a wedding in Sunspear King Tywin, for I have no wish to
travel from my lands and on this I'm afraid there can be no compromise.

Perhaps such an occasion is most fortuitous as we have much to discuss going forward, but
such details are best discussed in private as well you understand. Once the marriage has
taken place, you and I are allies, King Tywin, with all that means and again something best
discussed between ourselves. I look forward to your reply and with your leave, I'll begin to
make preparations for the joining of our two great houses and kingdoms.

Together there is no obstacle we cannot overcome nor no enemy we need fear.

Doran Martell,
Prince of Dorne.

He sent for Kevan and for Jaime, eager to share the news with them both and to hear his son's
objections to the match in private. He had hoped that Joffrey would have been accepted as
Princess Arianne's match. The idea of his blood one day ruling Dorne was something that
appealed to him greatly and yet he'd almost anticipated it would be one of his granddaughters
that Doran sought and if he did, it would be Joanna and not Myrcella.

Cersei was far easier to bring around to his way of thinking than Jaime ever had been when it
came to his grandchildren. Her son, her daughter, she'd have given them up in a heartbeat
once he explained what it was they were getting in return. Jaime cared not for position or
need, or even politics really, his son much preferring to answer any questions or solve any
problems with his sword rather than his head. There was a time and place for such and it may,
in the end, be Jaime's sword that ended the threats the Dragon posed, though Tywin had
always felt the quill to be mightier than the sword.

It was not the sword that had brought Aemon Targaryen four kingdoms and threatened to
bring him a fifth one. True he had used it, as well as used the flames of his dragon, but in the
end, it was the quill. It had been words both written and not which had done in less than a
few moons what Tywin had planned his entire life for. If he was being truthful he was almost
certain it wouldn't be the sword that in the end took them away from him either. Shaking his
head of such thoughts he looked to see the door open and for Kevan to arrive first as always,
Tywin directing him to the wine and then waiting what felt like an age for Jaime to arrive.

"Forgive me, father, Jason, and Tommen wished for some pointers in the yard." Jaime said
and though it irked him his son was so tardy, he had no wish to start this off out on the wrong
foot and so he held his tongue.
"Prince Doran has accepted my offer, but with one caveat." he said as he handed Jaime the
raven's scroll and watched his expression change as he read it.
"Joanna." Jaime said softly and Tywin waited for the angered response only for his son to
surprise him "Mayhap we can convince him to let them reside in the West?" Jaime asked and
Tywin nodded a little surprised that he'd not thought of it.

"Prince Trystane is a second son is he not?" Kevan asked and Tywin nodded once more
"Then if we offered the Martell's a large enough holding…."
"Castamere, father. We've almost cleared it out and the keep needs little work." Jaime said
eagerly.
"An interesting offer, one that unless Prince Doran has an equal one to counter with may very
well be accepted. For now, we say nothing of this, I shall bring it up with the prince himself
when we travel for the wedding."
"We are to travel then?" Kevan asked in surprise.
"My spies tell me that Prince Doran is succumbing more and more to his illness and rarely
leaves the Water Gardens. This is less about showing he has power over us or the upper hand
in the negotiations than it is about covering up his own infirmaries." Tywin said to nods.
"I'll speak to Joanna and to Alysanne." Jaime said as Tywin stared at the worried look on his
son's face.
"You understand the importance of this match?" he asked.
"I understand, father."
"Has there been any word from Tyrion?" Kevan inquired.
"Not as of yet, given the time it takes to reach Braavos and for a message to be returned I'd
not expect anything for week or more."

Dinner that night was a pleasant one and both Joanna and Alysanne didn't seem put out by
the news of the match, his granddaughter if anything seemed almost keen to see Dorne and to
meet her betrothed. Cersei on the other hand was in a much more irritable mood and Myrcella
looked both relieved and disappointed at the same time. Something he'd do his best to make
up to her in the future. He'd find her a match worthy of her and perhaps in time, it would be
with a lord of one of the other kingdoms when he brought them to heel.

The ravens flew over the next few days, his to Doran, Doran's back to him and finally a
message arrived from Tyrion. Reading it he was glad to see his son had used the code he'd
told him to. The thoughts of their private correspondence being intercepted and understood
because he'd not, were far too troubling. While he disliked the cost, he welcomed the rest of
what it said, and that Tyrion was to head to Pentos next before he returned back to the West
gave him the chance to get a message to his son to meet them in Dorne.

It was less than a moon later that they set off to sail to see his granddaughter wed. Almost
thirty ships in all, carry most of the major Lords and Ladies of the West along with gifts and

gold for the Martells. His entire family barring some of his good family would be traveling in
this fleet. Never before had he undertaken such a journey and never one with such stakes at
hand. Looking back at the Rock as they sailed the Sunset Sea, he smiled. When next he saw it
things would be much different and that dream of a dynasty and him sitting above any other
in Westeros was his to dream about once more.

Moat Cailin 300 AC.
Ned.

This was not how he'd expected to be arriving back in the North. His brother and father were
not avenged and the crown he'd left with had been given up. The North was no longer an
independent kingdom after more than eight thousand years of being so. Yet the anger or
disappointment he perhaps should be feeling was not there. Instead, he was happy to see
Moat Cailin come into view. Happy to know he'd see Cat and his children once again and he
believed it was only a matter of time until he'd be face to face with the man or men
responsible for Brandon's and his father's deaths.

Though he'd not had much time to speak to Aemon before he and Rhaenys left to treat with
the Reach King, his nephew had sworn to him on his mother that he would not rest until
those responsible for the deaths of their kin had paid. He'd promised that once he had dealt
with the Reach, he and his wife would then come North and they could speak on things more
truly. The excitement that his nephew felt at finally getting to see Winterfell and the places
his mother had played in as a girl had been palpable.

Riding in through the gates of Moat Cailin, seeing his family lined up and ready to greet him,
Ned decided to concentrate on that and that alone for now. Later he would have many
decisions to make and who ran Moat Cailin would need to be one of them. For now, he
simply smiled upon seeing Cat and the children. Dismounting quickly, he, Benjen, Howland,
and some of the other lords who'd decided to stay at the Moat before heading back to their
own lands, moved across the courtyard, and once again he was face to face with the woman
he loved.

"Moat Cailin is yours, your grace." Cat said and Ned forwent the need to speak up on not
being a king anymore, his thoughts more on greeting his wife, which he did with a kiss and
an embrace.
"Gods Cat, it's so good to see you. You are well, the babe?" he said touching her swollen
stomach.

"I am well, Ned." she said as he kissed her once more, and then as she greeted Benjen and the
others, he did the same to his children.
"I missed you so much, father." Sansa said as he hugged her tightly, Arya not letting her sister
get the better of her then saying she missed him even more, as did Bran and Rickon.
"As I missed each of you. Now come, I wish to get changed, and then later we can speak on
all you've been up to while I was in the South." it felt strange to him saying it that way, and
yet he could think of no better way to put it. Saying while he was at war didn't quite cover it,
as was a battle really a war?

He and Benjen followed Cat to his solar while he had those who'd be staying and feasted that
night brought to their own rooms. They would need to speak on the morrow to decide on
certain aspects of the North and its new position and he wished to explain it to Cat and then
to send word to Robb long before they had left the Moat. Arriving at the solar they both
welcomed the ale when the servant arrived carrying it and though both ate a little, they
weren't truly hungry.

"What happened Ned? I'd not expected you back so soon and when I got your raven, I
worried so." Cat said after she'd given them a few moments to get comfortable.
"Where to begin." he said softly before he began to tell her that the North and Riverlands had
both sworn to Aemon and that he was no longer a king and their children no longer princes
and princesses.

He told her that the Vale had knelt and that the Bloody Gate was no more. How King Robert
Baratheon had been beaten in a trial of seven and the Stormlords too had knelt to his nephew.
Then he told her about the Hoares and Harrenhal, of their arrival to speak to Aemon and the
decision that he and the Lords of the North had made. When he told her that right now
Aemon and Rhaenys were on their dragons and heading to offer terms to the Reach and that
they too would soon kneel, Cat looked at him in shock.

"Four, no five, five kingdoms so quickly." Cat said in disbelief.
"The dragons are part of it, Cat. What Aemon did to the men who had laid in wait to stop our
march was something I wouldn't have believed had I not seen the results of it for myself. But
it's more than that, he took Harrenhal with less than twenty men. He beat King Robert
himself and yet he didn't seek to end his house and named Stannis as Lord Paramount of the
Stormlands. His wife and he have a mind for politics that I can't match and whether it's that
they're simply mimicking what the Empire does or it's more than that, it matters not." he said
while shaking his head.

"And the North accepted him?" Cat asked.
"We have no choice, Cat. I believe him when he says he has no wish to fight against kin, I
believe him, even more, when he says that if he's forced to, he will. We cannot beat him, Cat.
A crown or the safety of the North, I chose the North." he said looking at her worriedly,
hoping she understood.
"As any good leader would. You did what was right Ned. My brother, great-uncle?" she asked
worriedly.
"Have sworn to Aemon too. Harrenhal is to be the capital of the newly joined five kingdoms
and in time Dorne and the West will be brought into the fold, too. Either by word or deed." he
said and saw her little shudder "We have much we must speak on Cat, the Moat, Winterfell,
you and I along with the children will be traveling soon, Benjen will man the Moat while we
go to Winterfell and speak to Robb and Barbrey."
"We'll be naming it as our home won't we?" she asked and Ned nodded "And Robb?"
"I know not. Do I name him as lord of the Moat and as my heir to Winterfell and the North or
do I just do the latter?"
"We'll decide later. Come enough talk of such things, I'm sure the children wish to speak to
their father more truly." Cat said as she rose "Benjen, do you wish to send word to Dacey?"
"I already have, Cat."
"Good, I'll see to the night's feast and speak to you both later."

He watched her walk from the room and felt comforted that she'd accepted things so easily.
While he'd not truly believed she would not, he had feared it somewhat. Robb may bristle a
bit more and Barbrey would no doubt curse him for not bringing her the head of the man
who'd killed Brandon, but the latter of those was only a matter of time. Taking a large
swallow from the mug of ale, he rose to his feet, and with a nod to Benjen, he went in search
of his children. Matters of the North could wait until the morrow, matters of his family could
not.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

Seeing Nightwing in the sky had taken them both by surprise, Aemon looking to her
concernedly and when the black dragon turned, Meraxes and Gaelithox followed. They saw
her long before they landed and Rhaenys let out the breath she was holding. Being so close to
the village they knew they couldn't or wouldn't truly have the chance to speak to their aunt

before reaching it. So once they'd made sure she was well, Dany then joined them as they
flew on to the village and showed off the majesty of the dragons.

They then flew back to Aurane and the others and rode into the village on horseback rather
than on dragonback. Aemon was in a more prickly mood than usual during the greeting and it
was only when they were alone in the rooms they'd been given, that the reason for that mood
was made apparent. His worries and concerns for Dany and for their family soon coming to
the fore.

"Why are you here?" Aemon asked brusquely as he glared at Dany.
"Is that any way to greet family." Dany snapped.
"Answer my bloody question. for I've no time for niceties. Now, why are you here? What's
going on? Now Dany, don't test me on this."
"I…" Dany stuttered as she looked to her for support, something she got much to Aemon's
annoyance.
"Aemon. You don't speak to family that way, you know better than this." she chided.
"I wish to know why she's here and what's wrong? Courtesies be damned." Aemon said
angrily.
"Aems." she said as she reached out to him only for him to brush her hand away.
"Speak to me, Dany. Tell me what's going on and do so now, I'll not ask again." Aemon said
looking at their aunt.
"I…Oberyn…."

Dany's tears changed Aemon's mood immediately, in the blink of an eye he'd gone from
being angered and unfriendly, to anything but. She watched as he moved even more quickly
than she and as he held Dany in his arms as she sobbed through a story. It took some time for
it to be made clear what had happened and she didn't need to look to Aemon's eyes to see the
fire that burned in them. Their aunt had always had advances, welcome and very much not,
this one seemed different and Rhaenys felt guilty that she'd not been there for her.

"I just wished…I wanted to….Rhae…"
"Hush, Dany, hush. I'm here, I'm here."

Aemon let her take Dany into her arms and he paced as she softly stroked her aunt's hair and
brushed her hand softly over her back. Dany had been sheltered more so than any of them. Be
it because of her father, her mother, their own father's guilt and worry, or even partly because
of her position, she'd been kept from most of the worst things in the world. At times she was
still a little girl because of it, and yet there was a determination and resolve there too. Aemon
had even japed that should their aunt ever let loose her inner dragon then even he'd be wary
of being in her way.

For now, it was the little girl that was with them and as Aemon moved to the door and spoke
to Arthur, she held her aunt and told her that they were both happy she was here and that she
was most welcome to stay for as long as she wished. Something that Aemon himself repeated
over and over when he rejoined them. As well as apologizing for his tone and how he'd
greeted her since they'd come to the room.

"I worried that something had happened to you, to our family. I let that worry be what I led
with rather than my joy in seeing you here. Forgive me, Dany." Aemon said softly as Dany
looked at him.
"You are joyful though?" Dany asked nervously.
"Very much so. Truly. As I know Rhae is too." he said and Dany looked to see the smile she
wore on her face which answered the question she never asked.

Aemon then wished to call off the night's festivities or their attendance at least. The feast that
was to be thrown in their honor was not something he really wished to go to. It was Dany
who decided upon their attendance, their aunt feeling much better now that she'd gotten her
concerns off her chest and had been welcomed properly to Westeros by them both and who
was keen to see what a Westerosi feast was like. So in the end they went to it and while Dany
enjoyed it for what it was, she and Aemon did not. Instead, they were both too focused on
what it meant.

The looks, the placements, the forced smiles, and even the conversation that was at times
stilted and at times very much not. Some things became quite clear to her as she ate and
drank, even as she and Aemon danced. Who the true power of the Reach was and how people
looked at the lady in question. Which lord may cause problems and which would accept
things without any. She took note of it all while Aemon simply took the measure of the
warriors in the room and looking at him, she could see he felt them lacking.

She danced with King Gwayne who looked jealously at Aemon when he danced with Queen
Margaery, something that didn't last too long considering how quickly Aemon moved to
dance with Dany once they were done. Dany herself danced with Aemon, Aurane, Daario,
and one of the queen's brothers, who it seemed made their aunt laugh genuinely much to both
her and Aemon's surprise. By the time the feast was over she was ready for her bed and
Aemon it seemed was ready for something else. Her husband doing his very best to ensure
that the entire keep heard her moans of pleasure and when they woke the next morning he did
so with a smug grin on his face.

"Who says it was really you, perhaps I was thinking about Gallant-King Gwayne." she said as
she dressed and kept her face as straight as she could keep it. Only for her then to laugh
loudly when Aemon grabbed her and began kissing her face and neck.
"Do not tempt me, wife. I can end these negotiations as quickly with my sword as I can with
your words. I've killed one king already during this campaign, I've no problem making it
two." Aemon's voice was light as he japed with her.
"Let me dress you fool, our hosts will think us ungracious." she said pushing him away from
her.
"Let them, as long as they kneel I care not what they think."

She knew that wasn't exactly true. He wished them to kneel but her husband had an ego and
he wished them to both fear and respect him in equal measure. Unlike her, Aemon was
disappointed that there had not been a true fight as of yet, he almost wished for one. Were it
left to her there would never be another battle that Aemon would need to fight in, not another
man that he needed to kill or another time that the Blood Wyrm was called into action.
Rhaenys though feared in this she'd be proved to be wrong and so she intended to delay it for
as long as possible.

Chapter End Notes

I tried to have this up yesterday but I was unwell. For those following my other stories,
Brother’s Keeper will update Monday followed by Live as a Wolf and Honor so High
next week, with maybe the second chapter of Purple Deception also.
Up next The Targaryens and the Tyrells get to know each other and Aemon has an
encounter with a Striding Huntsman that threatens to derail the talks. Rhaenys takes the
measure of the Queen of Thorns and her granddaughter while Dany draws attention
from more than one knight. With negotiations concluded, The Targaryens head back to
Harrenhal and find out about a new alliance that threatens their new Kingdom.

Roses Wilt, Dragons Roar.
Chapter Summary

I had meant to have this up earlier this week, but some personal issues and the fact it
was thanksgiving slowed me down, so forgive me for that.
The Targaryens and the Tyrells get to know each other and Aemon has an encounter
with a Striding Huntsman that threatens to derail the talks. Rhaenys takes the measure of
the Queen of Thorns and her granddaughter while Dany draws attention from more than
one knight. With negotiations concluded, The Targaryens head back to Harrenhal and
find out about a new alliance that threatens their new Kingdom.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros XL
The Empresses of the Empire.

As different as they were in personality, Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen were exactly the
same when it came to determination. While Visenya concentrated on the martial aspects
though, Rhaenys was the more diplomatic of the two. Not that she was not averse to riding
atop her dragon and laying waste to their enemies, more it was that she knew that words, as
well as actions, could be powerful.

It was Rhaenys who negotiated with the Iron Bank of Braavos, she who brought the House of
Black and White to heel. Where Visenya or Aegon would use threats to do so, the words
spoken by Rhaenys Targaryen are lost in time. All that is known is that an accord was
reached and that two institutions that could very well one day threaten the very fabric of the
Empire that was being built, took very different paths.

When the accords were to be struck it was Rhaenys and not Aegon or Visenya who negotiated
such accords. It was she who brought allies to their side and who turned enemies into friends.
Empress Rhaenyra ruled through the power of her words and the might of the Dragonknight
and his red dragon and few would be able to say which of the two was more effective. Many
years later it was the Beloved Empress Alysanne who served a similar role and though High
Emperor Rhaegar wished for one of his own two wives to do likewise, the loss of the Empress

of the Ice put paid to that. Lyanna Targaryen had a way of bringing people to her side, a way
of making enemies see the benefit of being friends. So instead of allies for the Empire, it was
allies for her son that were to be her legacy, plans made, and diplomacy of a more personal
sort that was to be remembered and spoken about long after she passed.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

After breaking their fast and tasking Daario and Aurane to see to Dany's guard, they made
their way to the rooms that had been put aside for their meeting with King Gwayne and the
Tyrells. Aemon was dressed more casually after she'd denied him leave to wear his armor.
Yet no matter her words that this was a negotiation, a parley, Dark Sister was still on his hip.
Other than when he was completely relaxed and unconcerned about safety, hers or his own,
Dark Sister was always close at hand. Be it on his hip or by their bedside, it was rare not to
see the blade and Aemon in the same place.

Behind them, Arthur, Torgho Nudho, and Ser Barristan were all armed and armored. As were
the three Unsullied that walked with them. Her husband was keen to give off a certain image
as they walked through the small keep and Rhaenys had left that in his hands, just as he
would leave the talks in her own. He was in an amused mood, almost smirking, and for once
she knew not the reason for it. The night before after they'd made love and lay in bed, he'd
spoken to her about how little he intended to say at this meeting, and his reasoning for it and
she'd found it sound enough. Yet there was something else in his mannerism that made her
think that he wished for her to show off, that he almost wished to be entertained in some
manner.

When they reached the room it was to find their guards outnumbered the King's and Queen's
and as they were bid enter, Arthur, Barristan took their places at the door while Torgho
Nudho followed them inside. She saw the looks on the Tyrell's faces, the looks on the King's
and Queens when they saw that both her husband and Torgho Nudho were armed. There was
concern in their eyes as they were greeted and bid to take a seat and so she decided to assuage
those concerns a little.

"My husband trusts few people with his sword, your grace. It and Blackfyre mean far too
much to our family to ever take the chance of it being lost, and so over the years it's almost
become a part of his clothing." she said as Gwayne looked to her and then Margaery who
nodded.
"And the guard?" Olenna asked.
"Even swords need guards, Lady Olenna." Aemon said almost jokingly.

Whether they had bought her excuse, something she doubted, it mattered not as not one more
word was spoken about the fact that Aemon was armed and Torgho Nudho present. They
were instead offered refreshments, wine which she rejected, and juice which she and Aemon
accepted. Both she and Aemon found it to be most pleasant to their tongues.

"Orange and cinnamon, your grace, it's one of my own recipes." the queen said when she saw
the look of enjoyment on Rhaeny's face.
"I must get it off you before we leave, your grace." she said to a smile from the queen and
then bid them use their names as they would theirs "We would spend more time calling each
other by our tittles than actually discussing what needs be discussed otherwise"

Lady Olenna seemed pleased by that as did Queen Margaery, the king however very much
did not and she noticed how Aemon looked to him. Other than those three, the Tyrell
contingent was made up of three other people. The queen's father, her brother Willas and a
balding lord who didn't drink and hadn't stopped looking at Aemon and her since they sat
down. That Aemon hadn't looked his way seemed to have annoyed the man somewhat and
she worried that the offense he may take at that could cause an issue with these talks,
something proved a moment later.

"We heard what you did to the Iron Born, 5,000 men just burned away into nothing, you
believe such intimidatory tactics serve you well, Aemon Targaryen." the balding man said
and she wasn't the only one who held her breath.
"Kill one man, and you're a Murderer. Kill 5,000 of them, and you're a Conqueror. Kill them
all, and you're a God. Westeros should be thankful I come only to conquer it, Lord Tarly, and
not to be named as its deity." Aemon said and now he was looking at the man he'd named as
Lord Tarly. No, he was glaring at him.
"You think you scare me, boy? That your reputation will force me to my knees?" Tarly said
angrily.

"No, Lord Tarly. I'll force you to your knees! My reputation counts for nothing, just as your
own does not. For a man such as you, I won't even need Gaelithox or armor. Just me and this
sword here would be enough." Aemon said smirking as he patted Dark Sister "Care to test me
or is it with just words that you fight your battles?"
"Lord Tarly, Enough! Speak no more lest you incur my displeasure as much as you already
have our guests." the king said and Tarly rose to his feet far too quickly for Torgho Nudho's
liking, his spear at his neck in the blink of an eye.
"You would break guest rights?" Tarly snarled.
"No, but Torgho Nudho would ensure that you would not. I suggest you leave my lord, lest I
decide that Horn Hill is my next port of call and the Blood Wyrm does to it what he did to the
Bloody Gate."

The king and the queen's brother both moved to the lord and then called out for a guard to
escort him from the room. Rhaenys feeling the tension in the room had now reached levels
that wouldn't allow for any true negotiation or even conversation. Torgho Nudho had put his
spear away once Lord Tarly had left the room and Rhaenys looked to Aemon who seemed
annoyed and yet calm, a dangerous combination in her husband, she knew.

"Forgive us your graces. We had no idea…"
"Did you not? Or was it not your intent to poke and prod a little to see a reaction?" Rhaenys
said stopping the queen's words in mid-sentence "We are no novices at this, Margaery, nor are
we newcomers to the way that court works, be it here or in Essos. Such games don't serve
you well and you should be thankful that my husband finds them so amusing, else it would
have been Dark Sister that was unsheathed and she has a taste for blood that's rarely sated."
"Mayhaps we can…" Lady Olenna said worriedly, Aemon interrupting her this time.
"I shall leave this in your hands, my love. King Gwayne, Lord Willas, perhaps you'd care to
show me some more of this wonderful keep." Aemon said kissing her softly on the lips.
"Your grace?" Gwayne asked confusedly.
"We should leave the negotiations to those not only more clever than us, King Gwayne but
those who hold their temper and suffer fools more easily. I'm sure a spar or some other
activity would be more suited to our own temperaments." Aemon said challengingly and that
seemed to do the trick or that along with the look that Margaery gave her husband.

With that, Aemon, Torgho Nudho, King Gwayne, and Lord Willas walked from the room,
and with a glaring look from Olenna to her son, Lord Mace soon joined them. It left Rhaenys

alone with Queen Margaery and Lady Olenna and though she'd wanted to show off a little for
her husband, that time had passed, and instead, it was time to get down to business.

"It was a silly game, Lady Olenna and Lord Tarly was the wrong man for such." she said, her
eyebrow raised as she looked to the older woman.
"I wished to judge one of my lords, as much as I may have you or your husband, your grace."
Olenna replied honestly.
"Rhaenys."
"Would you care for some food, Rhaenys. I know my grandmother is famished and would
enjoy a snack."
"I am well, but some tea would be appreciated."

They spoke about anything but the reason she was here while they waited for the tea to be
brought. Small probing questions from Margaery and her grandmother and some by herself,
revealing little things. Margaery was quite fond of her husband if not in love with him and
Olenna both wished to kneel without bloodshed and to get the very best deal she could for
doing so. Something Rhaenys felt could be arranged.

"Lord Tarly, you wished to judge him and so I take it he's against the Reach accepting our
terms?" Rhaenys said after the tea had been brought and poured.
"He's a military man, Rhaenys, he believes only in the power of the sword." Olenna replied.
"As do all foolish men." she said to an odd look from Margaery.
"I mean no offense but is not your husband similar?" Margaery asked a few moments later.
"My husband understands the power of the sword, Margaery, and he wields that power better
than any man in the known world. You know what they call him in the Empire?"
"The Dragonknight?" Margaery said and Rhaenys nodded.
"There are many in my family who ride dragons, many who wield swords. In our history,
there have been but seven Dragonknights. My husband is the first in over a hundred years."
she said proudly "Dragonknights wield swords like they are an extension of their arms, they
are the swords and shields of the Empire. My husband knows the power of a sword and yet
we come to you with words, what does that tell you?"
"That you understand the power of words too."

"Indeed. Now shall we begin?" she said to a nod of Margaery's head and a small smirk from
Lady Olenna.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Daenerys.

She hadn't quite got the welcome she'd hoped for and had felt that her nephew truly wished
she'd not come, at first anyway. That Aemon was worried about their family and what had
potentially happened was something she'd not considered. His reaction then, once he'd found
out her reasons for flying from Volantis to Westeros, was more true to the one that she'd
wished for. When he'd shown his worries and concerns for her and told her that he was
indeed happy to see her, she'd felt so relieved. The last thing she had wished for was to come
for comfort and to cause an issue, though she knew she had somewhat.

Yet that had been put to rest by how Rhaenys had welcomed her and how Aemon had then
tried to make up for his angered reaction to her presence. Her nephew had asked her more
and more about the man who'd accosted her and Dany felt sure that had he been in Volantis at
the time, Ser Gerold Dayne would breathe no more. Rhaenys too had said as much, her niece
offering her the comfort she so desperately sought and allowing her to then begin to enjoy the
fact that she was with them both once again.

It had made the feast and the dancing so much more pleasant and she'd spent most of the
night enjoying herself greatly. There was something freeing in being who she was here,
something she rarely knew in Volantis. There she was everybody's favorite princess, spoiled
and protected and deferred to in so many ways and for so many reasons. Be it that her brother
was the High Emperor, that her nephew was the Crown Prince or that her other nephew was
the Dragonknight and a man feared by all, she could never truly just be Dany to anyone she
met. She loved her life, truly she did, and she was well aware of just how privileged she was.
Dany even welcomed the protective nature of those around her, but she longed to be treated
somewhat normally too. To be treated how Rhaenys was or how some of her cousins were
when they came to visit.

Last night at the feast she'd felt some of that. True they deferred to her greatly, but in the
presence of her niece and nephew, she was the lesser dragon. So be it that or be it that
protocol was different in Westeros, she'd found the feast to be a completely different affair
than the ones held in the Grand Palace. While she'd danced with her nephew, Aurane and
Daario, she'd danced with one of the knights of Westeros too. Someone who'd made her
laugh as they did so and who she'd spent some of the morning hoping to run into again.

Walking with Aurane and Daario through the small town she found it charming and most
interesting. Yet what she'd not found was the knight from the night before.

"You look bored, princess." Aurane said taking her from her thoughts.
"Do I?" she asked with a giggle, one that Aurane knew all too well.
"You do. As if you seek some mischief." Daario said and this time Aurane chuckled.
"I just wished to see the town." she said, her tongue firmly in her cheek as they walked past
what seemed to be some small stalls, Dany stopping to look at some of the wares and then
realizing she had no coin to purchase any.

The look she gave Aurane was enough to solve that particular problem and she ended up
buying some of the fabrics that were being sold, some ribbons and buttons too. They were not
of a standard she'd usually look to, but they were from Westeros which made them interesting
to her. As did the small candied fruits, though these she only bought once Daario had made
the stall keeper eat one themselves.

"Had enough fun, princess?" Daario asked and she shook her head and stuck her tongue out
at him, giggling happily when she saw him roll his eyes and heard him sigh loudly.

She'd known both men for as long as she could remember. Aurane was almost like a brother
to Aemon and so almost a nephew to her, while Daario despite his brash exterior was always
someone she could speak to in easy comfort. They both knew her so very well that they
allowed her to be whoever she wished when she was with either of them. TRue she was their
princess, just as Rhaenys and Aemon were now their king and queen, but they were and
could be almost familial.

"We should go back, no doubt Aemon has grown bored with the negotiations by now."
Aurane said and Dany looked at him curiously.
"For true?"
"Mayhaps. Come we'll go to the sparring yard they set up, mayhap there you can see this
knight of yours." Aurane said, his smirk only growing when she replied and then when
Daario chimed in.
"He's not my knight."

"Oh princess, they're all your knights." Daario said laughing as they turned to walk back to
the keep.

They had barely made it back when the first group of men moved their way, Dany searching
them out to see if Ser Garlan was amongst them and finding to her annoyance that he was
not, though a man who looked almost his twin was.

"Princess, Lord Velaryon, Lord Naharis." the man said and as she heard Aurane about to
reply and tell the man he was no Lord, she spoke first.
"Good morrow, Ser?"
"Ser Loras Tyrell, my princess." the man said looking to her hand and Dany reached it out
and let him place a kiss upon it, something she'd seen Empress Elia do at times.
"Any relation to Ser Garlan Tyrell?" she asked and she knew behind her both her companions
were doing their damnedest not to laugh.
"My brother, princess." Loras said warmly "May I introduce my companions. Ser Jon
Fossoway my gooduncle, Ser Humfrey Hightower my goodcousin, and Ser Dickon Tarly."
"You're not good?" she asked confusedly.
"We are not related, princess." Ser Dickon said.
"Oh, forgive me, Ser Dickon."
"There is nothing to forgive, Princess." Dickon said and the way he looked at her soon had
Aurane move a step forward which in turn made Loras notice how uncomfortable she was
beginning to look.
"We were just heading to spar, princess, no doubt your presence would encourage us to put
on a more enjoyable performance."
"I…"
"Loras." she heard a voice call out and as she looked to see Ser Garlan standing with three
other men, his eyes widening when he noticed her there and she found she enjoyed seeing the
look of interest in them, something she'd not a moment earlier with Ser Dickon.

A moment later she was being greeted by Ser Garlan and when Loras mentioned they were
going to spar, she was glad to hear him say he'd join them, her own decision was then made
as she too joined them in walking to the sparring yard. Behind her, she heard Daario's amused
tone as he and Ser Dickon had a war of words almost, a verbal jousting. Daario continually

named the knight Rickon and the knight grew more and more annoyed as he named himself
properly to no avail.

"Will you spar, Ser Garlan?" she asked when they reached the wide-open space that had been
set up for the activity.
"If one of your companions would do me the honor, I'd be most delighted to, my princess."
his reply and use of the word my caused some butterflies in her belly.
"You're sure it would be an honor, Ser Garlan? To be defeated so soundly and so publicly?"
Daario said and Dany rolled her eyes before giggling at Ser Garlan's reply.
"Mayhap you can tell me after I've beaten you, Ser."

She found herself watching on eagerly as Loras beat the pouting Ser Dickon and Ser
Humfrey beat Ser Jon. Aurane looked to Daario who was just about to move forward when
he suddenly stopped in place and Dany turned to see her nephew and Torgho Nudho walk
through the yard. The King of the Reach along with a man who could only be another brother
of Ser Garlan and Ser Loras walked with them and the look on Aemon's face was one that
both sought trouble and entertainment. The latter of those she found him soon to focus on.

"Aunt." Aemon said kissing her cheek and looking at Daario and Aurane over her shoulder.
"Nephew." she said softly back and as he moved so that she could look in his eyes, she was
glad to see the mirth that was there in them which showed Aemon to be in good humor.
"I seem to have interrupted something?"
"Ser Garlan and I were about to spar, my king." Daario said and Aemon turned to look at Ser
Garlan and then back at her.
"Hmmm. Mayhaps Ser Garlan would accept a different opponent, Daario? What say you Ser
Garlan, fancy crossing blades?" Aemon said and Dany shivered slightly wondering what
lesson her nephew wished to impart.
"I'd be honored, your grace." Ser Garlan said with a bow and Aemon chuckled.
"I'm here to beat you, Ser, not honor you." Aemon said and Dany was relieved at the laugh
that came from Aemon a moment later.
"Mayhap that in itself is an honor, your grace." Garlan said forcing that laugh from Aemon's
mouth.
"Mayhap." Aemon said as he moved to walk with Ser Garlan and take up their positions.

All her nervousness went from her when her nephew looked at her and winked, his mood
may have been unknown to her when she'd first seen him enter the yard, now it was anything
but. Whatever lesson he intended, it would not be a painful one and Ser Garlan had somewhat
earned a small bit of her nephew's favor. Looking around at some of the others in the yard as
they readied to watch the spar, she wondered if it was any of them he'd be fighting would
they receive the same lesson or would theirs be much harsher.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Margaery.

Her grandmother had laid out her plans for their negotiations with the Targaryens very
carefully and precisely. Margaery did her part with her husband and explained to Gwayne
why it needed to be done in such a manner. It had taken her far longer to explain it to him
than she would have liked and she'd needed to soothe his ego afterward. Her husband wished
to be the one that was used to poke and prod at the dragons and Margaery told him that he
could not. It had to be Randyll Tarly to do so, both because her grandmother wished to test
out the Lord of Horn Hill's true feelings and so they could quickly move past any problems
he may cause. A lord was not a king and was it to be Gwayne, then they may not be able to
get the talks back on track.

Aemon Targaryen was not a man to be trifled with and while they could afford, and maybe
even wish for it in her grandmother's mind, him actually killing Randyll Tarly should things
go truly badly, they had no wish for him to kill her husband. So they had done as her
grandmother had ordered and it had gone almost how they'd wished it to. Randyll had poked,
the dragon had responded and then things had taken a turn they'd not expected. Neither
Margaery nor her grandmother had actually believed that Rhaenys Targaryen held so much
sway. That it was her and not her husband that they'd end up dealing with hadn't entered their
mind and she knew without looking to her grandmother, that she was kicking herself for not
realizing that could be what occurred.

It had been Rhaenys and not Aemon who'd answered the request sent to them by her
grandmother, she who'd arranged the parley. Her grandmother had put it down to Aemon
being elsewhere, her spies having told her that he was off dealing with the Starks and that
Rhaenys must have been left on Dragonstone and so had been the one to receive their raven.
Now it was clear that was very much not what had happened. Rhaenys and Aemon were far
more of a partnership than Margaery or her grandmother had given them credit for and given
she knew the true nature of the game they'd just tried to play, Rhaenys Targaryen may be just
as formidable as her husband was.

"How have you found Westeros thus far, Rhaenys?" she asked as they sat and drank tea,
negotiations on pause for a few moments.
"My husband quite enjoys these lands, Margaery, and they've grown on me since I've arrived.
Though I've not seen as much of them as I'd have liked nor how I'd have liked."
"You should come to Highgarden, we'd be most pleased to host you and though I may be
somewhat biased, there is no place quite like it in all of Westeros." she said genuinely.
"We've heard tale of the keep, of it and Storm's End, the Eyrie and Casterly Rock, my
husband were he given the choice would wish to see Winterfell and walk the lands and keep
his mother was born in. Mayhap when we've put the rest of the kingdoms to right we'll do
some traveling for pleasure rather than…"
"Conquest." her grandmother said and Rhaenys smiled as she nodded.
"Speaking of which." Rhaenys said and Margaery sighed, as she found she had been quite
enjoying a far more simple conversation for once.

The dishes were removed and once again she and her grandmother sat across from a much
different Rhaenys Targaryen. This was a queen, a ruling one, and Margaery felt somewhat
jealous of the other woman because of it. All her life it had been what she and her
grandmother had wished for her, to be a queen, and for her to rule as much as her husband
did. If it was not for the arrival of Aemon and Rhaenys Targaryen, then that may very well
have been the life she knew. As it was she'd never be named such again or at least she
wouldn't if they came to terms on their surrender.

"The North, Vale and the Riverlands have learned the benefits of kneeling to my husband and
myself without conflict. King Robert Baratheon to his cost found out what it means to go
face to face and toe to toe with my husband and yet we can be generous in victory too. You've
reached out and so have earned our goodwill, Olenna, Margaery. Now let us speak on what it
is you wish for and whether our goodwill extends that far." Rhaenys said, her eyes on
Margaery's grandmother as she spoke.
"I sought a crown for my granddaughter and for my house to rise as far as it could. I'll not lie
and say that I had considered making your husband such an offer before you were wed."
Olenna said as Margaery bit back her surprise and Rhaenys did likewise though with an
emotion she couldn't quite place, the small laugh catching them both by surprise.
"My husband denied our father, Olenna. He went against the High Emperor and risked his
wrath because of the love he felt for me. Had you offered such it would have been denied and
you'd have earned his displeasure as much as Tywin Lannister did by sending his son to
negotiate such a match. No doubt a part of you still considers it, still thinks that Aemon like

our father may seek two brides." Rhaenys said looking to Margaery who shivered under the
gaze "I'd advise you not to bring it up in front of my husband even in jest, for you'll find that
the good humor he showed earlier would not be found again."
"Indeed." her grandmother said and Margaery let out the breath she was holding "However
there is another in your party who is unwed is there not?"
"You seek my aunt's hand?" Rhaenys asked with a chuckle "Then I'd suggest you make an
advance to my father and the Empire for it's only he who could decide such."
"I believe a marriage alliance could be a good way to tie us even more firmly to your family,
your grace." her grandmother said politely "And in Westeros, it's how most accords are
reached." she added.
"While that is no doubt true, Olenna, we have no need for such. An alliance with us is not the
same as one with any of the former kings and queens. Mutual benefit may seem to be our
goal, but in truth, it's not. I could walk from this room and tell my husband that we seek to
bring you to your knees, that a lesson must be sent and I can assure you that my husband
would be more than willing to let the Reach learn that lesson." Rhaenys said and Margaery
gulped while somehow her grandmother did not "We seek an alliance only because of
convenience, not out of necessity."
"And our benefit in such an alliance? Other than forgoing the need for battle." her
grandmother asked.
"What know you of the workings of the Empire, Olenna?"
"Some small things."
"We seek a kingdom that runs similarly and yet is more suited to Westeros than Essos, Lord
Paramounts instead of Governors, Wardens instead of kings. We would name King Gwayne
as our Warden of the South, he, along with Lord Denys Arryn and Lord Eddard Stark being
the only ones that thus far would be named as such. As Warden and Lord Paramount he'd
have dominion over the Reach as much as he would as king, only he'd need answer to my
husband and I and he and his men would be obligated to come when called."
"So we'd be like a Bannerman?" Margaery asked and Rhaenys shook her head.
"Not quite, but it's a close enough comparison. You'd be in a stronger position than your
strongest Bannerman is compared to you and have the freedom to run the Reach as you see
fit. As I said, King Gwayne would be a king in all but name."
"Taxes?" her grandmother asked.
"We are not greedy nor is it coin we seek. In the Empire each governed city pays twenty
percent to the High Emperor, we'll settle for ten percent from each Warden and twenty from
the other Lord Paramounts. We would also offer a place on a council to those we deem most
worthy. A council that shall help my husband and I rule over the realm and that will be made

up of seven positions." Rhaenys said and Margaery could see the wheels turn in her
grandmother's head, no doubt Willas would be sought to take a position in such a council.
"My grandson, Willas, you'd name him to this Council?" her grandmother asked proving
Margaery right.

Rhaenys seemed to be considering it for a moment or two and yet Margaery felt she was
performing a mummery of sorts. That she had already decided to offer them this and had
instead allowed her grandmother to be the one who made the offer.

"Agreed." Rhaenys said a moment later.
"There is just one last thing, your grace. One final request I have and one that will ensure our
loyalty is to your house and your house alone from this point forward." her grandmother said
and Rhaenys bid her continue "You'll appoint King Gwayne as Warden and Lord Paramount
and should he and my granddaughter be blessed by children, it would be one of them who'd
take over the role in time?"
"It would."
"What if they were not so blessed, your grace? Should the gods not gift them children or
should something happen to my good grandson, what assurances can you give my house and
myself about the future?" her grandmother asked and Margaery somehow bit her tongue to
stop from speaking up.
"You wish it to be your house that benefit's the most, not House Gardner, Olenna? That
should things not work out as planned, then it would be to House Tyrell that we look and not
some offshoot of your goodfamily's?"
"I do."
"Then I shall name it so. Should events conspire to rob you of a great-grandchild or fate rob
Margaery of a husband, then it shall be to House Tyrell and only House Tyrell that we look to
for our Warden of the South and Lord Paramount of the Reach."
"Then we have an accord, your grace. I'll make the arrangements for a public kneeling and
swearing of oaths and we look forward to a beneficial relationship in the years to come. Who
knows mayhap one day our houses may be joined more truly as well." her grandmother said
and Rhaenys smiled before she answered.
"Mayhap. Margaery, I believe our husbands will by now be showing off their prowess on the
sparring yard, what say you and I join them?"
"I'd like that, your grace."

"Rhaenys, Margaery, I'd like us to be friends." Rhaenys said and Margaery felt she was being
truthful in that.
"As would I, Rhaenys." she answered and she certainly was speaking truthfully.

As she rose to her feet she looked to her grandmother who looked most pleased by how
things had turned out. Later she'd need to speak to her and find out what she meant regarding
Gwayne and was it just her protecting their house or was there more to it. For now, she found
she most looked forward to spending some of the day watching spars with her new queen,
and though she would miss being one herself, little if anything had truly changed when she
thought about it.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Ser Garlan Tyrell.

He'd been well and truly beaten, Aemon not even really breaking a sweat when he did so and
Garlan hadn't been the only one who'd taken note of just how good he was with a sword in
hand. All the tales he'd heard, the stories that those who'd been to Essos had brought back had
just been proved to be true and he wondered then if the other tales were true as well. If they
were then he hoped that his grandmother and sister were indeed finalizing an accord that
didn't lead to war.

For as confident as some of those near him had been that they'd win, he could now see the
doubts in their eyes and he wondered if that had been Aemon's intent in sparring with him.
Watching as he faced off against Loras at least gave him the opportunity to truly judge him
with a more discerning eye. His brother was not as good a sword as he was but was better
than most, something you'd not believe given the lesson he was being taught.

He was not the only one either, to one side the blue-haired man, Daario Naharis, was beating
Dickon Tarly as easily as Aemon was beating Loras. While the silver-haired Aurane Velaryon
and the tanned Torgho Nudho both stood watching and waiting for their own turns. So
concentrated on the spars in front of him was he that he didn't notice the princess had moved
by his side and it was only the smell of jasmine that made him turn to look at her. All other
thoughts soon left his head as he watched her as she cheered her nephew and his men on,
Garlan feeling a little jealous when she clapped as Daario took his match and Aurane stepped
forward to start one of his own.

"You fought well, Ser Garlan, though some say my nephew was born with a sword in his
hand." Daenerys Targaryen said, her voice as light and airy as the silken dress she wore.
"He very well might have been." he said with a small chuckle which he was pleased she
joined in with.
"Are all his men so accomplished?" he asked and saw the small frown on her face "I mean
not to pry or seek some knowledge that can be used against him or you, it's just curiosity
which makes me ask. I had thought myself an accomplished swordsman and…."
"Those with my nephew have been fighting true battles for as long as he has. As much as The
Blood Wyrm gets called into action, they too have crossed blades and bled against those who
wish my family harm. They've found out to their cost that yes, they are as accomplished as
Aemon is." Daenerys said as Aemon finally put Loras out of his misery and Aurane took his
match.

When Torgho Nudho stepped forward to face Ser Humfrey, he and everyone there looked on
even more eagerly. The man wore little armor and wielded a spear and looked to be
outmatched and yet it was this man who seemed to be always at King Aemon's back. Garlan
had been disappointed not to see The Bold or The Sword of the Morning with Aemon, both
men guarding the queen instead. It had though made him keen to see just how skilled the man
with him was since he was who Aemon chose to guard his back. Not that the man in question
actually needed anyone to do so, as Garlan had found out to his cost, but still he was now
about to find out the answer to the question he'd pondered on.

"Torgho Nudho has been with my nephew from when they were both young boys. Almost as
much as Aurane is Aemon's brother by choice, so it's true of him." Daenerys said as she saw
how keenly he looked at the man.
"We've seen men who wield spears many times, but he does so differently." he said as the
spar began.
"An Unsullied's spear is all he knows and trusts. It and the short sword and they have no
match with either." Daenerys said assuredly.
"You watch the spars often, princess?" he asked and saw her smile, his breath almost taken
away again as she then nodded.
"I long to see a joust, a true one." she said almost dreamily and he found himself longing for
one too, almost as much as he longed to name her his queen of love and beauty.
"Mayhap you could visit Highgarden, Princess, I'm sure we could arrange a true tourney for
you there."

"I'd like that Ser Garlan, I'd like that very much." the princess said and Garlan found himself
looking more to her than the spar that was taking place.

Torgho Nudho took the day and he heard some excited voices as Gwayne stepped forward to
face off against Aemon. Daenerys drew his attention to the balcony overhead where
Margaery and Queen Rhaenys were now stood, the Bold and Ser Arthur behind them.
Looking to the two men who were getting ready for the spar, he could see both men not only
wore identical expressions but were focusing on anything but the spar itself. Aemon and
Gwayne both looking to their respective wives and it was only when they received the nods
from them that the spar began.

Whether it was his wife's presence or that he was simply so far ahead of Gwayne in terms of
skill, Aemon it seemed had decided to put on a show. Something that did not go down well
with his goodbrother. There was more than one time that he feared that Gwayne was about to
do something dishonorable and beside him, he could feel the princess's nervousness. Yet it
was as he was watching it that he noticed that Aemon was deliberately trying to provoke
Gwayne and that he was leaving small openings in case that provocation worked. It made
him wonder what would happen should his goodbrother decide to take one of them and what
that would mean for the negotiations that were taking place.

So when the fight ended and Gwayne shook Aemon's hand, when Aemon spoke to Gwayne
and both men seemed to be in good spirits, Garlan felt able to relax. He was not able to do so
for long as the voice of Randyll Tarly rang out across the yard and the words he spoke
angered Aemon, his men, and the princess beside him. Up on the balcony both Margaery and
Queen Rhaenys looked on and Garlan swore he could hear the sound of a dragon roaring
somewhere out in the distance.

"Speak of my wife in such a way again, Lord Tarly and they'll be the last words anyone ever
hears you utter. I care not what your Septons and Septa's think and have no issue in sending
you to meet your gods, so be forewarned and know I only do so once." Aemon said loudly,
his voice ringing around the now silent yard.
"You've been warned once, Randyll, it's not only their grace's pleasure you've incurred but
mine as well, see that you don't incur my wrath too." Gwayne said, his goodbrother was now
as angry as Garlan had ever seen him.

As he and the rest of those in the yard looked on, Dickon moved to his father and both men
glared first at Margaery and Queen Rhaenys and then at Gwayne and King Aemon, before
turning and walking from the yard and allowing him and others to breath sighs of relief.

Garlan looked to see the way Aemon looked at his retreating form and found himself almost
sure that this would not be the end of it between them both. Randyll's naming of his wife and
himself as abominations to the faith was not something the Dragonknight would let pass for
long.

Were it not for having accepted Guest Right, then he had no doubt that Randyll Tarly would
right now be spilling what's left of his lifeblood on the ground and that his son would soon
join him. As it was, that had at least been avoided for now. Though he felt Randyll's fate was
mayhap only postponed and not completely diverted. Still, he and the others relaxed as
Aemon and Gwayne japed about something or other, his goodbrother seeming to be able to
get the other man to forget about what had just occurred for now at least.

After some more sparring and then looking on as Aemon, Rhaenys, Margaery, and Gwayne
along with their guards walked off together, his grandmother torn between looking at their
retreating forms and bidding him join her, he was indeed called to his grandmother's side and
so he said his goodbyes reluctantly to the princess.

"It seems I must depart, for now, my princess, If I may be so bold as to ask for a dance later?"
he asked, and the way she looked at him and seemed to ponder it brought a smile to his face.
"I shall consider it, Ser Garlan, hmmm, yes, I shall consider it most keenly." Daenerys said as
he kissed her hand and moved to where his grandmother and Willas had walked off to,
thoughts of speaking about Randyll Tarly, not the ones he walked away with as his eyes were
drawn again and again to the princess he'd left behind.

Tumbleton 300 AC.
Olenna.

She had created an issue with Randyll Tarly and it was one she now worried about. Not the
man himself or even how much trouble he could cause, as for her and her family that was
always something she'd had to consider. More it was whether or not he'd gone too far or was
about to. His using of the Faith to call out the King and Queen was not something she'd
expected or considered and now she found she had to do the latter more and more.

The alliance with the Targaryens was set and not even Randyll Tarly's death or the extinction
of his house, something that the fool was in danger of bringing about, could change that.
Should the Faith think as he did, should they decide to make it an issue that the Reach and its

king and queen had knelt to heathens who were an abomination as Tarly had named them,
that could cause problems. Their Bannermen would accept the need to kneel and to give up
the crown that had been held for centuries. They could and would accept that the Reach could
not stand against the dragons and that the time had come where they could no longer be a
kingdom once more. Could they accept it if the Faith decided to name those they knelt to as
Randyll had named them? That she couldn't be certain of.

"How do you think he truly took it?" she asked Garlan as he and Willas sat with her in her
rooms.
"Badly grandmother. Given what we already knew about King Aemon and how he felt about
his wife and just even seeing how they are together, it's clear just how truly he does love her.
To me he seems a man who doesn't' accept insults easily when they're directed at him, direct
them to his wife and…."
"Tarly is a fool." she declared to no argument "Do you believe he'll attack him or Horn Hill?"
she asked looking to Willas who shook his head.
"No. I think he'd consider it, grandmother. As he may attacking Tarly and his men when they
depart, but I think as long as Randyll speaks no more while here, then he's safe enough for
now."
"For now?" she asked curiously.
"Randyll Tarly signed his death warrant today, grandmother, of that I've no doubt. When and
how that death comes about, I know not, but it will come." Willas said and she found she
couldn't disagree.
"The Faith, Willas, who have we close to the High Septon?" she asked as Garlan poured her a
glass of wine when she looked to the bottle.
"I'll speak to grandfather and find who is best for us to deal with."
"You think they'll take issue with what Randyll said?" Garlan asked.
"They may. Most won't dare speak the words but don't think they've not thought them. A
brother and sister being wed is not something that we in Westeros have ever considered and
so the Targaryens very presence in Westeros would be enough for some to seek guidance
from the Faith regarding them. Now that they've taken five of the Seven Kingdoms including
the home of the Faith for themselves, mayhap only even more so."

After her grandsons had left, she waited for Margaery to come and speak to her and had to do
so for some time. When she did enter the room she seemed to be in good spirits and yet a
little put out too. Olenna found that she had wished to go and bathe and make ready for the
night's feast and swearing of fealties and had not expected to be called to speak to her so

suddenly. Given what had happened with Randyll, she really should have and it annoyed her
a little that Margaery hadn't considered this.

"Their mood?" she asked even before Margaery could take her seat.
"Gods grandmother, at least bid me hello." Margaery said annoyedly as she took her seat.
"Forgive me, child, my mind is troubled and seeks comfort." she said and Margaery reached
out her hand to touch her own.
"King Aemon is a hard man to read at times, grandmother. He was most pleasant and he and
Gwayne seemed to get along well with each other and he dotes on his wife completely. But
there was something in his eyes every so often, he'd look to the sky and at times Rhaenys
would touch his hand or his shoulder and the smile would soon be back on his face."
"So he did take it badly." she said almost to herself.
"He did." Margaery said almost wistfully.
"You like them, both of them?" she asked.
"As does Gwayne, though he so wished not to. Seeing Aemon spar and facing him and being
beaten so soundly, seeing how his interest is only in his wife and does not stray elsewhere."
Margaery said smiling softly "It changed how he looks at them and knowing he'll be
considered the same as Eddard Stark or Denys Arryn and above Stannis Baratheon and
others, that helps greatly too."
"You told him?" she asked to another nod "Very well, go and make ready for the night ahead,
I've much to consider."
"You are happy, grandmother? With the arrangement?"
"As happy as I can be, yes." she said truthfully.

The feast and the swearing of the fealties went off without a hitch. Even Randyll Tarly swore
his oath and took a knee. She half expected Aemon Targaryen to make an example of the
man, to shame him somewhat, and yet he did not. There was an element of surprise when
after Gwayne and Margaery did the same, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys rose to walk to
them and spoke to them in such a friendly manner. Something that continued when they
named Gwayne as their Warden of the South and Lord Paramount of the Reach. Olenna felt it
was a show, that they saw them as slightly different than they may others or at least wished
that impression to be made.

She looked on as Garlan danced more than once with the princess and found herself lost in
thoughts of what such a union could bring them. Though looking to where Aemon and
Rhaenys were speaking animatedly to Margaery and Gwayne, it was a different union that
she soon found herself contemplating. Whoever proved themselves truest to the Targaryens
over the next few years would reap more of the benefits than any other and those closest to
them would be the ones in the strongest of positions. If not a current princess then perhaps a
future one or a future prince. Her granddaughter and goodgrandson were of a similar age and
would if the gods were good, soon be starting a family. Yes, that was where the greatest
opportunity of all lay, Olenna smiling as she watched Margaery and Rhaenys giggle like
young girls and Aemon and Gwayne speak as if they were true friends.

"Growing Strong." she said under her breath as she looked out to Randyll Tarly who was
glaring at the High Table and doing very much the opposite.

The Conquest of Westeros XLI
The Battle of Ibben 292 AC.

At the age of two and ten, the Dragonknight fought in his first true battle. A skirmish that had
been intended to be a trap and that would have led to the deaths of the men of the Second
Army and would have, were it not for the Blood Wyrm and the Dragonknight. Had the rebels
known what they had unleashed upon themselves, then they'd have stayed their hand, but they
believed they were dealing with men and that the dragons were far away.

Had Prince Aemon not been so keen to join up with the Second Army then he and the Blood
Wyrm would have arrived too late, but as it was fate it seemed had something else in mind,
and on that day in 292 AC, both he and his dragon would announce their arrival to the
world. On the hills outside of Ibben, the skirmish began in the morning, the commander of
the Second Army, Belithor Valegrys ordering his cavalry to chase down the skirmishers on
almost sealing his and their fates.

What had supposed to be a force of no more than one or two thousand strong and with few if
any horses, was soon revealed to be a much larger army, and the men of the second found
themselves outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Then from the sky came the roar and the Blood
Wyrm flew overhead, the flames it laid down first to protect the men of the second and then to
do anything but to the men who faced them. Wave upon wave of fiery death was visited upon
the rebels that day and by the time Dragonknight was done, so was the rebellion.

In the years that followed there were many more Battles but none were as devastating to the
enemies of the Empire as the first fought that day. There were those who named the
Dragonknight the Butcher of Ibben and who said he went too far and amongst men of the
Empire there were those who sought him punished for his actions. The men of the Second
Army did not, the High Emperor did not and as for the Dragonknight, he never looked back
upon it with any regrets.

"My men, Marwyn, they were my men and my first duty is to them."

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Aemon.

How he held his sword he knew not, the anger he felt almost demanding him to end the man
where he stood. Not even the fact he'd accepted Guest Right and what it meant to those in
Westeros would have been enough to stop him from ending the fool and any who came to his
aid and yet he'd answered in word and not deed. He'd looked up to the balcony and saw how
she was looking back down at him, how her eyes implored him not to do what he wished and
it had made the fire that begged to be let loose, retreat for now.

That Gwayne had spoken just as angrily as he had, helped somewhat. As did the walk that
Rhaenys insisted they took with the former king and queen. Aemon actually found that he
quite enjoyed their company and it allowed him to almost forget what Randyll Tarly had said
about his wife, almost. The true forgetting had come a little later when they'd returned to their
rooms and Rhaenys hadn't even given him a chance to bring up the man's words. His wife
instead pushed him to the bed and made her feelings clear and just like always, he could
refuse her nothing.

They'd spoken briefly about Tarly and how the Faith of the Seven was truly based in the
Reach, Aemon barely listening as Rhaenys said they needed to move carefully when dealing
with them. On this, he'd not agree, nor listen. He'd dealt with those fools while growing up
and had listened to their poisoned words when they spoke of him and how he felt about his
sister. His father may have allowed them to speak in such a way in the Grand Palace and in
the Empire, they'd not do so in his kingdom, not without facing retribution for such.

The swearing of the oaths had gone well, even the fool had knelt and spoken words that
Aemon was certain he'd not live up to. He could wait a little longer for Tarly to truly sign his
own death warrant, he would give him time and space to do so, and once he had, then he'd
face a Dragonknight's wrath. So he enjoyed the night as best he could. Something again made
easier by his wife and surprisingly by Gwayne and Margaery too. Be it that they were of an
age with him and Rhaenys and so saw things similarly or just that his wife sought a friend in
this place and Aemon while not seeking likewise, would do all he could to see she found one,
Margaery and Gwayne were treated differently than others had been so far.

Saying their goodbyes the next day was something that he noticed Rhaenys had some trouble
with. The invitation to Highgarden from Margaery was quickly matched by Rhaenys inviting
them both to Harrenhal too. When words were spoken of tourney's he could see how Dany
brightened up and how her eyes looked to Ser Garlan Tyrell, his aunt somewhat enamored
with the handsome older man. It was a match that could never be though. His father would
never agree to it and while he'd go against him for himself, he'd not do so for his aunt. Was
that the only reason it would be enough, but there were other more practical reasons too,
reasons that were now landing just a little ahead of them.

"I believe we'll organize a tourney in Harrenhal quite soon, Gwayne." he said to surprised
looks from Rhaenys and especially Dany.
"You will, your grace?" Gwayne asked.
"I believe so. It would allow those who've sworn to us to come together and Harrenhal is
large enough to accommodate representatives from all the kingdoms, easier to travel to for
most of them as well."
"It would be, your grace. I look forward to receiving word of when." Gwayne said as they
said their goodbyes.

He watched as his wife's cheek was kissed by Gwayne and then moved to do the same to
Margaery, again a liberty that he believed Rhaenys would allow few to enjoy and one which
he knew was yet another message being sent by his wife. Then he, Rhaenys, and Dany, along
with Arthur, Torgho Nudho, Barristan, and Aurane made their way to the dragons and were
soon in the sky. Gaelithox, Meraxes, and Nightwing were eager for their company and to be
flying with their riders too.

Daario would lead their army back and Lord Denys and the Knights of the Vale who'd joined
them would be free to travel back to their own lands. The conquest was not yet complete but

he had other things on his mind rather than the Westerlands and Dorne and it was thoughts of
the North that he found himself thinking on as they flew over the Riverlands. They'd taken
five of the Seven Kingdoms for their own, soon they'd be receiving taxes and would truly
begin the work of integrating them into one true kingdom. For now, he wished to look North
and to see the lands of his mother, to walk in the keep where she was born, and to see the
Godswood and Weirwood she'd spoken of when she'd put him to bed at night.

As they landed in Harrnehal he saw Thoros waiting for them with Marwyn and both men
were not looking best pleased, though they were happy to see them all the same. He didn't
wait until they got to the keep, a look to Rhaenys to allow her and Dany to walk on ahead of
them with Arthur and Barristan while he, Torgho Nudho, and Aurane stayed behind. He
offered his wife a comforting smile and could see just how keen Dany was to explore the
place they'd be calling their home from now on and once they were out of sight, he turned to
Thoros and Marwyn.

"Things went well, my prince?" Thoros asked.
"The Reach has knelt and its king is now our Warden of the South and will be its Lord
Paramount. I take it that things here have not gone so smoothly?"
"Here they have, my prince. However, we've received word from The West which does not
bode as well."
"What word?" he asked and listened as Thoros and Marwyn explained all they'd found out
while he and Rhaenys were adding another kingdom to their growing domain.

Entering his and Rhaenys's chambers it was clear she'd been crying and she had done so
alone and without him. Aemon walked quietly to her as she looked out the window. He'd told
her the news and she'd asked to be left alone and for once he'd gone against his instincts and
allowed her to be. Now as he wrapped his arms around her, he cursed himself for doing so.

"I never thought." she said as she stifled a sob.
"Some men are fools, Rhae. Your uncle it seems is one of them."
"I'd hoped…"
"As had I with the North, but there was always going to be a fight coming and I'd have
wagered it was the Lions who would bring that fight."
"I care not about the lions, Aemon." Rhaenys said angrily.

"I know my love." he said softly, kissing her forehead.
"I don't wish to go to war with my mother's family." she said her voice soft and almost
broken.

He held her and said nothing, the words she'd spoken had been words he himself had uttered
only a few moons earlier. The idea of fighting against kin, even kin you really didn't know,
was not one that had brought him any great comfort. So he could understand Rhaenys taking
it even worse than he had taken his grandfather's responses to his plans. As he held her, a part
of him almost considered not fighting against Dorne. He thought to allow them and the West
to keep their kingdoms, five was enough was it not? But it was a fleeting thought and not one
he could ever truly consider.

Both kingdoms would need to be brought into the fold and if it took a war to do so, then so be
it. For now, he had a wife to comfort and so the war to come would be fought on his terms
and not on anyone else's.

"We should make our arrangements to travel North, it would give your uncle time to come to
his senses. A final warning before we do what we must." he said and though he knew the
time had long since passed for warnings and that it would have no effect, he welcomed the
hopeful look she gave him.
"You think he'd listen?" Rhaenys asked.
"I think it would show we tried, my love." he said and she nodded.
"And going North, we can risk it?" she asked worriedly.
"Us, a small party, and the dragons. We can risk it. If the need arises and we must act quickly
then Gaelithox and I can do what must be done."
"I don't…"
"I know." he said kissing her softly, though what she wished for was not something he could
promise not to occur.

Rhaenys may not want to see her mother's family meet their ends or Dorne burn, but war was
war, and the only way to win it was to do what the other side could or would not. After all, a
man's true delight is to do the things he was made for and he was made for war.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next Aemon, Rhaenys, and Dany head North. Daario is sent on a mission and in
Essos Rhaegar and Elia worry about Dany and rumblings are heard about the rise of a
Khal of Khals. Tywin and the Lannister arrive in Dorne and Ser Gerold Dayne is sent on
a mission of his own.
A/N: A small note. I know some people may think this is going too easy and yes it is,
that’s the point somewhat, setbacks are coming, problems are coming. But unlike the
Conquest where Aegon and his sister-wives were minor lords and so faced more
pushback, Aemon is a Prince of the Empire.
Those smart enough know that even beating him may not be the end of their issues, that
were they to kill a dragon or two, they’d perhaps face the full might of the Empire,
hence why Tywin is making the moves he’s making.
Personalities too are different and so we have Olenna running the Reach in all but name
rather than a true Gardener king and so she’s smarter than Harlan Tyrell was and he was
smart enough to kneel to the Dragons anyway. Aemon will have obstacles to overcome,
enemies that will cause him issues and setbacks, but they need to be set up so they’re not
forced which I hope people understand and accept.

Go North and Prosper.
Chapter Summary

Aemon, Rhaenys, and Dany head North. Daario is sent on a mission and in Essos
Rhaegar and Elia worry about Dany and rumblings are heard about the rise of a Khal of
Khals. Tywin and the Lannisters arrive in Dorne and Ser Gerold Dayne is sent on a
mission of his own.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harrenhal 300 AC.
Rhaenys.

She put aside her worries about what her uncles' actions truly meant and instead tried to
concentrate on the journey that they had in front of them. While they'd be flying to Winterfell
and the North, they'd not be doing so alone and all in all, there would be close to a hundred
people in their party. Some had already set out and would meet them at the great keep itself,
the ravens having been sent so that Aemon's family knew they were coming and that those
who traveled through their lands were friends and not enemies.

Rhaenys had listened to those who knew the North better than she and had arranged for
warmer clothing to be made, yet she was bringing much of her own clothing too. Apparently,
the keep itself was kept warm by hot water that was piped through the walls and Aemon had
told her that once inside she'd feel as if she was back in Volantis. Apparently even outside
this was something she was to soon feel too as the glass gardens were as warm as a summer's
day according to her husband. Aemon may not have set foot in the North other than at Moat
Cailin, but he'd grown up with the stories his mother had told him and she had no doubt he
spoke true.

Other than her husband, it was Dany who was most excited by the journey they were to
undertake. Thoughts of seeing a land she'd only heard about when Lyanna had spoken to
them as children or on the odd occasion that Rhaegar was in a mood to speak on it was
enough to fuel that excitement, especially when added to the fact that Dany was the least
traveled of all of them. Her aunt had been the most protected of them, the most sheltered, and
was enjoying the freedom and adventure she'd found since arriving in Westeros. Something

that Rhaenys was about to find out even more as Dany came into the room and frowned at the
fact that she'd not finished packing yet.

"How does it take you so long?" Dany asked as she sat down on her and Aemon's bed.
"Because sweet aunt, unlike you I pack correctly." she replied as she neatly folded another
dress and placed it in the trunk.
"As does Aemon and yet he's packed already." Dany said with a chuckle.
"He's even more used to packing than me and do you doubt his clothing is even more neatly
folded than mine own?"
"Never." Dany said with a giggle.

Rhaenys continued packing while Dany helped or hindered or simply passed time. When she
was done and told her so, her aunt's excitement only grew and she grabbed her arm to lead
her to the breaking of their fasts. They spoke of inconsequential things as they walked.
Rhaenys asked about Dany's impressions of the Reach men and finding out that she'd liked
them and one in particular. Dany's words on Ser Garlan were ones that she took note of and
though she had no wish to, Rhaenys spoke the words anyway.

"You know it can never be." she said softly and Dany nodded.
"I know, Rhae, Rhaegar would never agree to it, and as for Aemon…."
"Aemon would do as you wished, Dany, he'd fight for you were you to but ask it of him. But
not for that." she said and Dany looked at her and smiled, her aunt not as put out as she feared
she may be.
"It's fun to have them look at me though." Dany said and Rhaenys pretended to be shocked,
the two of them laughing fully by the time they reached the room they took their meals in.

Harrenhal had many such rooms. There was a large room with more hearths than she could
count that could hold more than two thousand men and smaller ones that could hold up to a
hundred or more. The one they ate in this morning was one of these and as they walked into
the room it was to see it half empty. Aemon had sent most of his army back to their keeps, his
words leaving them in no doubt that should they be called upon, then their return was to be
with haste. What his plans were for the West and Dorne she knew not as of yet, though she
knew he had some.

Daario had been sent off to who knows where with his Second Sons and while Thoros and
their men would hold Harrenhal, they too would have parts to play soon enough. As would
Torgho Nudho and Aurane and their men too. For now, it seemed they were at peace, or in a
shadow war of sorts and she well-remembered something their granduncle would say.

"The Empire is like a still lake and though that may be comforting it's very much not. For
beneath the waters, things move and eventually reach the surface and the not knowing of
when that's to occur is the most dangerous time of all."

Aemon she knew was always prepared for that rise and he too was like the still lake that his
namesake would speak of. While to any who looked at him they may think her husband at
peace, he rarely was and it had served the Empire well that he was not. She had no doubt it
would serve their own kingdom just as well and as they took their seats, she saw Aemon,
Torgho Nudho, Arthur, Aurane, Thoros, and Ser Barristan walk into the room.

The look he gave her was an odd one and when he took his seat beside her, she turned and
whispered in his ear and asked if anything was wrong. Though it was that she'd sent Arthur
from her door to get some rest and had promised him that she'd not be leaving the room that
was what concerned her husband. Something she knew would begin an argument between
them was she not to say that she had no intention of doing so until Dany had arrived.

"You can't do this when in the North, Rhae, you or Dany. Arthur and Ser Barristan are to
guard you both at all times, along with some of Torgho Nudho's men." Aemon said softly so
that only she could hear.
"You fear us in danger from your kin?" she asked to a shake of his head.
"I'd not believe so, but I'll not risk it either, So I'll have your word on this." Aemon said
firmly, his voice a little louder and she looked to Dany and shook her head to let her know all
was well.
"You have it, Aems." she said before kissing his cheek.
"You too Dany. You go nowhere without Ser Barristan, you understand?"
"And you?" Dany asked cheekily, Rhaenys hiding her smirk.
"I walk with the prince." Torgho Nudho said after a nod from Aemon, his words spoken so
seriously that did she not know the man as well as she did, she'd not have seen how full of
humor he was.

"Then I accept, my king." Dany said rising to her feet and giving Aemon a curtsy, shrieking
loudly when Aemon rose to his own and grabbed her before lifting her in the air.
"Be very careful Aunt, for you not too big for tickles." Aemon said winking at her over
Dany's shoulder.

The meal they had was full of such moments and it showed just how good a mood her
husband was in. Be it that he cared not about events in Dorne or that he was simply eager to
be on his way to the home of his mother, it mattered not. After they'd eaten, she learned that
Aurane was not to travel with them and that he'd be heading to Driftmark and then on to
scout the lands that were to be the site of the new city that Aemon intended to see built. The
future seat of House Velaryon of Westeros was to be as grand as Volantis in time and she'd
asked Aemon why he wished it to be Aurane and not they who ruled from there.

"Commercially and logistically it will be the center of our kingdom, and while I'm good with
both, Aurane is better than me in this regard. Militarily this is the most important place in
Westeros. We're right in the center of things here. The Vale is to our east and the Reach to our
south, we have the North behind us and easy to be called to us should the need arise. In time
the West too will be easy to bring to us. Were that not all, then this keep is as safe for us as
the Grand Palace has always been. Even without dragons, I could hold this keep against any
foe, with them, from here we can take down any who dare to threaten our rule. So let it be
Aurane and his future sons and daughters who rule over the new city, it'll be yours and mine
who rule over all."

As they climbed up on the dragons and headed North, she wondered when the time would
come for a son or daughter of theirs to be born and hoped when it did that it would be only
peace that they knew.

The conquest of Westeros XLII
Princess Nymeria and the Flight of the Rhoynar.

The Rhoynar were ever a prideful people and as the old adage goes, pride comes before a
fall. Never was this more true than when Prince Garin united the Rhoynar against the
Valyrian Freehold during the Second Spice War. Buoyed by an early victory and the death of
two dragons, Prince Garin believed himself invincible and in control and refused to listen to
those who counseled that pulling on the dragon's tail was a sure way to bring about their
end.

While the truth of those words was soon proved true and Chroyane and the Rhoynar all met
their doom at the hands of the dragon, Princess Nymeria had led her ten thousand ships and
had found a new land for the Rhoynar to settle. Yet some lessons are forgotten and time once
passed can never be regained. Pride once again threatened the lives of the descendants of
Princess Nymeria and it was up to those descendants to remember her words and follow her
example.

While one spoke and epitomized all that the Princess herself had, another very much did not
and whether it was to be Chroyane's and Prince Garin's fate or Princess Nymeria's and her
ten thousand ships own, it was soon to be known. For make no mistake and mark my words,
the Freehold may be no more but the Dragonknight was just as deadly and just as dangerous
as the more ancient Dragonlords had been, and he too had his tail pulled upon.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dorne 300 AC.
Oberyn.

Watching ships with lion sails enter the bay was not something he was happy about. Nor was
being the welcoming party for said lions, but he did as he was told and thus far his arguments
with Doran about the wrongness of this had gotten him nowhere. While they'd been waiting
for Tywin Lannister and his brood to arrive so this godforsaken wedding could take place,
events to the north of them had taken a turn.

His niece and her husband now controlled five of the seven kingdoms and pretty much six of
the nine regions of Westeros. The Reach had joined with the Vale, Stormlands, and
Riverlands while the North too had knelt. It was the latter of these that gave Oberyn the most
pause and caused him the most anguish. Finding out that, unlike Doran and Dorne, the Starks
and the North had knelt for kin was something that only made their own position even more
untenable in his opinion. Yet not even his words to Doran on this matter had been heard. His
fool of a brother simply believed that their alliance with the Lannisters and the fact they were
kin to Rhaenys would in the end be enough to see Dorne retain its independence.

Oberyn was pretty certain it would not. If anything this alliance may very well be the
beginning of their end and should the dragons come for them, he wasn't certain he'd be here
to face them. Feeling Ellaria's hand in his, he put aside his feelings for now and looked to the
docks, watching as the ships finally reached them. They then had another hour or so to wait
for the Lannisters to actually disembark and he wondered if the Old Lion was pulling a power
play of sorts. Upon seeing them do so, he was sure of it, as he was that he liked these people
not. Their pale skin, blond hair, and green eyes seemed so very out of place to him amongst
the darker skin, hair, and eyes of his countrymen.

"Come we had best at least perform this mummery." he said to Ellaria who didn't hide her
smile as she, him, and their girls moved to form a line to welcome the Lannisters to Sunspear.

He gave them another look over as he did so. The Old Lion was exactly as he expected him
to be and the man who moved with him could only be his brother. Beside them an older more
stout woman and a weasel-faced man moved and then Oberyn saw the Lannister twins. Were
they wearing the same clothing then you'd not tell them apart, other than Jaime Lannister had
longer hair. Though they didn't move together, they did almost move in unison. Little
attention was being paid by either to their spouses by their side as both instead focussed on
their children.

Though he was loath to admit it, the girl who walked closest to Jaime Lannister and who he
assumed was his daughter was a beauty and he knew his nephew would be taken with her.
The girl next to Cersei Lannister could well have been her twin too as could the three boys,
two of which looked like warriors in training. Yet it was the third that he concentrated on and
he liked not what he saw. Oberyn knew cruel men when he looked upon them and this boy
was or would be if given the chance. Seeing how he looked at his daughters brought the
fatherly protector in him to the fore and he knew he'd be speaking to his girls before the day
was done.

"King Tywin, welcome to Sunspear." he said in as friendly a manner as he could.
"It is good to be welcomed, Prince Oberyn. May I introduce you to my son Prince Jaime and
his daughter the Princess Joanna." Tywin said proudly.
"My prince. My princess, it's a pleasure, truly." he said with a nod of his head to one and a
kiss on the hand to another "Mine own paramour, Ellaria Sand." he added a moment later
while introducing Ellaria and watching for the reactions which didn't disappoint, the disdain
they showed being yet another reason why he misliked them already.

Once the introductions were done, he led them to the waiting carriages and as Ellaria,
Nymeria, and Tyene all got in different ones with some of the Lannister women, he joined
Prince Jaime and the three boys on horseback along with Tywin and Kevan Lannister. The
ride to the Old Palace was spent speaking on general things, Oberyn not pressing Jaime too
much and speaking to the boys of spars, which two of them at least seemed interested in.
Once again it was the third boy that he found his attention on and after finding out that this
was Prince Joffrey, he found his first piece of enjoyment of the day. Were this the boy that
was to be tied to their house, then he'd have seen him dead before his wedding night and
ended the alliance in one stroke. So they were very lucky it was a girl that was being offered
up as that alone would stay his hand.

Later that night as he prepared for the feast, he pondered on what was needed to be done.
He'd sent the DarkStar north to meet with his niece and her husband. Oberyn was sure it
would lead to the man's death and he'd welcome it if it did so. He'd outstayed his welcome in
Volantis and had disturbed the princess and was lucky enough he'd left that place alive.
Knowing the man how he did and that Ser Arthur was with his niece, he'd be stunned if he
left Harrenhal alive. Were it not for this wedding then it may have been with the Darkstar that
he himself had traveled, as distasteful as that idea was. One last chance to try and bridge the
gap between his niece, her husband, and Dorne would be one that he'd welcome and one he
feared that this wedding would make impossible.

"Are you dallying, my love?" Ellaria asked from behind him, his love ready and looking as
beautiful as ever, while he was half-dressed.
"I find I've no desire to sup with lions." he said and Ellaria laughed as she moved and handed
him a shirt.
"We must do things we've no desire to do, my love, it makes those we do desire that much
more appealing."

With a nod, he finished dressing and made his way to the great hall. Doran's gout meant that
there would be no big entrances or announcements made and he liked that much better than
the thoughts of having to escort a lioness into the hall. His arm instead was linked with
Ellaria's as they entered and made their way to their seats. They would not be sitting at the
high table, though it was out of choice and not for any other reason. Oberyn had suggested to
Doran to have his sons and daughter sit there along with the Lannisters while he sat with
Ellaria, their girls, and her family at a lower table. One that was thankfully bereft of any men
or women of the West.

He listened as platitudes were given, his brother naming the Lannisters as their most
welcome of guests and soon to be joined to their house in marriage. Looking to Trystane he

could see that his nephew was more than pleased by his betrothed's looks and that the lady in
question was just as happy with his. The rest of the Lannisters were exactly as he imagined
them to be. Kevan was a man who tried to imitate his older more successful brother as best
he could, Genna a matriarch who was less used than she may have been. Cersei spent more
time looking to her twin than to her husband and yet Jaime seemed to pay his wife as much
attention as Oberyn did Ellaria.

Again it was the oldest of the boys he looked at as he tried to flirt with Arianne and found
little or no success. Every so often he'd get a look on his face that Oberyn knew all too well
and he wondered if he pushed him just a little would it be enough to derail this wedding. Or
would the boy himself do enough without needing to be pushed? Looking to his brother, he
felt that unless Joffrey Lannister actually attacked Arianne, then he'd not see anything put the
match at risk and he sighed. The path they were on was not a good one and the further they
walked it, the less likely it was one they could turn back from. The thoughts of fighting
against his niece were not ones that he welcomed, not ones that he felt he could see through,
and yet if he didn't lead their men, then who would? Try as he might to not think this way, he
couldn't let it go for the rest of the night, and even after he and Ellaria had exhausted
themselves in their bed once the feast was done, it was still to these thoughts that his mind
would turn to.

"Oberyn?" Ellaria asked when she woke to find him dressed and ready to leave the room.
"I must talk some sense into my brother, my love, I must try."
"Doran will not stop the wedding, Oberyn, you know your brother's mind on this." she said as
she sat up in the bed, the sheet falling to uncover her breasts.
"I know, but the wedding can still go ahead, the alliance cannot."
"You truly believe this will lead to war?" she asked worriedly.
"I believe my niece's husband is not yet done conquering, Ellaria, and now in mere men
alone, we're outmatched. We cannot beat the dragons and to fight them is folly."
"You would have us kneel?" she said shocked.
"To kin I would."

As he made from Doran's solar he knew they were truly lost, his brother not listening to his
explanation of the numbers and speaking of plans in the making that would win him a war
before it had truly begun. Oberyn had tried his best to make him understand that Harren
Hoare and Robert Baratheon both probably believed that too and had found out to their cost
how wrong they were. In the end, it had mattered not and so once this wedding was done, he,

Ellaria, and the girls would make their way to Harrenhal and do all they could to see Dorne
and House Martell survive what was to come.

Volantis 300 AC.
Aegon.

He looked over the reports and found them troublesome. Khal Bharbo's death had not been as
decisive a victory for the Empire as Aemon had believed it to be. His brother had taken many
lives including that of the Khal and now that he looked at the words in front of him, Aegon
wondered if he should have let the man live. A defeated and broken Khal who still held sway
was better than one who'd not yet tasted defeat and sought vengeance. Khal Drogo was being
talked about as being even more fierce than his father and the small Khalasar that his father
had given him to make his own name with, had now grown as large as Bharbo's own.

With the addition of the remnants of the Khalasar his brother had broken having now joined
up with them and with more and more seeking him out, he could in time have the largest
Khalasar they'd faced in their lifetimes. Were that not worrisome enough, they had no Aemon
to send to break him long before then, and without him, they lacked a true deterrent. For
that's what his brother had become over the years, a name to be thrown about to stop a war
before it took place and a leader of men to send once one did.

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, Aegon found himself wondering had Dany arrived in
Westeros yet. Had she met up with his brother and sister and had her travel been uneventful.
Were they all right now enjoying being together once more? He wished he could be there
with them or better yet that all of them were here with him now. His mother and father were
still unsure that it was to Westeros that Dany had gone or the reason for it if she had. He'd had
to talk his father out of climbing up on Arrax and heading out to find her and instead to allow
ships to sail and men to ride to do so. Word had gone out through the Empire to report sights
of Nightwing and of its rider and none as of yet had been reported. Yet Aegon knew his aunt
had gone to his brother and sister, his sister even more so than his brother as it was always
what she would do.

"Your father has called a meeting, Egg." Talisa said from behind him.
"He sends for me?" he asked and she nodded as he rose to his feet, the soft kiss he gave her
as he walked from the room one that was far too brief.

Ever since his father and mother had spoken to him about his wife, they'd become closer.
He'd actually listened to her concerns about slavery and found they mirrored those he'd heard
Aemon's mother speak to his father when he was but a boy. In time a man or woman would
find their shackles to be too much of a burden to carry and one they wished not to be tied to
anymore. They'd seek their freedom and those who kept them captive would be who they
focussed their ire upon. In Volantis alone they were outnumbered five to one and while they
had dragons and felt they treated their slaves well, slaves they still were.

As he nodded to his guards and they walked to his father's rooms, he pondered on this and
other things. Small little thoughts that soon took him down dark paths and worse case
scenarios soon began playing out in his mind. It would take a generation or more to change
the Empire from one built on slavery to one that was not. There would be many cities and
magisters who would need to be almost forced into doing so and he wasn't sure if he had the
strength of will to be the one who did so. He knew his father may have had that strength, but
if Lyanna couldn't get him to act, then no one could.

"My father sent for me." he said to the guard outside his father's chambers and with a nod he
was let inside.

The sight that greeted him was a pleasant one and yet one that saddened him a little too. His
father and mother, Viserys and Aemon, all his family barring the three who weren't in Essos.
His uncle looked as if he'd not slept for a few days and his granduncle seemed even older and
weaker than he'd been the last time they'd spoken. While his father too had dark circles under
his eyes and only his mother seemed to be herself.

"Have we gotten word? Is it about Dany?" he asked to shakes of heads.
"We've received no word, son. Your uncle has offered to take flight and head west, to see the
truth of whether or not that's where your aunt went." his father said.
"She's gone to Aemon and Rhaenys, father, you know this as well as I. Uncle, I swear to you
I know full well my aunt's mind. Something upset her and so she sought my sister out as she
would were Rhaenys here." he said and saw the small look his mother gave his father and the
guilty one on his father's face "Aemon will protect her as if he were any of us, father, he'll
make her welcome and then see her home." he added to a nod from his granduncle.
"Your brother is at war, Egg, a war that is no place for my sister to be a part of."
"Aemon would never. By the gods, he'd not even allow Rhaenys to take part in one, let alone
Dany." he said defending his brother.

"Yet he is at war regardless." his father said and Aegon nodded.

After some more back and forth, where they got Viserys to agree to give it until week's end,
and should they not have heard the news by then, he'd fly with him, his father asked him to
stay and the others left them alone.

"You are so positive that Dany is with Aemon and Rhaenys, why?" his father asked.
"You think I knew that's where she was going or that she was going at all?" he replied
angrily.
"No son. I wish to know your mind on this, truly."
"Forgive me father." he said to a nod of his father's head "When we would play together, as
we grew, it was always Rhaenys that Dany sought. You saw how they would fly together
almost as much as Rhaenys and Aemon did." he said seeing his father relax "I know my aunt,
father, and when she's sad, happy, scared or lonely, it's to Rhaenys she looks and so for
whatever reason she left, be it one or all of them, then it'll be to her that she goes."
"And how can we be sure she reached there unharmed?" his father asked, his worry clear.
"Because the dragons know, father. Were you to climb on Arrax or Dany on Nightwing, were
we to ask it of them, they'd take us to their kin, our kin." he said and his father seemed
somewhat in agreement with him, enough that he asked him about events in Vaes Dothraki
and the Great Grass Sea.
"A new Khal you say?"
"Drogo son of Bharbo."
"You think him a threat?" his father asked.
"I think he will be in the future, may even be one now, so yes."
"I'll task Varys to look into him some more."

It was three days later when the first of the letters arrived, his father not telling him the source
of it and only sharing the contents as he called them all to another meeting.

"Dany is with Aemon and Rhaenys, she arrived unharmed." his father said and Aegon looked
to see the weight that was lifted from Viserys' chest as if it was an actual thing.

"The war, nephew?" his granduncle Aemon asked before anyone else could and Aegon was
surprised to see the smile that appeared on his father's face, it was one he too wore a few
moments later.
"The North, Vale, Stormlands, Riverlands, and the Reach have knelt to their new king and
queen, Aemon and Rhaenys of the House Targaryen." his father said proudly.
"All of them so soon?" his mother asked stunned.
"They've not faced a Dragonknight before, mother." he said as proudly as his father.
"There are still battles to be waged no doubt, but they've taken the great keep of Harrenhal
for themselves. Lyanna spoke to me of it once and said it put Winterfell itself to shame in
terms of size and structure." his father's words putting him even more at ease.
"Does the letter say when my sister will return?" Viserys asked and Aegon looked to see his
father shake his head.
"No, it would not say such a thing, though I've no doubt this won't be the last letter we get,
brother mine." his father said looking and offering Viserys a comforting nod.

Once again he was proved right, Aemon, Rhaenys, and Dany all writing and the letters
arriving over the next few days. Knowing he was right about one thing, soon made him
fearful he was about another too and so it was no longer Westeros that he looked to with even
one eye, but to the Dothraki and Khal Drogo with both of them that he focussed on.

The Riverlands 300 AC.
Daario.

He'd sent the letters to Rhaegar regarding the conquest and how it had gone so far, only for
the princess' arrival to require him to send another. That she had done so while they were on
their way to Tumbleton did at least allow him to let the High Emperor know that his son had
gained yet another kingdom and had done so easily. They'd not even had a true battle yet and
already three kings had knelt. One who had been killed in a trial by combat and the other had
fallen to men who'd then knelt to Aemon.

If he was being honest with himself, he was disappointed. He'd expected far more from this
conquest and though he thought little of the Westerosi, he'd expected some sort of fight to be
put up. Not that it was one they would win or that would even truly trouble them, but at least
something to get his juices flowing. He missed it, the ebb and flow of battle, the thoughts that
one wrong move could be your last. To challenge yourself against a man who sought your

end and could bring it about, only to emerge victoriously was one of life's greatest thrills, and
serving Aemon Targaryen had let him know many such days.

Coming here, following the Dragonknight when he was exiled would have been something
he'd have done even had the High Emperor not asked him to. He had known that Aemon
wouldn't sit idle for long and that the urge to conquer and take these lands for himself would
soon be upon him. That it had taken as long as it had was a surprise and so Daario had begun
to reevaluate those they were facing just a little. It had made him wonder if the prince knew
more than he. No that wasn't exactly true, as when it came to battle no one knew more than
Aemon Targaryen, it was more he wondered if he knew more of these people than he. In the
end, it had not been wariness or concern for their opponents that had stayed Aemon's hand
and the quickness with which they'd conquered since then had only proved that even more.

So finding out that at least two kingdoms wished to actually challenge them and that a true
fight was to come, Daario had felt his excitement rise once more. To be then asked to go on a
mission and do some of the things he most enjoyed doing, only made that even more so. An
investigation, scouting and probing for weak spots, and a true mapping out of the lands.
Other than fighting, drinking, or fucking, this was what he longed for.

"Someone killed my grandfather, Daario, my uncle. Both of them were lured into traps and
ambushed and while one happened before the conquest had even begun, the other happened
during it. I need to know who pulled those strings, who gave the orders and I feel the answers
to this are to be found in the West." Aemon said as they sat in his solar.
"Why the West, my prince?"
"All the others have knelt, other than Dorne and I can't see the Martell's advantage in
seeking the killing of my kin. The Old Lion was making moves long before anyone other than
myself. He was the one who sent his son to seek an alliance and a man who does such a thing
before a battle is waged is a man who's planning a battle to come."
"But why kill your kin?" he asked not seeing the reasoning for such an action.
"One to weaken the North and one to weaken me. I believe had we not arrived then war was
coming to Westeros regardless. That it had remained peaceful for so long was actually
unusual and you and I both know the only two reasons why armies are at peace."
"Because they've beaten all their enemies or they're readying themselves for war." he said to
a nod of Aemon's head "You think our arrival hastened things?"
"I think so. My grandfather sought to carry out plans he'd spent years delaying, his allies
sought to finally commit to such plans. The North and Riverlands moved against Harren
Hoare with such haste that it suggests a campaign had long been agreed upon."

"And you believe the Old Lion took advantage of your grandfather's movements to take a
piece off the board?"
"My uncles were unknown quantities, men who'd not led men and so the loss of my
grandfather would have two effects. It would harm the North and weaken them and force
them to seek out those responsible, turning their eyes further from the man who may very well
have been."
"And your uncle?"
"To force the North and us to fight each other and to weaken us both. I believe the Old Lion
likes to play games, Daario, thinks himself a strategist and he's even made some of the same
moves as I would make. He reached out to the Storm King and had Robert Baratheon then we
acted how he expected then I feel we'd have had lions at our backs."
"A move maker." he chuckled.
"A player of the game." Aemon said looking to the Cyvasse set in the corner.
"What is it you wish of me, my prince?"
"Go to Wendish Town, find out as much as you can about the men who ambushed my uncle.
Look over the lands that my grandfather met his end on. The Frey's played their part and so
send some of the Second Sons to see what they can find out about their own motives and then
head West."
"You don't wish me to return once I've found out whatever I can?"
"I'll be going North and may be there for some time. Go West, find out all you can about the
men and their mettle. See what advantages can be found for our army should it need to
march, what obstacles they face and whether or not it's men, horses, or dragons or all that
would be needed to bring the lions to heel."
"And the lions themselves?"
"Busy organizing a wedding with people and a land that you'll be visiting soon enough,
Dorne, Daario, Dorne, and a Mummer's game."

So he'd sent Luceron and some others to find out all they could about the Freys and had made
his way to Wendish Town. Soon finding out that it was men dressed as their own who'd
brought down Brandon Stark. The leader of such men though was none that was in their party
and a man who should be relatively easy enough to find. After all how many men could there
be in Westeros who were almost eight feet tall?

The mummery that had been performed there was a poor one and not one that would fool any
who were practiced in such things. Yet his prince's words rang through and he could see how

if things had been different then they and the North would have been forced to face each
other. Aemon would never accept being named a Kinslayer and while the Starks had barely
treated him as kin, he'd see them that way. To name him such would lead to a fight that the
North was ill-equipped for and one they would lose and was he a man seeking an advantage
against his enemies, it would be one he'd have tried to provoke as well.

After finding out all he could, it was to the lands where Rickard Stark had met his end that he
moved to next. Daario soon found that some effort had been made to cover up where exactly
those lands were. It took him some time to truly find them and once he had, he then set his
men to work. Unlike any other who'd sought answers in this place, his men were more
thorough and knew better what signs to look for. It didn't take them too long to find
something, and what it was proved that Wendish Town was not the only place a mummery
had been performed in.

"Find anything?" he asked as Jaedor walked towards him.
"Some burned clothing and this."
"Which is?" he asked looking at the piece of wood in Jaedor's hands.
"A piece of a shield. Look at the markings, that's a boar, I'd stake my life on it."
"Valarr, you have the book?" he called out.
"Which one?"
"The houses of Westeros, look to the West and tell me does any use a boar in their sigils?" he
asked as he looked more closely at the wood and saw it more clearly.
"House Crakehall, Commander."

He smirked as he handed the broken shield back to Jaedor and then he ordered the men to
mount up. His prince had been right and it was just as well they were already to be headed
west as were they not then he'd have changed their orders himself. It had been the lions that
had decided to cull some wolves and it was in the West that he was sure he'd find a man over
eight feet tall. They had many miles to cover and much work to be done, but the battle he
sought and longed for was growing ever closer he was sure.

Winterfell 301 AC.
Robb Stark.

He'd done his best with the news of his uncle's death and had led his house while his
Goodaunt grieved. Thoughts of vengeance and justice for both his uncle and grandfather
were never far from his mind as he did so. So when word had come that his father and the
Northern Army marched back to Winterfell, that they'd passed Moat Cailin and were soon to
arrive, Robb had welcomed it and looked forward to hearing the tales spoken of those who'd
dared strike at the wolves. What he got instead was something he had never expected and he
and his father spoke angry words that day.

They marched back not as returning heroes but as a vanquished force, a force that had lost a
war that was never truly fought and the right to name themselves as kings. For eight thousand
years the Starks had ruled as King's in the North, in less than one of those years all had come
to an end. Two kings had been murdered and remained un-avenged, the third had become the
first Stark king to kneel and even if he had knelt to a man who was their kin, it still left a
bitter taste in Robb's and other people's mouths.

Not even word of how easily his cousin had taken the Vale and the Stormlands or how he'd
taken Harrenhal in less than a day and night had been enough to stop Robb's harsh words for
his father. They'd been spoken more than once and he'd been named a green boy who knew
nothing about war and the world, more times in the last few weeks than he had in his life. His
mother had taken a different approach and had said that in truth there was no real difference
between a crown on his head and being the future Warden of the North. That other than
they'd need to abide by the laws of the new king and come when bid, nothing really had
changed. Yet as he'd pointed out to her, never before had they to do either and while being
named Warden seemed all well and good, in essence, they were little more than Bannermen
to a king.

"You did not see the forces your cousin assembled, Robb. Nor see a dragon for true. Ask the
Knights of the Vale if they felt it shameful to kneel after the Bloody Gate was destroyed? Or
the Stormlands after their king and their six best warriors were defeated with ease by the
Dragonknight and his own?" his mother said looking at him.
"And what of uncle Brandon and Grandfather? Are their deaths to have been for naught?" he
asked angrily.
"Is the new king not their kin as well, Robb? Do you believe that he'll not seek out justice for
the loss of an uncle or grandfather too?"
"He knew them not mother, so why would he care?"
"Because blood is blood, Robb, let no one tell you any different."

He sought solace with Cregan and the other young men who'd not marched south. In drink
too and had spent more than one night having to be carried to his bed after he and his friends
had named their father's as craven and cowards, or come as close to it as any of them were
like to do. His mornings would be spent with a sore head and no appetite and he'd ignore his
father's disappointed looks in his direction. Or he did until his father could hold his tongue
could no longer.

"You boy, with me." his father said and Robb barely heard his mother's protest "NOW!" his
father said a little more loudly.

Rising to his feet, he followed after his father and felt his head ache and his stomach threaten
to turn. Where he was to be brought to he knew not, but he followed regardless. Finding out
it was the sparring yard was a surprise as he'd not seen his father spar since he was a young
boy and when the blunted blade was thrown to him, it bounced off his chest and crashed to
the ground.

"Pick it up." his father ordered and despite his anger and annoyance with him, Robb had
never refused a command his father gave and this would not be the one either "Ready." his
father asked and he nodded, though he was anything but.

Less than a moment later he was on the ground and the embarrassment he felt made him rise
to his feet quickly. His stance was then one more suited to a spar and he intended to both
show his father that he was the better blade and to take some of his anger and frustration out
on him as well. It was not to be, as once again he was knocked to the ground and then again
and then a fourth time. Having learned his lesson, he didn't jump up this time, and instead it
was his father's hand that helped him from the ground.

"Follow." his father said after he'd put the swords away and Robb tried not to look at the
crowd they'd garnered.

He soon found himself in the crypts and was taken to where two spaces had been cleared out.
As they walked past the King's of Winter, he felt some of the anger he had buildup once more
and it was only seeing his father's face as he looked to the empty spaces that stopped him
from speaking up.

"Your grandfather and uncle's statues will go there. They will stand as the last true King's of
Winter, for I don't dare name myself in their company. Many years from now they'll name me
as the King who Knelt and forget the why of it, just as you seem to forget it now. A king's
responsibility is not to the crown he wears but to the people he serves. Their safety, their
security, and their comfort come before his own if he's to be a good king. Their wants and
needs are more important than a king's, else that king has proved himself unworthy of the
throne." his father said firmly.
"Father…"
"Both I and the Lords of the North swore a blood oath to see my brother and father's killers
face justice and were we not to live up to that oath, then there is no place with the Old Gods
for us when we ourselves meet our end. Do you think this is a thing we do lightly? A thing
we take as a suggestion and not a command?"
"No." he said.
"To bring that justice we must be alive, whole, and in a position to do so. Something we'd not
have been had we faced your cousin and yet that was not why I knelt. I knelt because, for the
first time in any Stark's life, an enemy that could not be held back by the Moat or the
fierceness of the Northmen had come to our shores. An enemy that the cold winds that blow
of a night and the deep snows would be no obstacle to. Was he to wish it, your cousin could
come and strike us right in the heart of the North. Winterfell couldn't hold him back, nor
could running and hiding in the Mountains. We couldn't starve him out, nor could we face
him in an open field, and was he to turn cruel as war oft leads men to be…."
"Father?"
"Farms, villages, keeps, how do you defend them against dragons, son? How do you defend
against something that can fly over your defenses and hit you from the rear? Something that
can burn you from your keeps and travel faster and further than you?"

He looked at his father and saw it for the first time, the pride that he'd thought he'd lacked
was still there and yet his father had knelt anyway. For the people, for the North, and for him
too, and Robb felt shamed by his words and actions since his father and the others had
returned. That he didn't know what to say was the only reason the silence went on for so long,
Robb eventually decided to then ask the one thing that this place made him think most on.

"Uncle Brandon and Grandfather?" he asked softly as he looked to the empty spaces.
"Will be buried once their statues are ready and with the honor they deserve."
"And their justice, father?"

"I'm not the only one who seeks it, Robb, for the man we named king is our kin too and soon
to be here."

For the next few days, he did his best to make up for his attitude and to set those who shared
it straight. He spent time with Lady Wynafryd and they spoke on their future and he found
himself keener for the match as they did so. When the raven came to tell them that the new
King of not just the North, but the Riverlands, Reach, Stormlands, and Vale, was on his way
to Winterfell, Robb looked forward to taking the measure of his cousin. He did not have to
wait long to do so and in that his father's words were proved even more true.

While a part of his cousin's party had passed through the Moat, it was not the one containing
his cousin nor his wife and it would not be by road that they'd be arriving at Winterfell. Nor
would it be when they were expecting as the reality of how quickly dragons could travel was
soon made apparent. As for the dragons themselves, never had he seen anything like them
when they flew over Winterfell and made themselves known. That there were three of them
seemed to surprise his father and uncle, yet it was the sheer size of the things that he found
himself concentrating on when they landed. That and the figures that climbed down off their
backs and made the way towards them. His cousin, the man who'd taken their crowns for his
own had finally arrived.

A history of the conquest of Westeros XLIII
Grumpkins, Snarks, and Magical Creatures.

In the known world, there were many strange and deadly animals. Sothoryos was full of
strange and oft perplexing creatures from Wyverns to bats that fed on blood to large apes that
could fell an elephant with one blow from their mighty fists. Tales were told of snakes that
were as large as some of the dragons themselves and few who traveled too deeply into the
lands themselves were ever heard from or seen again.

Basilisks, Fire Wyrms, Griffins, Harpies, Cockatrices, and many more magical and mystical
creatures were spoken of in Essos and some had been seen by more than one, and others were
merely spoken of in tale and script. Some were worshipped almost and others were much
sought after for their blood and venom and simply for their value. For the magisters and even
the dragons themselves were oft known to keep menageries full of the rarest of creatures.

Westeros had their own share of such magical beasts. Ice Spiders, Ice Dragons, Mammoths
and Shadowcats, Lizard Lions, and things that were even less spoken of such as Grumpkins
and Snarks which were used to name a thing as false and untrue, just as they were both
claimed to be. Some of these creatures were not as rare as others and Lizard Lions,
Shadowcats and Mammoths had been seen by enough learned and unlearned men to prove
them true. As had Direwolves too, though few had ever been studied or seen up close and
none were ever seen south of the Wall. Until they were and that it was the Dragonknight who
attracted the beasts to him was or should have been no great surprise, for magic knows
magic after all.

The Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Winterfell 301 AC.
Aemon.

He'd experienced some of the North when he'd flown Gaelithox to Moat Cailin and yet it was
truly very little and almost the South still. Flying over the lands further north than the Moat
was a much different experience and he was glad that he'd told those with him to wrap up
warm. They landed some distance from Winterfell, near some woods and a stream and he
could see how cold Rhaenys, Dany, and the others were when they climbed down off
Meraxes and Nightwing. While he'd felt it too, he'd welcomed it more than they, believing it
brought him closer to his mother mayhap being the reason for such.

They set up camp, though they'd no tents and it would be sleeping in the open, and fires were
soon lit so people could warm up and food could be prepared. The stew was most welcomed
and even his aunt who preferred far less hardy fare ate more than one bowl of it. There was a
quietness around the camp for some time that he put down to the coldness and it was only
when he suggested they'd sleep between the dragons that night that people began to relax.

"How can a place be so cold?" Dany asked while shaking, more a reflex than because she
was still feeling it.
"My mother always said that the North was a harsh land and bred sturdier people than any of
the other Kingdoms. No doubt Ser Arthur would say the same about Dorne." he said looking
to the knight who nodded.

"What of you Ser Barristan, does your home know weather such as this?" Rhaenys asked and
the Bold shook his head.
"No my queen. We know wind and rain, but other than in winter we know no snow and
certainly not like this."
"How can you take it, Torgho Nudho?" Dany asked and Aemon smirked knowing the answer
full well.
"I and the prince know such nights as this."

After they'd eaten and gotten somewhat warm by the fire, Aemon called the dragons and had
them form a ring around them. The heat from their bodies and the cover they offered soon
brought them all a comfort that none would expect to find in these cold and harsh lands. It
allowed for Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur to sleep too, though Torgho Nudho would only
sleep when ordered to and Aemon knew he'd be awake when he woke the next morning.

"Are you nervous?" Rhaenys asked as they snuggled up together under a blanket that was
more for modesty's sake than for a source of warmth.
"I am. Long have I wished to walk the halls of my mother's home. To see the places she
spoke so fondly on. The Godswood and the hot springs, the Wolfswood and the Barrows of
the First Men."
"Hot springs?" Rhaenys asked eagerly and he nodded which brought a smile to her face "And
the welcome?
"We'll find out on the morrow." he said as he kissed her softly and held her tightly against his
chest as she drifted off to sleep.

He woke early and it was to find both Arthur and Torgho Nudho up, along with Ser Barristan.
It was rare when any beat him to rise and to find all three had was a surprise. Rhaenys slept
peacefully as did Dany and as he moved to find a place to relieve himself, Gaelithox moved
his tail to give him a gap to walk through. It was not one he was allowed to walk through
alone as he heard the footsteps behind him and had no need to turn to know that Torgho
Nudho had followed.

As he was relieving himself, he felt the eyes on him and he was not alone in this. His sworn
shield's hackles were raised and yet his were not and so he bid Torgho Nudho relax and he
looked out to the trees. How he knew it was not men that looked their way, he couldn't tell,
only that he was certain that while they were being watched, it was nonhuman eyes that were
doing so. For some reason, he was certain too that those eyes were as intelligent as any man's

and more intelligent than most. How long he stood there and just looked to the trees, he knew
not, but eventually he felt the eyes were no longer upon him and then and only then did he
turn and walk back to the dragons and the others.

"No man." Torgho Nudho said and Aemon nodded.
"No man." he replied and for the rest of the morning, he tried to figure out just what it was
that had been staring at him so intently.

After breaking his fast and then waiting for Rhaenys and Dany to wake so they could break
their own, they then took flight once more. This time they'd not be landing until they reached
the keep and he felt his excitement rise the longer they were in the air. When it came into
view he was stunned. The large grey wall were imposing and though smaller than Harrenhal
it was no less impressive. More so when he considered that this keep had stood for thousands
of years while Harrenhal had stood only for a few hundred. They flew over the keep and did a
complete circle of it before then landing at the gate nearest the courtyard.

Then after they'd all dismounted, they sent the dragons on to feed and made their way in
through the large gates. Once again he felt eyes upon him and yet these were very much the
eyes of men and women, some children too looked their way as they entered without question
or obstacle. Soon enough they were in the courtyard and he looked on as his uncles stood
with his cousins and people he believed to be the same though he knew not for sure. Then
without a prompt from him, as one they knelt and didn't rise until he and Rhaenys reached
them.

"Winterfell and the North are yours, your grace." his uncle Ned said.
"Rise uncle, all of you." he said and as they did so, his eyes took in the keep.

This was where his mother had been born, where she'd spent the first years of her life. When
he was a boy she'd tell him tales of Winterfell and those who named it their home. She'd tell
him tales of the Starks and the Kings of Winter and as he looked around at where he stood, he
felt the moisture in his eyes, and the tears that needed to be fought back were noticed by
Rhaenys who moved to him and offered him her hand.

"Aems." she said softly and he nodded he was well before turning to his uncles.

"May I introduce my wife Queen Rhaenys and my aunt the Princess Daenerys Targaryen." he
said composing himself as the introductions then took place for true.

He met cousins that he had not up to then, Robb and Cregan who both looked at him
suspiciously, and cousins he had already met, he now met once again. Yet through it all his
eyes looked at the keep and the grounds and he longed to walk where his mother had, to see
the things she had seen, and to meet people who'd known her then. He'd make sure before he
left that he'd see all that she'd spoken to him about and that he'd pray in front of the giant
Weirwood that he'd dreamed about when she'd finished telling him about her home. As he
was led into the keep itself, he promised himself much and no matter how long it took, he'd
see it through before he left.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next Aemon spends time exploring Winterfell and gets to know his cousins better.
Aurane finds himself face to face with some troublesome lords and begins work on the
new city, Tyrion arrives in Sunspear and a wedding takes place while in Volantis a
prince falls and war moves ever closer.
For those following my other fics, Winter King and Purple Deception will update this
week, and probably Am I my brother's Keeper too.

Go North and Prosper Part 2.
Chapter Summary

Aemon spends time exploring Winterfell and gets to know his cousins better. Aurane
finds himself face to face with some troublesome lords and begins work on the new city,
Tyrion arrives in Sunspear and a wedding takes place while in Volantis a prince falls and
war moves ever closer.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Winterfell 301 AC.
Robb Stark.

His cousin was unmatched with a sword in hand. He, some of the other heirs, some of the
lords, and Aemon's own men challenged him and none came even close. Other than Ser
Arthur Dayne, he doubted there was any who could and the famed knight never once faced
Aemon in order for him to find out. At first, it put him out a little, made him feel lesser than,
which considering that his cousin was a Dragonrider and king of five kingdoms, he probably
was. Seeing others be so firmly and completely beaten allowed for those feelings to dissipate
a little.

As did hearing people mention the word "Dragonknight". Robb knew not what it meant to be
one, but it seemed that it was a rare thing even among the Targaryens. Aemon was one of
only seven in their history and though he knew little of the Targaryen Empire, even he'd
heard one or two of the names who'd come before him. Other than his prowess with a sword,
his cousin had a presence about him. An arrogance almost that both annoyed and intrigued
him at the same time. Robb knew he possessed a little of the same arrogance, his uncle
Brandon certainly had, Aemon though had it in spades. It should have made him dislike him
and yet he found he did not. Not even the knowledge that it was because of Aemon that he'd
no longer be a king had made him hate his cousin.

When it came to his cousin's wife and aunt, rarely had he seen two women as different in
appearance and yet still clearly kin, other than his own sisters that was. Rhaenys was darkhaired and tanned, her dark purple eyes were striking, though not as much as the violet ones
of Daenerys. Aemon's aunt had the silver hair and the soft features that his mother had named

to be Targaryen Traits. While Rhaenys, and Aemon himself, had taken much from their nonTargaryen mothers it seemed. Both women had clearly grown up in the court of the Targaryen
Empire and yet they were not silly fluttering ladies of the sort the North said the South was
full of. In a way, they reminded him of his mother, just at ease sitting at the high table or
walking in the courtyards of Winterfell. They'd made a true impression on Sansa too. His
sister sought their company out each and every day while Arya would seek Aemon out more
often than not.

Those who come with them were a strange bunch, to say the least. Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser
Barristan Selmy were members of the newly formed Kingsguard. Yet it was the man who
he'd found out was an Unsullied from Astapor that was Aemon's shadow. Torgho Nudho he'd
heard him named and had been glad it was Rickon and not he that had asked what the name
meant, "Grey Worm" was the reply and it was not one that any of them had expected. Nor
was the answer they got when they asked why he was named that and why he'd not chosen to
change it when given the option. The first of those being because of the Wise Masters of
Astapor, the second being something that had endeared the man to all who'd heard it.

"It was my name when Empress Lyanna freed me." Torgho Nudho had said to a proud smile
from not just his father but Aemon too.

Three days they'd been here and not once had he heard a complaint about the cold or had they
looked down at anything they were offered. If anything, it seemed that Aemon's own joy at
being in the home of his mother had rubbed off on his wife, aunt, and their men. Robb had
not been the only one who'd caught his cousin stare at some part of Winterfell, either inside
or out, with a look on his face that said he was taking it all in and searing it into his memory.
Never more so was this true than when he was shown to the Godswood and stood before the
Weirwood for the first time.

"I had not….my mother would tell me of it and I'd not dared to imagine just how…"
"Aems," Rhaenys said softly as she moved to take his arm in hers.
"It's beautiful, just as she said it would be. I…."

None of them had expected such an emotional response and when his father had asked
Aemon if he wished to pray, they'd been surprised when he refused. Though whatever words
his father spoke in Aemon's ear soon changed his mind and then he looked on as his cousin
knelt and offered a prayer to the Old Gods. Later when he asked his father what he'd said,
he'd been told that he had simply spoken about Aemon's mother. That he'd told Aemon that

she was with the Old Gods now and that if he wished to speak to her, this was the one place
where she'd be sure to listen.

It had changed things even more between the two sides of their family he believed. Aemon to
them felt more like kin now that he'd seen their way of life and had not seemed to think them
lesser because of it. He'd not looked down on their gods the way those in the South would,
and if anything he'd embraced them a little. Enough to pray in front of the Weirwood more
than once. Though mayhap he was simply taking the chance to speak to his mother as Robb's
father believed.

Today they were to ride in the Wolfswood. Aemon wished to visit the dragons and to explore
the lands around them while Robb found himself keen for a hunt of sorts. It would not be a
true one, not given who was riding with them, but he still hoped to catch a deer or an elk for
the table that night. After breaking his fast and dressing for the ride, he made his way to the
courtyard to find the preparations underway. His father wouldn't be joining them nor would
his uncle Benjen, but his cousin Torrhen would. As would both his sisters, Bran, Rickon, his
cousin Lyanna who Aemon had taken a shine to based on her name alone, and their guards.
Robb was sure there had never been such a riding party assembled in the history of the North
before.

"Can we touch the dragons, cousin?" Lyanna asked as she was helped up onto her horse by
Aemon himself.
"Touch, you should ask for us to fly on them, Lya." Arya said cheekily.
"Mayhap if you two behave yourself then I'll see how Gaelithox is feeling." Aemon said
before leaning in so he could whisper to them both, Robb close enough so he heard the words
"Though if you truly seek to fly then it's my wife and aunt you should make your requests
too, they'll find it much harder to deny you than Gaelithox and I." Aemon's smile and look to
the two women in question probably proving his words to be true.

Robb chuckled as he watched both girls move their horses closer to Rhaenys and Daenerys
and he looked back to see his cousin was wearing the exact same smile as he. Aemon was
jesting, but not truly, and he wondered if he'd get to see his sister and cousin on a dragon's
back before the day was done. They rode slowly, enjoying the warmth of the day and the feel
of a nice soft breeze. How long they'd been riding when it happened, he knew not, Aemon
suddenly was sitting still on his horse and the conversation they were having had just
stopped.

"My prince?" Torgho Nudho asked and Aemon hushed him with a look.
"Your grace?" Ser Arthur's voice was worried and yet once again Aemon bid him quiet.
"The horses need to be calmed, I'd ask us all to dismount," Aemon said after a few moments
of silence.
"Is there danger?" Torrhen asked reaching for his sword.
"Is it the dragons?" Bran asked worriedly.
"No, this is something else, something different and we're in no danger here," Aemon said as
he climbed down off his horse and moved to the front of their group.

He heard Rhaenys cry out only for Aemon to move his hand behind his back and motion that
he was safe and well. His cousin moved slowly and seemed to be waiting for something, yet
at no point did he make a move to his sword or seem worried and Robb began to wonder just
exactly what the hell was going on. It turned out he didn't need wonder for long and when he
saw it. He, his cousin Torrhen, all of those with him stared in shock as the wolf pack moved
and then surrounded his cousin.

"Be at peace, Torgho Nudho, I'm in no danger here," Aemon said as Robb looked to the two
knights and then his own guards to see they were not so easily calmed.
"Are they Direwolves?" one of his guards asked almost in disbelief.
"A pack of them, I've never…I would never…" he heard another say.

He looked on as a large white wolf with fur as pristine as untouched snow and eyes that were
blood red moved closer to his cousin. Then he and the rest of those with them held their
breath when Aemon brushed his hand over that white fur. The white wolf was soon joined by
seven, eight, or even more wolves and then he heard the howl, as an even larger grey and a
black wolf were seen off in the distance. Where once there had been a pack of mayhap
twenty of more Direwolves, now the only ones in sight were the ones near his cousin.
Looking on as Aemon knelt and the white wolf leaned into him as if he was his, Robb asked
himself only one question.

"Who owns the rest of them?" he said under his breath.

Sunspear 301 AC.

Tyrion.

He'd paid the tribute to the Dothraki, had set things in motion with them and with the assassin
that Petyr Baelish had recommended. Then he'd readied to go home and had been happy to
do so. It was however not Casterly Rock that was to be his destination and as soon as he read
the message, he knew his father's plans. They were as ambitious as ever and as dangerous as
he feared they may be. To lay down with snakes was to invite yourself to get bitten. Given
these particular snakes, that was mayhap even more true.

Still, he did as he was bid and soon found himself sailing to Dorne. Truth be told he was
looking forward to seeing the lands for himself. His curiosity about them was as it was with
every place he'd never visited, ever unquenched. Even the Martells themselves intrigued him,
and none more so than the famed Red Viper of Dorne, Oberyn Martell. With luck, he may see
Jaime and the prince cross blades, though given how the Red Viper got his name, he'd not be
surprised if his father refused Jaime leave to do so. As for the news he bore about the tasks
he'd been set. Tyrion believed his father would be most pleased with what his coin had
bought, most pleased indeed.

The actual journey took no time at all. They'd been blessed with fair weather and decent
winds and when he saw the Dornish coastline, he felt his excitement begin to rise, as did his
curiosity. He wondered which of his nieces or nephews was being sold off in a marriage
contract. Tyrion then prayed to the gods that it wasn't Joffrey. Given how important this
alliance was, the last thing they needed was for his sadistic and cruel nephew to ruin it all by
laying hands on a daughter of House Martell. Even were that daughter to be his wife.

There was no one to welcome him to Dorne when they finally docked. No sign of his father's
men or any of House Martell's and he felt a little put out by that. As he did by the looks he
received when he made his way to the Old Palace. As a dwarf, he was far too used to such
looks, but as a Lannister, they would quickly change or people would look away. It seemed in
Dorne, being the second of those things made little difference, for the time being anyway.
Tyrion wondered if in time it would or was it a Dornish trait that would change little once his
house and their princes own were joined. Receiving no fanfare or with no one wishing to
announce his presence, he made his way to the reception hall and was glad to see at least one
member of his kin.

"Uncle Tyrion." Jason, his nephew, called out before moving towards him.
"Nephew mine, it's good to see you," he said genuinely before embracing his nephew, far
preferring his brother's son to his sister's.

"Your travels went well, uncle?" Jason asked when they'd moved apart.
"I'll leave that to your grandfather to decide. Will you take me to where he's housed?"
"Of course, uncle," Jason said with a smile.

As they walked, he took the chance to find out as much as he could about the upcoming
wedding. Surprised and yet not to find it was Joanna to be married. Given who the Martells
were he'd have wagered they'd accept no one less than the daughter of the crown prince.
Myrcella may be older, just as beautiful, and to Tyrion's mind, she was more formidable. But
in terms of status, she was lower than her cousin.

He was most pleased to hear that the prince his niece was to marry seemed to be a good sort.
Jason held no fears about the boy his sister was to wed and spoke somewhat highly of him.
When he heard that Joanna was somewhat smitten and that it seemed her favors were
returned, it only made him happier. It was rare that such matches found love at all. Let alone
that this soon after one was made would there be the beginnings of a spark that could flame
into a fire that he himself had never felt. If anyone deserved it, then Tyrion felt that it was one
of his nieces.

"I'll go in and see him alone, Jason, mayhap later I'll regale you with tales of Essos," he said
when they arrived at his father's rooms.
"I'd like that uncle, I'll make sure the best of the wines is put aside for you."
"And how will you do that nephew mine?" he asked while smirking.
"I'll speak to the prince, tell him that you're his betrothed favorite uncle," Jason said with a
wink and Tyrion chuckled as he entered his father's rooms.

Was he not able to see the buildings from the open window, then he'd name himself in
Casterly Rock. Whatever Dornish influence this room would normally have, he saw it not.
Instead, at his father's behest no doubt, they'd replicated his father's rooms at the Rock as best
they could manage. It was no mean feat and the lion banners, portraits, and even the furniture
were almost a match. As was the look on his father's face when he saw him and bid him take
a seat in front of him. His uncle Kevan sitting to one side as always and wearing a far
friendlier look as he greeted him.

"Nephew."

"Uncle," he replied as he took his seat.
"You've just arrived?" his father asked, the brief look he'd given him now a thing of the past
as he had turned his attention back to the missives he was writing.

He'd often wondered just how important some of those missives were. How key they were to
the running of his father's kingdom and what would happen should there be a day when his
father didn't send them out. He and Jaime would wager that they weren't truly needed. That
his father would simply write them out and then when they weren't looking, he'd then throw
them away.

"it's all a show, Jaime, I wager a golden lion that it is."
"We'll never be able to prove it one way or the other, Tyrion."

Looking at the number of them on the table, remembering how many ravens would fly to and
from Casterly Rock in a given day. Now Tyrion felt that he'd have lost that wager had Jaime
ever truly taken him up on it.

"Speak." his father said after he'd been quiet for too long and with a look to his uncle, he was
happy to see a glass of wine poured out and handed to him.
"I spoke to Petyr Baelish and we've set a plan in motion, father," he said before taking a
swallow from the glass.

It took him little time to relay said plan. His father showed no sign of whether or not he
approved of it or not. Not even when he explained how much coin the plan had cost did his
father's expression change. When he was done speaking, he waited to be dismissed and it
seemed to take forever for his father to do so. Eventually, he was and was left in no doubt of
how he was supposed to behave while in Dorne. It was as he was walking to the door that he
heard as close to praise as he was like to get and despite it not being fulsome, he welcomed it
all the same.

"I had thought it would have cost us more, you've been prudent with our coin, Tyrion, very
prudent."

They held a feast that night, one of many they'd held since his family had arrived, given what
Jaime said to him as they ate. His sister was her usual charming self and seemed most put out
by his presence. More than once he caught her eyeing up one of the Dornish men and it
almost made him laugh. His father would do far better to tell Cersei to keep her legs together
than to insist he keep his britches on. He'd only lay with whores, his sister cared not who
she'd lay with at times and if a man took her fancy, then she would go out of her way to find
her pleasure with him.

His drunkenness and debauchery were to be expected if not tolerated. Hers was very much
not and could lead to far more problems should it be revealed. Watching how her nostrils
flared when she looked at one particular Dornishman, he doubted she'd go through their stay
here without bedding the man. For as much as he may hate her, he'd not deny that were she
not his sister and she offered him her favor, he'd accept it. 'As had many over the years' he
thought and smiled wryly. When not focussed on his sister's facial expression, or engaged in
conversation with his brother, his eyes roamed the room and took stock of their hosts.

Prince Doran was a man who was hiding the true extent of his affliction from all present.
Tyrion could see it in the way the man's hands barely gripped his glass and how carefully he
brought his food to his mouth. His daughter was a beauty and he wondered what the curves
that he could see through an almost sheer dress looked like when complete bared. Two of her
cousins, the famed Sand Snakes, seemed just as attractive as she did. Though the third of the
oldest ones was very much not. Looking to the woman that he'd been introduced to as Prince
Oberyn's Paramour made him almost wish he'd been born in Dorne. Ellaria Sand was a true
beauty to Tyron's eyes. As she was to the man who sat beside her given they'd been together
as long as they had.

As for Prince Oberyn himself, the man did the tales justice. He'd seen him sparring before the
feast began. The spear had been like an extension of his arm and standing beside Jaime, he
could feel just how much his brother wished to test himself against him. It would be a contest
for the ages and one he wasn't as certain his brother would win as he normally would be.
When he then got to speak to the prince, he revealed he possessed a wit and a lust for life that
Tyrion could easily relate to. Yet now, finding his eyes on him and being caught doing as he
was doing, he felt a shiver run down his spine. This was not a man that you messed with and
Tyrion was certain he'd taken the measure of his family long before Tyrion himself had
arrived.

"The Dothraki Tyrion, the Khal," Jaime said, Tyrion realizing he'd been speaking for some
time and turning to face his brother.
"The Khal?" he asked, not remembering what they'd been speaking of and when they'd even
been speaking.

"You said you met this Khal Dorgo, Dirgo…"
"Drogo."
"That was the one," Jaime said as Tyrion looked at his drink and wondered if something had
been put into it dismissing the thought a moment later when he and his brother spoke more
on Khal Drogo and his Khalasar.

Later as he lay down in his bed, he again wondered had something been slipped into his
drink. Even as he went to sleep he couldn't shake the thought that it had been and it took him
two days to drink again. He vowed to get very drunk on the day of the wedding and to
mayhap make a fool of himself somewhat. The fears that he'd been poisoned by the Red
Viper had been replaced by a wave of anger directed at his father. Tyrion had taken some
time to notice the amusement in his father's eyes when he drank juice or water rather than
wine at their meals. Then to realize that it had been his father who'd seen something slipped
into his drink to cause him to forgo it and not Prince Oberyn nor any of the Dornish.

"We'll drink to Joanna today, Jaime, both of us," he said as they broke their fast, his eyes on
his father as he did so.

Blackwater Rush 301 AC.
Aurane Velaryon.

He marched with a large force. Men of Thoros' Flames of the Dragon, some of Aemon's own,
but mainly his own Sea Snakes. Over one thousand in all he had under his command and
more support would sail from Driftmark and Dragonstone, to begin the actual work of
building the city that he would one day rule from. Aemon, Rhaenys, Thoros and he himself
had gone over the plans more than once and other than Oldtown or Lannisport, there would
be no city like it when it was completed. Though it would be years until it was truly able to
rival any of those great cities if he was being honest.

The initial plan was to pick out the ground he wished to use, to decide the best location for a
keep, and to build a temporary fort there. It was something he'd seen done in Essos more than
once and he and Aemon had even built one or two to serve as outposts while on a campaign.
Never had he built one for himself, nor one that was to last as long as this one was. So he
rode both nervously and excitedly at the same time. Materials, men, coin, it would require
much of each of those things and so he was happy that Aemon had diverted so much of the
latter to see this city built. His brother by choice was honoring him in a way that not even his

father or grandfather had been honored by House Targaryen, and yet Aurane knew it was not
just that their closeness that was the reason for Aemon's favor.

This city would be strategically important, as it would serve as the main trading hub in
Aemon's Kingdom. While Aemon sought his own keep to be of military and geographical
importance, he'd not forgo the need for somewhere of economic importance in order to do so.
So that keep, that city, would need to be held not only by someone that Aemon could trust
completely but by someone who could hold it too. Thoros, Daario, Torgho Nudho, were all
such men, as was he. Yet while the other three were accomplished in facing foes on land,
something he too was much accomplished in, they were not so experienced in facing them at
sea. It would be ships more so than men on foot or horse that would be the biggest threat to
the new city, and ships were his domain.

"We'll camp here for the night," he said as the air began to chill and the sky darken.
"As you command, my lord." Valon his second said before turning to the men and relaying
his orders.

They got the tents up just in time and the rains soon came. Aurane was more than happy to be
inside with a fire and dry rather than still ahorse. He ate with some of his most trusted men.
Men who had been with him and his family for as long as he could remember. Valon who'd
fought with him and Aemon during their first campaign. Arras, who though mainly a
shipbuilder, would be the chief builder of both the fort and the city that would eventually
spring up around it. Darron, who was in charge of his cavalry, and Marxus who was the
leader of Thoros' men that had ridden with him.

The food was good, the conversation flowed and other than those not here, Aurane couldn't
have wished for better company. He'd be a liar though if he said he'd not have liked to have
gone North with Aemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys. He knew better than most just how much
his brother by choice had longed to see the lands of his mother. So much so that he was in
essence putting his conquest on hold to do so. Aemon was taking advantage of what was
happening in Dorne, not to conquer, but to do something that he'd wanted to do ever since
he'd lost his mother.

Both Thoros and Daario had bid him take advantage of the situation and was this Essos and
not Westeros, then Aurane would be certain that he would have. The Westerlands lay open to
them without the Lannisters there. They could have if they had wished to, take the Lannisters
at sea as well. His ships, their men, and the Blood Wyrm could have ended the line of the
Lannister King in one fell swoop, should Aemon have wished it so. Yet the chance to walk

where his mother had walked, to see the lands she'd come from and be welcomed there was
too much for Aemon to resist. It had been the one constant in him since he'd arrived in
Westeros, even more than conquest itself, that had been what he wished for. So he'd taken
that chance and let an opportunity pass him by. When the next one came he'd very much not,
of that Aurane was certain.

He went to his bed early and rose early the next morning. The ride to the mouth of the
Blackwater Rush should be completed today and he hoped to do so with light remaining. In
this, he was proved most fortunate, as they saw the three hills that he knew were close by,
sometime near midday and by late afternoon they'd set up their camp on top of one of them.
Aurane ate sparingly, washed, and then bid Valon and Arras ride with him. The three men and
their guards took no time at all to mount up and like him, they then took in even more of the
lands around them.

"What do you think?" he asked Arras after they'd ridden for more than an hour.
"The hills would be best, I'd put the fort on that one, two guard towers, and barracks on the
other two," Arras replied pointing to each of the hills.
"A motte and bailey?" he asked and Arras nodded "How long?"
"We'd have something up within the week, a true fort within a moon or two if we have the
men and materials."
"We have ships coming from Driftmark and Dragonstone with both." he said and Arras
nodded while Aurane looked to Valon "How secure will we be?
"On the hill, we'll be more than able to hold back four or five times our number. When the
fort is finished, three or four times that again. "Valon said smiling and Aurane felt certain
now that he'd chosen right. There was no better place than this, not for access to the sea, nor
for the protection that it would afford.

The first of the ships arrived the next day. Aurane made his way to greet Larence who was his
second when it came to his small fleet. He was an older man, Westerosi, a sailor through and
through who'd been Leal to his family for longer than Aurane was alive. As tall as Aurane
was, Larence was taller and twice as broad. His stature, dark hair, and beard made him a
fearsome sight to any of the pirates who dared think they'd found an easy prize in one of
Aurane's ships.

"You had no trouble?" he asked the older man.
"No, it seems it was the dead stag that was the reason for our harrying."

"His brother is a different sort, his grace will be pleased to see that Stannis is living up to his
word." Aurane said.
"You're really building a fort here?" Larence asked looking around.
"No, my friend. I'm building a city here."

A moon later.

They had done even more than he'd dared to hope. The walls were completed, they'd built
two watchtowers, one on the north end of the fort, the other on the south. Inside the walls,
they'd begun work on some of the larger buildings but had already built a temporary barracks,
stables, and a small building to serve as his keep. On the other two hills, they'd secured them
with spikes and small walls. Though it was still tents rather than actual buildings that the men
would call their homes for now. All in all, they could hold fifty men on either hill and so he
rotated who stayed there weekly.

At the bay itself, they'd built a dock that was protected for now by men, but soon it would be
watchtowers, archers, and a contingent of cavalry that would be housed there too. As for their
neighbors, he'd seen more than one horse watching them from a distance. No doubt eager to
report back to whoever had sent them to spy on them. So he'd insisted the banners flew high
enough for all to see. His own silver seahorse flying next to Aemon and Rhaenys' two-headed
dragon entwined. There would be no doubt who now claimed these lands and what
retribution there would be should any dare try to stop them from doing so.

So far though it had been only those willing to accept that they were ruled by the dragons and
the seahorse who'd come to actually speak to him. House Darklyn, House Rosby, and House
Massey all had sent riders to name themselves as no enemies of him or Aemon Targaryen.
House Rosby had even sworn to him without him asking them to do so. Lord Gyles was far
more eager to be under his protection than to be in the path of his fury. Yet it was the houses
that had not come that Aurane pondered on.

House Celtigar and House Sunglass were sworn to no king and House Bar Emmon though
sworn to Stannis, was closer to where Aurane was building his new city than to Storm's End.
As for the Houses of Crackclaw Point, they had been sworn to King Qhored Hoare and so
now too they were now sworn to no king. In time he knew they'd be sworn to Aemon, but he
wondered if they'd need to be conquered first or would they come of their own accord.
Should they band together, then not even this fort would be enough to protect Aurane and the
men he'd brought here and so despite the peace, he prepared for war.

He was at the docks when the horns blew. Looking over the delivery of wood and sundries
that had arrived one moment and he then rode his horse hard the next. Then he was climbing
up the ladders that led to the watchtower and looking through the Myrish Eye at the men that
rode towards him. He'd put it at three times their number, though surprisingly he believed he
had more horse than they. The red crab of House Celtigar and the golden stars of House
Sunglass, along with the blue swordfish of House Bar Emmon. There were few if any other
banners that he could see and none of the houses of Crackclaw Point much to his relief.

"Order the men to form up, cavalry only Valon. Send word to the docks to let loose the ships.
Should we fall here today I'll not have them take the ships as well." he said and Valon rushed
off to do as he had bid.
"What are your orders, Lord Aurane?" Darron asked.
"We ride out and parley, make it clear what they face here should they seek a fight and the
consequences should they win one."
"You fear defeat?" Darron asked surprised.
"I fear only the god of death and to him, I'll say the same thing I've said each day he's sought
to take me into his cold embrace." Aurane said resolutely.
"Not Today," Darron said smiling as they moved through the fort and readied to ride out to
treat with the lords that marched their way.

The Conquest of Westeros XLIV.
The House of the Snake.

House Martell started off as a minor house amongst many that were larger than it. Unlike the
other houses of Dorne who had named themselves as kings, House Martell was not and never
would name themselves as such. Founded by Morgan Martell, an Andal adventurer who won
the lands that would become the seat of his newly formed house from House Wade and House
thousands of years they were happy with their lot and showed no ambition to be more than
they were. It was not until the arrival of the Rhoynish Princess Nymeria that they began to
reach for more.

Mors Martell, the then Lord of Sandship, had grown tired of the cautious fealty that his
House had given to those who named themselves as kings and saw the chance to rise and rise
high. The cost was a simple one, a marriage, and it was one that he was only too happy to

pay. Yet for all their pride, all their arrogance, it was Princess Nymeria who was the driving
force behind their taking over of Dorne and not a Martell. Without her, they'd have faded into
obscurity mayhap, been relegated to being known as a minor house with no great deeds or
victories to name their own. With her, they rose high and a lesson was learned and learned
well. With the right match, much can be achieved.

Never was this shown to be more true than when a princess of house Martell, Elia, wed the
son of the High Emperor of Essos and ensured that Martell blood would rise higher than
before in the form of her two children, Prince Aegon, and Princess Rhaenys. One set to be the
future High Emperor of Essos and the other the Queen of Westeros. Dizzy heights indeed for
a house that started out with little and yet even these heights were not enough to still their
ambition.

It was yet another wedding that they sought to rise high through, another union with a
powerful ally. One that would change the course of their history forevermore. For unlike
those who named themselves as kings in Dorne when Mors Martell made a similar move, this
time they would find themselves facing a far more dangerous foe. Unlike when marrying into
the House of the Dragon, this time they'd find themselves with far weaker allies. Dragons too
are ambitious, they too seek to soar and the rule over the skies is not nor has never been
enough for them.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Sunspear 301 AC.
Doran Martell.

The wedding negotiations had almost come to a close and not in a way he liked. While they'd
agreed to the match, it was some of the other aspects that Doran was displeased about. He'd
not send his son to be Lord of Castamere, not even if the keep would still deliver the gold that
Tywin said it would. On that aspect alone he trusted Tywin's words, for he'd not see his
granddaughter without means. Yet Doran could not agree to Trystane being housed in the
west. Kin or not, the Old Lion would not be above using his son as a hostage should the need
arise.

It was something he could respect the Old Lion for, something that he too would do with his
gooddaughter were the need to arise. Yet on that point, he'd not be moved, nor would he on
Tywin's suggestion to name Trystane as his heir. Dorne was not the same as the other
kingdoms, first born and not first son ruled here and Arianne was and would remain his heir,
with Quentyn as second in line. That it added a layer of protection to his children was not lost
on him and was one of the first things that Oberyn had brought up in his opposition to this
wedding. His brother's disdain for both the alliance itself and the man he was allying with
had been made perfectly clear. Yet while Doran shared some of his distrust, he did not share
his aversion to the match.

The next bone of contention had been in regards to their joint armies. Tywin had wished for
overall control and that was something that Doran could and would not agree to. Dorne
would never follow someone who was not of their blood. Oberyn would lead his armies,
Quentyn and then Trystane should he fall. Tywin could name himself how he wished and the
West may bring more men to the fight, the armies though would be joined yet separate. It had
cost him more coin in regards to the dowry, Tywin fighting a tough fight, and Doran, in the
end, giving ground on the still generous amount he'd receive for the match. Still, it had been a
worthwhile fight he felt.

It had allowed for mutual respect to grow between them both. Had almost made him consider
another match should things work out as he hoped, though not with the grandson that Tywin
offered. That boy wouldn't last long in Dorne and had already been banned from the brothels,
Oberyn had even taken things into his own hands so that Joffrey would fail to rise to the
occasion should he seek his pleasure elsewhere. What his brother had put in the young
prince's food and drink, Doran knew not, but the boy had been even more sullen and irritable
ever since. No, if it was to be another match then it would be Tywin's other granddaughter he
sought and if he fully trusted the man that he was welcoming into his family, then he'd seek it
still. Princess Myrcella was a more formidable young lady than her cousin Joanna and it
would have benefited Trystane to be wed to her. Mayhap in the future, it would benefit
Quentyn just as much.

He'd had to wait until Prince Tyrion's return to find out the plans for the dragons themselves.
Tywin kept that close to his chest and it was only when one of his spies placed near the
Lannisters' rooms overheard where Prince Tyrion was, that Doran understood the reason for
his reticence. That the prince arrived with the wedding almost upon them was an annoyance,
as was having this final meeting on the day of the wedding itself. Doran though had to know
it all if he was to join his House to Tywin's. Their fates from that point on would be entwined
after all. So he held the meeting, without his brother as Oberyn was still not on board with his
decisions yet, on the morning of the wedding. Just he, Tywin, and Areo in his solar in the
early morning.

"A good day for a wedding," he said as the sun shined in through the open window.
"A very good day." Tywin replied "I shall be as brief as I can be, for I think we'd both like to
enjoy as much of this day as we can. My first grandchild and your first child to be wed,
requires that of us does it not?"
"It does," he said, somewhat genuinely.
"My son, Tyrion, met with some people in Essos who think like we do and would wish to be
free of the yoke the Dragons would place around our necks and have around theirs. With the
aid of a large amount of coin, an old enemy rises to strike at the heart of the Targaryen
Empire." Tywin said looking at him to see how he replied.
"My sister and her son, I have no wish to see harm come to them. They are not who I take
issue with."
"Nor I, and we both know that in truth there is no enemy that can truly threaten the Empire,
not with all the gold in Casterly Rock could that be so." Tywin said and Doran looked at him
with intrigue "But when the Empire is threatened who do they seek to face that threat? Who
do they call upon to force that threat back?"
"The Dragonknight." he said almost smiling before the thought struck him "Would he come
to their aid if called, he accepted exile after all?"
"Do you believe your son would come if you called, even were things not good between you?
That he'd leave you to face an enemy alone?"
"He would not. Neither of them nor my daughter nor my brother too." Doran answered
emphatically.
"As would mine own children or grandchildren or the rest of my kin. Aemon Targaryen may
have fallen out with his father, but his Brother? Uncle? Your sister? Their families? I think
with them in need he'd go to their aid, even were he not to, his wife would and a man who
accepted exile to be wed would follow his wife would he not?" Tywin asked.
"He would. But what enemy could threaten the Empire so?"
"The Dothraki have a new Khal, a man named Drogo. He is the son of a man named Khal
Bharbo and has taken on the remnants of his Khalasar and grown it even larger. Do you know
what happened to his father?"
"No."
"He fell to Aemon Targaryen's blade," Tywin said and Doran smirked.

Their meeting made the view of Princess Joanna as she walked down the aisle a few hours
later one that he enjoyed even more. The saying of the vows and the look on the faces of both
his new gooddaughter and his son as they shared their first kiss, one that he took as much

pleasure in as the two newlyweds apparently did. The food, drinks, watching the dancing, and
seeing people enjoy themselves at the wedding feast, all were much sweeter than he'd dared
hope they would be. Simply because of the plans he and Tywin Lannister had made that day.

They would send Aemon Targaryen back to Essos to save his family and while he was gone
they'd take all he'd built and destroy it brick by brick. When he returned, if he returned, it
would be to find he had no lands, no men, and no allies. The kingdoms he'd won so easily
would be lost to him in the same manner and with the same ease. Faced with such a defeat,
he'd leave their lands, and together he and Tywin Lannister would carve them up. Before the
Old Lion then learned the most valuable lesson of all. Snakes are not to be trusted and even a
mighty lion can't overcome their bite.

The conquest of Westeros XLV
The Legend of the White Wolf.

In the history of House Stark, there have been many famed names. From King Theon the
Hungry Wolf to King Torrhen the King who Wept. There were men like King Jon Stark and
King Brandon the Shipwright or King Cregan Stark the Wolf of the North. None however
were spoken of as reverently or as little as King Brandon the Builder, who founded House
Stark and was named as the man who built Winterfell, the Wall, and many other of the great
keeps of Westeros. And King Brandon the Breaker, who defeated the Night King and freed the
Night's Watch from his reign of terror.

Despite the esteem that both men are held in, little is known and less is written about them
both. Not in the Citadel, nor in books of the Empire, and not even in the home of the Starks
themselves are words written speaking of their great deeds with any accuracy or verification.
Instead, it's tall tales, spoken word, and legends that have been passed down from generation
to generation. None of which are spoken so much or so reverently as the Legend of the White
Wolf.

It was from the Empress of the Ice that I first heard the tale from. A story told as she sat by
her son's bedside and put the Dragonknight to sleep. A tale of how in the hour of the North's
greatest need, the white wolf appeared. How it sought out the man the North needed to guide
them through whatever was to come and how it had appeared and chosen only two men to
stand beside in all the years that a Stark ruled the North.

The names of those men were King Brandon the Builder and King Brandon the Breaker. It is
said that deep within the bowels of Winterfell, far beneath the crypts where no man who
doesn't bear the blood of the wolves in his veins is allowed to tread, images show both Kings
of Winter with the white wolf by their side. Whether this is true or not, I cannot tell for I am
not a Stark and no pleading on my part or beseeching of my prince would grant me access.

What I can tell for true is this. As she'd place a kiss on the Dragonknight's forehead and as he
drifted off to sleep, the Empress of the Ice was oft heard to say that it would be he that the
White Wolf returned for. That in time it would Prince Aemon who'd be seen with a white wolf
by his side and that when that time came, he too would be a King of Winter.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Winterfell 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

She was everywhere he looked, in every corner of the keep, the grounds, and even in his
dreams when he slept at night. Never had he felt more connected to his mother than he did
right here and he reveled in it. As he had in the stories he'd heard thus far about her. The
woman known as Old Nan had especially had delighted in telling him tales of his mother and
Aemon had eaten each and every one of them up like they were the most delicious of meals.
He'd heard her being named as a true wild wolf, had been told that his cousin Arya was much
alike her in both looks and attitude. Something that now brought a smile to his face each time
he looked at the young girl. His mother had been loved here, she was missed here, and that
was something he could relate to easily.

Mayhap that was why he felt the call so truly. Or that was the reason that the need to ride
through the places she had ridden through was almost overwhelming. Though that had been a
need he'd always had he believed. Still, it was sooner than he'd expected that he'd suggested
they go on a ride through the Wolfswood and he'd then felt it from the moment that they'd
entered it. Something within those trees called to him, it sought him out and it was a feeling
he'd felt but briefly when they'd stopped on the way to Winterfell. What that feeling led to
was something he never could have imagined. Even now as he moved with the Direwolves
back to his horse, he still could barely believe what he was seeing and doing.

The white wolf reached almost to his shoulder, the others with it were just as big and while
those he rode with looked at them warily, Aemon felt they posed no danger to him or anyone
he cared for. Something about the way the red eyes looked at him had made him believe this
to be the truth. For had any of them wished to harm him, then he'd be laying in the snow and
bleeding out rather than walking to his horse with a pack of Direwolves.

"Aemon?" Rhaenys questioned and Aemon smiled at her and rubbed his hand through the
white wolf's fur, the wolf leaning into his touch, and yet still it had not made a sound.

It was that more than Rhaenys' fears that made him stop and kneel to face the wolf once
more. Its red eyes met his own grey ones and both of them stared deep into each other's soul.
The connection when it finally locked was almost the same as the one he had with Gaelithox.
This wolf was his, he was always to be his, and he would always be his.

"Ghost," he said softly and then laughed when the wolf licked his face, his laugh was soon
joined by Rhaenys' relieved one. Turning to the rest of their party who it seemed were torn
between looking at him and Ghost or the other wolves, he did his best to put them at ease
"The wolves mean us no harm, far from it. I believe they were meant to be ours." he said to
shocked looks.
"Ours?" Rhaenys asked confused.
"Those with wolf's blood," he said and saw the way his cousins now looked at each of the
wolves.
"You can't be…" Robb said as he looked at a large grey wolf and yet neither he nor any of his
other cousins moved until one did.

That it was Arya who did so should have been no surprise. His young cousin was fearless and
he'd even sparred with her much to her delight. While her sister bid her be careful, Arya paid
her no mind and was soon standing next to a wolf that was taller even than she. Then it was
her laughter that rang out when the wolf she had begun to stroke softly turned and licked her
face. Almost as if it was the signal that the others had been waiting on, the rest of his cousins
quickly dismounted. Even Robb who'd tried to preach caution a few moments earlier now
moved to a wolf.

As Aemon moved to help Rhaenys from her horse so that she too could stroke Ghost's fur,
around him each of his cousins seemed to find a wolf of their own.

"I swear to you, he means us no harm, my love," he said, and holding Rhaenys' hand, he
brushed it through the soft white fur.
"He's…I'd not expected him to be so soft," she said smiling and before he knew it, his aunt
too was standing beside Ghost and stroking the wolf who seemed to enjoy it greatly.

They stayed like that for close to an hour. His cousins, his wife, his aunt, and he himself were
all simply enjoying the company of wolves. At one point he swore he had an image of laying
in a bed with a wolf pup on his chest, its white fur and white eyes marking it out as Ghost.
Looking to the wolf in question, he swore that its red eyes looked at him with reproach,
almost as if to say that was how things were meant to be. Yet when he moved and stroked
Ghost behind his ear, that look was soon replaced with a far more contented one.

"What are we to do with them?" Robb asked no one in particular.
"I believe they're ours, cousin. That they seek to offer us their protection and company," he
said, and though he could see the next question on his cousin's lips and knew what that
question was, Robb never uttered it, instead simply saying they should ride back to
Winterfell.
"Nymeria is coming with me, I don't care what you say, I'll not leave her here." Arya declared
and Aemon smirked as he looked to Rhaenys whose head had turned in his cousin's direction
at the mention of the Princess of the Rhoynar.
"Lady too," Sansa said resolutely and soon she was joined by all but Bran out of his cousins.
Not that he didn't wish his wolf to return with him, only that he had apparently not yet
thought of a name for him.

This was not an issue with the rest of his cousins. Grey Wind was what Robb named the one
he stroked, Shaggydog the name given to the black one that Rickon had taken for his own.
His cousin Torrhen named his grey wolf Frost while Lyanna named her's Winter, its dark fur
was streaked with white and grey and looked like the ground beneath their feet. Not a pristine
snowdrift like Ghost resembled, but one that had been traveled upon. The last wolf was
another dark black one and it too had no name, nor an owner for now. Aemon though was
sure that its owner waited for them back at Winterfell and would be just as happy to see it as
he and his cousins were their own.

"We'll bring them back, no doubt my uncles will have much to say on the matter," he said
stopping any argument that may have been made before it truly began.

Arthur may have looked at the wolves warily still and the Stark guards seemed at a loss, but
neither he nor they would go against the word of a king. He hoped that his uncles would feel
the same when they saw what was accompanying their children. Given how orderly the ride
back to the keep was, he felt they would. Each wolf walked calmly beside the horse of the
owner who'd chosen it or to be more true, that they'd chosen. Torrhen rode with two, one on
either side of his horse, and had he any doubt he was right about the owner of the second one,
then he'd not anymore.

"You truly believe these wolves were meant to be yours and your cousins don't you?"
Rhaenys asked with a large smirk on her face.
"I believe my mother wished it so," he said as he looked to Ghost.
"So I take it he's coming with us when we leave, my king?" Arthur asked and Aemon
chuckled.
"I doubt he'd let me leave without him, Arthur." he said smiling as he then turned to his
sworn shield "It seems we've found another guard Torgho Nudho."
"Wolf look fierce, my prince."
"That he does," he said agreeing with his sworn shield.

He expected the loud shouts and the worried glances that were thrown their way when they
reached the gates. His uncles and both his aunts came running as soon as they'd been told that
they'd not returned alone. What he didn't expect was the way his two uncles looked at the
white wolf and him in particular. There was a recognition there, something in their expression
that seemed to suggest they almost expected this and he wished to speak to them more about
it. Though for now, he needed to stop the inevitable argument.

"The wolves won't harm anyone that means not to harm their owner, uncle." he said looking
to his uncle Ned "They will protect them, fight for them, be their truest and most Leal
companion. We were meant to have these wolves uncle, just as my wife, aunt, and I were
meant to have our dragons. I know not how I know that to be true, but I give you my oath
that I do."
"MAEGE!" his aunt Dacey called out before his uncle could reply and Aemon turned to see
his youngest cousin laughing as the wolf, which was easily twice or even three times her size,
licked her face as she held onto its fur.
"Could something that wished her harm be so gentle with her, uncle?" he asked his uncle
Benjen who was staring at his daughter with an awed look on his face.
"No, I don't believe it could, nephew."

Once his aunt had calmed somewhat and the argument over where the wolves would stay had
been won and lost. His cousins had come out the victors over their parents in that regard. He
was asked to join both his uncles in his uncle Ned's solar. Bidding Ghost farewell, for now, he
kissed his wife and then chuckled as the white wolf walked by her side and joined Arthur in
serving as her guard. Then he and Torgho Nudho followed his uncles into the keep.

He turned down the offer of ale when he took his seat, though he did accept the warm soup
that was offered and insisted that Torgho Nudho eat and warm himself too. Something that
was accepted reluctantly and only because he faced no danger from either of his uncles. The
look on his uncle Ned's face was pensive and Aemon expected the true argument about the
wolves was about to be had, yet it was not them that was spoken of.

"What know you of the Night's Watch, Aemon?" his uncle Ned asked.
"My mother told me the tale of them when I was a boy. Tales of them and the Wall. She said
they guarded the North against what lay beyond its lands." he said to nods, Aemon not telling
them some of the other things his mother had said about them, nor what she had said was
beyond said Wall.
"We received a raven from the Lord Commander, he calls for our aid and bids us send men as
soon as we're able. Had we still been in the south….But it matters not. No Stark has even
refused the call when the Night's Watch made it and I'll not be the first to do so." his uncle
said firmly and Aemon had to admit it made him proud that his mother's family thought in
such a way.
"So we'll be marching on the morrow, Aemon, which means we'll not be here to say our
goodbyes to you, your wife, or aunt." his uncle Benjen said.

Aemon looked at them both, they seemed reluctant to ask the question that he knew was on
both their minds and so he decided to answer it for them.

"Whatever it is that the Night's Watch has called you for, a dragon is not only the equal of the
men you'll gather, but can reach the Wall in far less time than it'll take you to march to it." he
said seeing both his uncles relax "Yet I know not the men at the Wall, uncle, so it seems to me
there is but one thing we can do."
"Aemon?"
"We fly on the morrow, uncles. Me, Torgho Nudho, and you both. I would bid you sleep well
and to not eat too much when you wake, the first time can lead to you losing the contents of

your stomach." he said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet "I'd not send a raven to warn the
Night's Watch either, Gaelithox will beat it and whatever you may say in your scroll, the sight
of the Blood Wyrm landing can't truly be explained in words."
"I thank you, your grace." his uncle Ned said, slightly paler than he'd been when he entered
the solar as he was now worried about his first dragon's flight no doubt.
"I've longed to see the Wall too, uncle, though I'd have wished for it to be under less pressing
circumstances. Now if you'll both excuse me, I must go tell my wife that I'll be departing on
the morrow. No doubt I'll soon look as fearful as you both." he said to laughs.

His own was more stilted as he left the room, the thoughts of being parted from his wife, not
ones that he wished for. Still, he wondered if the Wall was as majestic as his mother had said
it was. If the people who lived the other side of it were truly just people born on the wrong
side and then denigrated for it. He wondered if some of the other tales his mother had told
him were true too.

"There is evil Beyond the Wall, Aemon, not the evil that lies in the hearts of men, but true evil
and the only way to beat evil is to fight it with something it can't withstand. To beat back
darkness you must bring the light to bear, and you, my little Lightbringer, you are what the
darkness fears "

Volantis 301 AC.
Aegon Targaryen.

He made his way to the meeting with Varys. His father had entrusted him to come up with a
plan to deal with their potential Dothraki problem and Aegon was keen to do so quickly.
Varys had been tasked to find out as much as he could about Khal Drogo, his strengths,
weaknesses and whether or not he was as his father believed, a Khal alone, or as Aegon
feared, something much more. That it had taken the Eunuch away from other tasks was a
bone of contention for Viserys most of all. His uncle wished for more news on Dany and
they'd not received word from Aemon, Rhaenys, or his aunt herself as of yet.

Aegon could understand his uncle's concerns, despite not sharing them. All her life they'd
kept Dany away from the harsher things of the world, they'd protected and shielded her from
them. Even when it came to Aemon, she only saw the one side of the things his brother did,
the glory and acclaim his victories brought to the Empire. Never did she see the truth of the

battles that Aemon waged, the blood that he was forced to spill, or the destruction that he and
Gaelithox would unleash upon the Empire's enemies.

His uncle, his mother, and even his father all feared that in Westeros, Dany would not be so
shielded. Aegon did not, he knew his brother would not wish Dany to play a part in any of
the fighting. She'd not be needed to do so and so Aemon would never seek to expose her to
the worst of men. Instead, it would be just as it was in Volantis for his aunt. Glory, acclaim,
and feasting would be what she experienced while by Aemon and Rhaenys' side, that and
support and advice that he himself longed for.

With a nod to the guards that stood at Varys' door, Aegon knocked and was bid to enter the
rooms of their spymaster. How the eunuch knew all he knew, none could ever tell, only that
he'd served the Empire faithfully and truly and along with Aemon, had at times been its
strongest weapon. Now it was up to him to do some of what his brother did and he prayed to
the gods that he was up to the task. For now, though he simply prayed that Varys had found
him out something of use.

"My prince," Varys said looking up from the table where he was reading what seemed to be
small pieces of parchment.
"You have news?" he asked as he took his seat.
"Strange songs that I've not yet fully grasped the meaning of, my prince. Khal Drogo is
indeed as fierce and formidable as you feared and has gathered quite a following. Since
Prince Aemon was exiled, Drogo has spent his time rebuilding his father's broken Khalasar
and adding it to his own, while at the same time facing off against other Khals." Varys said
and Aegon shuddered slightly.
"Adding more men to his number," he said and Varys nodded.
"Indeed. Recently things have changed, however. He was seen near Pentos, his father had a
Manse there, a gift held in their family from before even Aegon the Conqueror landed on
these shores. One not used and yet maintained regardless." Varys said and Aegon looked at
him confused.
"Why would a Dothraki Khal keep a manse? And how come we were unaware of such?"
"I know not an answer to the first of those, my prince. To the second I can only say because
the manse fell under the purview of the Iron Bank and since no Khal has actually spent any
time there for more than a few generations, no one paid it any mind."

As answers go it was not the best, yet he could find no fault in Varys' work or no blame he
could attach to the man for not knowing of something that even the governor of Pentos didn't,
or he hoped he didn't.

"Was the governor aware?"
"No, my prince. I doubt anyone other than a member of the Iron Bank with access to the
accounts was aware. I would not have been, had Khal Drogo not visited the manse some
weeks past." Varys said.
"The purpose of the visit?" he asked and then held his hand when he saw the sheepish look
on Varys' face "Speak to the Iron Bank and to the governor, I wish to know every last detail
about who accessed this account and what the purpose of Khal Drogo's visit was. If need be,
travel to Pentos yourself and speak to whomever you need to, Varys."
"As you command, my prince."

Varys then handed him some papers and he looked over the figures that were written on
them, the numbers that it was believed Drogo could call upon. It was worse than he feared
and they'd need to use far more dragons than he'd expected should his fears be proved true.
After speaking to Varys on less important subjects and asking him had he heard anything
from his little birds regarding his aunt, which he had not, Aegon then bid him farewell and
left to walk to his father's rooms.

While he'd been given charge of dealing with Drogo, he was not averse to taking advice on
how best to do so. Something that he was about to find another source for. The sight of his
granduncle as he walked towards him was one that he was most grateful for, as no man was
wiser than he, and even Aemon had taken advice from his namesake from time to time. He'd
just reached him when he heard the words though it was Aemon who heard them more truly
than him. Then it was chaos, he was grabbed and pushed to the ground, a knife flashed in
front of his eyes and a pained scream rang out as his granduncle fell to the ground, blood
pouring out of a wound on his chest.

A few feet from where his granduncle had fallen, a man lay, he too was bleeding but unlike
Aemon he was unmoving. His guards had done their duty, yet they'd failed at the same time.
Was it not for his granduncle then it would be him laying and bleeding out. He shook off the
hands that tried to grab him. Refused to move when his guards bid him to and instead he
crawled to where his granduncle lay dying.

"A healer, get a healer." he shouted out as he raised Aemon's head and was shocked to see the
blood pouring out of his mouth "It'll be…the healer will be here in a moment…..You'll be
well, uncle, you'll be well…"
"No need for lies, nephew, I know the truth of the wound I feel." his granduncle said as his
hand dipped into the bloody wound and was then held up to show just how covered in blood
it was "The assassin, he…"
"He's dead uncle, he's dead," he said as if that made what he'd done irrelevant and not as
costly as he feared it would be.
"He was a sorrowful man, Aegon, tell your father…..tell your father he was a sorrowful
man."
"I will, I will," he said not understanding why the man being sorry for what he did meant and
certainly not caring that he was sorry for doing so.
"I...your brother, sister, I'd have….Tell them I loved them, Aegon, as I did…..as I did you
all."
"You'll tell them yourself uncle." he said as Aemon closed his eyes "Uncle, uncle...Where the
fuck is the healer?" he shouted out but he knew that the time for healing had long since
passed and his granduncle had breathed his last.

He was still in a daze when he stood in his father's rooms later that night. Still covered in his
granduncle's blood and though he'd spoken words to his father, mother, wife, and uncle, he
could remember them not. His mind kept going back to the moment that his granduncle had
pushed him to the ground and he tried to make sense of things. Closing his eyes, he shut out
the noise of his family speaking around him and concentrated as best he could on what had
happened.

Aegon pictured the man in his mind, he was small, nondescript, and wore servant's clothing.
So insignificant and non-threatening was he that his guards had felt no danger from him at
all. Considering that it had been many years since anyone had dared attack them in the Grand
Palace, Aegon couldn't fault them for that. His granduncle though, he'd known, he'd saved
him. How? How had Aemon known?

"The Dragonknight sends his regards." the assassin said before then adding "I'm sorry."

Aegon's eyes opened wide, his brother, the assassin was claiming to have been sent by his
brother. He was sorry, he'd said he was sorry. His granduncle's words began to make some

sense to him now, he knew who he was, though he couldn't believe that he'd been sent by
who he claimed to be. It made no sense, none at all and yet his father needed to know.

"He was a Sorrowful Man, father. He said that Aemon sent him."

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: Aemon, Ned, and Benjen arrive at the Wall and Aemon begins to believe his
mother’s tales were true. In Essos Rhaegar, Viserys and Aegon react to the death of their
beloved granduncle and set Varys a new task. Rhaenys and Dany spend time getting to
know the Starks while Aurane faces a fight that does not go how his foes expect it to. In
the West, Daario finds a man who's more of a Mountain and hurries back to tell Aemon
important news in the search for his uncle and grandfather’s killers.
The next story to be updated will be The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon's second
chapter, this will be up on Friday.

The Lands Beyond the Wall.
Chapter Summary

Aemon, Ned, and Benjen arrive at the Wall and Aemon begins to believe his mother’s
tales were true. In Essos Rhaegar, Viserys and Aegon react to the death of their beloved
granduncle and set Varys a new task. Rhaenys and Dany spend time getting to know the
Starks while Aurane faces a fight that does not go how his foes expect it to. In the West,
Daario finds a man who's more of a Mountain and hurries back to tell Aemon important
news in the search for his uncle and grandfather’s killers.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Conquest of Westeros XLVI,
Aemon Targaryen and the False Dragonknight.

No one truly knows what it was that first set Aemon Targaryen against his granduncle or why
he was the first to truly question whether or not Brynden really was a Dragonknight or not.
True enough there had been those who'd doubted before him, but few who'd been so blatant
in those doubts. Aemon though was a studious man, a learned one, and so mayhap it was in
the books and the histories of House Targaryen that he first noticed the signs which painted
Bloodraven as false.
What is known is that Aemon was close to his cousins who'd been christened as Blackfyres,
he believed their stories and tales of Bloodraven and had seen the jealousy that his
granduncle had shown to any over Shiera the Star of the Sea's affections. He'd known better
than any of the traits that a Dragonknight had and knew more of Dark Sister than any man in
the Empire including the man who wielded it. Or to be more precise did not. For Bloodraven
far preferred bow to sword and that did not sit right with Aemon nor did his relationship with
his dragon Whitefyre.
The bond between a Dragonrider and dragon was one of mutual trust and respect, the bond
between a Dragonknight and his dragon was something much deeper. Aemon's own dragon
Darkfyre was one that he rode daily, while Bloodraven's Whitefyre was rarely seen in the sky
with him upon its back. So eventually after much work gathering evidence, Prince Aemon
readied to present his case to his brother Emperor Aegon, only for Bloodraven to somehow
gain knowledge of the plan beforehand and seek to flee. Where he intended to flee to, remains
a mystery to this day as does what happened when Prince Aemon and Darkfyre finally caught

up with him. What is known is that when Aemon returned he did so alone and bearing Dark
Sister, and that Bloodraven or Whitefyre were never seen again.

"My granduncle Aemon was a great man, the best of men. He was good and true and no
Kinslayer. And both the Empire and my House owed him far more than we ever gave him."
Aemon the Dragonknight.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 301 AC.
Rhaegar Targaryen.

He looked down at his Granduncle's body, Aemon looking as if he was merely sleeping and
not breathing more. They'd all done their best to prepare themselves for this day. Aemon's
health had been growing steadily worse these past few years, so they knew his time was near.
But this? To have whatever days he had left remaining to him stolen by an assassin's blade,
was not something any of them were prepared for.

Rhaegar brushed his Granduncle's hair from his face and leaned down to place a soft kiss on
his forehead. His wisdom and guidance had been something he'd relied on for years. The
words he'd speak to him when they were alone and he questioned his own decisions, were
ones that had been most comforting. After his father's reign had finally been brought to an
end and as Rhaegar was trying to get used to the role of High Emperor, it had been Aemon
who'd helped him through those first few days. When his mother had passed, when Lyanna
had, as much as it had been Elia and his children that he'd taken comfort from, it was
Aemon's words that had stopped him from falling into the abyss of grief.

Each of his children had loved him. Aegon, Rhaenys, and his brother and sister too, though
none more so than his namesake. What words his Granduncle and his son would speak
together were known only to them both. Rhaegar had always believed that some were in
regards to Bloodraven the False Dragonknight and that others were in regards to his son
being a true one. Whether he was right or wrong, it mattered little now. He knew that Aemon
and Rhaenys would both take this news as hard as he and the rest of their family were, harder
still mayhap in Aemon's case.

"I will avenge you, uncle, I will find those who took you from this world. On that, you have
my vow, my oath, and when I do, they'll feel my fire." Rhaegar said determinedly.

With a last look at his Granduncle, he turned to walk from the room. As he did he could hear
the sad lament from outside the window where Darkfyre flew in its own show of grief.
Before the dragon then flew to ready itself to bring its flames to bear one final time for its
rider. In the halls outside, Viserys and Aegon waited and he nodded to them both. His brother
and son then went inside to pay their own respects to a man who meant so much to them
both. He'd ordered three days of mourning, the standard for any but the High Emperor or his
Empress. Yet he felt it not enough, in truth it was a poor send-off to a man who deserved a far
better one.

Rhaegar though knew the politics were important. To make the death any more than an
expected one was to court disaster. Word could not be allowed to spread regarding the truth
of Aemon's death. Instead of assassination, it must be that he passed peacefully in his sleep.
Anything else would shatter the image of the Royal Family being untouchable. Their enemies
and even their allies could not be allowed to know that a Prince of the Blood had been killed
in their own Grand Palace. That just couldn't be spoken to any but family. He hated it, wished
it was not how things must be, and he wished to rant and rave. He wanted to rage for all to
see, but he knew he could not.

He walked the halls almost in a daze, his guards behind him, and from now on not even in
this place of assumed safety would a member of his family not be guarded as if they were on
non-friendly ground. Rhaegar turned to speak to Arthur, to ask him about the steps he'd taken
to ensure his family's safety, only to once again be reminded that his closest friend and truest
sword was far from here. It brought him less comfort today than it normally did. The
knowledge that Rhaenys and Daenerys walked with the Sword of the Morning, as well as
with Aemon himself, had made him fear not for them in Westeros. Today though he found he
wished that it was here and not there that Arthur was. For today his fears were for the family
he had close by and not those in foreign lands.

Soon enough he reached his rooms and with a nod to his guards, he entered them. Elia came
to him as soon as he did so and he allowed her arms to offer him the comfort he so
desperately needed. He didn't sob, shed no tear, for he'd done so enough in the last few hours.
Instead, he allowed her arms to bring him strength and wash away some of the sadness he
felt. The time had come for other emotions to come to the fore, none more so than anger. So
after a few moments, he moved from his wife, placed a kiss on her cheek, and told her that he
was better, if not yet well.

"I'll burn them all, Elia, every last one of them. I'll burn them all!" he said and for once he
cared not that he sounded like his father.
"I know you will, my love." his wife replied simply.

He moved to he balcony and looked at the dragons that flew in the sky. One mournful and
flying closer to the Grand Palace than it had in many a year. Soon enough the indigo dragon
would fly to Lys and wait to be claimed by a new rider. Truth be told it had been some years
since his Granduncle had flown upon his dragon's back, yet Rhaegar knew the bond between
them had never been diminished. Seeing Arrax fly towards him, he smiled. His own dragon
knew his mind even better than he and Rhaegar could see the same determination in its red
eyes that he believed was reflected in his own indigo ones.

"Hēnkirī Arrax, hēnkirī īlon'll maghagon zirȳ Perzys Ānogār." (Together Arrax, together
we'll bring them Fire and Blood.) he said as his dragon, and the others that flew with him, all
seemed to roar together.

Walking back into his rooms, he felt different, more determined if that was possible. He sent
for Varys and made his way to his solar to meet with his Spymaster. Rhaegar sent for his
brother and son too, as while they were about the Empire's business this day, they were about
their family's as well. The assassination of a member of their family had to be answered on
both counts. Both the Empire and the Targaryens themselves demanded justice and he
demanded vengeance.

It was his son and brother who arrived first, with Varys arriving a little after them both.
Rhaegar could see how shaken Aegon was still, yet it seemed that just as with him, his son
too had passed beyond grief and now sought retribution. Viserys was still more grief-stricken
and for a moment he wondered if he should allow his brother more time to deal with that,
though in the end, he felt he could not. He too needed to know the steps that were being
taken, for he too would have a part to play in seeing them to their natural end.

"What songs do your little birds sing, Varys?" he asked without preamble.
"None, your grace. No one speaks of the death of Prince Aemon, other than the words you
wish them to speak." Varys said to a glare from Viserys which Aegon removed rather than he,
his son whispering in Viserys' ear.
"And the other songs?"

"Less than none, your grace. No one speaks of the man who murdered the prince, not here,
nor elsewhere. Though one song I've heard from afar."
"Which is?" Aegon asked impatiently.
"That King Tywin Lannister's dwarf son visited Braavos, where he met with the Iron Bank,"
Varys said and Aegon looked to him, Rhaegar nodding and allowing his son's words to be the
ones spoken and not his own.
"The Sorrowful Men, Varys, what can you tell me of them?" Aegon asked.

He, his son, and his brother, all listened as Varys spoke of them being other than the Faceless
Men, the largest group of assassins in Essos. Based out of Qarth, his family had never had
any dealings with them and unlike with the Faceless Men, no pact. A mistake on their part
which had cost them greatly and would now cost the Sorrowful Men even more. As to who
had hired them, it was Aegon who seemed to come up with a suspect quicker than he, a
suspect that he did not wish Varys to know about as of yet given how he looked at him.

"I want to know all about them. Speak to the men of Qarth, but do so in generalities only
Varys. The truth of them I wish to know through your little birds and seek out more on why
Tywin Lannister's son visited the Iron Bank," he said and Varys rose to his feet before turning
to leave the room.

They waited until he was gone, Viserys then rose to his feet and almost demanded that they
all fly to Qarth and end these Sorrowful Men once and for all. A large part of him agreed
with it as a plan and almost wished to do it now and not wait a moment longer. The people
who'd killed his Granduncle deserved not to breathe while he did not, but there was more
going on here and while the Sorrowful Men had killed Aemon, they were not the true enemy.
That was whoever had paid them to do so.

"The assassin tried to blame Aemon, father. I told you his words." Aegon said and they both
heard Viserys snort.

"As if my nephew would ever send a fool to do something he himself could do easily. If
Aemon ever wished any of us dead, which we all know is not something he'd even
countenance, it would be no assassin's blade that ended us, it'd be Dark Sister wielded in his
own hand." Viserys said and all there of them knew his words were true.
"But someone seeks to place the blame at his door, uncle. Why? Who would gain from such?
Who does it benefit to see the Empire and the Dragonknight at odds? I know my brother

would not seek my death. I know too that should he find out what happened here then not
even Varys' little bird would do as much seeking of the truth as he." Aegon said almost
happily.
"But we must do so first, Aegon. Aemon is far from here, it'll take time for word to reach him
and who knows what form his search for vengeance will take." he said and he knew he'd
spoken it true, it wouldn't be justice that his son sought, but vengeance for his namesake and
himself "An attack of this nature shows we've new enemies. Ones that thus far are unknown
to us and ones that must be removed root and stem lest others seek to join their cause."
"The Lannisters." Aegon said and he looked to his soon curiously "Aemon seeks to take their
kingdom from them, he's taken most of Westeros with ease, and to face him on an open field
is to sign your own death warrant, is it not?"
"It is," Viserys said before he could answer.
"King Tywin, you told me once he's a ruthless and clever man, father." Aegon said and
despite the seriousness of the discussion they were having, he smiled as it had been many
years earlier when King Tywin had visited and both Aegon and Aemon had still been boys
"Would this be something he'd attempt?"
"I'd not have thought so, but his son's presence in Braavos…."
"We need to fly, father. Viserys and I, we need to fly."
"You cannot go to Westeros, Aegon," he said rising to his feet.
"Not Westeros, no. Qarth and Braavos." his son said and he looked to him and to his brother
before nodding.
"After the days of mourning have passed, not before."
"No father, not before," Aegon said determinedly.

Winterfell 301 AC.
Rhaenys.

Waking up to an empty bed was a new experience for her these last few moons. Other than
when she'd gone to Dorne, she and Aemon spent little time apart and so she had found it hard
to sleep the night before. When she did drift off it was to dreams of her husband and upon
waking it was to the reality that he was not here and they'd not see each other for a few more
days at least. Rhaenys knew not what it was Aemon had gone to face at the Wall, only that
her husband had felt the need to do so. Something she both loved and hated him for in equal
measures this morning.

She rose to her feet, stretched, and then smiled at the sight of the white wolf as it lay in front
of the fire. At more than one point during the night before, she'd shared her bed with the giant
Direwolf. It almost seemed to know when she needed something to hold onto and before she
could get too disheartened, there he'd be. Moving to the trunk where her clothing was, she
began to dress and she washed in the large bowl of water that had been left on the table near
her bed. The cold of it was actually welcome as it helped wake her up for true and in no time
at all she was dressed and ready for the day ahead.

"Well Ghost, let's find something to break our fasts shall we?" she said to the white wolf who
rose to his feet immediately.

Rhaenys opened the door to find Ser Arthur on duty. Ser Barristan had been her guard when
she took to her bed and they must have switched at some point during the night or the early
morning. Offering Arthur her warmest smile, they moved to Dany's room and as she looked
at Dany's guards, she found herself feeling mischievous. Her aunt was not a morning person,
though since coming to Westeros she seemed to be turning more into one. However in the
cold mornings, since they'd come north, even though they were less of a thing in the keep
itself, she'd reverted back to her former habits. So knowing what she'd find, Rhaenys opened
the door and she and Ghost entered Dany's room. With a look to the white wolf, Rhaenys was
soon giggling loudly as Ghost moved straight to the bed.

"What? What? Gerroffff me…" Dany's annoyed voice rang out a few moments later and by
this time Rhaenys was in almost tears of laughter, something which she actually was a few
moments later when she was hit by a pillow wielded by a clearly non-amused Dany.
"I couldn't resist…" she said in the gaps of her laughter "Aemon would…"
"The sooner the better my nephew returns and I can get a decent night's sleep," Dany said
angrily, though mostly it was feigned anger that her aunt spoke with.

Once their fun was over and done with, Rhaenys helped Dany dress and even did her hair
herself. The feel of the brush as it took out the knots in Dany's silver hair and the look on her
aunt's face as she readied her for the day, showed that all was somewhat forgiven. Together
with Ghost, they left the room and made their way to the Great Hall to break their fasts.
Rhaenys found to her delight that both Stark girls and some of the other young ladies of
Winterfell were already up and eating.

"Good morning, your grace," Sansa said rising to curtsy, she and Jeyne Poole along with Beth
Cassel the only ones who did so.
"Mornuppph…" Arya said as she stuffed another spoonful of porridge into her mouth and
Rhaenys giggled once again.

Aemon's two cousins were as different as night and day. Sansa was more a lady of the court,
even if they didn't truly have one in Winterfell. The older girl had confided in her that she
was struggling to get used to life at Winterfell itself, having been raised and spent her life
with her family at Moat Cailin. While not much different to Rhaenys' eyes, the Moat and
Winterfell were as different as can be. One was the gateway to the North, the other the heart
of it and Sansa had told her that she was looking forward to the increased number of feasts
and visits from other Houses in the North that Winterfell would host.

Arya meanwhile, was more of a Northern Lady or so Aemon had said. Though where her
husband got his notions of what constituted a Lady of the North, Rhaenys knew not. While
Lyanna to her memory had been somewhat a mix of both girls, she'd not spoken much on the
ladies of her homeland, though given how much Aemon wished to know about the birthplace
of his mother, mayhap he had simply sought the information out. Whatever the truth of it,
Arya epitomized it to Rhaenys' eyes. The girl was as happy in the yard and doing what to
some were unladylike things as her sister was in doing them. She liked them both equally,
while she believed that her husband may have been somewhat fonder of Arya given her
resemblance to his mother. Yet another way that the two girls differed. Sansa was red of hair
and blue of eye, traits of her mother's house, while Arya was brown of hair and grey-eyed,
traits of her father.

"I was planning to go visit the dragons this morning, would you like to accompany me?" she
asked as their morning meals were placed in front of them.
"Very much so, your grace," Sansa said smiling.
"Could we fly?" Arya asked to a laugh from Dany as Rhaenys looked at her plate.

The porridge was hot and steaming and she poured some of the apple syrup over it to sweeten
it. Were this Volantis or even the South, then it would be honey she'd be having and she
found herself wondering if the North had even tasted such. They certainly didn't import it,
instead keeping to more basic foodstuffs. Something she'd seek to change in the future. Still,
the taste was pleasant and the porridge and its warmth were much welcomed.

"Not today, girls, for I feel a winter storm is on the horizon." Lady Catelyn said and Rhaenys
looked to the lady to see if she was speaking true or just feared for her daughters on Meraxes
or Nightwing's back, finding herself sure it was the former.
"We can fly some other day, Arya. When the weather is more agreeable," she said and Lady
Catelyn's smile showed that Rhaenys had read her right.

After eating, it took some time for the party to be assembled to head to Wolfswood and to
where the dragons had taken for their lair. Guards, both her own and those representing
House Stark, the wolves, and young Brandon and Rickon Stark too all joined them, and the
ride when it finally began took little time.

She smiled when she saw Meraxes and Nightwing in the sky. The two dragons were playing
with each other and those with her all looked on as she did in awe as they almost danced
together. While Gaelithox was Meraxes' favorite flying companion, her dragon so enjoyed
being with Nightwing too. Looking up at the two of them it was clear that they'd been playing
together for some time and it was only when they felt them nearby, that they stopped their
games and landed close to them. Both she and Dany moved to greet them first, her aunt
looking eagerly at her and Rhaenys shaking her head much to her disappointment.

While she could feel no change in the weather, the clouds in the sky were darkening and she
felt it best to accept that Lady Catelyn's experience in living in the North had provided her
with an insight that she shared not. So instead it was soft words and touches and not climbing
on the dragon's back to take to the sky that they would spend this morning. Meraxes was
more than happy to have her near and to hear her words, while Nightwing seemed likewise.
After their own private moments, she bid Sansa and Arya, and the others closer and asked
Meraxes to allow them to touch her too.

"We should go back, your grace." Ser Arthur said after some time and when the first flakes of
snow had begun to fall.
"Very well, I'll just say my goodbyes, Arthur." she said before she moved to look into
Meraxes' golden eyes "Īlon'll sōvegon aderī, ñuha jorrāelagon. Ao, nyke, Nightwing se
Gaelithox. Nyke kivio."(We'll fly soon, my love. You, Me, Nightwing, and Gaelithox. I
promise.) she said and Meraxes trilled loudly.

After Dany had said her own goodbyes, they moved to the horses and watched as the two
dragons took to the sky once more. They had made truer lairs for themselves in some caves
some distance away and so would go and shelter there if need be, or they may be heading off

for a hunt. Either way, she was sad to see them go and she so wished she could have gone
flying with them this morning. Feeling the chill of the wind and the snows beginning to fall a
little more truly, they hurried back to Winterfell and arrived just in time.

Lady Catelyn had been proved right and it was indeed a winter storm that had headed their
way, a far more violent one than even the lady had expected given how relieved she looked to
see them return. By the time they ate their evening meal, the storm was in full rage and when
she took to her bed that night, it was to the window and with her eyes looking to the north
that she found herself. She felt the lick of Ghost's tongue on her hand and offered up a prayer
to the gods to see her husband safe before she took to her bed. Once she did, she was even
happier for Ghost's presence when he lay down beside her and as she hugged the white wolf,
she wished it was someone else her arms were wrapped around.

"Be safe, my love. Be safe and return soon I beg of you," she said softly.

The Westerlands 301 AC.
Daario Naharis.

The people of these lands amazed him. In essence, their king was at war with an enemy that
had him beat in terms of strength and numbers, who had dragons to call upon, and yet they
were able to ride freely without being challenged once. Not that if they had been challenged it
would have caused them any difficulties, but the mere fact they weren't had shown just how
badly prepared the West was to face the Dragonknight.

At taverns, they drank, ate, and were clearly not from these lands, and yet no word was sent
to the nearby keeps or their lords about them. No riders came after them when they left the
towns or villages and so he and his men rode practically without a care. Had they been here
for anything but the mission they were on, then they could have caused chaos within these
lands. Something they were more than gifted at and which at times in Essos they had been
tasked to do. The Second Sons were well used to sneaking behind enemy lines and spreading
discontent and panic in the ranks of those they faced. Setting fires, killing commanders, or
riding off with stores was all well within their wheelhouse.

Here in these lands, it would be even easier to do. Villages burned, keeps were easy to
infiltrate, and even were they to be found out and find themselves running for their lives,
there were so many places to get lost in. They had crossed into the West at the Golden Tooth.

Daario had sent Lucearon and Jaedor on ahead of his main group to seek out a path that hid
them from the keep itself, one that was found most easily. So as night had fallen, they'd snuck
into the West unseen and Valarr had added the route to their map. While not large enough to
get the Westerosi heavy cavalry through, their own men could easily traverse the path unseen
and they could march the Unsullied right behind an enemy's lines if they wished to.

From the Golden Tooth, it was to Ashemark, the Crag, and finally to Lannisport itself that
their travels took them. They stopped in villages, drank in taverns and his men did one of the
things they did best, they sought and found information that would be useful to their cause.
The Old Lion was as feared as he was respected, while his son Prince Jaime was spoken
about as the best swordsman in all seven kingdoms. Something that Daario knew to be false
as there were certainly two that he knew personally who would be far better than the man and
his own blade may be more than a match for his as well.

They'd listened as people spoke of the wedding in Dorne. Of how the two kingdoms
combined would be more than a match for the so-called Dragon King and he'd tried not to
laugh. His men found that to be harder than he did as they found the arrogance of these
people to be unfounded. The Second Sons were arrogant as were The Flames of the Dragon
and The Sea Snakes. The Unsullied were not, they just were. As for those who commanded
them, Aurane was perhaps the most modest of them all, other than Torgho Nudho. Thoros
believed he walked with his god's favor and he had himself grown more and more arrogant
over the years. Aemon he knew walked with an arrogance that few men possessed. Unlike
these fools in the West though, they had reasons for their arrogance, victories to name their
own, and enemies they'd put into the ground to prove their arrogance was well earned. These
men spoke of victories yet to come and they spoke false.

"By the Seven I'd love to see Prince Jaime stick his sword up the Dragon King's arse." a
drunk man shouted loudly.
"Ha. What a sight it would be."
"To Prince Jaime, The Kingslayer."
"The Kingslayer."

He and his men were still chuckling when they left some of the taverns. It was not the
bragging that made them do so, just who they were bragging about seeing being brought low.
The day that their prince faced Aemon Targaryen, would be the last day their prince drew
breath. They had no doubt that would be the outcome of that fight. Just as they'd had none
that when he faced the Storm King it would be Aemon who lived to fight another day, which
had been what had occurred.

It was in Lannisport that they found tongues even more loosened. Lucearon finally found a
name other than the Mountain for the giant amongst men. How many ales he'd bought or
what women he'd slept with to find out that name, only the man himself would be able to
speak on. For while he'd left him and others in some of the taverns, it had been to Casterly
Rock itself that Daario had turned his attention to. Finally finding something in these lands
that impressed him. Other than some of the women that was.

The Rock as those who lived in its shadow named it, was as impressive a keep as he'd seen
since arriving in these lands. Though nothing compared to the Grand Palace in scope or
Harrenhal in size, it loomed majestically over the lands beneath it. Situated high on top of a
mountain, his first thought had been that it would take dragons to take this keep. As he'd then
gone in for a closer look, he'd found for the first time, men who took their roles seriously. He
was stopped, questioned, watched warily, and followed all the way to the gates of the keep
itself. So warily was he looked at that he had to try to enter the keep and accept the insults
and the denial of entry just so he could travel freely back down the mountain.

Only after he'd done so was he watched no more. He'd seen enough though. Guard towers
were built into the stone leading to the gates of the keep itself. Murder holes had been cut
into the rocks. A pathway that while comfortable enough to travel up was not one you'd seek
to march an army lest you'd taken care of all enemies in your path first. It would take many
men to see this keep fall. More than that though, it would take the Blood Wyrm some time to
end the resistance of those inside the keep. Taking his journal out, he wrote one word next to
the name of the keep itself.

Casterly Rock: Formidable.

Thankfully when meeting back up with his men, their news, or Lucearon's in particular was
better and it was a man named Gregor Clegane and his family's keep that was to become their
next destination. The ride took them no more than a few days and the closer they got to the
keep, the more he felt it. There was a malevolent presence in the air and one that only grew
once they reached the village beneath the large towerhouse.

Even Lucearon, who was afraid of no living thing, seemed almost unwilling to sup in the
tavern when asked and in the end, it had been Daario alone who'd done so. He'd not ask his
men to do something that he would not and so he rode alone into the small village and saw
the fear in people's eyes as soon as he arrived there. It was not fear of him and it took him no
time at all to find out it was the Lord of the Keep that kept these people awake at night. None

would speak of the man, no words of his or cajoling would get them to open their mouths and
it left him annoyed and yet impressed. As he was when he finally got a glimpse of the man
himself.

Eight feet tall and as muscled as any man he'd ever seen. Gregor Clegane wore heavy plate
and carried a Greatsword that put Dawn to shame in terms of size, if not beauty. The
Mountain that Rides, that had been the name they'd heard more than once while seeking out
this giant of a man. As he now looked at him mount his horse, he felt the name was apt.
When he looked his way, Daario felt a shiver run down his spine and felt somewhat a fool for
being here alone. Had the man joined the two he sent after him when he left the village, then
he'd not have made it back to his own men. But be it confidence, cockiness, or thinking
Daario to be as weak as he looked, instead of how many it would need to bring him down it
was only two ugly men that had been sent after him.

"Halt rider." one of them called out and Daario ignored him as he rode a little faster, "I said
HALT!" the man shouted, and then he heard their horses ride towards him at speed.

He reached down for his lady, turned around on his horse, and waited until the distance was
closed. Once he was sure he'd not miss, he took his lady in his hands and threw her. His aim
was good and true and he caught the man square in the head, Daario almost laughing at the
sight of him falling from his horse. The other guard drew his sword only to find Daario had
unsheathed his Arakh far more quickly and before he got the chance to swing at him in anger,
his head was no longer on his shoulders.

"Another day and I'd sought answers from you both." Daario said as he dismounted and
moved to retrieve his lady "Today though it was only your deaths I sought."

Both men breathed no more and he knew his time in these lands was now over and done
with. It took him another hour to meet up with his men and he had them ready to ride less
than an hour later. They stopped not in Lannisport or anywhere else until they reached
Ashemark. Even then it was only Lucearon and Jaedor who entered the village itself for
supplies as while he believed they were not being followed, he wished not to take the chance
he was wrong in that regard.

It was their return to the Golden Tooth that brought them information that he knew Aemon
would more than welcome. Lucearon had sought to spend a night in the village near the keep
and while Daario and the rest of their men camped, he let the man do as he'd asked. They

japed about him that night as they ate around the campfire. He and his men were sure there
was a lady that he wished to bed before they left these lands and in this, they were proved
right. Though as always with Lucearon, the laying with the lady was only half his reason for
spending the night. The other half was something that he and his men found out upon
Lucearon's return.

"You're sure about this?" Daario asked after listening to what Lucearon had just told him.
"I'm sure. The girl is a maid in the keep. She said that Prince Jaime, along with the Mountain
and some other men stayed in the keep a few moons past. That they rode from the east."
"It may be nothing," he said though he believed it not.
"The Mountain is not welcome in most keeps, Daario. People fear him with good reason
according to Lara. Had he not been with Prince Jaime then he may not have been allowed
within the keep's walls." Lucearon said.
"They'd stop him from entering?" Jaedor asked.
"Here they would," Lucearon replied.
"What's special about here?" Valarr asked.
"The Lord's daughter is married to Prince Jaime Lannister," Lucearon said.

He looked to Lucearon and to the rest of his men, he could see that they believed the words
that Lucearon had spoken to them all. If true then not only had The Mountain killed Aemon's
uncle, he and Prince Jaime may very well have killed his grandfather too. War was already
coming to these lands, that was inevitable. What had not been up to now was which side of
Aemon Targaryen and the Blood Wyrm they'd see. Now it was and it was not a side of either
that any in Westeros would soon forget.

The Wall 301 AC.
Benjen Stark.

He'd seen the dragons from some feet away, both while they flew in the sky and as they
landed. When his nephew had come to Moat Cailin, it had been him that had greeted him first
and so it was him that had been nearest to the red dragon. As they'd marched south, he and
the rest of the North had born witness to the power of dragons when they'd come across the
Iron Born who'd been unlucky enough to face the Blood Wyrm's wrath. Yet none of that
prepared him for just how incredible a beast a dragon truly was.

When Aemon had suggested coming with them to the Wall, both he and Ned had been greatly
relieved. More so when he'd said that he'd be bringing the Blood Wyrm to bear on whatever
enemies that Jeor Mormont was warning them about. Benjen had no doubt that just as it had
been in the past, it was once again Wildlings that needed to be repelled. Though he did
wonder just why Jeor seemed so desperate for their help this time. All of that had been
mayhap why he'd not at first realized that he and his brother would be flying to the Wall upon
a dragon's back. Now as they soared through the air, he finally began to understand just how
outmatched anyone was against dragons, and just how majestic they truly were.

He barely saw the ground beneath them, so fast did they fly over it. Before he knew it they'd
passed over the Wolfswood and as night fell they were almost at the Wall itself. Were it not
for his nephew's worry over their tiredness and Aemon not wishing to arrive at the Wall not
ready to fight if need be, then he believed they'd have continued on and flown straight to the
Wall. Something which beggared belief when he thought about it. A journey that would take
them weeks to do, being done in a single day, was just mind-blowing to him.

It showed him more clearly why no army could truly match one with a dragon at its head. For
even ravens flew slower than the Blood Wyrm and Benjen would wager that for as fast as
they'd covered the ground, Aemon hadn't even bid the red dragon fly as fast as he could.
Were you marching an army against such a foe, then before you knew it, your enemy would
be right atop you, or behind you, and the fight would be upon you before you knew it. Given
then what they'd seen in the Neck and the tales they'd heard of the Blood Wyrm's ease in
ending the Iron Born threat, to fight against such a foe was folly. The North and other
Kingdoms had chosen not to. Partly because Aemon was their kin, mainly because they'd
realized the odds they faced. Others had not and as they landed and Benjen climbed down to
stretch his legs, he felt sorry for those who did not.

"He'll go eat and be back within the hour," Aemon said as the red dragon took to the sky and
Benjen looked around at where they were.
"The Gift?" Ned asked looking to him and Benjen nodded, believing that indeed was where
they were and confirming to himself that he'd been right, they could have made it to Castle
Black if Aemon had wished it so.
"We should start a…" he was about to say fire when he looked to see that Aemon and the
quiet stoic guard who always stood at his nephew's back had already lit one "Or just join
them at it." he chuckled as he and Ned moved to where his nephew and his guard, Torgho
Nudho sat by the fire.

They took their own seats, and Ned reached into their pack to pass out some bread and
cheese, something that each of them partook of. He looked to his brother, to his nephew, and
to the man with him and while the silence wasn't foreboding or uncomfortable, he felt the
need for someone to speak.

"You said you wished to go to the Wall, Aemon? For why?" he asked as he tore off a piece of
bread and then chewed down on it.
"Mother would tell me tales of the North, uncle. When she put me in my bed at night, she'd
sit with me and speak of the lands, the people, its customs, and her family. She'd tell me a tale
of a wall of ice that rose as high as the Emperor's Towe. One that stretched further than the
walls of Qarth or Yi Ti. To the boy I was, it sounded such a sight to see, and given that it was
my mother speaking of it, of the lands she'd been born in, it was only more so." Aemon said
wistfully.
"It must have been hard for you when you lost your mother," Ned said softly.
"It was hard for us all, uncle. Rhaenys, Aegon, my father, and Elia, the people of the Empire.
Those who were enslaved most of all." Aemon said looking to his guard.
"Slavery, such a thing…" he said disgustedly, then seeing a small nod from the normally stoic
guard.
"The Empire was founded on it. A relic from Valyria itself and one that for the longest time
no one ever challenged, not until my mother that was." Aemon said bringing a smile to both
Benjen and Ned's faces "When we would travel through the Empire, my mother would free
slaves where she could, though never as many as she wished for."
"Not even as the Empress?" he asked and Torgho Nudho glared at him thinking he was
speaking ill of his sister, only for Aemon to place a hand on the man's shoulder and whisper
in his ear before he then spoke.
"My father's will alone would not be enough to stop slavery. Oh, he could mayhap force it to,
proclaim it so, but it would bring the Empire crashing down around him were he to do so.
Mother understood this, she knew it had to be a process, little by little. So together they
began to introduce reforms, after she….when she passed, I'm afraid those reforms were
forgotten and so it was left to the law named after her to be all that slaves could look to for
their freedom. Alas…I was the only one who enacted that law." Aemon said rising to his feet
and shaking his head at his guard as he walked to the stream some distance away.

There was silence once again and Benjen felt that they would the last words were spoken that
night, other than to bid goodnights when they turned in, he was wrong. Torgho Nudho looked
to Aemon before then speaking, surprising both he and Ned when he did so as the man was
by nature a quiet one they'd found.

"Empress Lyanna freed Torgho Nudho. I stand with her son always." Torgho Nudho said
firmly.
"You knew my sister?" he asked curiously.
"I had the honor of knowing the Empress. Empress came to Astapor and when she left, she
took me with her. Many years later, my prince and Torgho Nudho went back and freed others.
Not all, but many and none who were cut." Torgho Nudho said almost proudly.
"Cut?" Ned asked.
"No longer men."

He was about to ask more, or Ned was when Aemon walked back and rejoined them. He'd
not say he'd been crying, but it was clear he had been saddened by the words they'd spoken
and the memories they'd brought back up. Yet as he took his seat, soon enough he was
speaking of other things and making japes at their expense. Something that they probably
needed. The red dragon arrived back an hour or so later and they ended up making their beds
against his scales. Benjen was stunned to find that though the night was cold and the wind
blew, they felt it not and he slept as if he was abed in Winterfell and not sleeping on the cold
snow-covered ground.

They broke their fast early the next morning and were flying less than an hour after waking.
He'd been to the Wall three times in his life, Ned only two, neither of them though had ever
seen it from this vantage point and it was a sight to behold. He could even see over it and half
expected to see the Wildlings already there waiting, though there was no sign of them and
after flying them alongside it for some time, Aemon finally bid the red dragon to land.
Whatever it was they'd come to face, Benjen had no fear of them. For they had a dragon to
call upon and Wildlings like any other who faced it were simply outmatched.

The Crownlands 301 AC.
Aurane.

The men arranged against him were a fierce and unfriendly bunch. Warriors one and all, yet
some had left their best days behind them and others were yet to see them. Green Boys and
Grey Beards and despite having him beat in terms of numbers, should there be a battle here
today, then he felt that he'd end up winning. He just had no desire to pay the cost of that
victory. For he'd lose men too, and he both had no desire to waste them in a pointless battle
and had fewer to call on.

Still, he'd set his lines up and as they rode towards the leaders of those who'd stand against
them, he did so under no illusions that a loss of men may be unavoidable. Beside him,
Marxus looked eager for a fight and had sent word to Thoros in Harrenhal that one may be
upon them. Not that his friend would be able to send men to help him out if one came.
Something which preyed on Aurane's mind and should there be no fight here today, then it
was something that he'd seek to rectify before getting back to building his city.

When they reached the middle of the field, he looked to see the men riding towards him and
tried to judge which of them led. It took him some time to be sure that he was in the right of
it, but in the end, he was certain that it was the older man in the middle, the one bearing the
red crab of House Celtigar. Seeing how the man looked at him when they finally brought
their horses to a stop, he was even more certain he was right. There was hatred in those looks,
distrust, and anger too. Yet there was fear there as well, a fear that he intended to make use
of.

"These are not your lands, boy, they belong to my House, to all our Houses." the old Celtigar
Lord spat.
"All the Lands of Westeros belong to only one House, Lord Celtigar. The House of the
Dragon and it is to the man and woman who rule over that House that I answer and not to
you. It is to King Aemon Targaryen, the King of Westeros, and to Queen Rhaenys Targaryen
that both mine and your own fealty is owed. It was they who named these lands as mine own
and bid me see that so." he said firmly.

The looks on each of the faces only grew ever more angered and yet once again it was Lord
Celtigar who spoke.

"We swore no oaths to the dragons, nor to the other men who named themselves kings. I
swear no oaths to you and owe no man my fealty. You have until midday to leave these lands
in peace, boy, if I were you I'd run back to your dragon king and tell him that these lands are
not, nor will ever be his."

He saw it then, the pride that was for now overriding the fear that was there. Were it Aemon
and Gaelithox here then it would be the latter that was the pre-eminent emotion. Had he a
fuller army here, then he too could engender that fear in the man across from him. But since
he had what looked to be a lesser force, even though he believed them superior, it would not

be fear that brought this man to his knees or not the fear of what may happen today. Instead,
he would use what would happen on the morrow to cow these men.

"King Robert Baratheon rode out with the full might of the Stormlands. More than 20,000
men he brought and yet it was in a Trial by Seven that my king took his life." Aurane said
and he saw one of the lords, a man wearing moonstones and whose sigil was seven golden
stars look at him fearfully though Lord Celtigar's expression changed not "The Knights of the
Vale and their king knelt when the Blood Wyrm showed them that their Bloody Gate was no
obstacle to my king's march. Harrenhal now flies the banner of the Two-Headed Dragon,
rather than one of the Hoares, and was taken with a snap of my king's fingers." he said
snapping his fingers for effect "The North and the Riverlords knelt despite winning a great
victory of their own. Yet you believe that you can give orders to a king?" he said dismissively
while looking at the wizened old lord.
"I knelt…."
"To no King. I heard your words and I'll say but this, the only reason they are true is that
you've known no king like mine own. We are not men of Westeros, our King is no man of
Westeros, yet Westeros like Essos before it has found that you kneel or are brought to your
knees when the Dragonknight stands before you. We can give battle here today, you'll lose,
but we can fight if you wish. The gods may even be good to you and I may be talking out of
my arse, and you'll win. But what price that victory, my lords?"

He looked to the now more nervous looks, turned to Marxus and nodded, and saw him look
back to his men, his cavalry now making their presence truly felt. Aurane used them just to
emphasize that even their victory should it come would be a false one.

"Should I fall, should my men fall. What do you think comes next, my lords? Who do you
think would seek to avenge us? My King is my brother by choice, I know in death what faces
the man who ended me? And yet I'm a fair man too. So I'll give you a chance to take that
which you seek. Your best man against mine own, one on one here in the middle of these
lands. Should you win then the words I send my brother by choice will name you free and
these lands are your own, when you lose, however…."
"We kneel?" Lord Celtigar spat and Aurane nodded.
"Very well, an hour." Lord Celtigar said and they turned their horses and rode back to their
army while he and his men did the same.

An hour later they met once again in the middle of the field. He'd handed the latter to Darron
just in case he fell and saw the surprised looks on the Lord's faces that it was him that was

standing as his own champion. Those looks soon turned respectful and then worried as his
words about Aemon began to sink in. Aurane knew they were right to be worried, his letter to
Aemon may name his offer true, but he doubted he'd keep to it. Not if he fell here today,
something he had no intention of doing. Were he to fall, then each and every single one of the
Lords who'd ridden to face him would die at Aemon's hands. If they were lucky, then that
would be all the vengeance for his death that Aemon would seek. He doubted they'd be that
lucky.

"Ser Triston of Tally Hill." the knight who walked towards him said.
"Aurane Velaryon." he answered "To a yield will suffice for me, Ser Triston."
"My lord will be most pleased to hear it. I bid you good fortune, Aurane."
"And I, you, Ser Triston."

With a nod from Lord Celtigar, the two of them unsheathed their swords and while Ser
Triston bore a shield, Aurane did not. Just as with Aemon himself, movement and speed were
his strengths and so he held a dagger in his non-sword hand. He moved out of the way when
after he'd blocked a strike from Ser Triston, the man tried to crash his shield against him. His
dodge slightly unbalancing the other man.

His sword mainly parried the other man's blows at first, and it was clear that behind his
shield's defenses, Ser Triston thought himself unreachable. Something that Aurane was about
to prove he was very much not. With a turn and spin away from the shield attack, he once
again unbalanced the other man, and then with his dagger, he drove down at the arm that held
the shield. Aurane's dagger was a Myrish stiletto. Its point was sharp and narrow and it was
made of Valyrian Steel. To Ser Triston's surprise, it cut deep into his armor and pierced the
skin, forcing him to drop his shield and in essence, to lose the match.

Sword on sword, he was no match for Aurane and with the blood loss and pain in his injured
arm, he was distracted too. A leg sweep caught him completely and as he fell to the ground,
Ser Triston lost his sword as he had his shield a few moments earlier. Aurane stepped towards
the prone man and placed his sword against his neck.

"Yield."
"I yield."

That night he accepted the fealty of the lords who'd sought to battle against him. Words and a
small exhibition of swordsmanship had been enough to get them to bend their knees. The
things he told them that night about the city he was building, were more than enough to keep
them bent he felt. They too would prosper by the city he was building being on these lands,
they'd see their coin increase as the trade itself did. That and knowing they'd not be facing a
vengeful dragon was enough to see different looks on their faces when they feasted that
night. It was enough to bring a smile to Lord Celtigar's too. As for Ser Triston, Marxus had
seen to his injury and Aurane offered him a place within his guard, one that the man
gratefully accepted.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVII,
The Lands Beyond the Wall.

Why the Wall was built had been somewhat lost over the years. The true reason that Brandon
the Builder felt the need to build such a massive structure, along with the formation of the
Night's Watch to guard said structure and the Lands beyond it, had been diluted and
misremembered. Were you to ask any man south of the Wall, then you'd be told it was to keep
the Wildlings out. To separate the lands of good and true men from the lands of savages.
Yet there were hints that it was more than simply savage men and women that the Wall was
built to keep out in both the words of the Night's Watch Vow and in certain of their traditions.
For amongst the tales spoken to the children of the North to scare them and that they thought
untrue, one tale stood above all, the Tale of the Long Night. A night that cast the realm in
darkness and where the sun shined not until it ended. A night when the Others marched and
brought death to any they faced.
Amongst the Night's Watch's vows, certain lines of it seemed to refer to this being their true
purpose. The Sword in the Darkness, The Fire that Burns against the Cold, The Light against
the Dawn, and the end of their oath too. For this night and For all the Nights to come. Night
not day, the night it was the Night's Watch was to guard against and were that not obvious
enough, then their name alone should have told anyone their true purpose. For what does
Night's Watch mean if not to watch out for the Night to come. Yet those words had been
misconstrued for far too long and even their signals as to what came from the other side of
the Wall had somewhat been forgotten. One horn blow for a returning Ranger, Two for
Wildlings, and Three for Others. So long had it been since they blew for the last of those that
they'd forgotten they'd blown for it once.
For eight thousand years it was Wildlings, King's Beyond the Wall, and a true purpose was
forgotten. An animosity had grown between those on one side of the Wall and those on the
other. When in truth, they were and had always been allies. The Watchers on the Wall were
supposed to serve as the last line of defense and warning, not the first, the first was always
supposed to be those who lived on the other side of the Wall. The truth was in the tales, in the
stories of the North, of Brandon the Builder, Brandon the Breaker, and of Joramun. King's of
Winter, and Kings Beyond the Wall uniting together to face the threat that sought to end them

all, allies not enemies, friends not foes. In the end, it would take a king to see the truth in
those words. A king with winter in his veins and fire in his heart, a king who'd been told those
stories too.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Castle Black 301 AC.
Aemon.

His dreams of it did it no justice at all. The stories his mother would tell him as she put him
in bed, were now given context and as Gaelithox flew alongside the great wall of ice, Aemon
smiled. There had been times over the years since she passed that he'd wondered if she'd
made it up. Never would he doubt her or name the words she spoke to him as untrue, but
there had been times when as he grew, he found the thoughts of a wall of ice to be just too
fantastical. The height and length of such a thing, even one made from stone, was beyond
even the Empire to construct. So Aemon had put some of her words down to while not lies,
half-truths. Looking at it now, he felt a fool for even doubting his mother's words that much.

They flew some more before landing, Aemon bid Gaelithox fly higher and the red dragon
was only too keen to do so. He looked over the Wall itself into the lands beyond it and found
himself thinking of other words his mother had told him. There was no army lying in wait
that he could see, no threat that was apparent, and yet according to his uncles, the Lord
Commander rarely called for their aid so directly. With a last look to the other side of the
Wall, he bid Gaelithox land and did so close to the small keep.

After dismounting, he looked to Torgho Nudho and saw the small nod of his head. No words
needed to be spoken to his sworn shield and while they had come here as allies of the Watch,
both he and Torgho Nudho would be ever vigilant just in case. His uncles seemed to share
none of his concerns and as they began to walk to the gates, so did he. They reached them to
find men waiting for them and one of them being greeted warmly by his uncle Ned.

"Lord Commander." his uncle said formerly.
"Lord Stark." the gruff older man replied before breaking into a warm smile "Ned, thank the
fucking Old Gods for it's good to see you old friend."

"Aye, you too, Jeor."
"Benjen."
"Jeor."

The reunions took probably half the time they would have had he not been with them. His
uncle almost forgot about him until Gaelithox took to the sky, but once the red dragon was
flying again, then all eyes turned to him.

"I'd not believed the words," Jeor said looking to Gaelithox as the red dragon flew to feed and
find a place to rest.
"Jeor, may I present his grace, King Aemon Targaryen, King of Westeros, and mine own
nephew along with his sworn shield Togo Nadhu."
"Torgho Nudho, uncle," he said with a chuckle as he moved forward.
"You're Lyanna's boy?" Jeor asked as they shook hands.
"I am."
"Well then let me welcome you to Castle Black, your grace. Now no doubt you'd like to get
inside where there's a warm fire and mayhap some hot food waiting, we may even be able to
find an ale or two to wet our tongues if we're lucky." Jeor said and he and his uncles began to
walk while Aemon and Torgho Nudho waited for a moment before doing likewise.

He took in the condition of the small keep and found it incredibly run down. The wood
seemed to be rotten, the men looked as if they wished to be anywhere but here, and looking at
their arms and armor, they were poorly equipped in both. The looks they gave them were
anything but friendly, though they seemed to him to be men who'd not smile for much or had
much to smile about. Still, as they walked, he noticed how Torgho Nudho took note of the
harshest of those looks as did he. It was always far better to have an idea of those who may
wish you harm than to be surprised by them.

The warmth of the Lord Commander's rooms when they entered it was welcome and while
the food they were given was warm, that was the best that could be said about it. His uncles
drank the ale that was offered and by the looks on their faces, wished they'd not. So he and
Torgho Nudho stuck to water. Aemon found much to his delight that for some reason the
water tasted better here, purer somehow. Or mayhap it was just him who felt so. Words were
spoken of anything but why they'd been sent for, instead it was on the war in the South, his

conquest, and why the North had knelt. Along with commiserations for the losses his uncles
had suffered. Eventually, word soon turned to why Jeor needed their aid.

"Mance Rayder, Ned. A former brother of the Watch who now names himself as King
Beyond the Wall." Jeor spat.
"He'll find out like the others who've done so that the North Remembers, Jeor." his uncle said
firmly.
"'Tis good to hear it, Ned. But I sought men?"
"And men march, Jeor. The Greatjon should arrive soon along with men from the Mountains
and we have my nephew and his dragon too. Trust me they are more than a match for any
force of Wildlings."
"What does this king seek?" he asked taking the three men by surprise.
"To cross the Wall, your grace," Jeor replied as if he was speaking to a child and not a fullgrown man with a crown.
"Other than that?" he asked to dumbfounded looks
"Mayhap you're not aware of…"
"Your history? The History of the North? I think you'll find I'm as knowledgeable as any in
this room. I know the tales, Lord Commander. I know that Bran the Builder built the Wall
more than eight thousand years ago. I know that Brandon the Breaker and the King Beyond
the Wall, Joramun, united to defeat the Night's King. I know one thing more than any other,
however." he said as he rose to his feet.
"Which is, your grace?" his uncle Benjen asked.
"No man builds a Wall such as this to keep out men. There is no need for such." he said
before turning to walk to the door "The lift I saw, it goes to the top of the Wall?" he asked to
a nod from Jeor "I leave you to your conversation, for now. I'd like to see over the edge of it
as my mother told me one day I would."

As they walked to the lift they were joined by a man named Qhorin Halfhand and another
named Thoren Smallwood. Both men looked at him and Torgho Nudho distrustfully yet held
their tongues. It took some time for the lift to take them to the top and he had to admit that it
was a relatively ingenious apparatus. One that he'd no doubt had been built long ago and by
cleverer men than those he'd met thus far at Castle Black. When they reached the top of the
Wall, he was told the ice was slippery and not to stand too close to the edge. Thoren
Smallwood almost wore a smirk on his face as he spoke the words.

Looking over the edge of the Wall, he could see the tree line and the forest that lay some
distance away and he felt eyes upon him as he did so, eyes from both sides of the Wall. The
lands had a beauty to them, harsh though they were and he found he wished to travel them, to
explore them, and to seek the truth of them. A small voice in his head though spoke a
warning to him and told him that there was naught but death in those lands and that in time
those lands wouldn't be enough to contain death's hunger.

"Both of you have dealt with the Wildlings?" he asked to grunts "With this Mance Rayder?"
he asked to no reply "Were you born mute and is it just me who stills your tongue?" he asked
annoyed while turning around to face the two men.
"Aye, I know Mance. He was my brother once. He was the best of us, the worst of us too."
Qhorin said.
"And would you name him a craven, a coward?" he asked catching the man by surprise and
while Thoren did just that, Qhorin very much did not.
"He's an Oathbreaker, aye….but he has eyes to see, and no man ever dared to name him a
faintheart." Qhorin said and Aemon looked to Torgho Nudho and saw it in his eyes. His own
path was one that his sworn shield wished him to forge yet again.

They ate with the men that night. His uncles spoke to Jeor Mormont and other men that they
knew while he and Torgho Nudho sat in silence for some time. When they'd finished eating,
it was to the Maester's rooms that he went rather than his bed and while he bid Torgho Nudho
to sleep, something he did reluctantly in the chair by the fire, Aemon spent most of the night
looking through some of the books that he'd asked the Maester for access too.

He ignored the tomes on the realm and instead looked through journals written by former
Lord Commanders. None of them going back as far as he wished them to, yet some offered
him insight. By the time dawn had risen, he knew what it was he wished to do and that there
would be those who'd name him a fool for doing so. Aemon was a king though and it took a
king to treat with a king. Especially when around him the truth of things had been lost.

Wildings raided for the things they needed. They sought to steal, ravage, rape, and were
savages according to the Watch and his uncles. Yet there had been relative peace between
them and those on the other sides of the Wall for many years. Raymun Redbeard was the last
King Beyond the Wall to truly unite the Wildings and that had been five and seventy years
ago. He'd seen the watch become complacent and had snuck past them only to find his end at
the hands of Starks and Umbers. Aemon had read the tale in the Lord Commander's, at the
time, own journal. Tired as he was, he chuckled at the name that had stuck to Jack Musgood
after that event.

"Sleepy Jack," he said softly chuckling still.

No there was more at play here than simply Wildlings seeking more than they had and the
fact they were led by a former man of the Watch gave them more room to negotiate too. If
war was inevitable then he'd bring them war, but his mother's tales, the sense he got from
atop the Wall and something even deeper than all of them was telling him that was not what
they Wildlings sought. True they sought to be free men and they'd fight for that freedom, but
he believed the truth of things was in the tale of the Wall itself. For eight thousand years it
had stood to keep something from crossing it. That something was not men and he feared that
the time had come when it sought to cross once more.

"Come, Torgho Nudho, it's time to go argue with my uncles and the Lord Commander and to
remind them it's me that wears the crown," he said as he woke up his sworn shield.

Chapter End Notes

Up next Aegon and Viserys arrive in Braavos and Qarth respectively. In Oldtown, the
High Septon calls a meeting to discuss the heathens in the realm. Aemon argues with his
uncles and the Night’s Watch and is stunned by a surprise visitor that upends all his
plans. Daario arrives back at Harrenhal and shares his news with Thoros and finds he‘s
not the only arrival at the great keep. Before the Targaryens leave the North and take to
the skies. In Dorne, plans are made and a course of action is put into motion that will
change the fates of many.
For those following my other fics, Live as a Dragon or Last Wolf are up next, not sure
which will be first, but those are the next two to be updated.

A Dragon's Call to Arms.
Chapter Summary

Aegon and Viserys arrive in Braavos and Meereen respectively. In Oldtown, the High
Septon calls a meeting to discuss the heathens in the realm. Aemon argues with his
uncles and the Night’s Watch and is stunned by a surprise visitor that upends all his
plans. Daario arrives back at Harrenhal and shares his news with Thoros and finds he‘s
not the only arrival at the great keep. In Dorne, plans are made and a course of action is
put into motion that will change the fates of many.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Thoros of Myr.

It was rare that he'd known such peace in his life. Rarer still when it was in the middle of a
war that had not yet been won. The campaign to conquer Westeros though was much
different than any of the campaigns he'd fought by his prince's side previously. Usually, when
Aemon was called upon to bring the Blood Wyrm and the Second Army to bear, it would be
against enemies that the Empire sought to vanquish quickly. When they fought before, it was
to put down a rebellious army or to cow an overly ambitious Dothraki Khal and so those
battles were quick and decisive.

When you then added in just how practiced and efficient Aemon, the Blood Wyrm, and the
Second Army had become at winning those battles, they all soon began to follow the same
basic principle. A song would be sung by one of Varys' little birds from some far-flung part
of the Empire or the High Emperor's negotiations would falter and then his prince would be
sent for. The Second Army would march and eventually reach the field where the battle
would be fought and then Aemon, the Blood Wyrm, and their men would bring fire and blood
to those they faced.

Occasionally, their mere presence was enough to stop a battle before it could begin.
Sometimes, that battle would be over with simply a few sweeps from Aemon on the Blood
Wyrm over their enemies' ranks. More than once, however, it had been a full and true battle
they faced and not a single one of them had lasted more than a day or so. Even their last one

in Essos before his prince's exile had been one they'd spent more time marching to and away
from than actually fighting. Yet fight they did. Whereas here thus far, they'd fought not for
true.

So it had been the duller parts of battle that Thoros was forced to deal with, the logistics,
lists, supply chains, and billeting of the men. The last of which was far easier here in
Harrenhal than it had been on Dragonstone. With Aurane now setting up at the mouth of the
bay where he'd build a seat for himself and with all the lands from Storm's End to Gulltown
under Aemon's control, they could finally bring in the required supplies from the Empire too.
Something that the men would appreciate as their palates were not the same as the Westerosi
and they had found the food and drink here were not to their taste. Thoros though would have
to admit that at least when it came to the drink, there was much variation to choose from. He
was enjoying a particularly fine wine from the Arbor in his solar when Larxus knocked on
the door.

"Come," he said covering up the piece of parchment that he'd been writing yet another list on.
"The Second Sons have returned," Larxus said and Thoros hurriedly swallowed down the last
of what he had in his glass before rising to his feet.

He moved quickly down through the corridors and halls, as he was eager to speak to Daario
and to see if he'd found what his prince had sought in the West. That he was keen too to
spend time with someone with different stories to tell around the dinner tables was something
which put pace into his steps as well. Being holed up in a keep while those you named your
truest friends were off traipsing through the country without you, was dull and boring and he
longed for something to get his blood flowing once more. 'Something more than the fool
who'd arrived a few days earlier', he thought as he caught sight of Ser Gerold Dayne out of
the corner of his eye.

Thoros knew just by the look on Daario's face that he'd found the answers that Aemon
wished for. So after greeting his friend warmly and bidding Larxus see to rooms and
refreshments for the Second Sons, he told Daario to follow him back to his solar. As they
were walking silently together, Daario noticed Ser Gerold Dayne and looked at Thoros
curiously.

"From Dorne, claims to be Ser Arthur's cousin and says he's here to speak to him," Thoros
whispered.
"You believe him false?" Daario asked and Thoros shook his head.

"Not quite."
"Thoros?"
"The man may share blood with the Sword of the Morning, but he's not cut from the same
cloth. Not even close."
"A spy then?"
"A piss poor one if he is," he said with a chuckle that Daario joined in with.

Ser Gerold had arrived a few days earlier and other than being somewhat talented with a
sword, by Westerosi standards at least, he was as far from Ser Arthur as could be. It quickly
became clear to Thoros and to his men that the so-called Darkstar was a man of little honor.
He had a reason other than the one he claimed that had brought him here, a reason that as of
now, Thoros had not been able to ascertain. Though he didn't believe that reason to be in
regards to Dorne or House Martell and if anything, he'd wager it was personal.

Clearing Ser Gerold from his mind, for now, he and Daario continued the rest of their walk in
silence. Soon enough they reached his solar and as Daario took a seat, Thoros poured himself
another glass of the Arbor wine he'd been drinking before taking a different bottle from the
shelf behind him and then pouring Daario a glass from it. His friend was like most of their
men and preferred the wines of their homeland, and the one he'd picked was from Tyrosh just
as Daario himself was.

"Thank R'hllor," Daario said after he'd taken a large swallow from the glass.
"Fed up of the local stuff."
"You've no idea, old friend."
"I've ordered some supplies from Pentos, they should be here before a moon turns." he said to
a smirk from Daario who then took another swallow of his wine before Thoros' expression
turned more serious "You found what you were looking for?"
"The man who killed Aemon's uncle is a man named Gregor Clegane, The Mountain that
Rides."
"The what now?" he chuckled and then took another drink for himself.
"Eight feet tall if he's an inch, Thoros. A huge fucking brute of a man."
"You've seen him yourself?" he asked to a nod of Daario's head "He was sent by his king?"

"He was. Not just that time either. I'm almost certain that he played a part in the death of
Aemon's grandfather too."
"These people are fucking idiots," he said, unable to understand the way these men of
Westeros thought.
"I think King Tywin sent his son Prince Jaime too, Thoros, I'd stake my life on it."
"It's not your life that's at risk, Daario. You know what he'll do," he said and Daario smiled a
mirthless smile.
"I think he may have done it anyway given the West and its king seek to fight. Now he'll
certainly do so."
"Fire and Blood," he said lifting his glass to his lips.
"Fire and Blood."

Over the next few days and nights, Thoros found he enjoyed his time far more than he had
these past few weeks. Sitting and eating with Daario and his men, sparring against him in the
morning. Then receiving news from Aurane and the men he'd sent his way that all was well
and the city was being built, all added to his good humor. Though it was the ravens from
Winterfell that truly brought about his good mood. Aemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys would be
returning soon and the war that he'd come here to fight, would then truly be upon them.

Ser Gerold Dayne had long outstayed his welcome. and if it was not for both he and Daario
wishing to see Arthur and Aemon's reaction to the man, then he would breathe no more.
Thoros had already needed to have Daario intervene with one of the Second Sons more than
once just to get them to hold their swords. Daario had found out that the man had traveled
with Prince Oberyn Martell when the Dornish Prince had sought the Empire's intervention
against Daemon, and that while there he'd met Princess Daenerys. His friend had then
informed him that Aemon had told him that his aunt had flown here because of a run-in with
a Dornishman. It made him wonder every single time when he looked to the cocky fool if it
would be Aemon or Arthur who ended him. For he was sure it would be one or the other and
given Daario's news, he'd wager it would be his prince that did so.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVIII
Governance of an Empire II.

Conquering is one thing, Ruling is another. Words spoken by the first Empress of the Empire
and first Dragonknight Visenya Targaryen. Early on in the conquest of Essos, it became clear

that given the sheer size and the distance between the major cities, it could not be ruled over
as other lands had been. While Volantis was chosen to be the heart of the empire and the seat
of the Emperor and his Empresses. To rule Braavos or Pentos, Norvos, Lorath, or the lands
in-between, it was not ideally placed.

By the time news would arrive in Volantis from Lorath or somewhere just as distant, whatever
that news pertained to would already have come to pass. Should there be a Dothraki horde
threatening one of the cities under the Empire ' s protection, then not even the dragons could
come to that city ' s aid quickly enough were they based in Volantis. So an edict was drawn up
by Empress Visenya and Governorships were granted.

At first, it was those trusted by the Targaryens who were named as their representative. Later
as more and more Targaryen s were born, it became their family members who along with
their own dragons, were named as Governors and Protectors of the cities of the Empire.
While it differentiated from city to city, most of these Governors almost stood as a king of
sorts with very little interference from the Empire itself. Which though presented the potential
for one of them thinking them so and seeking to become a king for true, had yet to happen in
three hundred years of the Empire. Why rebel, when to do so, would lead to your death and to
deny you all the privileges that doing so would entail, after all.

Over the course of the history of the Empire, there had been good and bad governors, and
some who ' d needed to be removed, which if it came to it was done so by the Dragonknight
or the Emperor himself. Some faced revolt and a few had even been put to the sword by those
they ruled over. Something which would bring down dire consequences on those responsible
each and every time it happened. Like with any rulers, there were good, bad, terrible, and
mad ones who ' d been named as Governors and yet, those who were kin to the Targaryens in
Volantis caused far fewer problems to the Empire than those who were not. Blood shared it
seemed was something that held truer in the House of the Dragon than anywhere else.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Braavos 301 AC.
Aegon.

Saying goodbye to his wife had been harder than it had ever been. Talisa and he had truly
worked on their marriage these past few moons and it had born fruit, in more ways than one
if his wife was right. So where once it was a chore to spend time in her company and even in
her bed, now it was anything but. Even knowing he'd only be gone for two weeks or a moon
at most didn't help him feel any less keen to leave. Still, he had much work to do and so they
had lain together the morning he was due to leave and had then said their goodbyes privately
in their rooms.

His mother had bid him be careful and even suggested that he bring some of his guards with
him. She'd even gone so far as to say that when Aemon traveled was not Torgho Nudho
always by his side, which showed just how fearful she was about what he was setting off to
do. Aegon though knew his dragon better than any and Caraxes while accepting someone
flying with him for a short distance, would not allow it for a longer one. Thankfully his father
knew so too and in the Sealord they had a man who would provide him with a suitable escort.

After he'd said his goodbyes to his father and mother, he spoke to Viserys about his own
journey and wished him good fortune before he then made his way to the Dragonpit. Caraxes
was already waiting for him there and the Green Dragon was even keener than Aegon was to
set off on this journey. It had been some time since they'd flown any true distance together, or
spent as much time alone with each other as they would on this flight, and Aegon had to
admit that it was something he looked forward to. Checking his pack and making sure he
bore his sword and dagger, he moved to Caraxes' head and looked deep into his bright yellow
eyes.

"Emi tolmiot naejot jikagon, ñuha raqiros, se olvie naejot gaomagon skori īlon jiōragon
konīr." (We have far to go, my friend, and much to do when we get there.) he said to a loud
trill as he leaned forward and placed his head against the dragon's own.

A few moments later and they were in the sky, Aegon somehow resisting the urge to fly to
the Grand Palace, and instead they flew north. He'd considered flying closer to the sea or
even stopping off in some of the cities along the way and in the end, had decided not to. Lys,
Tyrosh, Pentos, and then Braavos would not only be a longer route, but the temptation would
be to spend far too much time speaking to the governors and catching up with kin. Something
that was yet another reason for him flying over land was where the other route would take
him. Going by sea brought him far too close to Westeros and Aegon wasn't certain he would
be able to resist the urge to fly to his brother, sister, and aunt if he did so.

When night fell and he was sure there was no danger nearby, Aegon bid Caraxes land. He
told his dragon to go hunt while he made a fire and rolled out the blanket he'd be sleeping on.

After eating his meal for the night, he was just laying down to sleep when Caraxes arrived
back. The hunt had been successful and just like Aegon himself, the Green Dragon now
sought only rest. His dreams that night were of his wife and of a child they may have, of a
silver-haired boy named Jaehaerys or girl named Alysanne and they were enough to make
him wake with a smile the next morning.

The next day they passed over Chroyane and Ghoyan Drohe before making camp. Aegon
then spent most of the night sitting by the fire speaking to Caraxes who listened to him before
falling to sleep. He then fell asleep where he sat, which he paid for the next morning with
some stiffness in his body that made flying less enjoyable. It almost made him consider
landing in Norvos when they passed it, but instead, he bid Caraxes fly west and one day later
Braavos came into view. They landed in the courtyard of the Sealord's Palace. The man
himself and his First Sword hurried to greet them and Aegon found himself eager for cooked
food and a warm bath.

"My prince, I had not expected…" Ferrego Antayryon, the Sealord of Braavos, said as
Caraxes looked at all those present with a wary eye.
"Which is no fault of yours, Sealord. My visit was not one announced ahead of time. Mayhap
we can speak more on why I'm here a little later. I find the desire for a warm bath and even
warmer food to be something I much look forward to."
"It shall be done at once, my prince." the Sealord said clapping his hands "Syrio, please see to
Prince Aegon's protection personally."
"As you command, Sealord." the smaller curly-haired Syrio Forel said.
"I thank you, Sealord."

Aegon turned to speak to Caraxes and bid the dragon go eat and get his own rest. He needed
to tell him that he'd speak to him here again at nightfall before he did so, but once he had,
Caraxes then took to the sky. With a nod to the Sealord, Aegon followed the servant and
walked with Syrio Forel as his guard. Aemon had once told him that there were few better
swords in Essos than the First Sword of Braavos and Aegon was more than happy to defer to
his brother's knowledge in this regard. While about his business here, it would be to Syrio
and only Syrio that he'd seek to see to his protection.

Whatever plots were going on regarding the assassin and the Lannisters, if the Sealord was
involved in them, then even at the cost of his death it was for the best to know. Not that he
believed the man to be involved in a plot against their house. Braavos of all the cities under
their rule had benefited greatly and it was run with far more independence than most. No,

whoever plotted against them may have allies in Braavos, Aegon was almost certain that the
Sealord was not one of those allies. Certain enough to take the risk he was taking.

After bathing, he dressed in the clean clothing he'd packed with him and was escorted by
Syrio to meet with the Sealord. They ate privately, Ferrego allowing him to fill his belly
before he sought his reasons for coming here unannounced. It gave Aegon time to consider
just how much of the truth he would tell the man, to ponder on whether it was for the best to
be open and honest or should he be more circumspect. In the end, he decided to be a little of
both and as he sipped the rather delicious peach brandy from Tyrosh, he began to speak.

"Strange tales reach my father and me, Sealord. Tales regarding a new Dothraki Khal and of a
visit from a Prince of House Lannister. A rather small visitor if the tales are to be believed."
he said to a chuckle from the older man.
"The Imp of Casterly Rock." Ferrego said and Aegon nodded "What care the Empire for such
a man?"
"You've no doubt heard where my brother is?" he asked before taking another sip of the
brandy "And what it is that the Dragonknight seeks?"
"And is well on the way to accomplishing." Ferrego smiled "Braavos looks on in interest at
events in Westeros, my prince. We've even received some orders from Prince Aemon that
benefit us greatly."
"Orders?" he asked, mistaken the word's meaning at first.
"Supplies, my prince. It seems the Dragonknight requires much of everything."
"And has the coin to pay does he not," he said to a loud laugh.
"More than enough."
"I'm happy to see Braavos and my brother both benefiting, Sealord. However, there are those
in Westeros who no doubt would not be, and none more so than King Tywin Lannister. So
when his son shows up in Braavos so soon after Aemon begins his campaign, the Empire and
the High Emperor grow curious."

The Sealord looked at him, the older man was even more practiced in politics and doublespeak than Aegon was and he found himself wishing he had his sister or Greatuncle here with
him right now. Though given it would fall upon him to one day rule, this was something he
needed to learn how to do. He kept his face schooled, much to the older man's consternation,
and ended up winning this round.

"If there are those in Braavos fool enough to seek to aid anyone against the Dragonknight
then they must be rooted out. I have no quarrel with Prince Aemon and nor do I seek one."
Ferrego said and Aegon held back the smirk that almost appeared on his face.
"I am most pleased to hear it."
"Syrio will offer you his sword while you are here, my prince. I shall set my own spies to
find out as much as they can and whatever you require for me, you need but only ask and it
shall be given."
"I thank you, Ferrego, truly."

Caraxes arrived back and Aegon then spoke to him for some time. That night there was a
more formal meal and he ate enough to be polite and turned down the offers of the
courtesan's favors. Not even the Black Pearl was enough to tempt him and Aegon knew full
well that he wouldn't have named that true but a few moons earlier. He slept alone and woke
up refreshed, then he broke his fast, and once done, he and Syrio made their way to the Iron
Bank.

Unlike any other visitor, he was not made to wait and it was four key holders that came to
speak to him instead of the usual three. What surprised him was the one who did not, as Petyr
Baelish had often been seen to be who dealt with matters involving the Empire. Seeing a face
he knew well, Aegon kept his questions to the dull and boring kind. He asked little of what he
was truly there for and instead spoke on matters that may have brought him to Braavos was
his purpose something other than it was. After leaving the building, it was to the Sealord's
pleasure barge that he and Syrio made their way. Their next stop was to be the House of
Black and White, but he had another reason for choosing this form of transport, a reason that
soon made his way inside and took a seat opposite him.

"Tycho," he said to the tall thin man.
"My prince."
"Speak to me of the Imp of Casterly Rock and of Khal Drogo."

There was much on his mind when the pleasure barge docked at the island that housed the
House of Black and White. Much he needed to think about when he entered through the
black and white door and made his way to speak to Jaqen H'ghar. Unsurprisingly, the redhaired Lorathi expected him and Aegon chuckled when he was offered the mug of water from
the pool. His Greatuncle Aemon was the most learned man that he had ever known and it had
been he who'd told both him and Aemon about the many secrets of the Faceless Men. This

one was included among them. Taking the mug, he drank down a large swallow and knew as
he did so that he faced no danger here. Whatever the true reasons for their compliance all
these years, their compliance was one that none of his House had ever been in doubt of.

"A man is happy to see a prince." Jaqen said as Aegon sat down beside him.
"Or mayhap just this prince?" he asked.
"A man would like to see a prince who is now a king one day, but not today."
"No, not today," he said sadly, as he too would like to see his brother again.
"A prince seeks answers on an Imp."
"He does."
"An Imp gave a name that was turned down by a man's companions. A name that not even
the Many-Faced God would seek for himself."
"What name?" he asked feeling his blood begin to race.
"A prince's brother."

He deflated somewhat. Aegon had expected it to be his own name given the attack that his
Greatuncle had foiled, yet his brother's made more sense and as plays go, was not the worst
one. Yet as he sat there he began to wonder and the question came from his lips before he'd
truly formed the thought.

"What does a man know about the Sorrowful Men."

He flew from Braavos later that night, he had half-answers to certain questions and none to
far too many. The Sealord had said that the Imp traveled further into Essos and he may very
well have sought a different name once he couldn't get rid of the one he wished. Yet that was
not the reason for Aegon's haste in departure. Tycho Nestoris had been found dead and
Braavos even with the First Sword by his side was no longer safe for him. Safety only came
upon Caraxes' back and as they flew back to Volantis, he still did not feel safe for true.

Oldtown 301 AC.
The High Septon.

Many years earlier he'd been the first Septon to be allowed to preach openly at the Grand
Palace in Volantis. It had been him who'd handpicked the Septons and Septas that would
herald a new age where the Seven who are One was the pre-eminent religion in Essos. The
new High Emperor had married a woman of faith and after almost three hundred years were
barring the old Andal regions and one or two small outposts they had held no presence in
Essos, the time had come where they'd be everywhere. Or so he'd thought.

Not long after he'd arrived and been welcomed, the High Emperor had taken a heathen for a
wife. Then to add insult to injury, the heathen had given the Empire its first Dragonknight in
a hundred years. Not the wife who followed the true gods, but the heathen who followed the
Old Gods of the North. He had believed that was when they lost the opportunity they'd been
given and so he, those he'd brought with him, and those who had followed after he'd returned
to Westeros had blamed the heathen boy for costing them so very much.

That said boy proved just how heathen he truly was in wishing to lay with his sister had only
made things worse between them and Aemon Targaryen. Not that he or any member of the
Faith truly cared or worried about doing so. Something that could certainly not be said about
how they felt now. He had been aghast when the so-called Dragonknight had been exiled to
Westeros, at least at first. Later when he'd found out the reason for the exile he'd reveled in
the chance it gave him and though he'd worried what it meant that Aemon was now in
Westeros, it was to Essos he had looked instead.

"I should not have done so." he sighed.

For almost two years, Aemon Targaryen had been content on his pile of rocks and the Faith
had paid him little mind. In the last few moons, he'd been all they'd talked or thought about.
When he'd begun his conquest, they'd been sure he didn't have the men to take but even one
kingdom. Now he controlled five, with the Reach among them. The home of the Faith was
now supposed to bow down to a man who not only had heathens in his ranks but may very
well be the worst of any of them. For at least the heathens followed a god, even if it was the
wrong one. Were that not enough to take issue with, then his marriage to his sister surely
would be.

He rose to his feet, knocking over the dishes he'd been eating off. Once he'd been a slim man
full of vim and vigor. Those days were now long behind him and the knocks his plans had
taken had stolen much of his enthusiasm from him. It had been food and sins of the flesh he'd
taken comfort in and the former of those had taken their toll on his body. His belly was large

and ever-expanding and was that not enough, his appetite was rarely sated. Grabbing the
large mug of wine, he drained it down in one swallow before moving to the door.

The great and the good had been gathered. A conclave was ordered and it had but one goal
and reason for being. Aemon Targaryen could not be allowed to reign over Westeros for long,
for each day he did so was an insult to the true gods. Each moment he and his wife named
themselves King and Queen and besmirched these lands with their foul behavior was a
moment too much. It was time for the faithful to act against this heathen king and those he
named as his allies. Time for the Warrior and the Stranger to unite and remove him from
these good and true lands.

"Father, give me the strength to see your will be done," he said as he walked from the room.

More than five hundred Septons and Septas had been gathered in the Starry Sept. The halls
had been closed off to any but the truly faithful and as he waddled to take his seat, the High
Septon looked out on his fellow true believers with glee. Prayers were offered to the Father
and the Mother, to the Maiden and the Crone, the Smith and the Warrior, and finally to the
Stranger. Candles were lit and songs were sung at each of the seven large statues. He waited
until they were finished and everyone was seated once more, then he rose to his feet and
raised his hands in the air.

"My friends, we come here today to speak on the biggest threat the Faith has ever known. We
come to speak on the heathen king and his bride of incest. Aemon Targaryen and his sisterwife must be removed from the throne they claim illegally and be forced from these lands,
lest they allow Westeros to become a land of false gods and ill faith as Essos has become."
his words provoked the reaction he expected.
"Death."
"The Stranger's Kiss."
"True sons of the Warrior."

Raising his hands once more, the loud cries out for different courses of action were silenced
and he began to speak once more.

"I call upon this conclave to give me leave to form true men of faith. To bring about the
Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows. Men of noble birth who think as we do and seek to fight

down any foe who does not accept the true gods into their hearts. Men of lesser birth who too
shall rise to offer their lives in service of the Seven who are One. What say you?"
"Warrior's Sons!"
"Poor Fellows!"

The chants rang out loud and proudly, with not a single voice raised in opposition to his
words and he looked on with something akin to fervor in his eyes. He and those of the
highest rank amongst the Faith had discussed this for weeks. They'd gone back and forth over
the best way to bring Aemon Targaryen down. That there needed to be both a political effort
and a military one to do so had been the conclusion they came to. Seeing it now being
accepted by one and all, he felt as he had the first time he'd set foot in the Grand Palace, he
felt his god's favor once more.

They ate and celebrated their decision and he indulged even more than usual. The next day
the best and the brightest among them would go out and begin to gather the men who'd form
the two facets of the Faith's resistance. Knights for the Warrior's Sons, Small Folk for the
Poor Fellows, and those not recruiting would speak to Lords and Ladies of faith to bring
them to their side. He himself would travel to Highgarden to speak to the former King of the
Reach. While others would travel to Casterly Rock to speak to King Tywin Lannister. The
King of the Rock was one of the last true chances they had to beat Aemon Targaryen in a
full-on assault and the Faith would be there by his side when he did so.

Entering the small room, he looked at the man and boy who sat there. Randyll Tarly was a
man of true faith and courage. A military man who others would follow. Moving to the bowl
containing the boiling oil, he dipped the cloth into it and watched as it soaked the white
material and turned it a crimson red. He then bid both Randyll and his son take a knee and
then moved over to stand in front of them. Cloth in hand, he drew a seven-pointed star on
their foreheads in the oil and saw images of it being carved into heads for true. In time that's
what he'd seek to do, for now, this would be enough as subterfuge may be required at some
point to come as well as visible opposition.

"In the Name of the Warrior, I bid you use his strength to cast down all foes of the Seven who
are One. Lord Randyll Tarly, I name you the Warrior Reborn, the First Sword of the Faith."
"Thy will be done," Randyll said rising to his feet and the High Septon smiled with thoughts
of what was to come.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVIV
Dragonlords.

Second only to the Dragonknight in terms of importance to the security of the Empire,
Dragonlords were far more prevalent than their rarer brethren. While the Dragonknights
would excel both in the sky and on the ground, most Dragonlords truly only did so in the
former. Though as with anything, there were exceptions to even this rule. The Conqueror
himself was a Dragonlord and yet as fierce with a sword in hand as any man. Where it not for
his sister-wife being a Dragonknight, then it may well have been Aegon who was named the
most dangerous warrior in Essos and at any other time, he would have been.

The first Empress of the Dragon, Rhaenys Targaryen was just as fierce upon her dragon
Meraxes back as her brother-husband was, and once again if it were it not for their sisterwife being a Dragonknight, then she ' d have had no equal in the sky. Later on, there were
those such as the Conciliator, Emperor Jaehaerys Targaryen, and his wife Empress Alysanne
the Good. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen the Empress who Never Was and the two princes,
Prince Baelon and Prince Maeker, the famed Hammer and the Anvil of the Empire.

While there had been but seven Dragonknights in House Targaryen ' s history, there had been
countless Dragonlords. Each and every boy or girl who bonded with a dragon in the nursery
of Lys would grow up one day to find they too may be called into action. From atop their
dragons, they ' d rain down fire on the enemies of the Empire while on the ground their
armies would put men to the sword. Fire and Blood was the battle cry of House Targaryen
and it was a cry that few who heard it directed at them, would live to tell the tale of.

For more than eight years not one Dragonlord had been called into the fray. Not one dragon
had been required to do more than to be seen and be looked upon with awe. With the
Dragonknight to do their fighting for them, there had been no need for such. But all things
come to an end and soon the sky was to be filled with Dragons and Dragonlords once more.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Viserys 301 AC.
Meereen.

He'd said goodbye to his wife and children, spoken at length to his brother and nephew, and
then he and Tessarion had taken to the sky. While Aegon and he were ostensibly seeking out
information, unlike his nephew, his mission had another facet to it. By the time he left Qarth,
the order of assassins known as the Sorrowful Men would be no more. Not a single one
would be left alive when he was finished with them and as much as finding out the name of
the man who'd hired them, it was that which Viserys focussed on.

Had this been but a few years earlier then it would have fallen to his other nephew to see this
task through to the end. Aemon would have taken it upon himself to fly to Braavos and Qarth
and Viserys had no doubt that had it been him who'd done so, the answers they sought would
be found. Should the news reach Aemon of their granduncle's death, then he'd do so still and
while a part of him felt they should wait for that to occur, a larger part called for him to be the
one to deliver justice for what the Sorrowful Men had done.

As for Tessarion, his dragon reveled in them flying together as she always did. The Blue
Queen loved nothing more than soaring through the sky with him on her back, especially at
times like this when it was more than just a pleasure ride they were undertaking. Yet there
was to be some pleasure to be had on this ride too and so Viserys gave Tessarion leave to
show off and the Blue Queen did so wonderfully. She soared high in the sky before tucking
her wings in and dropping to the ground in almost an instant, pulling up at the very last
moment which made Viserys' stomach do somersaults. When they flew over the water, she
dipped her wing into it to splash him and he could feel her joy in doing so. Eventually,
tiredness and hunger forced them to land for the night. His tiredness and hunger that was as
Tessarion could have flown through the night had he bid her to.

They had just passed Mantarys and he'd considered stopping off there before he decided it
would be Meereen where he resupplied and rested a night for true in. Viserys was keener to
be among family than anyone else at this moment in time. The hill they landed on was
deserted and the stream that flowed nearby was fresh and crisp. So after they'd landed and
he'd bid Tessarion seek out her own food, Viserys gathered wood and water and cooked
himself a small but quite tasty meal. He slept that night while leaning against Tessarion's blue
scales. Her warmth made the cold night something that bothered him not. His dreams were of
Serra and his children and when he woke the next morning it was with a renewed sense of
purpose.

"Māzigon, aderī īlon'll sagon lēda lentor." (Come, soon we'll be among family.) he said to
Tessarion before he climbed up on her back once more.

The pyramids of Meereen soon came into view and Viserys heard Tessarion roar out in
greeting to the two dragons that took to the sky ahead of them. The yellow dragon was Syrax,
who was his cousin Haegon's mount and he could see his cousin's silver hair blowing in the
wind, the riderless one was Vermax and was the mount of the governor of Meereen, Daemon
Targaryen, Haegon's father. Flying closer to the yellow dragon and away from the green and
bronze one, Viserys saw Haegon point to a pyramid in the distance and fly towards it and so
he followed.

After landing in a large open courtyard in front of the pyramid, he climbed down off
Tessarion's back and moved to the Blue Queen's head. Thanking her for the flight, he then bid
her enjoy her time with her kin and looked on as all three dragons took to the sky once more.
Where they were heading to, he had no idea, but he wagered all three would be back before
nightfall. Turning his attention from the dragons, he found himself face to face with his
cousin Haegon for the first time in more than two years.

Tall and muscled, Haegon was a formidable warrior and Dragonlord. Talented with a blade in
hand, he excelled in tactics which had been why he'd been suggested to take over Aemon's
role as leader of the Second Army, a role that as of yet he'd not taken up. Why that was,
Viserys knew not and so he resolved to speak to him about it while here. For now, he just
enjoyed the fact that he was with his kin once more and looked forward to washing and
eating something that he didn't need to cook for himself.

"By R'hllor you're a welcome sight cousin," Haegon said greeting him warmly.
"You too cousin. Your mother and father are well?" he asked as he and Haegon began
walking towards the pyramid.
"They are, both are busy with the wedding," Haegon said happily.
"You're finally getting married?" he asked surprised.
"Hah, as if there is a single woman that could hold my attention." Haegon chuckled "No,
Rhaenyra is to wed."
"But she's…"
"Six and ten and a woman grown." Haegon interrupted and Viserys almost looked at him in
disbelief.

He'd thought of Rhaenyra as he did his own children, even pictured her in his head as he did
them. To his mind his cousin was a child still and yet at six and ten she was as Haegon had
said, a woman grown.

"When is the wedding?" he asked as they passed the guards and entered the cool pyramid,
Viserys welcoming being out of the warmth of the sun.
"A moon or so. I had wished to attend before taking up my role in the Second Army."
Haegon answered both the question he'd asked and the one he'd intended to.
"I would very much like to attend, cousin, as I'm sure with Serra and the children," he said to
a broad smile from his cousin.

They walked and talked, catching up on various things and Viserys found himself listening
keenly. It was his other cousin who stopped their conversation, Rhaenyra running to him and
welcoming him to the Pyramid with a tight hug and a kiss to his cheeks before then taking his
arm and escorting him into the throne room. Upon the throne sat the Governor of Meereen,
Daemon Targaryen, and he looked like the very image of his brother Aegor. Barely raising an
eyebrow at his arrival, Viserys would have missed the nod he gave to his daughter had he not
known Aegor as well as he did. The two brothers shared as much in their expressions and
ways of acting as they did in their looks.

"Prince Viserys Targaryen, Governor of Qarth and member of the High Council," Rhaenyra
said loudly and proudly, the herald who stood to his cousin's left completely outshone by his
cousin's voice.
"My Prince, We welcome you to the great city of Meereen," Daemon said as Viserys stepped
forward.
"I am most happy to be welcomed so, cousin," he said emphasizing to any that were listening
that it was a familial visit and not an official one.

Two days later.

He'd made his cousin's day when he told her that he, Serra, and the children would be
attending her wedding. More so because of his wife's attendance than his own, he'd wager.
When he'd spoken to Daemon in private, he'd told him much if not all of his reasons for
traveling firstly to Meereen and then on to Qarth. Both Daemon and Haegon then insisted
that the latter joined him on his journey. Something which he at first refused only to later be
talked into by Haegon as they ate.

Truth be told, should it come to swordplay then Viserys was out of his element. He could
wield a sword somewhat and was better able to handle a dagger, but in truth, he was a poor
match for any trained in either. While he knew that his goodbrother would provide him with
the men he needed once he arrived in Qarth, another Dragonlord and one as capable as
Haegon couldn't hurt. Besides, he'd enjoy the company too. So he accepted and after staying
for as long as he dared, they set off for Qarth. Viserys vowed once more that by the time they
left the greatest city there ever was or will be, they'd have brought fire and blood to those
who'd dared to raise arms against a dragon and he would have avenged his granduncle's
death.

Sunspear 301 AC.
Tywin Lannister.

Each time he looked at his granddaughter and saw her smile or laugh at something her new
husband said or did, Tywin felt justified in the choices he'd made. Though Joanna's happiness
hadn't been the most important reason behind this match, he much preferred that she was
more happy with the arrangement than not. Doran too seemed most pleased by just how well
the newly married couple were behaving around each other. Cersei had confided in him what
Myrcella had said about the bedding, how well it had gone, and that Joanna was not averse to
laying with her husband again since the first time they'd done so.

With the match settled, Tywin had then turned his attention to the rest of his family. Jaime
was keen for the war to begin, almost too keen, while Tyrion as always was far more
considered in his thinking. It had led to some strange thoughts running through Tywin's mind.
An image of a perfect son who combined the traits of both and even some regarding what he
may have thought of Tyrion had he not been born a misshapen dwarf. Though in truth it was
more than simply his appearance that he faulted Tyrion for. It was the life that he had stolen
so that he could live that Tywin truly hated him for.

The biggest issue he had since arriving here was the one he now set about resolving. Joffrey
had been neutered somewhat, or so he thought. Only to find that even if his member couldn't
rise, it didn't stop the lusts his nephew had from being his only concern. Thrice he'd almost
beaten a whore to death and while their lives were not ones that Tywin concerned himself
about, they were not in the West and so he had sent Kevan to bring his errant nephew to his
solar. Looking at the boy now, he felt his anger rise at just how carefree and unperturbed
Joffrey was.

"Are you a fool?" he asked as Joffrey looked at him confused and proved that he somewhat
was "Or is it that you think the status of being my grandson means there are no consequences
for your actions?"
"They were whores, grandfather," Joffrey said derisively.
"And we are not in the West, I warned you to curb your instincts while here. Had you done so
then there may have been a chance of an even more advantageous match than the one I
organized. Now not only would Prince Doran not allow you within ten feet of his daughter,
but Prince Oberyn would see you in the ground should you dare act to your usual standards
anywhere near his niece."
"As if I care what the slut of the Viper thinks of me."
"You should care what I think of you." he said glaring at his grandson who at least had the
good sense to cower a little "From now on you will receive a pittance for your allowance.
Any items you need will be purchased for you and you'll have no coin to spend on whores
and on your distasteful activities. Should I find you trying to go around my will on this, you'll
find you've truly incurred my displeasure." he said as Joffrey gulped "Now get out of my
sight and behave, lest you find it's not the West you'll be returning to."

His grandson sloped out of the room. No doubt later he'd whine and moan and even curse
him and as long as he did so in private, Tywin cared not. When the war truly began, he'd set
him amongst the Mountain's men. His cruelty would be welcome there and should he fall,
then he had more than one grandson to replace him. Tywin bid Kevan sit and handed him the
message that had been given to him, his brother reading it with an eager eye.

"The Faith, interesting."
"Indeed. There are pious fools all over Westeros and some among the men that now name
Aemon Targaryen their liege."
"You mean to use them against him?"
"Both now and when the time is more to our advantage," he said as he poured himself a mug
of water that was far too warm for his liking.
"And our plans in the east?"
"Are well underway. Though the target that we aimed for escaped unharmed."
"A pity," Kevan said and while Tywin felt that too, the death of another prince of the Empire
was beneficial to them as well.
"What of Prince Oberyn?" he asked to a sneer from his brother.

"He, his paramour, and their children have left Sunspear and Prince Doran is wroth with
them, brother. While there is no actual news on his destination, I believe we both know where
he is headed."
"Then the war has begun."

Later that day, he sat with Prince Doran who was just as Kevan had said he was. The prince
felt betrayed by his brother and while on one hand, Tywin was angered that he didn't have the
Red Viper leading the Dornish Army, on the other, he was very much not. He'd not liked
being told that they'd not answer to him and while they still wouldn't officially, in truth now
they would far more so. Without Oberyn leading them, it fell to Prince Quentyn and the boy
was green and weak. The young prince was someone who'd seek his counsel far more than
his uncle would. For now, he and Doran looked over the maps and moved pieces around upon
them, Tywin making new plans and discounting old ones almost as quickly as he'd done so.

"The dragons have not yet left the North." Doran said as he moved the two figures to
Winterfell "And Harrenhal is still as formidable as ever." he added as a small figure
representing the Dragonknight's army was placed there.
"I've received word that Velaryon is busy at work building a city, here," he said placing the
Seahorse near where he believed the city was to be built.
"The Lords of the Narrow Sea? Celtigar, Massey, Sunglass?" Doran asked.
"Have knelt to the Dragonknight."
"Sunglass may change his mind soon enough," Doran said and Tywin nodded slightly.
"As will some of the Reach Lords once we give them a banner to rally to," he said moving
the figure representing his own forces into the reach.
"The Reach it is then," Doran said moving his figure into the reach from the south.
"Highgarden," he said knocking over the rose figure.

They feasted one last time that night, Jaime and Alysanne said their goodbyes to their
daughter as did Jason to his sister. Joffrey sulked in the corner and was not alone in doing so,
Tyrion too wearing the same angered look on his face and that at least pleased Tywin
somewhat. Myrcella charmed the hall and so he again vowed to himself that he'd see her
wear a crown. While Jaime sat and japed with Lords and Knights of Dorne that they'd soon
be fighting alongside.

Tywin would be a fool if he didn't have doubts about the war to come. However, his resolve
to win that war was unwavering. Enemies and plots in the east would distract the
Dragonknight, disloyal vassals and a rising of the Faith would turn Westeros against him, and
yet it would the Lion of Casterly Rock that feasted on the dragon's corpse when all was said
and done. When he took to his bed that night, he did so knowing that the moment the dragon
left Westeros, was the moment that the true war would begin. In mere moons, he'd stand tall
as King of all Westeros or he'd be back in Joanna's embrace once more.

"My love." he said softly as he closed his eyes "Our time has come."

Castle Black 301 AC.
Aemon.

The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was a stubborn man as were his uncles. His
words to them that it would not be war he'd lead with were met with angered looks and raised
voices from all three of them. Had he not looked at Torgho Nudho and shook his head, then
his sworn shield may have raised his spear to quieten down the angered shouts and to answer
some of the disrespectful words that were thrown his way. Aemon though could understand
their anger and reticence to treat with men they considered enemies. Even if it more often
than not was such men you treated with.

He allowed them to raise each and every single one of their concerns. Held his tongue when
he was told that he had no understanding of the North and its ways and so was making a
terrible mistake. Aemon listened when his uncle Benjen tried to act as the voice of reason and
when Jeor Mormont very much did not. The Lord Commander said very loudly that the
Night's Watch would never hold to any peace even should the Wildlings do so. Only when
Jeor and his uncles were all shouted out did Aemon then choose to speak.

"I need no permission to do as I decide and no agreement from anyone to forge the path I
seek to. I welcome your counsel but that is all it is or ever will be. What I do not welcome is
any idea that I can be forced to agree to something that I find to be wrong. We only make
peace with our enemies, Lord Commander, uncles, remember that and remember it well.
Remember too that when I arrived here it was to treat I did so first. With the North, The
Reach, Stormlands, Riverlands, and the Vale. Even now in my name, my brother by choice is
treating with the Lords of the Narrow Sea. Treating not attacking without reason." he said
firmly.

"You cannot treat with Wildling Savages, your grace." his uncle Ned said angrily.
"Have you heard of the Dothraki, uncle?" he asked to a shake of his uncle's head "Savage
Horselords they're named throughout Essos, and though their ways are savage to our eyes,
they're truly quite civilized in their own way."
"What have savages from Essos go to do with anything?" Jeor sneered.
"More than any one single group of men, they are who continue to poke and prod at the
Empire. Four times it's fallen to my kin to see them humbled, for they will always seek to rise
under another Khal at some point. Yet each time we've treated with them even though they'd
taken the lives of men the Empire cares about. Each time we face them, we face them as not
the same threat they were before, but as a separate one. Though it's well within my capability
to do so, should I just go and end them all completely?" he asked.

Looking to Jeor he could see what he felt about him doing so in regards to the Wildlings, his
uncles seemed less keen on the idea though.

"Or should I seek to at least offer them a chance for no blood to be shed?"
"Is it a lack of balls you're telling us you have, boy?" Jeor said and not even Aemon was
quick enough to stop Torgho Nudho's spear from being pointed at the older man's neck.
"Feel free to test my strength of will any time, Lord Commander. You'll find I have no issue
with spilling the blood of my enemies, or of fools." he said as he placed his hand on Torgho
Nudho's shoulder and got him to remove the spear "Ask the Iron Born that felt the Blood
Wyrm's flames or Robert Baratheon if my balls are big enough. Though you'll have to wait
until your own time has come to do so."
"Your grace." his uncle Ned said softly as he sought to calm the tensions in the room.
"Out there are men who spilled the blood of my uncle and grandfather and though I was
refused leave to meet the one and only briefly met the other, look to see what I do to those
men and to the man who ordered them to do so and then tell me that I've not the will to bring
death and destruction to those who deserve. But do not ask me to bring it to those who do
not. Not as my first course of action. Not now, not ever." he said before turning to walk from
the room.

He stopped before he got to the door, stopped and turned, and looked to see Jeor swallow
down some ale and breathe in relief while his uncle Benjen looked to his uncle Ned with
questions on the tip of his tongue.

"I will treat with the King Beyond the Wall, see if peace can be agreed. Should I find that one
can, then the North, the Night's Watch, and every single man who names me their king will
live up to that accord or face my wrath for trying to break it. Should I find that it's a war that
the Wildlings seek then war is what I'll bring them and you'll get your wish, Lord
Commander. But only then."

He and Torgho Nudho walked from the Lord Commander's rooms and Aemon knew that he'd
need to speak to his sworn shield to calm his anger down. While to any who looked at him,
Torgho wouldn't seem agitated, Aemon knew him far better than most. Someone
disrespecting him was not something that Torgho took lightly and the Lord Commander may
have thought it just a warning shot across the bows that he was sent. Jeor Mormont may
never truly understand just how close he had just come to losing his life in that room and
should he raise his voice that same way again, then not even Aemon may be able to save him.

"These men are fools, Torgho Nudho. Proud, loud, and boisterous as my mother would say
and some as of yet have not learned to be humble."
"Some need lessons, my prince."
"We may have to dish some out before we're done. For now, we show restraint," he said, and
reluctant though it was, Torgho Nudho nodded.

They spent most of the early morning sparring and the Greatjon arrived leading the first of
the men to fight against the Wildlings later that day. He'd brought less than a thousand,
though another two thousand had set off from the mountains. The large Umber lord then
seemed almost fit to burst when Aemon told him to send riders to turn other men around and
send them back from whence they came. Another argument was held and again his orders
were questioned. Aemon then decided to speak somewhat of the tales his mother would tell
him when he was a boy.

"Tales for babes, your grace, you're telling us you're doing as you are because of tales for
babes?" The Greatjon asked incredulously when he was done speaking on them.
"Before the first dragons flew over Essos, I imagine a man just as you said the same thing
about them, Lord Umber." he said and noticed his uncle Benjen's smirk "Yet they fly do they
not? Have any of you here read the journals of the former Lord Commander's?" he asked to
shakes of heads "Not even you, Lord Commander?"
"I care not for words that offer me little aid."

"An error on your part. My Granduncle Aemon is a scholar and the most learned man I know,
which given that my father too is a renowned scholar should tell you much. Marwyn the
Mage, a wise Maester who travels with me and had been welcomed as part of my court, he
too is a learned man and…"
"Forgive me, your grace, but can you get to the fucking point already." The Greatjon said and
Aemon chuckled at his directness.
"Those who don't learn from history, Lord Umber, are doomed to repeat its mistakes. Does
that mean anything to any of you?" he asked to shakes of heads "How do we know not to
charge uphill on horseback? Or not run directly against the walls of a keep? How do we know
the right and wrong way to shoe a horse or sharpen a sword?" he asked.
"Because we learned," Benjen said and Aemon nodded at him.
"We learned. But in that learning, we made mistakes that we no longer repeat. Eight thousand
years ago a threat arose that brought the Night's Watch, The King In the North, and the King
Beyond the Wall together. They united and beat back that threat or so we're told. It's been
more than a hundred years since the Night's Watch and the North truly fought the Wildlings
and yet now they gather once more. Are none of you curious for the why of it?" he asked
though he knew the answer and Jeor Mormont obliged with speaking it aloud.
"Because they're Wildling scum and they think they've gathered the numbers once more."
"Mayhaps. I find I'd seek the answer before posing….."

The sound of the roar was loud and Aemon recognized it was not Gaelithox that was making
it. Caring no longer about the words he was speaking, he rose to his feet and was out the door
within the blink of an eye. Torgho Nudho moved just as quickly as he and both men were
halfway down the stairs before any of the others had even reacted. He looked to the sky and
was stunned to see Darkfyre there and for the briefest moment, he wore a true smile at the
thoughts of seeing his granduncle again. It was a smile that was wiped from his face when he
saw that Darkfyre was riderless.

Gaelithox landed at the same time that Darkfyre did and yet it was the indigo dragon and not
the red one that Aemon moved to. He stood in front of it, his hand touching its scales near its
snout and he stared deep into its dark almost black eyes. Rarely had he seen such a sense of
loss and pain in anything as he did right then. It reminded him of his father, of Elia, and
himself when his mother passed. So much so that soon tears were falling from his own eyes
as he knew then what had happened.

"Kostagon ao gīmigon se kirimves ao gūrogon isse morghon bona ēdā isse ābrar, Āemon
Targārien" (May you know the joy you deserve in death that you had in life, Aemon

Targaryen.) he said as he tried to wipe his eyes as subtly as he could.

The roar that came from Darkfyre was loud and angered and something in it resonated deep
within Aemon. He looked into the dragon's eyes once more and saw it then, the fire that
wished to be let loose, the anger that promised so much. Something more than he thought had
happened, something terrible, and Darkfyre had come to him not out of grief, but out of a
wish to see fire and blood unleashed upon someone who had done the dragon wrong.
Touching his hand to the indigo dragon's snout, Aemon nodded his head and heard the trill
that came from not just Darkfyre but Gaelithox too.

Three days later.

He'd said his goodbyes to his uncles, aunts, and cousins. Rhaenys and Dany had both insisted
their time in the North was at an end and yet there were arguments to come between Aemon,
his aunt, and his wife. For not all of them would be flying to Essos when he, the Blood
Wyrm, and Darkfyre set off. Ghost rested in front of him on the Blood Wyrm's back and
seemed comfortable and secure enough and with a look back at Winterfell, Aemon bid the
dragons take to the sky. It would be to Harrenhal first they'd fly, then he'd fly on alone to
Essos. What had happened, he knew not, though given it was only Darkfyre who'd arrived, it
would seem it had happened to his granduncle alone. What was about to happen though. That
he knew full well and much blood would be shed before he was done.

House Targaryen of Meereen (Descendants of Daemon Blackfyre)
Daemon Targaryen age 41 Governor of Meereen.
Rhaella Targaryen age 39.
Haegon Targaryen age 21 newly named commander of the Second Army.
Rhaenyra Targaryen age 16.
Aegor Targaryen age 40 a member of the High Council of Essos.

Dragons of the Empire.

Volantis.

Arrax.
Caraxes.
Tessarion.
Silverwing.
Nightwing (currently in Westeros)
Darkfyre (Currently in Westeros)
Meraxes (Currently in Westeros)
Gaelithox (Currently in Westeros)

Meereen.
Syrax.
Vermax.

Qarth.
Vermithor.
Two unnamed dragons recently claimed.

Pentos.
Vhagar.

Lys.
Dreamfyre.
Sunfyre.
An unknown number of unclaimed dragons.

Qohor.

Meleys.

Lorath.
Terrax.

Myr.
Shyrkos.
Aegarax.

Chapter End Notes

A/N: I made an error and got mixed up with another story of mine and so named Aemon
as Daemon in Thoros' pov, thanks to all those who've pointed it out to me and it's fixed
now.

Up next. The Darkstar finds he’s picked the wrong time and place to make an
appearance. Viserys and Haegon arrive in Qarth and bring a dragon’s wrath to the
Sorrowful Men. Rhaenys and Aemon argue before he leaves for Essos. Aurane finds
himself undertaking a Life changing journey and news reaches Doran and Tywin of
Aemon’s departure as Oberyn arrives at Harrenhal.
For those following my other fics, the second half of the Battle of Winterfell chapter of
Brother’s keeper is up next followed by The Winter King.

A Dragon's Vengeance.
Chapter Summary

The Darkstar finds he’s picked the wrong time and place to make an appearance. Viserys
and Haegon arrive in Qarth and bring a dragon’s wrath to the Sorrowful Men. Rhaenys
and Aemon argue before he leaves for Essos. Aurane finds himself undertaking a lifechanging journey and news reaches Doran and Tywin of Aemon’s departure as Oberyn
arrives at Harrenhal.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Daenerys Targaryen.

The North had been eye-opening, the cold of the place something she'd never experienced
before, and yet she'd enjoyed her time there. Aemon's mother's family was much like the tales
she'd been told of the woman herself. Young Arya especially and it had not been just
Aemon's eyes that had been drawn to the girl more than once while they were there. Rhaenys
and Arthur too, as well as Torgho Nudho, had all looked fondly in her direction.

While Sansa was much different from her younger sister, Dany had found she'd enjoyed her
time in the older Stark girl's company too. She was different from the ladies at court, though
she very much wished to be the same, and Dany had welcomed those differences. The boys
all took much from their father and uncle and she'd heard both Arthur and Aemon say that
Northmen were a different sort from the other men of Westeros. She'd noticed it too in her
short time in their company. Both Robb Stark and his brothers were very much different from
Ser Garlan Tyrell and his.

They'd been welcomed fondly and that welcome had only grown the more time they spent in
Winterfell. Lady Stark had enjoyed having them around and speaking with the older woman
had put Elia in Dany's mind, making her miss the only mother she'd known in the process.
All had been going so well and she'd looked forward to spending even more time with the
Starks before they would need to head back south, only for Aemon's return to completely
change all their plans. Or to be more precise, what he returned with. Even now that the initial

shock at what Darkfyre's presence meant had subsided somewhat, she still felt the tears
threaten to fall. As they had when Aemon had spoken the words that named it true.

"He's fallen, Rhae," Aemon said, and rarely had she seen him look how he did, the anger and
sadness in his features both seeming to be fighting a battle for prominence.
"You can't know that, Aems. You can't be certain." Rhaenys said as Aemon took her in his
arms, his eyes looking to Dany and bidding her join them and she was grateful for the gesture
and for then being accepted into the same embrace.
"I know. Darkfyre's presence alone is enough to name it true, but I've looked into his eyes,
I've seen it."
"Oh, Aems." her niece's voice was choked as she cried on her nephew's shoulder and Dany's
own tears fell just as truly as Rhaenys' did.

It had been enough to make them hurry to make ready to leave Winterfell behind and Aemon,
Rhaenys and she said their goodbyes to the Starks. They promised to both come back
someday and invited them to Harrenhal and then they and their new wolf passenger took to
the sky. She'd thought they'd have flown straight back to Harrenhal, but Aemon insisted that
they stop and rest for the night. So they set up camp in the same place they had on the way to
Winterfell, or so she believed. As the fires were being lit, Aemon came to her as she stared at
Darkfyre who was being offered his own comfort by his kin.

"He seems so sad, Aemon. He mourns him as we do," she said as her nephew placed his arm
around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.
"Dragons are just as we are, Dany. They feel emotions as we do. Do you not feel it when
Nightwing is joyous or nervous, or when she misses you as you miss her?"
"I….would she feel it too...were I to…."
"She would, but thankfully that's not something either of you needs to worry about for many
a year," Aemon said and she felt his lips as he kissed her softly on the forehead.
"When will we be flying home, Aemon?"
"We won't be," he said and she moved from him angrily.
"He was our granduncle, we must honor him." she almost shouted.
"And we will." Aemon's voice was soft and calm and yet she could see the fire in his eyes,
and if she was being honest, it scared her a little, "Darkfyre came to me at the Wall, Dany. He
sought me out, think on that for a moment."

She looked from her nephew to the indigo dragon who she now noticed was much closer to
Gaelithox than he was to Meraxes or Nightwing. Turning back to Aemon, she saw his
expression even more clearly and though she'd never truly seen him when he was about the
Empire's business, she'd wager this was how he looked, almost. For this was their House and
their family and to Aemon they were both even more important than the Empire was. It was
his namesake too. While they'd all had a good relationship with tie granduncle, none were as
close to him as her nephew was.

"You're going alone, aren't you?" she asked and Aemon nodded his head "Does Rhaenys
know?"
"Not yet."
"Why?" she asked even though she wished to argue with him and tell him he could not, that
he should not.
"I know not what happened, Dany. Had he just passed peacefully then Darkfyre wouldn't
come to me. Instead, he'd mourn him in his own way and then travel to Lys to be with his kin
and to await a new bond if that was to be his fate. Yet he came to me. I feel it when I look
into his eyes, the anger, the desire for vengeance, and the wish to unleash fire and blood. His
rider's death needs to be avenged, that's what he tells me, that's what I feel when I look at
him." Aemon said and though the words were spoken softly, Dany could see the sheer effort
that her nephew was exerting to do so.
"You intend to avenge him?" she asked, a silly and stupid question she knew but one that
needed to be asked.
"I must avenge him, Dany. I must." Aemon said resolvedly.

He moved to her and embraced her again, whispering in her ear that he needed her to be there
for Rhaenys while he was away and that he'd, with luck, not be gone for long. When she felt
the shudder go down her spine, she looked at him worriedly.

"Rhaegar, Vis, Elia, Aegon…do you think….has something…."
She was pulled even more tightly to her nephew's chest and he brushed his hand over her
back as he spoke softly to her.
"Only one dragon flew to us, Dany, only one."

When he let her go, she moved to spend some time with her dragon and Aemon nodded to
Ser Barristan to keep watch over her. It was almost an hour or so later that she returned to the
camp and sat down by the fire. Rhaenys looked over at her concernedly, but her smile seemed
to put her niece at ease and despite how she felt, Dany ate heartily before heading to her bed.
The next morning she awoke to find Aemon cooking their morning meal and again she was
surprised to find that her appetite was a full one.

It was around midday when the great keep of Harrenhal came into view. Dany found she
welcomed the sight as she'd grown to enjoy her time there. True, she was starting to miss
Volantis and the Grand Palace, but not enough yet to wish to return. They landed in the
Godswood, where the ground had been cleared to allow them to do so easily. Thoros, Daario
along with some of the other men that served her niece and nephew that she recognized, were
all soon making their way to greet them and to see that the dragons were fed once they'd done
so.

It was as they were walking back to the keep that she saw him, and she stopped still in her
tracks when she did so. So suddenly did she stop moving that Ser Barristan bumped into her
and the knight was still apologizing to her when Rhaenys moved to check that she was
unhurt. Dany was unable to speak or answer the questions that her niece asked her. So it was
not until they were in her rooms that she did more than simply nod that she was well. By that
time, Aemon too had come to check up on her and she felt a fool for making them worry so.
The sight of him though had taken her completely by surprise and though she knew she'd
nothing to fear from him, a part of her feared him still.

"Dany?"
"Dany?"
"That man. The one in the courtyard, that was the man from Volantis, the one who….."
"Aemon, Aemon…." Rhaenys called out to her nephew as he moved away from them both.

She was left sitting on the bed with Rhaenys, the sound of the door slamming behind her
nephew as he stormed from the room was loud and foreboding. That little bit of fear that
she'd had upon seeing Ser Gerold Dayne had disappeared the moment she'd heard the door
slam though. Looking to her niece, she nodded that she was feeling better and then she and
Rhaenys rose to their feet and walked off to see what form the Darkstar's punishment would
take. Given Aemon's current state of mind, she believed it would be a harsh one indeed and
she was more than happy about that.

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Arthur Dayne.

Finding out that his cousin had arrived at Harrenhal was a surprise to him and he liked it not.
Gerold was not well thought of by the Daynes of Starfall and over the years Arthur had heard
that he'd spoken his name in a derogatory manner. Apparently, his cousin not only believed
himself to be the better swordsman but that it made him more worthy of wielding Dawn than
Arthur was too. It showed just how ill-suited he was to ever wield his family's sword or to be
named the Sword of the Morning.

The title and the granting of the honor of wielding Dawn were not things that were given to
you easily. It wasn't simply about how skilled you were, though that played a part, there was
far more to it than that. None but those who underwent the tests and the head of his house
who oversaw them, truly understood what was required to be named a Sword of the Morning.
Time, dedication, and character all were needed and it wasn't simply a set of physical tasks
you needed to overcome to succeed. For there were mental and emotional ones involved too.

A man may wish to wield Dawn or be the Sword of the Morning, but were he to desire it too
much, then that alone would almost disqualify him from even being allowed to undertake the
tests. That was something that Gerold Dayne did not understand and instead, he seemed to
think that should Arthur fall, the sword would then pass to him as the next best swordsman
with Dayne blood in his veins. It would not, not then, not ever. So seeing him here and
knowing as much about him as he did, Arthur wondered what his game was.

While Aemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys spoke in the princess's room, Arthur went looking for
and found Thoros to ask him more questions about his cousin's arrival and how he'd acted
while he was here. He was in the middle of doing so when Aemon arrived and both he and
Thoros had seen that look on the prince's face more than once. Something had occurred
which had greatly angered Aemon Targaryen and he hoped for the sake of the person who did
so, that they were far from his prince's sight. He was soon to find out that they very much
were not.

"This so-called Darkstar, Thoros, has he been given guest right?" Aemon asked.
"No, my prince."
"Good," Aemon said chillingly.

As he watched Aemon and Torgho Nudho turn to walk away, he heard Thoros almost chuckle
and Arthur knew that he was thinking the same thing as he was. It had been his cousin who
had angered Aemon so, and now Gerold was about to find out what happens when you wake
the dragon. While Arthur cared not for Gerold's safety or wellbeing, he didn't wish to see the
man killed while he was a guest of theirs. He may not have been offered or taken guest right,
but he had eaten and drank under their roof, and to some that could be seen as the same thing.

"Aemon." he called out but his prince and his sworn shield were too focussed on their path to
where Gerold stood blissfully unaware of just how close he was to losing his life "AEMON!"
he called out more loudly and it did at least get his prince and Torgho Nudho to stop and wait
for him to catch up with them both.

He could see the fire in Aemon's eyes, the intensity that would rear its head from time to time
and it was one that he would wager was the final thing that most of his foes ever saw before
they breathed their last. It was not yet a full-blown inferno, but it was well on the way to
getting there. Arthur wasn't certain that any words he'd say would be enough to turn it back
into the small flames that Aemon's eyes always held.

"You can't just kill a man with no reason, Aemon," he said as Aemon looked at him confused,
more so because he'd called out so loudly than because of the words he said, or so Arthur
believed.
"I have a reason," Aemon said simply.
"Because you're angry and wrathful over your granduncle's death is no reason, Aemon."
"No it's not and yes I am angry of full of wrath over Aemon's death. Whatever little time my
granduncle had left was stolen from him and the people who did so will pay greatly for that,
on that have no doubt, Arthur."

Arthur had no doubt of that from the moment that Darkfyre had been seen flying with Aemon
when he returned to Winterfell and he'd noticed that the indigo dragon was riderless. While
no expert in the ways of dragons, he knew more than most and the dragon had not simply
come to Aemon because its rider had passed. It had come for what all dragons eventually
sought, fire and blood.

"Then speak to me? Let me know your mind. I may hold no love for my cousin, but he is still
my kin and so it falls to me to stand for him if he's been unjustly judged." he said calmly and

yet the flicker of fire that he saw in Aemon's eyes showed that his words had not been
received how he'd expected.
"Unjustly? You think I judge him unjustly? First, you accuse me of acting out of grief and
rage and now think that the action I'm about to take is an unjust one?" Aemon said angrily "I
thought you knew me better than that, Arthur." Aemon added after a moment's pause where
he seemed to take a breath. "Your cousin is the reason Dany flew from the comfort of the
Grand Palace to a land she knew nothing about. He scared her so much that she left my
father, uncle, brother, granduncle, and stepmother behind just so she could feel safe. Even
risking the unknown to seek out that safety."

If he was a different sort of man he'd have gasped aloud, he may even have turned his head in
shame for both doubting his prince and for being related to Gerold Dayne. Were it not for
how composed Aemon's voice was in speaking the words that he just had, then Arthur would
have truly worried that grief and anger were clouding his prince's judgment. Both were
present and anger was the most prevalent of the two emotions, that much was clear. Yet it
was restrained anger and one that was all the more terrifying because of it.

"Had I been in Volantis, had Rhaenys, then Dany would have spoken those fears to my wife
and your cousin would have died that day. All those days he's taken a breath since then have
been insults to my aunt, he'll insult her no longer." Aemon said before walking away and
while he wished to follow him, he wasn't certain that right then he could.

Arthur stood there for some time, trying to decide what it was he should do. It was Thoros
touching him on his shoulder that took him out of his thoughts and when he turned to the red
priest, he could see that he had some wisdom he wished to impart.

"You know how he is, Arthur. The words he spoke are true. Had he been there when your
cousin and the princess had their encounter, then he'd be dead now. Were you aware of it and
present, then you'd have killed him yourself." Thoros said.
"I'm not justifying what he did, Thoros, far from it."
"I know."
"I'm not even thinking of it as Gerold being kin, not truly. I'm thinking of how Westeros may
react to what Aemon is about to do." he sighed.
"The same as they will in time react to all he does, Arthur. There will be those who speak ill
of him and those who do not and he..., he will care not about either."
"Then must not we?" he asked.

"Speak to the princess, if she's as resolved as Aemon is then your cousin will not see the
morrow."

Thoros placed a hand on his shoulder and Arthur nodded at him before he then set off to find
Rhaenys. It didn't take him too long to do so and she and Daenerys were not in either of their
rooms when he did. Both of them were walking with Ser Barristan behind them. Their
destination was clear to him and as he took up his place behind him, he found he had no need
to ask the question as Rhaenys' words spoke clearly her own feelings about what was about to
take place.

"He should never have dared to lay a hand on you, Dany. Aemon will show him what
happens to fools who think they have the right to touch a dragon without their consent."
Rhaenys said almost eagerly.

Soon enough, their footsteps took them to the large open balcony that overlooked the sparring
yard. Moving to the wall, he looked down to see they'd arrived in time to catch Aemon as he
first addressed Gerold. Arthur saw the smirk on his cousin's face even from the distance they
were from him, then the frown, and then the recoil of his head as Aemon slapped him across
the face. In the blink of an eye, Gerold had unsheathed his sword and for once someone had
outdrawn Aemon, which brought gasps from both princesses beside him.

"He's playing with him," Barristan said and Arthur couldn't help but agree as Gerold aimed a
strike at Aemon's head which he dodged effortlessly.

Two more strikes were aimed and one came far too close for any of their comforts. Yet
Arthur was absolutely certain that Aemon was well in control of the fight. When Dark Sister
was finally unsheathed, he could hear the excited exhale of breath that Daenerys let out and
the more relieved one that Rhaenys did. Gerold was an accomplished swordsman, not close
to Arthur's skill level, yet a decent enough blade. He was much a lesser one than Aemon that
it was like watching a man against a boy. A master against someone not even good enough to
be his student.

The first cut was a slash to Gerold's cheek and the pained cry that came from his cousin was a
loud one. By this time, Daario and the Second Sons, Thoros, and what seemed to be almost
the full garrison at Harrenhal had turned out to watch their prince, their king, put a fool in his
place. Aemon sliced a cut to Gerold's other cheek and then one to his off sword arm. Another
then to his hand and his leg and soon his cousin was moving very uncomfortably.

None of the cuts had been fatal or even too deep, and it seemed that Aemon wished to inflict
pain and humiliate Gerold before he took his life from him. Another cut which almost cost
his cousin an eye, then another and then another, and then with a look to the balcony and
what seemed to be a nod from Daenerys, the fight was brought to an end. Whether it was as a
favor to him or simply because the princess had accepted all that had occurred as payment for
Gerold's infringement, the end was a quick one. Aemon simply dodged Gerold's weak strike
and then stabbed Dark Sister into the space under his arms. As his cousin fell to the ground,
Aemon moved behind him and then drove the sword down between his shoulder blades.

Arthur felt nothing for his fallen kin, though he was still worried about how this would be
perceived by the Lords and Ladies of Westeros. Looking at Aemon, it was clear that he very
much did not. His prince barely even looked at the fallen man at his feet and simply walked
away leaving Gerold behind. Rhaenys bid their men look after the body and see it was sent
back to High Hermitage with all the honors that the dead deserved. As for him, he turned as
the two princesses did and mourned the loss of the man not. Gerold had the dragon and so
had paid the price, as had so many before him and as would so many in the years to come.

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Rhaenys.

She had hoped to talk to Aemon about their granduncle and to get him to let her know how
he was truly feeling about it. Her husband, however, had other ideas, and instead, it had
ended up being Dany, Arthur, and finally Torgho Nudho that she shared her concerns. Of
those, in truth, it was only the last of them that she sought any insight from and though he
was, as always, a man of few words, he did alleviate some of her concerns.

"Prince focuses on removing the threat first, my princess, then on how he feels."
"He is hurting, Torgho Nudho."
"And he will make others hurt because of it, my princess."

The truth of those words was made abundantly clear to her not long after they arrived back in
Harrenhal. She'd known immediately by Dany's reaction to Arthur's cousin that this was the
man who'd frightened her so. Rhaenys hadn't even needed to look to Aemon to see what his
reaction would be to the man's presence in their new home. So when Arthur raised his
concerns, she'd simply waved them off.

Gerold Dayne had scared their aunt enough to make her leave her home behind her and travel
to lands she knew little about. Unlike Aemon who had covered vast distances on Gaelithox or
even Rhaenys herself, who had traveled extensively through Essos, Dany had rarely left the
comfort and safety of Volantis. She'd traveled with Viserys to Qarth once and with the whole
family when they'd traveled to Lys. Though even that time it was more so she could bond
with Nightwing than for any other reason.

It may have been love that had forced Rhaenys' own flight to Westeros, it was fear and not
knowing how to handle that fear that had forced Dany's. So Gerold Dayne would pay and pay
dearly for being the cause of that fear and he had picked probably the worst possible time to
decide to be in Aemon's presence. So as they stood on the balcony and she watched Aemon
provoke the Dornish knight into a fight, she reached out and took Dany's hand in hers.
Squeezing her fingers tightly with her own, they watched as Aemon forgot his grief and gave
into his anger somewhat. Not completely, but just enough so the man suffered greatly before
he died.

"He will upset you no more," she said as Gerold Dayne breathed his last.

After making arrangements that would see his body returned to his family with far more
honor than the man deserved, she and Dany walked back into the keep. Rhaenys was keen to
speak to her husband and to judge his mood and mindset and as luck would have it, Aemon it
seemed was keen to speak to them both too.

He caught up with them before they reached Dany's rooms and when she saw him, Dany
almost raced to him. Rhaenys didn't hear the words he whispered softly into their aunt's ear,
but she did see him embrace her tightly and place a soft kiss on her forehead. Then with a
look at her, he motioned with his head towards their rooms and she nodded. After saying her
goodbyes for now to Dany, she, Arthur, Torgho Nudho, and Aemon walked to their
chambers, and soon enough she and Aemon were inside the rooms and alone at last.

"You are unharmed?" she asked even though she truly worried for him not.
"He was as poor a swordsman as he was a knight or a man," Aemon said emotionlessly.
"Arthur may take issue," she said as they moved to the small couch.
"I'll speak to him before I leave."

She closed her eyes and composed herself, not willing to have the argument that she knew
she was about to have and yet almost unable not to.

"You're going alone aren't you?" she said after a few moments of silence.
"I must."
"Why must you? Do you think we mourn him not? That Dany and I don't wish to pay our
respects to him too?" she asked angrily as she turned away from him.
"Rhae…Rhae." she felt his hand on her shoulder and though she wished not to, she turned to
look at him "I know not what happened and I'd not allow any of you to fly into such a
situation even with me and the Blood Wyrm by your sides. I don't truly fear for father or Egg,
for Vis or your mother, nor for our cousins. But I feared not for Aemon either and yet
someone took him from this world before his time was due."
"Then we all should be there to pay them back for doing so, Aems."
"It's not just that I know not the situation in the east, Rhae. It's here too. What we've built
here, what we're building. It can withstand my absence for a week or so, but were we all to
leave then we risk losing it all before we've even truly had a chance to make it our own."
"I care not for the Seven Bloody Kingdoms, Aemon." she snapped.
"Would that was so, Rhae," he said softly as his hand reached out to touch her cheek.

As much as she wished to move away from him, she instead moved into his touch and then
even more so when he leaned forward to kiss her. Before she knew it they were tearing each
other's clothes off and they never even made it to the bed. Their coupling was rushed and
frenzied and it left them both short of breath and yet the moment it was done, her tears began
to fall.

"Rhae?"
"I don't want you to go, Aems. A week, a day, I don't want you not to be here with me."
"You think I wish it so? That I'd not give anything just to ignore the words in my head and
the pain in my heart? He came to me, Rhae. Darkfyre came to me. He demands it of me and it
would have fallen to me had I been there and not…"
"No. You are not to blame for this, this is not your fault." Rhaenys shook her head knowing
that her husband could at times allow himself to be caught up in dark thoughts of things

beyond his control. She'd seen it more than once after he'd returned from a campaign fighting
the Empire's enemies. Each death of one of his men would bear heavily on him and her
mother had once told her that was why he could be as ruthless and unyielding as he
sometimes was.
"I…I…never got to say goodbye to him, Rhae….I never told him just how much he…"
Aemon sobbed, large body wracking sobs and she had to use all her strength to hold him
tightly to her until he stopped.

This was what she feared, that the wall he put up inside of himself would crack or break and
she was only happy that it did so when they were together and not apart. He and their
granduncle were as close as she and her mother were, as close as any of them were to any
member of their family. Closer mayhap as they shared things that only the two of them knew
the full extent of and she knew it had hurt their granduncle when Aemon had been exiled. Yet
he'd believed they would see each other again before his time had come and she had no doubt
that Aemon had felt the same. Rhaenys only now truly beginning to feel some of the hate that
she knew her husband had for those who'd denied them that chance.

He slept with his head resting on her legs and woke a few hours later. She was happy to see
that his mood seemed improved and he even chuckled when she was unable to rise to her feet
without help.

"It was your heavy head that stole my legs from me, Aemon Targaryen." she tried to sound
reproachful but was soon laughing at Aemon's playful response.
"I tried sweeping you off your feet so many times, Rhae, this was just an easier way of doing
so," he said as he moved his leg behind her and they both fell to the ground, Aemon making
sure he took all the impact of the fall and she felt it not.

They ate dinner that night with Thoros, Daario, Torgho Nudho, Arthur, and Barristan joining
her, Aemon, and Dany. It all went well enough until it did not and how she didn't shout
loudly at him, she knew not.

"I go where you go, my prince." Torgho Nudho almost demanded.
"Not this time, old friend. I need you all here, I should return before Dorne or the West march
but I cannot be certain of that and so I need everyone here protecting our lands and my wife
and aunt. I'll not land unless my safety is guaranteed and I'll take no true risks while I seek

the answers I do. Fire and Blood I may bring to those who took him from the world, but I'll
bring it from the Bloodwyrm's back and with Darkfyre by my side."
"You cannot go unprotected, my prince." Torgho Nudho said and she was not the only one
who nodded their agreement.
"I won't be, but my mind is resolved on this and it will not be changed."

Rarely if ever did Torgho Nudho show much emotion and never did he truly countermand or
argue against Aemon's orders or will. Watching him as he moved his chair back and stormed
from the room, she was not the only one who looked at his departing figure in shock.

"If you'll excuse me," Aemon said and she watched as he too left the large dining room to
follow after his sworn shield.

The rest of the dinner was arguments amongst themselves. Arthur, Thoros, and even Daario
were all making it clear that they liked this not and while she took Aemon's side, she did so
only because she intended to talk him out of his stupid plan before he left on the morrow.

In the end, it turned out that he was not going to be talked out of anything and she was wroth
with him as they said their goodbyes. Angered still when the Blood Wyrm and Darkfyre took
to the sky and headed south. Even two days later, she still hadn't gotten over how angry and
perturbed she was by her husband's actions and each time she turned her head and saw
Torgho Nudho by her side, it only reinforced that he was not by Aemon's.

Had the visitors not arrived when they did, then she'd probably have stewed in her annoyance
until Aemon returned from Essos. Instead, she found herself walking to the courtyard and
looking surprised as her uncle, his paramour, his children, and a large accompaniment of
guards all entered through the large main gate. Raising an eyebrow at him as he dismounted,
she was somewhat relieved to see that he wore a smile on his face and for a brief moment,
she hoped this meant that Dorne had come to their senses. It was quickly made clear to her
that they hadn't. Though she was happy enough to see that Oberyn had.

The Conquest of Westeros XLV.
The Second Son and the First Daughter.

Few roles in life require as much and reward as little as being a brother to a man who rules
an Empire. Yet Prince Viserys never sought more or looked to outshine his brother and High
Emperor Rhaegar never had a more Leal and true man than his brother. Quiet, shy, and
introverted, for the first few years of his life no one sought or expected much from the young
prince. Rumors had swirled that he was much like his father and yet these were very quickly
put to rest by the High Emperor himself.

Tales were told of the prince having little ambition and while this was true, its reasons were
more complex than simply that of a man being happy with his lot in life. For more than any
other, it had been Prince Viserys who had truly witnessed his father's descent into madness
and had seen what true power can do to a man not suitable to wield it. So despite being
groomed for a governorship from a young age, it was not a path that he had wished to travel.
For many years, it seemed indeed as if there was no path.

A chance meeting, a fortunate encounter, the gods at play, or simply that each and every
single one of us is merely a player in a play that someone else wrote, things changed when it
was not just a dragon that he found in Lys, but love too. Promised to her brother and
desperate for an escape, there are some who say that was what drove the lady in question's
hearth. Yet none would dare deny that the love shared between them was real and none had
ever seen the prince so determined as he was upon his return.

Arguments, threats that weren't truly spoken, and even the potential of not only a fight but a
secession all were soon swept away as a match was made and agreed to. A brother was then
named to a role he had long wished for and a prince once again gave into what lay within his
heart above anything else. The Empire celebrated the wedding of the Second Son and the
First Daughter, the House of the Dragon above all. For as the Dragonknight was oft heard to
say, nothing mattered more than what truly lay deep within your heart.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Qarth 301 AC.
Viserys Targaryen.

He enjoyed the flighty to Qarth much more now that he had company. Haegon not only
offered him extra security when he was not on Tessarion's back, but someone to speak to

when they made camp at night. The talks they had before settling down for the night allowed
for him to not miss his family as much as his nights spent alone would have. As for
Tessarion, the Blue Queen reveled in having company of her own and she and Syrax almost
played games with each other as they flew.

When he eventually saw the great walls of Qarth come into view, he wondered what sort of
reception he'd get from Baelon. His Goodbrother and he had always had a somewhat
contentious relationship, more because he'd taken Serra fare from Baelon's watchful eye than
anything else. Yet he was a Leal man and one that Viserys had no fear of betrayal or harm
from. Not in actions at least, he may try and harm him with harsh words or looks, though the
days when such bothered him were long since passed.

With a look to Haegon, he bid Tessarion do a complete circle of the city. He wished those
below to know he was here and while a part of him said that it would give those he came to
deal with a chance to flee, he believed them too arrogant to do so. Eventually, he tired of the
show of power and bid Tessarion fly to his Goodbrother's Palace. The building which put
even the Pureborn's own to shame soon came into view. Vermithor took to the sky to greet
them and the great bronze dragon was welcomed by his own and Haegon's dragons most
happily. He was riderless and by the time they'd landed and dismounted their own dragons,
Viserys could feel the eagerness that Tessarion had to fly with yet another playmate.

"Jikagon, sōvegon, iksan lēda lentor se iksin ȳgha." (Go, fly, I am with family and am safe)
he said to Tessarion after he'd praised her for making their journey a swift and uneventful
one.
"Come cousin, let's see if Baelon is as miserable as ever," Haegon japed as the guards moved
to greet and shield them and Viserys barely acknowledged the lickspittle that his Goodbrother
had sent to see who it was who had arrived in his city.

They walked through the large palace, the marble floors glistening, and Viserys found
himself caught up in memories of the times he'd spent her when he and Serra were courting.
It had been love at first sight for him when he met his wife and he was the best and only true
match that could be made for her. Yet Baelon had liked it not and had he not been who he
was, then he may have turned the match down. Viserys wasn't truly sure his Goodbrother had
ever forgiven him for taking his sister from him, he certainly hadn't when news of his niece
and nephew's births reached him. So as they strolled into the Great Hall and he looked to see
Baelon sitting on his over-elaborate throne, he readied for any insult aimed his way.

"Prince Viserys Targaryen, Governor of Qarth and member of the Small Council." the herald
said loudly and Viserys saw how his Goodbrother bristled at being reminded that he served at
Viserys' pleasure and not the other way round.
"Haegon Targaryen, heir to the Governor of Meereen and presumptive commander of the
Second Army."
"My prince, Qarth, and its acting governor welcome you, and you to cousin," Baelon said, his
expression showing that he truly did not.
"We are most pleased to be welcomed so, Baelon, though travel has been tiring. Perhaps we
could be given leave to refresh ourselves."
"Of course, my prince, cousin. We'll see to it at once." Baelon said clapping his hands and
women, men, and guards all moved to escort them from the Great Hall and down a large
corridor that Viserys knew led to the family wing of the palace.

Haegon moved closer to him as they walked, his cousin leaning in to speak softly into his ear
and Viserys chuckled at the words he spoke.

"Told you, he's still a prickly fucker. You think someone stole his love from him or
something."
"I didn't have to steal her, Haegon, she was never his."
"No, she was not," Haegon said firmly.

He welcomed the bath and enjoyed the food that was brought to him as he changed his
clothing after having washed. Deciding not to wait any longer to speak to his Goodbrother
about why he was here, he asked the guard and was told that Baelon had retired to his
chambers and so he sent him to arrange a meeting. Haegon arrived at his rooms before the
guard had returned and both of them set off to walk the short distance to his Goodbrother's
chambers.

The sound of laughter reached him as they passed by the children's rooms and though he
wished to see his Goodniece and Goodnephew for true, he settled for a quick look in at them
and was soon smiling as he saw them play with their dragons. He'd not known they'd bonded
yet and given their age, he wondered if this meant his own children's time would soon come.
With a nod to their mother and mouthing that he'd speak to her and them later, he left the
open room behind and continued on his way to speak to Baelon.

"Prince Viserys, Governor Baelon will speak to you now." the guard he'd sent to arrange the
meeting said as he hurried his way and looked at them surprised to find they'd not waited for
his return.
"Good, lead the way."

His Goodbrother had always been a man of appearances and the number of guards outside his
chambers only proved that had not changed. Haegon snorted and then almost challenged the
guard who tried to firstly stop him from entering the room with Viserys and then bid him
disarm. Viserys had to intervene and remind the guard that not only was he a prince of the
blood, but Baelon and by default, he, both served in his name and could be easily dismissed
or replaced should he wish it.

With no more arguments, they entered the room to find Baelon standing by the hearth and
looking down into the fire. Something seemed off about his Goodbrother and Viserys was not
sure what that was. Only for the resigned voice that Baelon then addressed them with to
make things clear.

"I had always expected this day to come." Baelon said not turning around "Though I had not
thought you'd have brought a swordsman with you, Viserys."
"Baelon?" he asked confused as his Goodbrother turned to look at him.
"Did you think I'd fight you on it? That I'd deny you what was yours by right? Do you really
think so little of me?" Baelon asked sounding somewhat hurt.
"Deny me? What are you speaking of, Baelon? Your words vex and confuse me." he said
honestly.
"Play not games with me, Viserys, I deserve not your mocking words."
"For fuck's sake, Baelon, why do you think we're here?" Haegon asked.
"To force me to stand down of course," Baelon said as if it was the most obvious thing in the
world.
"Why would you think that? And be advised that is not my reason for being here, my reason
has nothing to do with you at all, not truly." Viserys said.
"It does not?" Baelon asked confused.
"I have no plans to give up my seat on the council, nor to leave Volantis, Baelon. I told you
so the day I asked you to sit in my stead. I'd not go back on my words without discussing

things with you long before then, and things remain as unchanged now as they were then." he
said and heard the large sigh of relief his Goodbrother let out.
"I received a letter, who sent it is unknown to me but it claimed that you sought to shame me
and not just remove me for my position but to force me and my family from Qarth too."

Viserys looked to Haegon who seemed just as perplexed by this as he was and then he moved
to his Goodbrother. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he looked Baelon in the eye.

"You think Serra would accept me doing so? That it's something I would seek?"
"We've not been close for many years, Viserys. Not just me and you, but Serra and I too."
"You are still her brother, Baelon. My Goodbrother. Your children are my niece and nephew
and we're cousins by blood too. I am not here for you, I seek not to replace you and I would
never seek to shame you." he said as earnestly as he could.
"I am relieved to hear it, Goodbrother." Baelon said and under his hand, he felt Baelon's
shoulder relax "I take it though, given Haegon's presence, it's not a social visit either."
"Why do people always assume I'm here to do some harm to someone?" Haegon japed.
"Because just as it is when the Dragonknight arrives unannounced, cousin, your arrival
usually is the prelude to someone being harmed." Baelon said before chuckling "So who is it
you seek to harm this time?"
"The Sorrowful men, Baelon. Tell me all you can on them and who it is in this city they and
the Iron Bank are closest to." Viserys asked.

The dinner they ate that night was a much friendlier affair than he may have been invited to
had Baelon not received the letter and he had arrived alone. Had he simply arrived alone and
Baelon had received the letter, then it may even have been more awkward. For the first of
those, it would be the awkwardness and somewhat ill feelings that existed between him and
his Goodbrother, for the latter it would have been the worries that the words the letter
contained had been true. In a way, its existence had the reverse effect and the gap that had
always been between him and Baelon was now a much narrower one. His words spoken to
him in his solar had seen to that.

Not that Viserys was happy about the letter's existence, as it showed that someone was trying
to undermine key relationships between the members of their extended family. Someone
wished them to be at odds and perhaps even disunited and added to the assassination of his
granduncle and the attempt to place the blame on Aemon's shoulders, Viserys liked it not.

Still, for now, he simply enjoyed the meal and spending time with his Goodsister, Goodniece,
and Goodnephew. Even with his Goodbrother too which was still a little strange for him to
think about.

Daena was a beautiful woman, unrelated to them but there was still Valyrian blood in her
through her connections to the Pureborn. Aenar and Daenys were the most delightful
children, just a couple of years older than his own, and looking at them made him think of his
little dragons and wish he was there with them and his wife and not so far from their sides.
Both children had, he'd found out, met with Rhaenys when she had traveled to Lys on her
way to Westeros and had bonded with their dragons while they were there. As it had upon
seeing them with their dragons earlier, it made him think of the day to come when his
children would too travel to the dragon nursery and return from Lys as future dragon riders.

"Come children, time for you both to seek your beds," Daena said and then Viserys chuckled
when to the sounds of their protests, the mention of saying their goodnights to their dragons
by their mother though soon silenced them both.

The plates were taken away and though he sipped his wine, his heart wasn't truly in it and
he'd not be getting drunk this night. Not with the work they had to do. Baelon had listened
and shown his own anger at what the Sorrowful Men had dared to do. He'd spoken of the
members of the Thirteen who were in debt to the Iron Bank and had mentioned that the
banker that most had dealings with had been Petyr Baelish. Something that Viserys had taken
note of and would relay to Rhaegar and Aegon upon his return to Volantis.

Baelon had then wished to be a part of whatever action they intended to take against the
Sorrowful Men and had sent off for Beleos and Vyrello, his spymaster general and the captain
of his guard respectively. Both men had then set about making the arrangements for the
night's activities. Beleos had sought and found the information they needed while Vyrello had
gathered the men they'd use, though Haegon would lead them. Viserys and Baelon would be
high on their dragon's backs when the attack went down. Both to overlook and make sure no
one escaped the wrath they intended to inflict upon them and for their own protection.

Neither he nor his Goodbrother would accept not being a part of the attack and while he'd
defer to Haegon's experience in battle, he'd not concur with the suggestion that he stay in the
palace and let him go about the night's work. Now with the dinner over with, that work was
ready to take place and he felt the sweat pool in his palms and his body began to tighten. This
was the first true fight he'd ever taken part in and given what he'd found out regarding the
Iron Bank, he feared it may not be the last.

"It's time. You both stay on your dragons. No matter what happens below, you stay." Haegon
said as they rose to his feet.
"Fire and Blood," he said and both his cousin and Goodbrother repeated the words.

One hour later.

Even from high above on Tessarion's back he could hear the screams and the clash of swords
below him. The Sorrowful Men had taken a large manse as their base and the hundred men
that Haegon had led to assault it had gone about doing so with ruthless efficiency. Only two
men had managed to even try and make their escape and both Tessarion and Vermithor had
soon seen to them.

That had been thus far the only action he'd been called upon to take part in and while he'd
occasionally caught glimpses of his Goodbrother's men below, he knew very little of what
had truly taken place. Time seemed to have no true meaning to him as the two dragons
circled above the large manse. Was it an hour? Two? Less? He knew not and as for his
cousin's health or whether or not the fight below was one they had won, lost, or were still
fighting, he was as clueless from here as would have been had he remained in Volantis.

It was frustrating and annoying, and yet he knew that later when he spoke to his wife about it,
she'd take great comfort that he and Baelon had left this side of work to someone more suited
to it than they. Still, as he waited for a signal from below, he was forced to ponder just what
he'd have done had he not stopped off in Meereen. Would he have led the men? Would
Baelon have done so? Had he truly flown all this way with no true plan at all? The answer to
that last question bothered him greatly as he was certain now that he had. It had never fallen
to him to do things such as this. Not to him, nor Aegon, and rarely even to Rhaegar. They'd
relied on Aemon to see to such and a part of him now cursed his brother for forcing him from
their sides.

"Tegun, Tessarion," he called out when he saw Haegon walk out into the open space below
and wave him down.

The Blue Queen quickly did as she was bid and was joined by the bronze dragon of his
Goodbrother. Both Vermithor and Tessarion let out loud roars after they landed and the
meaning of those roars was clear enough to even the most foolish of men. Should their riders

be harmed, then there was no place in this world for them to hide from the dragon's wrath. It
made him stroke her snout softly after he'd climbed down off her back, glad to have
something in his life that protected him so fiercely.

"I kept four alive, they have a tale to tell before they meet their end here tonight, cousin."
"A tale?" he asked curiously, hoping that he was right and there were more answers for him
to uncover.
"Of Lions and of a banker who dares believe himself a dragon's match?" Haegon said and
Viserys followed after his cousin more than eager to hear the truth of those tales.

Qarth 301 AC.
Haegon Targaryen.

He looked at the four men they had left alive, knowing full well that no matter what words
they spoke or secrets they revealed, they'd not see the morrow. These fools had dared to
attack his family, had taken a dragon from the world and though Haegon had few memories
of the older Aemon Targaryen, they were fond ones. With a nod of his head, he directed
Viserys to the least important of the four men, the one he knew was far more in the dark than
the other three. Haegon had offered to do this himself, but Viserys wished to be the one to
swing the sword so to speak, and besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't already spilled much blood
this night.

Three hours earlier.

A hundred men he had at his command, far less than he had commanded in his father's name
and almost insignificant compared to the army he'd soon be in command of. Though not as
large as the High Emperor's First Army, the Second was the single largest other army in the
entire Empire. They were more bloodied and experienced than the First too. Serving the
Dragonknight had seen to that and while some had left when Aemon was exiled, those who
had not were still formidable.

As he and his men now surrounded the manse, he wondered if he'd find any of these men as
capable as the ones he'd find when he took up his new command. Looking to the sky above,
he saw the two dragons circling and he knew that none would escape them this night. Syrax
he knew was not too far away and the yellow dragon would be watching with a keen eye.

Should he face any true danger here tonight then he'd wager it would be he and not Tessarion
or Vermithor that was first to let loose his flames.

Turning to look to his men, Haegon saw they were all in position and the manse was now
surrounded. Unsheathing his sword, he raised it in the air and they swept forward and entered
the manse, ten men directly under his command moving as he did. As they moved, four
arrows flew through the air and landed directly in the hearts of their targets. The only sounds
the dead men made as they breathed their last was the sound of their bodies as they fell to the
ground. With the guards now dealt with, there was no one to raise the alarm until it was far
too late.

"You five with me to the left, you five to the right," he whispered.

Immediately and showing they were experienced men, something that relieved him greatly,
the ten men he'd moved with now split into two groups and entered through the now
unguarded door. As soon as the light hit them from the numerous candles that illuminated the
hall they now found themselves in, he heard the sound of the crossbow bolts hitting home.
Four more men fell and not one of them would speak a word with their last breath, the bolts
protruding from their throats would see to that.

He led his men to a door to the left and once he reached it, he opened it carefully. The
surprised look on the face of the man on the other side of the door was quickly replaced by a
pained and desperate one as Haegon stuck his dagger into the side of the man's head.
Catching him before he fell to the ground, he then laid the man carefully down so that no
sound he made would be heard. Then raising his hand, he pointed to the doors on the left and
right of the corridor they now found themselves in.

Unfortunately, this was to be the last time that stealth was their friend this night. The sound of
swords clashing, footsteps running and a bell being rung, announced that their presence had
finally been noticed. Ahead of him, the doors opened and another two bolts flew from the
Myrish crossbows that two of his men had been armed with. Haegon saw the two men who
had been struck by the bolts fall to the ground and heard the sound of the Myrish crossbows
themselves dropping to the floor behind him. The time for their use was now passed and it
would be sword and dagger that was brought to bear from here on.

"Stay together, form up," he shouted, there being no more need for silence.

They moved as one, six men with him at their head. His sword almost cried out for blood and
Haegon wondered if it was true that Dark Sister had a hunger for it. If it had, then the
Dragonknight had more than fed that hunger, it was not time for him to feed his sword's own.
The first man he struck seemed almost confused by the sword that he pulled from his chest.
Haegon wondered if he'd been drinking or sleeping when the alarm was sounded.

The next was more prepared and it was a spear from behind him that was thrust over his
shoulder that took the man's life from him. His men showed this was not the first time they'd
fought as part of a unit and in close quarters. Two of his men entered the room to the left and
two to the room to the right and he was surprised when they returned having found no
assassins in either. Moving forward, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he looked
to the door and almost heard the voice in his head.

"Be wary."

Were he to give a name to that voice, then he'd say it was Syrax and it was one he'd listened
to many times over the years. It was not one he was going to ignore now. So moving to the
door, he lined his men up on either side of it, ducked down, and opened it before peering
inside. Three arrows were loosed almost simultaneously. All three of them though flew
harmlessly over his head. He didn't need to think too long or hard about it to know that had
he been standing, or his guards standing, then the arrows would have hit home.

With a loud roar, he and his men rushed into the room and as arrows were readied to fire,
swords, spears and daggers were brought to bear. There could and would be only one winner
in such a fight. The archers who'd thought themselves so clever and had arranged this little
ambush now bled out and cried out for mercy. In this, he was not as heartless as he could be,
though the mercy he gave them all was simply a quick death.

Once he was sure they were safe, he looked around the room and sighed. He'd thought this
path would lead him to their leaders or that he'd join up with the rest of his men. Yet it
seemed they were in an empty room. As he turned to tell his men they were done here, he felt
a slight breeze against the uncovered part of his face. Removing his helm, he leaned his head
in the direction he believed the breeze came from and then moved to the wall.

"Break this down," he said and less than a few moments later, they were through a door and
standing in a secret passageway.

Haegon bid his men be wary and together they moved down the passageway and to the door
at the end of it. Again taking every precaution he could, he opened the door carefully, and
again it was a spear over his shoulder that ended the man in front of him. A younger man
dropped his sword and fell to his knees and three older men looked at him with fear in their
eyes and yet raised no weapons against him or his men.

"My friends, if you'd all follow me, there is much we need to discuss." Haegon said almost as
if he was inviting them to share a drink with him "I won't ask again." he said a little more
firmly when none of the men moved "Good choice."

Now.

If he had any doubts about whether or not his cousin had the temperament and mettle to do
what was needed, then watching the second of the Sorrowful Men's leaders die a painful
death would remove them completely. Viserys had questioned, Baelon had offered and
cajoled, and some answers had been given. Though these answers were the very same ones
that he himself had already forced from these men earlier.

"Who organized the attack? Who paid for it? And who contacted you?"
"We did. We organized it. It was supposed to be Prince Aegon, we failed." the man said, his
voice showing just how scared he truly was and he should be, given what Viserys had done to
the other two men, he really should be.
"You'll need to tell me more than that if you wish to see the morrow," Viserys said angrily as
he held his bloody dagger in front of the man's eyes and threatened to take one of them for
his own as he'd done with the second of the men he'd killed.
"The Dwarf, it was his gold, his coin. Baelish, it was Baelish."
"And which of you is in command, you or him?" Viserys asked as he motioned to the fourth
man.
"Him, him, I was…."

He didn't finish his words, it was hard to talk when your throat had just been sliced open and
so instead, he gurgled and fell to the floor. Viserys didn't wait for him to die before moving to
the last of the men.

"He had nothing to tell me that I don't already know. So he like the two others before him was
of no use to me. Let's see if you're any different from them." Viserys said chillingly.
"Death holds no fear for me, Prince Viserys. Nor pain. Would that I had something to offer
you or that I believed in doing so it would buy me a few more days in this world. I am clever
enough to know that's since the answer to both of those things is no, that death is to be my
fate."
"Yet not clever enough to know how foolish it was to take a contract against my family."
Viserys snapped back.
"No, on that I was but a fool. Do your worst, Prince Viserys, I am resolved to my fate."
"Take him to the courtyard, it won't be a knife that takes him from this world, but a dragon."

In his last few moments, the man who had been in charge of the Sorrowful Men knew true
fear. Haegon saw it in his eyes as he was dragged from the room and Viserys didn't wait for
too much time to pass before he and Tessarion brought about his end. They stayed with
Baelon that night and drank a toast to Aemon and to the four men they'd lost in avenging
him. Viserys told Baelon to keep a closer eye on those in the Thirteen who had borrowed
from the Iron Bank and to ensure that he and his family were well protected.

The next morning they flew from the city and though he had not planned to take up his role
in the Second Army until after his sister was wed, he knew that was no longer an option. He,
Viserys, and his family would travel to Meereen a few days before Rhaenyra was to wed. For
now, it was Volantis that was to be his destination, and a war that was brewing and being
fuelled by ambition was to be his to help win.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

Despite how happy she clearly was, he and especially his wife felt some trepidation in
leaving Joanna behind in Dorne. Their daughter was not as worldly as her cousin and while
she'd have her ladies, a large personal guard, and what seemed to be a husband who adored if
not outright loved her, they still worried for her. Alysanne had needed to be talked around to

the match, both because of Joanna's age and the distance between them. Sunspear or the
Water Gardens that they'd both been told about being much further away than where his wife
would have liked their daughter to name her home.

He'd been extra attentive to Alysanne on the journey back to Lannisport because of this and
to try and allay her other fears over what was soon to come. She knew he relished the
prospect of the war they'd soon be fighting and that he longed to test his blade against men
like Barristan the Bold, The Sword of the Morning, and Aemon the Dragonknight above all.
His attempts at dissuading her of her worries and doubts were not truly successful and it was
only when they lay together that he even removed them briefly.

Alysanne had made him promise that Jason wouldn't truly see any action in the upcoming
war and had even made his swear on his mother's tomb that he'd make it so. It had been an
easy thing for him to do as he wished not for his son to fight or risk himself as he did and he
knew that his father would not either. Jason had been left behind when they marched to the
war they'd not fought in, he doubted it would be any different this time. He hoped it wouldn't
be. Jaime, though, he'd be right there in the thick of the action and he was grateful that the
only thing she begged of him was to be careful and to come back to her.

As they sailed, he'd find himself upon the deck and looking at his brother curiously. Tyrion
would spend as much of his time up there reading as he would down below and it took him
almost until they reached Lannisport to figure out the reason for it. It was not that he was
angered with their father, though he was, nor that he'd had enough of Joffrey's japes at his
expense, his brother was well able to give as good as he got, instead it was because he feared
they may not actually make it back. Something that had stunned Jaime when he'd heard it.

"You truly sit here and look to the sky for a dragon?" he mocked.
"We're about to pull on the dragon's tail, brother mine. More so than we already have with
the wedding father organized. You think Aemon Targaryen isn't aware of where we've been?
That he doesn't know that our House and House Martell are no joined?"
"What matters it if he does?"
"Other than he and his wife are master and mistress of every kingdom barring three?"
"Other than that."
"We know he'll not stop his conquest, Jaime. That our lands, the lands of his wife's kin and
even the pile of worthless rocks the Iron Born name as theirs are all goals he still seeks. Do

you not wonder why he hasn't yet marched on the West or Dorne? O for what reason he has
not sought our defeat or surrender?"
"He knows it'll be the hardest battle he's ever had and so he's been wary, Tyrion, that is all,"
he said and Tyrion snorted.
"I don't think that man has it in him to be wary," Tyrion replied arrogantly and it annoyed
Jaime to hear it in his brother's voice, especially aimed at him.
"And your judgment on Aemon Targaryen has been proved oh so accurate thus far, has it
not." he sneered.
"I took him for something he was not, it's not a mistake I'll make again and not one you
should seek to match, brother." Tyrion said as he glanced at the sky once again "Here, now,
on this ship and in this fleet, we're at our most vulnerable. Should he wish to remove those
who would stand against him in one single swoop then now is the best time for it. Ships burn,
Jaime, they burn easily." Tyrion's words sent a shiver down his spine and involuntarily, his
own eyes looked to the sky.

So when they finally saw Lannisport and the ships docked, it wasn't only Tyrion who wore a
relieved look on his face and it made Jaime ask more questions of Aemon Targaryen's tactics
than he had up to then. Not that he'd not considered his tactics or how he may fight against
them when their armies finally faced off against each other. His father too had spent many an
hour trying to see if there was some pattern in how the Dragonknight waged war or some
favored maneuver he used that they could exploit. Jaime though only truly thought of such
things during the march to war, not when he was not doing so, but now they invaded and
threatened to take over his thoughts.

He put it out of his mind on the ride to Casterly Rock and was more than happy to see their
home once more. Once they were settled back in, it was to the sparring yards that he went as
he felt out of practice in the few days it had taken to sail from Dorne. They ate as a family
that night and he spent as much time holding his wife's hand as he did anything else. Their
daughter's absence had truly hit Alysanne as they ate together in their own hall. It led to her
retiring early and to Jaime calling it a night not long after his wife did.

When he woke the next morning he felt it. The blood rushed through his body and his heart
began to race. It was a feeling he'd come to both enjoy and rely on over the years and one that
only came when he was on the verge of a fight. Leaving Alysanne to her sleep, he dressed
and hurried from the room and though it was a rare thing for him to head to his father's solar
without being sent for, it was there and not to break his fast that his feet carried him.

"My father is inside?" he asked the guards who nodded and then knocked at the door to
announce his presence, Jaime then waited for his father to invite him in.

One did not walk into his father's solar unannounced, no matter who you were. Even his aunt
Genna, who at times would be wroth with father for something or other, would still knock
and wait outside to be called. It was a strange thing as while he was a strict taskmaster and
could be unyielding at times, for him, for Joanna and Myrcella, for Jason and Cersei, he was
as loving and forgiving as any man could be. Less so for Joffrey and rarely if ever for Tyrion.

"Your father will see you now, my prince."

Jaime nodded to the guard who offered him a small bow of his head and then walked into the
room to find his father was as usual, busy at work. Taking a seat, he waited until he was
given leave to speak. To his surprise, it was much sooner than he'd expected and yet before he
could say a word, a raven's scroll was handed to him. Reading over it, he smiled, as he knew
now exactly why he'd had the feeling this morn.

"He's left. Does Prince Doran know?" he asked.
"He knows."
"We march?" he asked eagerly.
"We march. My grandson will hold Casterly Rock in my name and your uncle Gerion will
stay behind too."
"Father?"
"Unlike the last march, we must be ready for a counterattack. The Rock and Lannisport must
hold as must the Golden Tooth."
"You'll send word to Leo?"
"The raven left two hours ago."
"The Searoad?"
"The Searoad and we march hard, Jaime, tell your brother to be ready for such." his father
said before looking back down to his missives and beginning his writing once more.

If he thought it would take time to gather the banners, then he was very much mistaken. Word
had already been sent to those furthest away and none of them would be marching to Casterly
Rock or to Lannisport, not this time. Instead, they'd be meeting them on the march to the
Reach itself and so one more night was all he had with his wife and son before he'd not see
them again for some time. One more night was all he'd have with his sister as well and so at
the hour of the owl, he snuck from his rooms. He made his way to the stables and rode out
the gates to the small farmhouse that he and Cersei often used for their trysts.

"I feared I'd not see you," Cersei said before he'd even dismounted his horse.
"I'd not march without…."

The kiss stopped his words and it was only that they were outside and not in, that stopped
him from tearing her clothing from her. Stumbling in through the door with her in his arms,
he almost tripped more than once and it was only thanks be to the gods that he found his way
to the bed without doing so. They undressed each other hurriedly and once they had, they
spent no time on foreplay. Their first time was hurried and almost frenzied and yet it was not
enough, never had it been so. For the second they were more practiced, more composed and
he took his time to savor every inch of her body and to bring her to the edge more than once.

"JAIME!" she cried out when he finally allowed her to fall and his own fall came not more
than a moment later.

They lay in the bed for far less time than either would have wished. He spoke the words to
her that he knew she wished to hear and heard her own oath of love sworn back at him. After
dressing, they rode back to the Rock together but entered separately. Jaime then stabled his
horse and made his way back to his chambers, and he was coming out of the lift when he saw
his brother strolling towards him. Tyrion wearing a knowing smile on his face, though he said
not a word.

That morning, he broke his fast with just his wife and son and told them both how much he
loved them. He once again promised Alysanne that he'd return and told Jason to protect his
mother and their home while he was away. By midday, he was armored, mounted, and riding
out the gate along with his father's men and toward the waiting army that was somewhere
ahead of them. He was riding to finally test his blade against a worthy opponent and never
did he feel more alive than he did right then. Turning to look at Tyrion, he found his brother
looking to the sky with a worried look on his face and despite not feeling the danger as
Tyrion did, he'd be a liar if he didn't glance upwards more than once over the next few days.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVI
The Fall and Rise of House Velaryon.

Grief is a powerful thing and can lead to rash decisions and terrible consequences. For
House Velaryon it was one man's grief and the Emperor that he blamed for that grief that saw
his House cast down and almost brought about its end.

For centuries they had stood side by side. They'd wedded into each other's Houses, had
grown together and as the Empire rose, few if any rose as high as the Seahorses did. Among
their greatest and most noteworthy allies, their names rang out almost as loudly as the names
of the dragons they were allied with did. From Valaena who was venerated as the mother of
the Conqueror and his sister-wives, to Daemon whose ships carried the Targaryen army to
Essos. To the first Corlys who was the commander of the Emperor's own personal guard and
to his namesake the Sea Snake who ruled the seas like no other.

Yet the death of Alyssa Velaryon in mysterious circumstances and the blame being attributed
to the Emperor himself was what seemed to be the beginning of the end of any and all
influence House Velaryon had or ever would have. Death, an almost complete quelling of an
uprising that was only truly being spoken about by a grieving son and a stripping of position
and assets were soon all the Velaryons knew and it would take many years for their perceived
disloyalty to be forgiven and forgotten.

Eventually, though, things change and the ties between both houses went too far and ran too
deep for them ever to truly be ignored for long. It had been those ties that in the end had
saved the House from being destroyed root and stem and that stayed an angry Emperor's
hand. It was those ties that the Empress of the Ice had sought to see restored through the
Dragonknight and Aurane Velaryon and as with all she did, in this, she was proved to be far
wiser than those around her. Power, position, a name restored and dragon returned. No
House ever flew as high as they did and none would ever fly higher other than the House of
the Dragon itself.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Blackwater Bay, Lys, Volantis 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

Had he been too cruel? Too unforgiving? Did he take his anger out on the wrong man?
Probably and yet as the Blood Wyrm and Darkfyre flew close to where Aurane was building
his new city, Aemon cared not. Gerold Dayne had upset his aunt, that alone would have
earned him a harsh punishment at his hands had he been in Volantis at the time. He had
scared her, frightened her enough that she'd left their family behind and flown to Westeros to
seek the comfort that only Rhaenys could give her. The fool of a man had dared to place his
hands on a dragon and think there would be no consequences.

No, he had not been cruel enough and as for unforgiving, some things were unforgivable
were they not? Putting thoughts of the man he'd killed out of his mind was then easy for him,
as it had always been. He saw no faces when he slept, and bore no scars on his soul for the
terrible things he at times was forced to do. Yet it was always in the immediate aftermath that
any question his actions may bring him would raise their head. Closing his eyes, he let
thoughts of his granduncle be what filled his mind and only those thoughts.

Memories of times gone by, of conversations as he sat and watched his granduncle about his
work and as they would eat their luncheon together. The sparring yard, upon the Blood
Wyrm's back, with Rhaenys or with his granduncle. When he was a boy, those were his
favorite things in the world, and even after he'd grown to be a man, they still had been.
Despite being exiled and not seeing him or being able to speak to him for more than two
years, Aemon had never truly believed he'd not see his granduncle again. Even knowing he
was growing old and weary and suffering from an illness, he'd not truly accepted that he
could die one day. He'd certainly not expected him to be killed and as he opened his eyes, he
looked to Darkfyre who was staring intently at him.

"Kesi mazverdagon zirȳ addemmagon." (We will make them pay) he said softly in the wind
and yet his words were heard by the Indigo Dragon who let out a roar of confirmation.

As they neared the bay where the new city was to be located, Aemon was surprised by
Darkfyre's sudden change of direction and behavior. Looking at the dragon, he could see that
it had started to descend quickly and for a brief moment, he worried it had harmed itself in
some way. Looking more closely at the dragon though, he could see that this had been
Darkfyre's choice, and the way he was now flying, more than intrigued him. Bidding the
Blood Wyrm to land, they did so as close as they could to the large wooden battlements that
Aurane had already constructed.

Aemon hurriedly climbed down off the Blood Wyrm's back and immediately noticed that his
dragon was unconcerned by Darkfyre's actions, he was almost somewhat bored by them.
Now more relaxed, he moved to the Indigo Dragon and touched his snout softly, eliciting a
trill in response, and then as he looked into Darkfyre's eyes he saw the look of longing he was
aiming in the direction of the riders that now approached. Ever more intrigued, he waited by
the dragon's side and saw Aurane was among the group and he smiled, not truly believing it,
but hopeful of it at the same time.

"Aemon?" Aurane greeted him when he arrived "Has something happened, is something
wrong, my prince?" Aurane stared at Darkfyre whose own eyes stared almost longingly back
at him.
"Yes and no. My granduncle has fallen, brother, fallen before his time and his dragon has
come for me to avenge him." he began "It seems however that is not the only reason Darkfyre
has come. You'll need to put someone in charge here and send word to Rhaenys that you've
traveled with me."
"Travelled?"
"Lys, Aurane, I believe it's time for you to bond with a dragon," he said looking to Darkfyre
who once again let out a loud trill.
"You can't….I can't….My blood is…"
"As mixed with mine own as is most of my own family. Was not Rhaenys a Dragonrider,
Laena, Laenor, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey?"
"More than a hundred years ago, Aemon. None since then." Aurane said looking not at him
but at Darkfyre.
"None so worthy, brother." he said moving to him and placing his hand on his shoulder
"Come, I wish to be flying within the hour, pack light."

As Aurane went to do as he'd bid him, Aemon moved to Darkfyre and asked the question,
receiving another trill from the dragon as his response. It brought a smile to his face to think
that not only would his brother by choice soon be a Dragonrider, but the dragon that was to
be his mount was to be this one. Though the smile soon faded when he quickly remembered
that the only reason Darkfyre was riderless was because of his granduncle's death.

Less than an hour later they were flying high in the sky once more. Aurane sat behind him on
the Blood Wyrm and Aemon knew without needing to look at him that he was staring at
Darkfyre longingly. House Velaryon had fallen from grace over the last hundred years or

more. They'd lost their connection to the dragons and their favor at court. Aurane was the
single biggest reason for why they'd regained the latter, it was only fitting to Aemon that he
was now the reason for the former too.

A few days later.

Each time they'd stopped, he'd insisted that Aurane spent some time with Darkfyre. He'd seen
the beginnings of the bond form, though it would only be in the dragon nursery that it could
actually fully be realized. Other than a Dragonknight, every single bond between a dragon
and its rider was formed the same way. Rituals and words, fire and blood, and time all being
the keys. Other than those who'd actually undergone the bonding process, he was probably
the only person who knew what it truly entailed. Even the keeper of the nursery itself was
someone who'd lived that bond as were any of those who came before them.

He felt it the closer they got to Lys and then was stunned when he saw the island in the
distance. In the sky above, there must have been close to a hundred dragons flying, some that
he'd not seen for many a year and it was both an awe-inspiring sight and a worrisome one
too. Bidding the Blood Wyrm to fly faster, they reached the nursery within the hour and by
the time they landed, there was not a dragon in sight.

"My prince." his cousin Daeron called out as he made his way to where the Blood Wyrm and
Darkfyre had landed.
"It's good to see you, Daeron. Elaena, the children?"
"Are well, my prince. Aurane it's been many a year." Daeron said moving to greet Aurane
just as warmly as he had him.
"Too long, Daeron. It's good to see you well."
"The dragons are hungry, Daeron, can you see food is brought to them? "he asked and his
cousin clapped his hands, Aemon only then noticing the men bearing the large carcasses that
both the Blood Wyrm and Darkfyre quickly moved to.

He waited until he'd seen them eat the offered food, then turned to walk with Daeron and
Aurane into his cousin's palace. The sound of children playing soon reached his ears and
brought a smile to his face, and he wished he could enjoy it for longer than he did. Instead, he
bid Daeron take them to his solar and didn't even hear it when his cousin sent for food and
drink for him and Aurane.

"The dragons, Daeron? How long?" he asked as he took his seat in his cousin's solar.
"A few weeks, Aemon. It's most strange and not something I can find a record of ever
occurring before."
"My granduncle would oft tell tales that in our greatest ever time of need, the dragons would
come and the unbounded would form their bonds," he said looking to Aurane.
"I've heard such. But what need have we?" Daeron asked worriedly.
"I know not as of yet." he sighed and then held his tongue while the servant placed the food
and drink on the table.

Both he and Aurane ate hungrily and he told Daeron the reason for Darkfyre's presence. The
death of his granduncle and the bond he sought to forge with Aurane.

"It's an even rarer event, Aemon. Other than on the one or two occasions where a riderless
dragon and its new rider were in the same place at the same time, never before has a dragon
sought out its rider in such a way. Certainly never has one traveled so far to do so."
"You're saying this has truly never happened before?" Aurane asked dumbfounded and to a
nod of Daeron's head "Then why me?"

Neither his cousin nor his brother by choice seemed to have any answers to this and at first,
neither did he, but then the inkling of one came to his mind and he allowed himself to follow
the thought to its logical conclusion.

"Darkfyre sought vengeance first and foremost. Even beyond a new rider. He came to me at
the Wall and only when we set out on our flight back to Volantis did he then seek you out,
Aurane."
"I don't understand, Aemon." Aurane shrugged.
"Had he not sought the one then he'd not have sought the other. He'd have come here and
waited for you to come to him." Daeron explained.
"I'd not have...I'd never have…"
"Then that was just another reason for him to come to you," he said to a nod of his cousin's
head.

Though he wished to enjoy a night's sleep in a warm bed and spend time with his cousin and
his family, he knew he would not. He may be right in what he'd said to Aurane and yet the
presence of so many dragons at the nursery worried him too. He worried about Rhaenys and
Dany as well and even were it not for that and his desire to get back to them as quickly as he
could, his blood called out for vengeance and justice. Either of which he'd gladly accept.

So he bid his farewells and told Aurane that by the time he returned, his bond would have
been formed and he'd be a Dragonrider too. Daeron would see that he was given all the
knowledge and practice he needed and knowing his brother by choice as well as he did, he'd
no doubt that Aurane would be as comfortable in the sky as he was on the sea. Mounting the
Blood Wyrm, he took one more look at his cousin and Aurane and then nodded his head
when he saw Darkfyre look his way.

"Sōvegon Gaelithox." (Fly Gaelithox.)

Flying at night was a different beast than during the day and only the most experienced
Dragonriders enjoyed it. Rhaenys and Dany would often take part in nighttime flights above
Volantis but rarely if ever would they travel beyond the city's walls. Aemon relished the
peacefulness of it while cursing the impairments to his vision the darkness caused. He smiled
when the Blood Wyrm dropped so he was flying no more than a few feet over the water and
then chuckled when it suddenly pounced and gripped the shark in its talons.

A fresh kill was always more appetizing to his dragon than one that had been prepared for
him and so Aemon decided to call an end to the night's flight and bid the Blood Wyrm to find
somewhere to land. He slept that night leaning against his dragon's scales and allowing his
warmth to keep away the night's chill. His dreams were of days long since passed and of
running after an old man who would slow his pace so that he could catch him. When he
woke, it was his tears that had dried on his cheek and he knew they would not be the last he'd
shed over his granduncle's death. Emptying some water from his pouch into his hand, he
washed his face and then broke his fast, before he and the Blood Wyrm took to the sky once
more.

For a day and almost a full night, they flew over lands that he knew all too well. Lands that
he had fought on, bled on, and lands upon which he had killed far too many men to count. It
was early in the morning when the city came into sight, Aemon felt a shiver run down his
spine at the thoughts of what he'd find there and of the welcome or lack of one he may
receive. Bidding the Blood Wyrm to head to the Dragonpit, he resolved himself to what it

was he must do and to the respects to a man he'd loved with all he was, that he would soon
pay.

"Fire and Blood, Aemon, just as you taught me," he said as the Blood Wyrm circled above
the Dragonpit before beginning his descent.

House Targaryen of Qarth.

Baelon Targaryen age 35 years.
Daena Targaryen age 33 years.
Aenar Targaryen age 6 years.
Daena Targaryen age 5 years.

House Targaryen of Lys.

Daeron Targaryen age 32 years.
Elaena Targaryen age 31 years.
Daemon Targaryen age 4 years
Rhaegal Targaryen age 3 years
Nerys Targaryen age 2 years.

Chapter End Notes

An awkward reunion in Volantis brings up truths long since hidden and reveals enemies
who no longer are. Aemon says his farewells to his granduncle and spends time with the
family he's not seen for some time before plans are made to deal with enemies both
foreign and domestic. Oberyn and Rhaenys speak on Dorne and the West and in the
Reach worrying news make its way into Olenna's hands. As armies march and war
creeps ever closer.

For those following my other fics, the second chapter of Revenge is a Dish best served
cold will be up on Thursday and the Dragonverse will be updated at the weekend.

The She Wolf's Truth.
Chapter Summary

An awkward reunion in Volantis brings up truths long since hidden and reveals enemies
who no longer live and some who do. Aemon says his farewells to his granduncle and
spends time with the family he's not seen for some time. Oberyn and Rhaenys speak on
Dorne and the West and in the Reach worrying news makes its way into Olenna's hands.
Before armies march and war draws ever closer.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Volantis 301 AC.
Rhaegar Targaryen.

It had been hard to have none of them here with him for the first time ever. Other than his
niece and nephew, Goodsister, Goodaughter, as well as Elia, his entire family had been
separated for the first time ever. Even on the few occasions when he'd led the First Army, and
so he'd been far from home, he'd always taken comfort in the fact that his family was all
together. Once Aemon had taken command of the Second Army, then it was only rarely that
Rhaegar himself would need to march at all and so his family would join him should he be
leaving Volantis for any reason.

So it had been hard for him to get used to waking in the morn and heading to their family
dining rooms to break his fast, only to find it was to be just him and Elia who'd be there to do
so. At other meals, they'd be joined by Talisa, Serra, and the children which rather than
brought him true comfort, instead, only reinforced his worries for those who were not there
with them. Each night when he'd eventually take to his bed, it would be after some time spent
on his balcony looking to the sky in the hopes of seeing Caraxes or Tessarion return.

It was his son's dragon which turned out to be the first of those to make it back to Volantis
and he was as relieved as Aegon's mother was to see him back and unharmed. He then found
himself concerned, firstly that Aegon wished to speak to him before even his wife or mother
and secondly by what his son told him once he did speak to him. Rhaegar was soon to find
out to his shock that his son had fled Braavos in fear for his life and that Tycho Nestoris had
lost his own just before he did so.

"You spoke to him before he died?" he asked as they sat in his solar.
"He was looking into who dealt with Khal Drogo's account and who the Imp of Casterly Rock
had met, he never got to speak to me on either," Aegon said.
"You feared for your life?"
"If a man such as Tycho Nestoris can be killed in Braavos of all places, then not even I was
safe there."
"And the Sealord?"
"Offered me the protection of the First Sword and was as Leal and true as we expect of him,"
Aegon said with no semblance of doubt in his words.
"You paid a visit to the House of Black and White too?" he asked to a nod of Aegon's head.
"Tyrion Lannister sought their services to see a prince dead." Aegon replied and Rhaegar felt
the dragon in him wishing to be unleashed "Aemon, not me." his son added.

He had taken some comfort in that. Not that he favored Aegon's life over Aemon's, only that
were they to target his younger son then they'd find themselves more than outmatched.
Rhaegar did however take more comfort in the fact that they had simply rejected the offer
and that the agreement that was struck between them and his House many years earlier still
held true. After telling his son how proud he was of him and that as of yet he'd heard nothing
from Viserys, he then bid Aegon to spend some time with his wife and to go and speak to his
mother.

Despite his son wishing to get back to work and to formulate plans for how they'd react to the
Lannisters seeking Aemon dead as well as what efforts they'd make in regards to finding out
who killed Tycho Nestoris, Rhaegar took charge of those himself. He set Varys to task and
bid him to bring him all he could find on the Lannisters and Tywin Lannister in particular, as
well as all he had on the Iron Bank and its dealings.

A week after Aegon's return he was no nearer to finding out if the Lannister's reach stretched
into Essos itself or if they had found an ally to help them carry out whatever plans they'd
made. Nor whether or not it was two separate threats to his family and the Empire in general.
He knew if he brought this to the High Council, questions would then be asked about whether
or not Aemon's activities in Westeros had led to what had happened in Essos and they were
questions he was not yet ready to answer. So he kept his discussions to himself and Aegon
and both were relieved when Tessarion was finally sighted. As well as being surprised to see
Syrax flying alongside the Blue Queen.

As much as he wished to travel to the Dragonpit to make certain his brother was unharmed,
he knew that he had to play off Viserys' journey and return from it as being of little
consequence. The wait for Viserys and Haegon to make their way from the Dragonpit to the
Grand Palace was almost unbearable and Rhaegar was pacing his solar agitatedly when they
both finally arrived. Before greeting his cousin, his eyes traveled over every inch of his
brother's body and he was relieved to see that he bore no marks and was unharmed.

"Brother," he said happily as he and Viserys embraced.
"Uncle." he heard Aegon say as Rhaegar then welcomed Haegon.
"All went well?" he asked as they took their seats.
"The Sorrowful Men will be sorry no more, brother," Viserys said and Rhaegar looked at his
brother with pride.
"You saw to their ends yourself?" Aegon asked.
"With Haegon and Baelon's help." Viserys said with a nod to their cousin "There is much we
need to speak on, Rhaegar."

For the next few hours, he listened as Viserys told him that the Sorrowful Men had been hired
by Tyrion Lannister to kill Aegon, confirming and not relieving his son's fears. Had it not
been for his granduncle's presence, it would have been his son that he mourned so truly and
once again he felt the dragon inside him wishing to be let loose. He listened in disbelief as
Viserys told him of the letter that had been sent to Baelon and the divide it had sought to
bring between Serra's brother and the Empire. How it sought to further the divide that had
always existed between Viserys and his Goodbrother. Something which in turn named the
sender of that letter someone who was well aware of their dynamic.

Little prepared him for the naming of the letter sender and he almost didn't believe his brother
when he said it was Petyr Baelish who had done so. Had it not been for the death of Tycho
Nestoris and the knowledge they now had about a Dothraki Khal owning a manse that none
of them knew of, then he may not have believed it still. Yet it all lined up and explained much
if not all that was occurring. Rhaegar was just about to speak on how he now believed these
things had come to pass when Elia came rushing into the room.

"Aemon, Rhaegar," Elia said and Rhaegar felt his heart threaten to break as he now worried
greatly for his son, so much so that he didn't hear what Elia said next nor did he truly take
note of her mood.

"Father, Father?"
"I…"
"Aemon is here, father. the Blood Wyrm has just landed in the Dragonpit," Aegon said
happily and Rhaegar let out the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Unlike with Viserys, there was no need for pretense when it came to Aemon's arrival in
Volantis. This couldn't be played off as just a normal thing or nothing of note. His son had
been exiled for more than two years and not once had he or the Blood Wyrm been seen since
then. There was no need for him to wait until Aemon had traveled the short distance from the
Dragonpit to the Grand Palace, nor to simply perform the mummery of going about his work
as normal. He rose to his feet and he, Aegon, Viserys, Haegon, and Elia were all soon
walking down the long corridors and making their way to the courtyard.

He saw him long before he reached the giant double doors that were the main entrance to the
Grand Palace. Aemon walked with even more purpose than he was always wont to do.
Armed and armored as he usually was, his son looked fit and healthy, and resolved. Rhaegar
knew that Aemon had somehow found out about the death of his granduncle and yet how that
was, he knew not. It both filled him with joy that he'd come because of it and with anger at
himself that it had taken this for his son to return.

"Aems," Aegon said greeting his brother as warmly as he'd ever done, the two of them
embracing as they used to do as children.
"Egg." he heard Aemon say just as fondly.
"Nephew."
"Uncle."
"Aemon," Haegon said as Aemon looked at him curiously, his son no doubt working out in
his head just why his cousin had seen fit to travel to Volantis at this of all times.
"Haegon."

Rhaegar smiled when Elia greeted Aemon with a hug and though he didn't hear the words
they whispered to each other, he would wager they were on Rhaenys and Daenerys, with
some on Aemon himself. A few moments later they were standing face to face and he was
unsurprised that his own greeting was far colder than any of them had been so far.

"Father."
"Son," he said far more warmly.
"Tell me about my granduncle and the people who took him before his time," Aemon said
almost in a whisper and while his voice may have been restrained, the fire in his eyes was
anything but.
"There is much we must speak on, son," he said to a nod of Aemon's head and again he felt
his heart break a little as he knew that there were things he'd say which may lose him what
little favor he still had with his son and may actually lose him his son completely.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Olenna Tyrell.

So far she'd found that there was very little difference in her granddaughter being married to
a Warden rather than a king. In time that may change as the Targaryens exerted more and
more influence over the land they ruled over, but she believed that in truth it really wouldn't.
Willas had done more and more research into the Empire and had concurred with her own
opinions on the role they'd been given.

As with those who were governed by members of their House in Essos, Gwayne, Margaery,
and by default her, were and would be considered of a higher station than any but others
who'd been named as Wardens and of course the Targaryens themselves. They'd be free to
make almost as many of the same decisions as they would have, had Gwayne kept his crown.
While it was true that they'd pay some taxes to the dragons, they were not as severe or
punitive as they could have been. True they'd need to march should they be called, but they
would have the dragons to call upon should the need arise as well. An even trade as far as
Olenna was concerned.

So with matters of that part of their future now resolved, it was to the other aspects of
securing her House that Olenna turned her attention to. The first of those was the marriages
of her grandsons. While Garlan had found some favor with Princess Daenerys, or so she
believed, Olenna knew it could never be. Any match that may be found with the House of the
Dragon would come from the next generation of Tyrells and not this one. A child of
Margaery's if the gods were good to her. No, it would be to House Fossoway that she'd look
for Garlan's bride as she had been even before the dragons had marched.

'But what of Willas?' the voice inside her head said.

Her oldest grandson should have been long since Wed, but Olenna had put her entire focus on
Margaery's own match. She'd been somewhat lax and now she was annoyed with herself for
being so. Yet as she sat there at her desk, she found she couldn't decide whether it was an
internal match with someone in the Reach that she truly wished for Willas or an external
match with a daughter of a great and large House in one of the other kingdoms.

Rising to her feet, she slowly moved to the books she kept closest to her desk and brushed
her fingers over each of them as she searched for the one she needed. It took her far longer to
find it than she liked and so by the time she sat back down, she was even more annoyed.
Opening one of the drawers, she took out the folded-up map of Westeros and laid it out on
her desk. Her eyes roamed over each of the by now united kingdoms, as well as those that
were not.

"Which is it to be," she asked aloud, though being alone there was or would be no answer to
her question.

The Westerlands were out. While Tywin Lannister had two granddaughters who would be
suitable, he'd just wed one of them to House Martell. In doing so he'd made himself even
more of an enemy of the House of the Dragon and Olenna doubted that the Dragonknight
would be as accommodating of the Lannisters as he had been of her House. This ruled out the
Martells too, as despite them being kin to Queen Rhaenys, and having a more than suitable
potential bride for Willas in Princess Arianne, they too were pulling on the dragon's tail.

Looking to the North, she tried to remember all she could about the Northern houses and
found she knew little if anything about any of them other than the Starks. While she'd
normally never consider a match with the House of the Wolf, given who King Aemon's
mother was, she found she now had to and so she picked up the book and looked through the
lineages and current makeup of House Stark. She found there was but one daughter of an age
where a betrothal may be considered and so taking a quill and some parchment, she wrote the
name down.

Sansa Stark.

Other than one of the daughters of Lord Manderly, she found no other suitable lady and
wasn't even sure that Wynafryd or Wylla Manderly were actually choices she could live with

or if they even had already betrothed and so she left the list at one name from the North.
Next, it was to the Stormlands she looked and to her dismay, she found that the only suitable
lady of standing was still but a girl. Shireen Baratheon was but one and ten years old and to
wait for her to come of age would be folly.

In the Riverlands, she found many ladies of a suitable age, yet few if any that she'd consider
marrying her oldest grandchild to. This soon led her to the Vale, and she found far more
fortune here. Both the new Warden and his strongest Bannermen had daughters of an age to
be wed and either one of them would make a fine bride for Willas in Olenna's view. The only
question she had in regards to them was whether should she reach out for the one, thereby
making the other a second choice, or should she aim for the lesser of the two first. Finding
that for now she couldn't make the decision, she wrote both names down.

Rowena Arryn.
Ysilla Royce.

It was as she was turning her attention back to the Reach, disappointed as she was with the
number of choices outside of their own lands that were available, if not the quality of those
choices, that the knock came on her door. Bidding whoever it was to enter and feeling ever
more irritated that they were intruding on her valuable thinking time, she at least managed
not to snap when Willas revealed himself to be her intruder.

"Tarly, Grandmother," Willas said by way of explanation and Olenna felt her lip curl into an
almost snarl.
"What has the fool done now?"
"He's here, grandmother. He seeks an audience with Gwayne."
"Does he indeed."

With her work in her solar now disturbed and with even more important matters to attend to,
Olenna rose to her feet and bid her grandson lead her to where Randyll Tarly awaited. By the
time she reached the Great Hall, her cane was almost being struck into the ground as she
walked. The annoyance she'd felt for most of the day had now reached almost boiling point.
Olenna hated that she'd have to listen to some fool notion from a man who she never had any
patience for at the best times.

Yet a number of hours later as she, her grandchildren, and her Goodgrandson all sat at the
dinner table, she found that she was even more angered and annoyed than ever. He had dared
to threaten them, Threaten Her! as if he was a man of such power that she should fear him.
Randyll had spouted some nonsense about how the Faith looked unkindly at their alliance
with the dragons and that the gods were watching and had judged them lacking. As if she'd
not always found him to be so.

She barely ate her meal such was her annoyance. Olenna worried her granddaughter in the
process and yet she was in no mood to even coddle Margaery's feelings for once. Instead, she
sat, stewed, and considered what course of action she was to take in regard to Randyll Tarly's
less than overt threats. That he traveled with a group of Septons and Septa's was mayhap the
only reason he still kept his head and she wondered if she should simply arrange for the man
to have a little accident.

'Or arrange for his and the Dragonknight's path to cross once more.' the voice in her head
said.

It took her some time to eventually fall to sleep that night and she awoke the next morning in
an even fouler mood than she had been in when she took to her bed. Her dreams had been of
the almost rant that he'd delivered to Gwayne, Margaery, and Olenna herself, and of an
outcome that was much different to the one that she'd allowed come to pass. Yet even seeing
Randyll Tarly dragged from the Great Hall and humbled in front of one and all before losing
his head, was not enough to improve her mood. Not when it had only happened in her dreams
and not for true.

Olenna did at least eat something to break her fast which relieved her granddaughter greatly
and she too had calmed somewhat by the time she sat down to begin her day's work in her
solar. Still, it took her a few moments to make sense of the book, map, and parchment on the
desk and even more so the three names she'd written on that piece of parchment. More than a
few to then continue about the work she'd clearly left half done. She was just in the process
of adding more names to her list when once again she was interrupted and once again it was
her grandson who did so.

"Grandmother, you must read this," Willas said handing her a letter which she almost grabbed
from his hand.

As she read the words she gasped. Her eyes sought out Willas' own and the look she found in
them and the nod of his head were enough to prove the words true.

"How soon can we call the banners?" she asked.
"Most have marched back to their homes, grandmother. It will take some time to do so and to
where do we march?"
"Send ravens to the Houses to the south, let them make ready for the Dornish incursion."
"And the others?" Willas asked.
"Tywin Lannister is a far more dangerous man than Doran Martell. His march will be quicker
and he'll leave a path of destruction in his wake. Should he make it to Highgarden….
"Grandmother?"
"The Dragons we must inform the Dragons at once."
"I'll see to it," Willas said before he turned to walk from the room.
"Wait." she called out stopping him "Send them this." Olenna began to write out the message
to the Dragonknight, telling him of King Tywin and Prince Doran's plan and calling for his
aid "Your fastest bird, Willas, time is of the essence."
"It'll be sent immediately, grandmother." her grandson said and she touched his arm hoping
that was enough to calm him for now.

Not that Willas was overly emotional or even worried. No, that would come from the next
member of her family that she spoke to and as she walked down the corridors of Highgarden
towards her granddaughter's rooms, she vowed to herself that the Lions and Snakes would
rue the day they decided to march into their lands.

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Oberyn Martell.

The great keep was an incredible sight to behold. Its sheer size alone made it so and yet there
was more to it than even that. As a warrior and a well-traveled man, he'd seen most of the
keeps that Lords, Magisters, Governors, Princes, Kings, and even the High Emperor himself
had named as their own. From the Grand Palace in Volantis to the Sealord's Palace in
Braavos, Storm's End to Highgarden, or the Eyrie to Casterly Rock. Other than Winterfell in

the North, he'd seen them all and had looked at them with a warrior's eye. Few if any would
he say were more secure than Harrenhal.

No army would take this keep from his niece and her husband. They had the men to man it
properly, had no doubt filled it with enough supplies and stocks to outlast any siege and if
that was not enough, they had dragons to break any army foolish enough to attack them here.
Hearing Rhaenys speak proudly of how her husband had taken this keep from the Hoares
with but a handful of men, Oberyn couldn't help but be impressed. Though were he being
truthful, then he'd admit that he was more impressed that this was where the Dragonknight
had chosen to be the center of the Seven Kingdoms. This was to be their own keep and in one
stroke Aemon had just made them almost unassailable.

He'd dismissed talk of the Dragonknight's prowess when he'd heard it in Volantis over the
years and then even more so when Rhaenys named it to be true. On his last visit to speak to
Elia and Aegon among others, he'd been warned time and time again about what would
happen should Dorne pull on the Blood Wyrm's tail, and then he'd sat and watched as five
kingdoms had become one in mere moons. It had been that which had led him to argue with
Doran about the path he sought to walk and now seeing this keep, seeing how it was manned,
and knowing this was one of the first things the Dragonknight had sought to do, he was
certain he'd been right to do so.

"You'll speak to her today, Oberyn?" Ellaria asked as they walked around the great keep's
grounds unhindered and without an escort.
"I will, but I fear it'll do no good."
"She'll not listen to you?" Ellaria asked worriedly, no doubt with her thoughts on her father
and her family's fate in the war to come.
"I fear my brother's actions will drive events, my love, not my niece's response to them."
"Or her husband's," Ellaria said shakily.

Taking her in his arms, he held her tightly and hoped she took comfort from that if not from
his words. They'd arrived here but a day earlier and though there was much he needed to
speak to Rhaenys on, it seemed his niece was preoccupied. Her husband's absence was the
reason for that, or so he'd later found out. So the first night had been more of a night reuniting
with family than one where a brother came to plead the case for Dorne, if not for its prince.

He'd watched as his girls had helped with Rhaenys' mood and as Daemon had danced with
Princess Daenerys much to Nymeria's annoyance. His daughter showed that she was just as
jealous as he could be when it came to his love and yet she had nothing to truly be jealous
about. While he may be a fit match for one of his girls should they choose to wed, gaining a
princess' hand was far beyond his former squire. Something that Daemon had learned many
years before at much cost to his pride and his heart.

Oberyn had spoken to some of his niece's men and found one of them getting more than
friendly with Tyene. To his surprise, his daughter had more than returned the attention that
she was being shown by Daario Naharis. As for those he'd spent his own time with, few it
any gave him the information he would choose, and had it not been that one of them had
taken his fancy, then it would have been his conversation with Arthur Dayne that illuminated
his night. Oberyn smirked as he felt Ellaria relax in his arms. His smirk turned into a fuller
smile as he remembered both the conversation and the night that had followed with him and
Ellaria joined in their bed by a member of the Second Sons.

"He's truly dead?" he asked as he and Arthur stood at the edge of the large hall.
"He is. Did you know about Volantis? About Princess Daenerys?" Arthur asked accusingly.
"I knew he did something to upset the princess, that is all."
"Was that why you sent him here?"
"Your cousin was a fool of a man who brought much danger to those around him. He was a
man too who cared not who he hurt or who got hurt because of him. A man such as that is no
fit man to have close to my niece."
"He and Arianne?" Arthur asked.
"A brief fling, but one that risked much. In time I'd have been forced to take his life myself but
there are only so many times I can kill a man of Dorne before even I face questions. He
wished your sword, you know this?" he asked, smiling as he did so.
"I know."
"So be it you or someone else, I believed, rightly it seems, that he'd find his path ended here
should he travel it. It was the Dragonknight?"
"It was. He laid hands on a Dragon, Oberyn, only a fool would do so."
"To Gerold Dayne, fool no more." he laughed as he raised his glass and after taking a
swallow from it, he then walked back to his table. The young fair-headed man sitting to his
left watched him with a keen eye as he did so.

He truly had welcomed the news of the Darkstar's death and was happy to have been proved
right in sending him here. Then for the rest of the night, he'd drank, danced with Ellaria, and
found himself talking to the young man whose eye he'd caught, and later he and Ellaria had
found that it wasn't just with a sword that Lucearon was talented. It had been a welcome
distraction for them both, but that was all it had been, a distraction. The time for such was
now at an end and his reason for coming here needed to be raised with his niece.

"Come, my love. I'll seek an audience with my niece and see if things can be resolved
between us."
"My fathe…"
"We've sent word, should we get answers we hope to, then we can send more," he said to a
nod of Ellaria's head and he kissed her lips softly before taking her arm and walking with her
back to the keep.

He'd not caught sight of the dragons on their walk which had actually been the true reason for
it. Oberyn had seen Meraxes when Rhaenys had traveled to Sunspear and the Water Gardens
but had yet to see Nightwing, Princess Daenerys' dragon. He wished to, needed to. Just as he
wished to see Gaelithox. For in all his times visiting Volantis he'd never truly caught sight of
the famed Blood Wyrm. Oberyn felt that the knowledge that there were now three dragons in
Westeros should have given his brother and Tywin Lannister pause. Though until he'd arrived
at Harrenhal, he'd not known, so mayhap that was the reason it had not.

Entering the keep, he nodded to his niece's guards and soon caught sight of his own. Daemon
stood watch over Nymeria and his older girls while others guarded his youngest ones. There
was no sign of his niece nor of the princess and so after leading Ellaria to where their
youngest girls were happily playing and spending some small amount of time with them, he
went to seek Rhaenys out. To his great frustration, he found she was not in the keep at all. As
she and the princess had set off on a morning flight. So he soon found himself standing on the
bridge that connected Meraxes' Tower to the larger Gaelithox's one.

The view he was presented with was breathtaking and as he looked at the towers on either
side of him, he wondered what it would be like to see from atop one of them. Still, he was
glad he had no fear of heights as he looked down on the lands below. Hearing the noise above
him, he looked up rather than down and was greeted with the sight of the two dragons in
flight. Both were almost of a size with each other and Nightwing was as dark as the night sky.
Atop them, the two figures who rode them looked tiny in comparison and though he couldn't
see it, he was almost certain his niece wore a smile when she flew over his head.

Uncertain as to whether he should go and await them to land or go about his day and wait
until later before seeing Rhaenys, he decided to do neither. Instead, he stayed on the bridge
and was still lost in his thoughts more than an hour later when the door to Gaelithox's tower
opened and he turned to see his niece, Arthur Dayne, and Ser Barristan Selmy walk his way.

"I believe you were looking for me, uncle?" Rhaenys asked as she neared him.
"I was, niece. There is much we must speak on."
"You've come to plead Dorne's case? To try and get me to use my influence with my husband
and get him to stay his hand." Rhaenys said while staring intently at him.
"I have."
"And what of my other uncle's actions? Of the plans that he's made and the war he wishes
for?"
"A war I'll not support and seek to stop before it begins," he said as Rhaenys looked away
from him briefly.
"Yet stop it you cannot, uncle. The marriage and alliance with the West have seen to that.
We're not fool enough to not understand what this means and while we've given Dorne and
Uncle Doran time to come to their senses, we're not unaware of how he's used that time."
Rhaenys said angrily.
"My brother is a fool and like most men of Dorne, a prideful one at that. While I looked as
you bid me to and saw events play out that proved your words about your husband true,
Doran sought a way to even the odds, to gain an ally, and to win a war."
"It's not a war he can win, uncle," Rhaenys said firmly.
"Which is why I've come to ask you to stay Aemon's hand."
"You ask too much." Rhaenys said and Oberyn felt his chest tighten "I know little of war,
uncle. Aemon however was born to wage and win it. I told you this. No doubt when you
visited Volantis, my mother, father, brother, and uncle told you so as well." Rhaenys said and
Oberyn nodded to let her know that they had "What Uncle Doran has done is a declaration of
war as loudly as if he had attacked us. Aemon may have held back from attacking Dorne first,
but he only did so out of respect for my wishes and because he wished to see the lands of his
mother. He did so to allow Dorne to understand where the path it sought to walk would lead
and yet rather than do so, Uncle Doran decide to race down that path."
"I could….we could…" he stuttered, the words not coming to him as what he wished to say
was something that had already been tried and had failed.
"War is inevitable, uncle. It…"

Seeing the red priest as he hurried towards his niece had Oberyn reaching for his dagger as if
to protect her from some danger that had just presented itself.

"My princess." Thoros said "From the Reach." he heard him add and then he looked on as
Rhaenys took the raven's scroll from the red priest's hand and read it.

She looked so much like her mother as she did so that Oberyn was almost transported to a
different time and place. Even when Rhaenys' expression changed from curiosity to anger, it
was as if he was staring at his sister and they were but children once again.

"The bloody-minded fool," Rhaenys exclaimed
"Niece?"
"There's your peace, uncle. There goes any chance of it." Rhaenys turned to move from him
and though he wished to reach his hand out to stop her, the look he was given by both Arthur
and Ser Barristan bid him not to.
"What's happened?"
"The West and Dorne march on the Reach, uncle. They seek to conquer a kingdom sworn to
my husband and me and so the war has now begun. It is not one they'll be prepared for."
Rhaenys said determinedly as she, Arthur, Barristan, and Thoros walked away and left him
standing there alone.

Closing his eyes, he saw Sunspear in flames, the Water Gardens destroyed, and Dornish men,
women, and children laying dead in the sands.

"What am I to do?" he asked as he opened them and much to his further concern, not only
was there no reply, but he could find no answer either.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVII
Brothers and Sisters.

As with all families, the relationship of siblings were oft complicated within the House of the
Dragon. From Aegon wedding both his sisters and only ever truly loving one of them to
Aemon the Dragonknight's alleged love for his sister Nerys and acceptance of her marriage
to his brother Aegon the IV. Tales enough to fill the Citadel itself could be told about the
issues between Emperor Viserys and his brother the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen. Yet
more oft than not it was not issues between full siblings that truly caused an issue within the
House of the Dragon.

Instead, it was those caused by half brothers and sisters, as was the case between those
known as the Blackfyres or those known as the Greens. The wish of a half-brother to usurp
his half-sister's claim was what led to the Dance of Dragons and by the time it was done and
dusted, few if any greens remained alive. As for the Blackfyres', jealousy, lust, an Emperor's
appetites being let go unchecked, and a deathbed proclamation all combined. Though were it
not for the false Dragonknight then no conflict ever would have truly begun.

After the flight of the Blackfyres, few if any sons or daughters of the dragons had children
from more than one woman, legitimate children that was, as none could tell if there were
more than one born out of wedlock. So when Prince Rhaegar took a second wife, the first one
in an age, some within the Empire held their breath once more. Little did they know just how
pointless an exercise that was. For both mothers were strong enough of will to ensure that
any children born to either of them, would be as true siblings as if they came from their own
wombs.

Prince Aegon the firstborn, heir to the Empire, and his sister Princess Rhaenys were soon
joined by the first Dragonknight in over a century. Other than the usual squabbling of
siblings, not once was a divide ever even witnessed let alone allowed to fester. Long after he
ascended to his father's throne and was named High Emperor of Essos, Aegon knew he could
call upon his brother for aid and that Aemon would return. As for the Dragonknight, his only
words on his brother were simple and direct.

"Never did a man have a better brother than I." Aemon the Dragonknight.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 301 AC.

Aegon.

Seeing his brother again was a boon to his very soul. He'd welcomed Aemon back as truly
and warmly as he ever had and his brother had returned that warmth. It was somewhat of a
relief if he was being honest. Aegon may have played no part in Aemon's exile, yet he'd not
spoken up against it publicly. Even if he had done so many times in private. A part of him
had worried that Aemon may blame him a little, yet it was clear now that he did not. Nor did
he seem to have any issues with his mother and Viserys. Though given how he looked at their
father and how far he stood away from him, the same could not be said in that regard.

As they'd walked back to the family wing of the Grand Palace, Aegon had spoken to Viserys
and his uncle had then hurried off to speak to Varys. By the time they entered his father's set
of rooms and his large sola, Viserys had returned and Aegon knew that Varys would be
spreading tale of a reason for Aemon's return. Before the night was done, all of Volantis
would believe a truth that their spymaster would see them told and the members of the High
Council would all seek to meet with him, his father or uncle to find out the veracity of the
words they'd no doubt hear.

For now, Aegon cared little about it and had only asked Viserys to see it done because his
father it seemed had thought of it not. Instead, it was tales of Aemon's adventures and
confirmation from his brother's own lips that both Rhaenys and Daenerys were safe and well
that he wished to hear spoken. Though he knew that before those tales could be, it would be
tales of their granduncle's murder and the steps they'd taken to punish those responsible that
would be told first of all. Or so he had believed when they'd taken their seats. Only to then
find that it was the ones he'd wished for to be the first topics of the conversation to come.

"My wife and aunt are both safe and well." Aemon said as he looked to him and then Viserys
"Harrenhal is even more protected than the Grand Palace and the enemies we face have much
ground to cover before they'd ever reach its gates."
"And should they?" Viserys asked worriedly.
"Then they'll find my army, uncle, and my men are more than a match for them," Aemon
said, and just listening to the lack of doubt or worry in Aemon's voice was comforting.
"How did you find out about what happened, Aems?" he asked curiously.
"Darkfyre flew to join me when I was visiting the Wall." his brother replied and Aegon
caught the sharp intake of breath that his father made.

If he was to wager, then he'd say it was more that Aemon had traveled to the Wall than the
fact that Darkfyre had flown to join him there. Though for him it was more the latter than the
former. As he readied to ask why his granduncle's dragon had seen fit to fly to Westeros,
Aemon spoke the words that answered his yet unasked question.

"He came seeking vengeance and justice for his rider's death and to seek out his new rider
too."
"New rider?" his mother asked.
"It seems that House Velaryon are to be Dragonriders again," Aemon said proudly and
despite feeling happy for both Aemon and Aurane, Aegon felt a little jealous about this
bringing them closer too.
"They're gone to the Dragon Nursery?" Viserys asked and Aemon nodded his head.
There was a moment's quiet, some silence while it seemed each of them looked to each other
to see who would speak next. Again it was his brother's voice that was heard.
"What happened to him?" Aemon asked almost in a whisper.

It was he who told the tale. Of how he and his granduncle had been walking through the halls
and corridors and of the attack. He told how had it not been for their granduncle, then it
would have been he who'd fallen and while he didn't say he wished it had been, he said the
words in such a way that his meaning was just as clear as it would have been had he done so.
Aegon was surprised when Aemon got up from his seat and moved to him. His brother sat
down beside him on the couch and placed a hand on his shoulder. When he felt himself be
turned so he was facing Aemon, he tried to move away only for Aemon not to allow him to
do so.

"I am much relieved that you are unharmed, brother. Had it been me who was there I'd have
sought to take the blade myself and I know that our granduncle felt no doubt in doing so. As I
know that you would not have had it been you who'd realized the assassin's intent."
"I…I should have…had I…"
"Egg," Aemon said softly, shaking his head and looking at him sympathetically.
"You'd have…you'd have known."
"Or I wouldn't have and we'd mourn him still. This was not your fault brother, I blame you
not and you know he'd not either." Aemon said and before he knew it, they were embracing
each other once again. Aegon had finally heard what he needed from the one person he'd
needed it from.

He knew he'd not been at fault, logically he understood it. Just as he knew that his brother
would never blame him or think of him as bearing some responsibility for their granduncle's
death. Yet still, he'd blamed himself somewhat. At times he'd wished it was he and not their
granduncle who'd fallen and a small part of him had felt that Aemon may wish that too. It
was a weight he was happy to feel no more and as he and Aemon broke from their embrace,
he was glad that his brother chose to remain seated beside him.

"Those responsible?" Aemon said a moment later.
"It was the Sorrowful Men who carried out the assassination, Aemon." his father said and
Aegon felt the increased tension on the couch as Aemon's hand gripped the material tightly
"They are no more." his father quickly added.
"Haegon and I brought about their ends, Aemon," Viserys said and though his brother's
response was only an almost imperceptible nodding of his head, Aegon did see him let go of
the material he was gripping before he then offered Viserys a bow of his head in thanks.
"They were not the only ones who played a part, however." his father said and for the next
hour, his father, Viserys, and Aegon himself told his brother all they'd found out.

Later that night.

He found him alone, standing on the balcony looking out at the night sky. Off somewhere in
the distance, he'd wager that Gaelithox was flying and he wondered if Caraxes was by his
side. After they'd spoken, his brother had stormed from his father's solar and had spent the
next two hours in the sparring yards. At one point, he'd seen him take on six men at once and
lose badly to them. Aemon had allowed them to get their licks in and almost seemed to revel
in the pain that their strikes inflicted.

Before they'd eaten their meal, his mother had forced Aemon to take a bath and change his
clothing, and he'd heard her inform their father that he'd been bruised and battered. The pain
he felt over their granduncle's death was now one he wished to feel physically too and it had
worried Aegon greatly. Yet he knew his brother's moods somewhat and it needed to be
Aemon to bring up what he was feeling and not someone else pushing him to do so. Other
than Rhaenys, not one of them could force him to speak or cajole him to do so anyway.

Walking towards him, he did so as quietly as he could, and yet he knew he'd been heard and
noticed long before he reached his brother's side. Aegon leaned against the wall and looked

out in the same direction his brother was, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see that
Aemon had shed more than one tear before he'd arrived. They stood in silence for some time.
Aemon almost seemed to be composing himself before he spoke and Aegon worried that
were he to break the silence then it would force his brother away.

"It's my fault." Aemon said, his voice hoarse "I should have killed them all. I should have
marched on the West first."

He saw his brother's shudder and though he wished to speak and tell him how wrong he was,
he knew that Aemon wasn't yet ready to hear it.

"I'd never….I never imagined they'd come here." Aemon said shakily "I could have….I
should have."

For the third time in one day, he was again embraced by his brother. Aegon felt that this was
something Aemon needed to do and so returned the embrace just as fiercely.

"I could have lost you, brother. Talisa…father, your mother….I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Aems."

It ended much more quickly than the other two had. Aemon let him go and stood a little
straighter and he saw the moment when things changed and it was no longer guilt, worry, or
sadness that was his brother's guide.

"I'll kill them all, each and every single one of them. The Imp, the Old Lion, Petyr Baelish,
I'll seek them all out and they'll pay. I swear it on Fire and Blood, I vow it on the soul of our
granduncle. I'll not fucking rest until not one of them is left alive in this world." Aemon said
and Aegon felt a chill go down his spine when he looked into his brother's eyes and saw the
fire that burned within them.

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

Had anyone suggested that she'd miss her husband more outside of their bed-chamber than
she did inside of it, then she'd have laughed and named them a fool. Were they then to
suggest that it wasn't Aemon's company, the time they spent together, or just being able to
touch and see him that would cause her concern, then she'd have named them as mad. Yet as
she walked into the rooms they had set aside to act as their solars, all of those things had been
proved as the lesser reasons that she wished Aemon was here and not in Volantis.

Her day had started off so well and almost without worry. True she knew that she and her
uncle would need to speak about Dorne and Doran, and yet she was more than prepared to do
so both mentally and emotionally. The time she'd spent in the North with the other side of
Aemon's family had allowed for her to truly come to terms with what her uncle and Dorne
were doing. Like them, the North too had initially believed they could stand alone or against
them. Yet in the end, they'd realized that to do so was folly and to fight against family was
not something they truly wished to do. Especially when that family was Aemon Targaryen.

Her own family had however not come to that realization and had instead sought out an ally
to join them in the upcoming fight. By joining with the Westerlands and with House
Lannister in a marriage as well as a military alliance, they had made their bed. Aemon would
now not give them any quarter that didn't come at the end of Dark Sister's thin blade and with
them on their knees. Although it had not been what she had wished for initially, now neither
would she. So she had resolved herself to what would happen with Dorne, with her uncle and
cousins, and had instead taken comfort that Oberyn may have seen sense where Doran had
not.

The morning flight that she and Dany had taken had allowed for her to clear her mind and her
talk with Oberyn while somewhat distressing, was one she had been well prepared for. What
she'd not been prepared for was the raven that had come from Highgarden. Nor the words
that the message it had carried, contained. Even now as she entered the solar and took her
place by the desk with the map of Westeros laid out upon it, she was still not truly prepared
and instinctively she looked to her left. Only to sigh when she saw no sight or heard no sound
of her husband. Closing her eyes to ready herself for what she needed to do, she took a
breath, opened them, and bid Arthur let the others into the solar.

"Send them in, Arthur."

Thoros, Daario, Torgho Nudho, Marwyn, and Dany entered along with Ser Barristan. Seeing
Ghost walk with her aunt brought a smile to her face and she welcomed it when the white

wolf moved to her side. Its presence and the feel of it as she ran her hand along its furcovered back were both enough to further strengthen her resolve. She waited until everyone
was standing around the table and once they were, she handed the raven's scroll to Thoros to
read out. Once he was done, she then began to speak.

"I know little of war, certainly not as much as most of you in this room. But our ally calls for
aid and so aid we shall give them. I would seek your counsel as to what form that aid should
take and how best to bring it to bear."

It was Thoros who answered. The red priest looked first at the map and then at her for
permission to speak. A small nod of her head was enough to grant him that permission.

"Given what Lady Olenna says in this message, we can assume that the Lannister army will
attack from the west while the Dornish forces march from the south. The quickest route to
Highgarden is along here." Thoros said pointing to the Ocean Road. While for the Dornish
it'll be through here." he said pointing at the Prince's Pass and Nightsong.
"They could use this road and attack more of the Reach itself," Daario said and Rhaenys
looked as he moved his fingers over the Goldroad.
"You've been to the West, Daario, which route would you take?" she asked and Daario looked
to Thoros before concurring that it would most likely be the Ocean Road that the Lannisters
would travel.
"How many men can the West and Dorne call upon?" Arthur asked.
"65,000 at most. Though I'd wager it would be less than that." Barristan replied.
"And the Reach?" she asked turning to the Mage.
"Could more than match the numbers, your grace. Yet Lady Olenna's words on Lord Tarly
and the Faith give me pause. I'd not count on them raising more than half their true force."
Marwyn said.
"I understand not marching times, nor truly know these lands, Ser Barristan. If we assume
that both armies began their march a week or more ago, how long would it take them to reach
Highgarden?"
"Three weeks, your grace. Two at best."
"And were we to call our own banners?" she asked and the frowns she saw appear on
Barristan, Daario and Thoros' faces were enough to let her know she'd not have enough time
to do so.

"A moon at least, closer to two to gather than and march, your grace," Barristan replied, and
was it not for the movement of the Mage beside her, then she'd have found her worries only
increasing.
"Marwyn"
"Lord Stannis, your grace. Were you to send a raven to Lord Stannis and bid him call his
banners, he could at least offer a delay if not truly stop the Dornish army from marching."
"He could do so quickly enough?" she asked relieved.
"He could, your grace." Ser Barristan replied, the knight having more knowledge of his
former prince than any of them.

Moving away from the large table, she walked to her desk and took out the parchment, and
began to write. Happy with the words, she blew on the paper to dry the ink and then bid
Marwyn send the raven immediately. With the Mage hurrying from the room, Rhaenys
moved back to the table and looked down on the map once more.

"How many men can we raise quickly and how long would it take us to reach Highgarden?"
she asked.
"Three thousand, maybe another five on the march, your grace," Thoros said and she knew
that was nowhere near enough.
"Call for cavalry only, Thoros. I bid them ride and ride hard."
"Your grace." Thoros bowed his head slightly.
"Daario, I need the Second Sons to head out immediately. Make your way to Storm's End and
offer Lord Stannis whatever aid you can. In time my aunt and I shall join you."
"Your grace."
"Dany it falls to you and me to come to Highgarden's aid. Arthur, Barristan, see to the
provisions for a long flight, on the morrow we head for the Reach and I'd have you both with
me when we do so."
"Your grace."

Torgho Nudho moved to her after Barristan and Arthur had left and she simply nodded at him
as he did so in return. There was no need for words and she knew that nothing she said would
stop him from guarding her back. In truth, she welcomed it for once she and Dany were
alone, she finally allowed her hands to shake.

"Rhae?" Dany said as he moved to her, her hands taking Rhaenys' own and gripping them
tightly.
"Fire and Blood, Dany. Just as Aemon would bring them. We, you and I, will bring them Fire
and Blood."
"We will," Dany said firmly.

Later as she lay alone in her bed, she wished once again that Aemon was there with her.
Since the meeting earlier that day, Arthur, Thoros, Daario, and Torgho Nudho had all come to
her and shared their concerns. Each of them had bidden her to allow them to simply do what
needed to be done and for her and Dany to remain in Harrenhal and let events play out as
they would. She'd denied them all. While she welcomed their concern and knew that it would
be what Aemon wished for her to do, she knew too that she could not. They didn't have the
men to beat the West or Dorne. It would fall to the dragons to do so and she was a dragon too.

"Hurry back to me, my love. Hurry back, for I miss you so," she said softly as she gripped her
pillow tightly and brought it closer to her chest.

The Conquest of Westeros XLVIII
Greenseers, Wargs and Dragon Dreamers.

Prophecy is a fickle thing and yet the House of the Dragon was perhaps one that was built on
prophecy more than any other. Daenys dreamed and Valyria was left behind. Aegon had a
vision and so it was to Essos he turned and a She Wolf saw more than anyone knew, which
then led to a conquest of Westeros. While the first of those was no doubt a result of the fabled
Dragon Dreams that only those with Dragon's blood coursing through their veins were
capable of. The last of those was something even older than that.

Where the power comes from, none can tell. In regard to those with the blood of the First
Men, it's the Old Gods that it's ascribed to. It was not the only gift given by the Old Gods if
the tales were true. Wargs too only came from those with First Men blood in their veins. Their
power was much different than those with the Green Sight.

While those with Dragon Dreams see glimpses and mayhap more of the future, these visions
come in dreams and can oft be confusing. So it would be fair to assume that many more men
and women of the House of the Dragon had Dragon Dreams. Yet other than Daenys, few are
spoken off. Greenseers though see things differently. Their visions come to them while they
are awake and so are somewhat more understandable. Some see sigils, symbols, or
metaphorical allegories of events yet to come. Some see far more than that and some can
make no sense of what they see and so they slip into madness.

Wargs can somehow slip into the skin of an animal and in some cases, a man. They can see
and feel through the animal's eyes, control it and have it do their bidding, or simply share
their time with it and allow it to do its own. Sometimes, rarely, a Warg will have green dreams
and all green dreamers are wargs.

"One man in a thousand is a warg and one warg in a thousand is a greenseer." Aemon the
Dragonknight.

One who could do both was rare and in my life, I've known but two. The She-Wolf and her
grandchild.

Volantis 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He stood in his granduncle's room, his eyes closed as he remembered all the times over the
years that he would come here. There was no need for him to look to see the bookcase to the
left of the bed. No need to touch the small table to know that he'd feel the wax that had
dripped down from the candle that his granduncle used to read by. Aemon could almost hear
the sound of his granduncle's voice as he spoke to him about their family and what it meant to
be a Dragonknight. How it came with great responsibility and was a burden that he was
certain he could bear.

Images of his youth flashed by and in them all, he was here with his granduncle, reading,
talking, learning, and laughing at something he'd been told to lighten the mood when it turned
too serious. Each milestone that he had achieved in his early life had been celebrated more by
his granduncle than his father. Never once was Aemon left in any doubt that he'd been proud
of each and every single one of them.

Opening his eyes, he felt the sting of the tears as they fell, and the realization that never again
would he see or hear his granduncle's words finally took hold for true. Aemon walked to the
bed and brushed his hand over the pillow. He moved to the bookcase and did likewise,
touching each of the books in turn before then kneeling down to pull out the chest that he
knew his granduncle had kept under his bed. Opening it with reverence and some trepidation,
the tears fell even more truly now as he looked at what he knew had been his granduncle's
most precious things.

There were notes that he himself had written and sent to him over the years. Some from
battlefields far and wide. Others from marches to and from those battlefields. As with
Rhaenys, there was a seashell taken from a beach on his first-ever trip away from Volantis. A
small dagger that he'd taken off the first man he'd ever killed in their family's name, or to be
more accurate, the first he'd ever killed with his own hands and Dark Sister's blade. Other
things were from his granduncle's brothers, sisters, mother, and father and some he'd wager
were from his own father too. None of them would now be treasured as they had once been
and for some reason, this was what seemed almost saddest of all to him.

"You deserved more treasures than these, uncle. Yet would we were all as content as you
were," he said softly as he closed the lid of the chest and moved it back under the bed.

Rising to his feet, he took one more look around the room and once again said his goodbyes.
Aemon cared not for religion and believed not that when he'd die there was a place for him in
some god's embrace. Unlike Thoros, he didn't expect to find himself welcomed into R'hllor's
fiery halls when his time finally came to an end. If the gods did exist, however, then he had
no doubt they'd find a place for his granduncle by their side. For if they did not, then when he
found himself face to face with them and ready to be judged, they'd find that it wasn't just in
life that the Dragonknight fought for family, but in death too.

Reluctantly though it was, he left the room behind and wagered that he'd never set foot in it
again. He knew that his father would see the things removed and placed among the other
possessions that their fallen kin had cared most for. His granduncle's things were now
destined to be just more relics, artifacts, and forgotten history as his life would be considered
to have been a lesser one than most of those who came before him. He would not be the
Aemon Targaryen that most spoke of in the books that would be written and in the years to
come. Not even though he deserved to be held just as high as any of those who came before
or after him.

With no particular direction in mind, Aemon walked for some time and when he did actually
look to see where he had walked to, he was unsurprised to find it was his mother's crypt that

his feet had carried him to. Entering through the large double door, the coldness of the crypt
hit him at once and he lit the torch and walked to where he knew his mother's statue and the
tomb itself were. To his shame, he bore her no offering other than his words, and yet, he
knew that it would be his words that she'd appreciate most of all. How long he'd been there
speaking to her, he knew not, but he was in no hurry to leave and would have stayed alone for
much longer were it not for his father's arrival.

"I thought it would be here you'd come to." his father said as he moved and placed the small
blue flower into the statue's outstretched hands, Aemon only now noticing the dried petals
that had fallen at the statue's feet from older flowers that had evidently been placed there.
"I had not intended to." he said before correcting himself "To come now, that was. I would
have come before I left, but I'd not planned to do so today."
"You wished it to be about our granduncle did you not?" his father asked and Aemon nodded.

They stood in silence for a few moments, a comfortable one for once. His anger at his father
was still there, but it had been tempered by not wishing to be disrespectful to their
granduncle's passing. Since his arrival a few days earlier, they'd not truly spoken on anything
much other than those who'd caused his granduncle's death and the plots against their family.
A few words on Dany and Rhaenys and his campaign in Westeros and that was basically the
full extent of their conversations thus far. With Viserys and even more so with Aegon, there
had been much longer and fuller talks. Aemon had probably spent more time with Haegon
too if he was to add it all up.

Partly that was because of a reluctance on his part to turn this visit into the argumentative one
that it could be. Mostly it was because he didn't wish to truly know the answer to the
questions that burned deep within him and that had been left unasked for so many years. No,
that was a lie, he wished to know those answers, he just feared what they would be. Deciding
to once again forgo asking them and certainly not to do so here in this sacred place, he
quickly found that the choice was to be taken from him and that his father was no longer
going to wait for them to be asked.

"She had such plans for you, Aemon." his father began "A fate and future for you that even I
had not dared to imagine. She knew how special you truly were, even long before Gaelithox
hatched. Would oft tell me that your destiny was larger than any dragon that came before
you."

He wished to speak and yet could not, instead, he just looked to his mother's statue and
allowed his father to continue to do so.

"Your mother had a gift, Aemon. Greenseeing they call it in the North. In our House, we'd
name it Dragon Dreams, and just like with Daenys, your mother saw the future that would
come for us all. So just as the Dreamer did, she too sought to take steps to prepare us for that
future."

Aemon looked on as his father moved to the statue and seemed to place a kiss on his mother's
cheek before turning away and though he couldn't see what he did with his hand, he'd wager
he had just wiped his eyes.

"We believe that when a Dragonknight is born it means a time of great change in the Empire.
Wars will be fought, lands brought under our control and while this was true with you, it was
never to be here that your true war was to be fought." his father spoke and then stopped for a
moment, he'd turned to face him and never before had Aemon see him bear the look he now
did, he seemed apologetic, regretful even "It was not the life I wished for you, son. Not the
life I'd have chosen for you. Yet I could refuse your mother nothing and I believed in her with
all I am."

He felt his anger rise, his temper beginning to boil. Was his father really blaming his mother
for the slights he'd suffered over the years? For allowing Septons and Septas to speak of him
how they did and for him being denied the one and only thing he'd ever wished for? Was he
truly about to tell him that he'd been exiled because it had been his mother's wish?

"Westeros was where you belonged and yet, the doom or our House lay in Westeros too. No
son of the Empire ever looked West, Aemon, none would dare so and yet your mother bid me
allow you to. So after much debate and much searching through the rarest of tomes and
books by your Granduncle, in time I began to believe as she did."
"My mother? My Granduncle." Aemon snapped "You're saying it was them and not you who
wished me exiled? They who denied me what was in my heart?" his anger was palpable.
"No." his father said firmly "I'm saying that your mother's foresight set the path, your
granduncle's research showed how that path could be walked, and then it was left to me to
make sure that you walked it how you were supposed to." his father said resignedly.

Looking at his father, he could see that the things he said were taking a toll on him, and yet
he found that he cared not. For now, he cared not. He needed to know more, to hear more,
and yet he wished not to listen to another word his father spoke. Somehow he managed to
rein in his temper and once he had, he bid his father to continue.

"Your mother set about preparing things for when the time came. She sought allies,
companions, friends, and brothers by choice that would walk this path with you."

Aurane, Torgho Nudho, Thoros, and Marwyn, each had been chosen for him and he knew not
how that made him feel.

"Later after the gods had so cruelly taken her from us both, I continued her work as best I
could. I knew not when the time would come nor what form your departure would take, but I
knew that it was as inevitable as the sun rising each and every morn. It was your mother who
sought us to reach out to the Faith and fools that they are they hated her and in turn you when
I did so. During those early days after their arrival, they kept their words to themselves and it
was only later after your mother's death that they truly showed their hand."
"You knew and allowed it?" he asked, though this was something he'd long since suspected
and had even called his father out on before his exile.
"To my shame, I did." his father said as he looked to the ground and not to Aemon "They
needed to know that you'd not welcome their piety or seek their favor. That their words were
not your own. Who those in Westeros prayed to cannot be decided by men, Aemon. Not by a
Septa, Septon, King, or High Emperor, but by the very gods themselves. The Drowned God
of the Iron Born, the Old Gods of your mother's people, R'hllor should they so wish or the
Seven who are One if that is their choice. Never should it be forced upon them and never
should they not have a champion to stand for each and every one of their rights."
"Me? You expect me to stand as a champion for the right to choose which god someone
kneels to?" he asked incredulously.
"Your mother did." his father replied and Aemon felt his anger leave him somewhat, or his
anger on that subject do so at least.
"So you allowed them to speak ill of me? Or her? Of the love that I feel for Rhaenys? Just so
I'd hate them?"
"Who better to stand as a champion against the Faith than a man who hated them, Aemon?
Who better to stand for the freedom to choose to worship a god or not, than a man who
believes in none of them?"

"And Rhaenys?" he asked having moved past the words spoken on gods he cared not for or
believed not in and a Faith he had no time for.
"I know your heart, son." his father said with a soft smile on his face "As much as you may
not wish to be like me, in this, we're much alike. You're ruled by that thing that beats in your
chest as much as I am, or your mother was. The gods have fashioned us for love, Aemon.
You, me, your mother, Elia, and Rhaenys too, all of us would do whatever it takes for those
we love."
"You denied me knowing I'd not accept it," he said and his father nodded.
"It had to be your choice, Aemon. You had to force events, not I. I could exile you for
denying my command, but I could not send you away, not truly."
"You knew that I'd go to Dragonstone and that Rhaenys would follow. That once there I'd
seek to take the lands for myself, for her?" he asked curiously.
"No, she did." his father said looking at his mother's statue "She foresaw it all."

He watched as his father walked away and left him standing there alone in front of his
mother's statue. His whole life had been planned out and allowed to play out according to
some plan his mother had come up with based on a dream. All he'd done, all he'd suffered,
and every decision he'd made, all of them were now being questioned in his head and to his
dismay, he found no adequate answers for any of them.

"Why? What reason could there be for my life to be as it is? What plan were you working
to?" he asked his mother angrily.

There was no reply and though he wanted to scream at the statue and to let how angered he
was at his mother just be let loose, he would and could not do so. Moving to the statue, he did
as his father had done before him, he kissed its cheek softly and told her that he loved her
still. Then he walked out of the crypts and went in search of his father. For he had more
questions that he needed answers to and he would get them before he flew back to Westeros.
There, upon his return, he would deal most harshly with those who'd caused his granduncle's
death.

Chapter End Notes

I want to thank everyone who wished me well these past few weeks. The operation was
a complete success and my eye is better than it's ever been, I'm also no longer wearing

an eye patch and so can't live out my fantasies of being a pirate, so there are downsides
too lol.
My update schedule begins in earnest here today and later this week both Winter King
and Revenge is a Dish will be updated, with Live as a wolf to Follow early next week
along with Dragonverse. Again, I thank you all for your well wishes, they were much
appreciated.

Up Next: Stannis calls his banners and marches to head off the Dornish Army.
Highgarden plays host to dragons and princesses as it prepares to weather the coming
storm. While the Lannister army and the Dornish one ready themselves for a perceived
easy victory. In Volantis Aemon finds out yet more truths, and spends time with his
father before a wolf's call sends him racing back to Westeros.

Lions or Dragons, Who Roars Loudest Part One.
Chapter Summary

Stannis calls his banners and marches to head off the Dornish Army. Highgarden plays
host to dragons and princesses as it prepares to weather the coming storm. While the
Lannister army and the Dornish one ready themselves for a perceived easy victory. In
Volantis Aemon finds out yet more truths, and spends time with his father before a
wolf's call sends him racing back to Westeros.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Storm's End 301 AC.
Stannis Baratheon.

They'd buried Robert with all the courtesy and dignity that his brother at times was so
lacking. Stannis and the defeated Stormlords had marched back to Storm's End chastened and
yet hopeful at the same time. Their fate was a far better one than any of them could have
imagined given they'd been so soundly defeated and few in truth had actually mourned their
fallen king. He both did and did not and was far happier to arrive and see his wife, daughter,
and brother all awaiting him upon his return.

Renly was unharmed, other than his pride. While Tyana and Shireen were both just relieved
that it had been Robert and not he who'd fallen. They held a feast to say their goodbyes to
their king, and a small service where he was entombed in their family crypt. Stannis had then
spoken briefly to his Bannermen and explained once again what their oaths of fealty to him
and to the new king and queen truly meant. He had left them in no doubts that he intended to
live up to those oaths and had spoken of Harrenhal, Harren the Black, and Robert himself in
order to drive home the futility of even considering denying them.

His brother had bristled and though he'd kept his tongue until their Bannermen had left, he'd
certainly not done so once they had.

"You truly intend to accept the dragons as your king and queen? Have you gone soft brother
mine?"
"Mind your tongue, brother." he snapped, quietening Renly a little "Be thankful you were not
with us on our march. Else I'd be mourning two brothers and not one."
"I was not with you because the fucking dragon sent men to kidnap me, lest you forget."
"I forget it not. I had no wish to march against the dragon when the letter came threatening
your life, Renly. I pleaded with Robert to no avail."
"He threatened my life?" Renly asked only now understanding how lucky he truly was.
"He did. Yet he harmed you not other than your pride and released you once I knelt and
swore fealty to him and his wife."
"It was part of the conditions?" Renly asked softly.
"It was. Had he harmed you, then I know not what I'd have done. Robert was a fool, our
brother true, but a fool all the same. Oh, I bristled and would have found it hard to bend my
knee simply because Aemon Targaryen willed me to do so. Yet the thoughts of Storm's End
falling as easily as Harrenhal did or Tyana and Shireen having to face the world without
me...no, in the end, I'm relieved it went how it did."
"Robert?"
"Would have seen us ruined, brother. You know it as well as I do. He'd been waiting for this
war all his life and nothing or no one could have stopped him from waging it. Even with your
head on the line, it mattered not."

He could see how much it hurt his brother to know how little Robert had truly cared for his
safety. Yet Renly did his best to hide it and soon enough he'd hidden it well enough to
continue and speak on other things, more practical things.

"What does this mean for us, Stannis? For the Stormlands and Storm's End? For our
House?"

He'd told him and it had comforted him a little, or so Stannis had believed. In truth, there
were few differences between what they were now and what they'd once been. True, they no
longer wore a crown or could name themselves kings or princes. Yet in so many other ways
they'd be better off. Trade to the Empire would be opened up to them even more now and any
who dealt with the Targaryens were never short of coin. Things that had been put off for far
too long could finally be seen to. Though he was loathed to admit it, without Robert to drain

their treasury and spend their coin on feasts, whores, and hunts, they'd soon be in a better
position than they'd been since their parents passed and Robert was named king.

In far less time than he may have imagined, he'd even gotten over the grief he felt at Robert's
loss. If anything it was Ser Barristan that was more missed at Storm's End than his brother
was. Stannis had sent letters of condolences to House Farring, House Horpe, and House
Connington, naming their kin as good men and true who'd died for their king. He confirmed
Ser Ronnet as the new lord of Griffin's Roost and thanked him and the others for the services
their kin had done for his House.

With that done, he set about putting the Stormlands and Storm's End to rights. Renly was
now his second and while he'd not serve as Hand as he had, his brother would be involved in
every decision regarding House Baratheon from here on in. He and Tyana began to seriously
discuss who may be a good match for their daughter, even if it was to be far in the future
before Shireen was wed. The truth of things was that she would now be seen as an even
bigger prize to some and the last thing he or his wife would ever do is see her wed to a man
not worthy of her.

He'd just woken from a good night's sleep. Tyana was laying in bed beside him and sleeping
still. Ever since he'd returned from the battlefield, he and his wife had lain together almost
every night. Be it the thoughts of them never seeing each other again or mayhap an attempt to
once again seek to see if her womb would quicken and Shireen would be blessed with a
brother or sister, he knew or cared not. The peace and contentment he'd feel laying in his bed
beside his wife were just as welcome to him as the pleasure he got from them laying together
or the thoughts of what that laying together could bring. With a soft kiss to her cheek, he rose
and dressed and had just left his rooms when he spied Maester Cressen hurrying his way. The
raven's scroll in his hand made Stannis shiver just a little as the old adage about dark wings
and dark words came to mind.

"My lord. From House Targaryen." Cressen said as he handed him the raven's scroll, the twoheaded entwined dragon seal still unbroken.

Less than an hour later he sat in his solar and awaited his brother's arrival. Unlike him, Renly
was not an early riser and had needed to be woken up. As he waited he looked at the words
written on the scroll and he shuddered just a little. He'd hoped not to see war again and
certainly not so soon, yet now here it was and it came damnable close to his doors once
again. Stannis had no need for maps or figures representing what each of the Houses of the
Stormlands could bring, he knew them by heart and knew too that he'd not be able to bring all
to bear. It would be at most half his men and should the Dornish Army march as fully as he

feared, and alone it would not be enough. The words on the scroll made it clear that he'd not
be alone and so he had to accept that, did he not?

Lord Stannis,

We call you and your men to arms, my lord. Bid you to march and to delay the army that
marches to invade the Reach. An army I'm shamed to say is led by my kin. Gather as many
men as you can, Lord Stannis, Harry, and Hassle, and put an obstacle in front of the army
that seeks to sow discord among our peaceful kingdoms. Do so with the knowledge that you'll
not be forced to fight alone and that a dragon will soon come to your aid.

There is more I would say and yet now is not the time. I'll not remind you of the oath you
swore to my husband and me, only to say it means much to us to have you on our side.
Loyalty is not, nor shall it ever be forgotten by my husband and I Lord Stannis. While I may
wish we had no need to call upon yours so quickly, events force my hand. I vow to end this
threat quickly and with as little loss to the Stormlands as possible. Be as safe as your gods
allow and know you have mine own and my husband's gratitude.

Rhaenys Targaryen,
Queen of Westeros.

One week later.

There had been no argument from his brother and no suggestion from Maester Cressen or Ser
Cortnay that they refuse the call. When Stannis had sent his ravens out and bid men join him
on the march, not a single one of them had refused. The Lord of the Storm had called and the
Men of the Storm had answered. So while he marched with a smaller army than Robert had
marched against the dragons, in some ways he marched with a truer one too.

This army felt no doubts about the fight they may soon be having. There was no conflict and
no question among any of his Bannermen that they should not do as they were. Even the
three houses who'd lost men in the Trial of Seven had answered the call. Other than his
brother who he'd asked to stay behind and manage Storm's End and to be there for his wife
and daughter while he could not, every Lord and Knight had come that had marched north

with Robert. He took some pride in that, even if he wished that they and he had no need to
march at all.

They sent outriders out and the news they brought back was not good. Stannis had close to
10,000 men in his army, while the Dornish had more than twice that number. The ground they
would pick to make their stand and the dragon he'd been promised, he needed both to win any
battle. Yet as they set up camp and placed themselves right in the path of the Dornish army,
as he sent men to organize a parley, he felt there would either be no battle at all. Or should
they be one, it would be Dornish blood that was spilled and not that of Stormlander's.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Olenna Tyrell.

Each morning she awoke, it would be to her balcony she'd go to before she even dressed or
thought about breaking her fast. During the day or before she went to bed at night, she'd find
herself either standing on the balcony looking at the sky or looking out her window hoping
for the sight of dragons flying her way. Preparations had been made to face the army that
marched towards her. Yet in truth without the dragons, she was lost.

No raven had arrived, no word from the king or queen that they were on their way, and she,
Willas, and most especially Mace worried what that meant. To her surprise, Margaery very
much did not. Her granddaughter was resolute in her belief that the Dragonknight and Queen
Rhaenys would not leave them alone to face the armies that marched their way. Olenna had
heard her say more than once that the Old Lion and the Dornish Snake would find they'd
pulled on the dragon's tail and the dragon would answer in fire and blood.

"How can you be so certain?" she asked annoyed at her granddaughter's surety when she
had little of her own.
"Even were Gwayne and I not to have become friends with them, grandmother. The politics
alone demands it."
"You think they'd come because you were friends?" she snapped, not having heard the second
part.
"That's not what I said, grandmother." Margaery retorted and was Olenna not as worried as
she was, she may have given her granddaughter a piece of her mind for answering her so.
Instead, she simply bid her continue "It's true, I believe that Queen Rhaenys especially

considers me a friend, or seeks me to be one. She made that clear enough when we spoke at
Bitterbridge. Yet as I said." Margaery emphasized, "The politics demand it too."
"How so?" she asked curiously.
"Not only are we one of their kingdoms and their allies, but the Reach is too valuable to fall
into Tywin Lannister's hands. While their graces were favorable in their demands of us,
Tywin would strip us bare and coin can cause problems for even the strongest foe." Margaery
began "Yet it's the message it sends to the other kingdoms, grandmother. If the Lannisters
could take the Reach without facing a Dragon's Wrath, what's to stop them from taking the
Vale or the North? Why should we kneel and swear allegiance to a king and queen who
offered us no protection when we are threatened so? How many Lords and Ladies would utter
those words should the Reach fall, grandmother?"
"And what if the dragons care not for Lords and Ladies who utter such words?" she asked,
though she'd long since taken her granddaughter's point.
"Then they'll find themselves the rulers of naught," Margaery said.

She'd needed the words. Just as she had, when Garlan and Gwayne had left with large escorts
to gather men and make ready for any battle that was to come. As she had, Loras then being
placed in charge of the defenses of Highgarden itself along with Willas. Yet still, each day
she looked to the sky and prayed to see a dragon flying her way, and finally, on the one day
she'd not done so, her prayers had been answered.

"Dragons, grandmother," Margaery said happily after she'd burst into her rooms
unannounced.

Rising to her feet, Olenna moved far more quickly than she usually did. Left and Right
cleared the path in front of her and with Margaery by her side, they soon made their way to
the courtyard. She caught sight of the dragons as soon as she reached it. To her dismay, it was
only two and the Dragonknight's was not one of them. Olenna found herself hoping that
Aemon Targaryen had already set about unleashing the Blood Wyrm's flames on Lions and
Snakes and readied herself to welcome the queen and the princess to Highgarden.

Mace, Alerie, Willas, and Loras had all arrived by the time the dragon's hand landed. Her
grandson then rushed off to escort the queen and princess to them from the place within the
labyrinth where they'd done so. It took far more time than she expected and she welcomed
seeing Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan, and yet frowned upon seeing the dark-skinned
Unsullied who usually followed after the Dragonknight like a shadow.

"Highgarden is yours, your grace," Margaery said with a curtsy as around her everyone took
a knee.
"I thank you, Lady Margaery. Please rise, there is much we need to discuss."

They spent no time at all outside once the queen had spoken. Margaery led them to the
reception room they'd put aside and Olenna was surprised when both Ser Barristan and Ser
Arthur stayed in the room along with the Unsullied guard. Briefly, she felt a little put out that
they believed they were needed or thought the queen and princess were in danger from them.
Very soon it became clear that it was not for this purpose they were here at all. Instead, it was
to offer tactical and practical advice about the battles or war to come.

"Is his grace not joining us, your grace?" Willas asked.
"My husband has his own duties to attend to, Lord Willas. I'm afraid my aunt and I will have
to suffice." Rhaenys replied.
"And most grateful are we to have you both here, your grace," Margaery added quickly
before the queen could think they weren't grateful that she had come.
"I wish it was not for this reason I came to your home, Lady Margaery. Highgarden is as
beautiful as Lord Gwayne and you both said it was and I wish we had the time to appreciate
that beauty more, alas…"
"Mayhap after, your grace," Margaery said and Rhaenys smiled at her.
"Indeed. Very well to business then." Rhaenys sighed "We've sent word to Lord Stannis and
bid him call his banners and march them against the Dornish Army."
"You have, your grace," Olenna said relieved.
"We have. They should be enough to delay until me, my aunt or both of us can offer them
aid. Our own forces march, though they do so with few numbers, and so it'll be men of the
Reach we call upon more than any. Your banners have been called I assume?"
"They have your grace. My husband and brother are gathering them as we speak." Margaery
replied.
"Good. Though truthfully we know it'll be dragons that end this war and not men at arms
which is why my aunt and I will lead from the front." Rhaenys said and Olenna though she
wished it was the Dragonknight doing so, was more than happy to have two dragons to call
upon.

"Ser Barristan, myself, and Torgho Nudho will offer our own aid to your forces and take
command of some of them while Thoros of Myr leads the Flames of the Dragon and will
hopefully join up with us long before the fight begins. We'll set about ensuring that
Highgarden is secured before we march." Ser Arthur said.
"I've begun to make preparations for such, Ser Arthur, along with my brother," Willas
interjected.
"Mayhap you and Ser Barristan could go over what you've done so far, Lord Willas." the
queen said and Willas nodded before replying.
"Your grace."

Olenna listened keenly as the queen spoke about the preparations that would need to be made
and while she didn't speak yet on a battle plan, it was clear in what she did say that she had
one. Once it was done and Margaery offered to see Rhaenys and Daenerys to the rooms they
had prepared for them while Willas moved with Ser Barristan to see to the defenses. Olenna
then bid Alerie see to the night's dining arrangements.

Soon enough she was alone and again it was the balcony that she made her way to. Standing
there looking out on the lands below her, she wore a smile on her face where there had been a
concern and worry only these last few days. She'd called and the dragons had come and
Tywin Lannister would soon find that gold melted and lions even old ones, burned.

Ocean Road 301 AC.
Tywin Lannister.

All his missives confirmed it and though he'd already known it or wouldn't have marched, it
did relieve him to read it from so many different sources. The Dragonknight had left and
flown east and would not return in time to be a factor in this war. Or to be more precise, by
the time he did return, Tywin would have done enough to make him a non-factor. He had no
doubt that they'd crush the Reach's army. For his men were well trained and disciplined, and
other than those under Randall Tarly, his enemies were not. Given what he'd been told by the
man himself, he had no need to worry about Randall Tarly anymore.

The addition of his and other forces who were loyal not to the Tyrells or even the Reach itself
but to the Faith was a welcome one. Even though they didn't march with him it mattered not.
For if all they did was sow discord amongst the Reach's ranks and bring Rhaenys Targaryen
and her dragon down upon them, then they'd serve their purpose. Not that Tywin was

bothered about Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon. As all his reports had told him that they'd
never brought their flames to bear either in Essos or since they'd arrived in Westeros.

It was yet another reason why he was certain they'd win the battles to come. The Targaryens
in their hubris had allowed the Dragonknight to not only be their spear and shield but their
only response to any threat. Their other dragons and their riders had gotten lazy and were
untrained in the art of war. Either would get you killed when you came up against men who
were not. Men that he had in abundance and as they set up camp, he found himself more
excited than he had been for many a year. He'd dreamed a dream as a younger man and
though recently he'd worried somewhat that a dream was all it would remain, now he
believed even more truly that it was about to come true.

"The outriders have been sent out, your grace." Ser Addam Marbrand said and Tywin nodded
back at his Goodson.

In less than an hour, he no longer wore his armor and was sitting at his desk in his tent. Tywin
took a quick look through the few missives he'd not read while ahorse, happy to see they
contradicted not any of the ones he had read. Then he made ready for the night's meal. Kevan
and Gerion soon joined him along with Jaime and Tyrion, before the most important of his
Bannermen too made their way to his tent. They dined on good fare, though it was far from a
feast, and the drink though plentiful was not allowed to be drunk to excess.

After dinner was done, he asked some to stay back and let them more into his plans. Thus far
he'd simply told them they were to take the fight to the Reach and little more than that. They
knew of their Dornish allies, but not what plans he and Doran had agreed to. In truth, Tywin
knew they were more concerned about the dragons than they were about what forces would
gather under Lord Gwayne Gardner and the Tyrells. A man who willingly gave up his crown
and green boys who'd never truly fought, Tywin thought dismissively. It was time to let them
know some of what he knew. Though only his family would ever learn close to the full extent
of Tywin's knowledge.

"It's been confirmed that the Dragonknight has left these shores and returned east." Tywin
began.
"He's given up his fool conquest?" Lord Banefort asked and Tywin glared at the man shutting
him up.
"No, his wife remains," Kevan said when Tywin nodded at him to do so.

"She will soon have her own issues to face. The Faith wishes no part of a sister and brother
who lay together and has chosen a champion to see them pay for their sins. A champion who
is more than capable to cause, Rhaenys Targaryen many problems." he said before pausing
for effect "Randyll Tarly."

Looking around the room, he could see the smiles on most of the faces, and yet for some
reason, both Jaime and Tyrion were not joining in. Had they been alone, he may have asked
why that was, but he had much more work to do.

"Even should she manage to deal with Tarly quickly, which I doubt any of us here believe she
will, then who would she seek to face next, my lords? Us or her kin who march too?"

It was yet another of the true advantages that the Dragonknight's departure had gifted him.
Were Aemon Targaryen still here and had Tywin marched unknowingly, then it would be to
him and his army that the Dragonknight would come to face first and foremost. A true
tactician would take care of the greatest threat and leave the lesser one to be dealt with at his
convenience. Rhaenys Targaryen was a woman and not only did women not understand how
to wage or win a war, but they were too emotional by half. Her anger and distress at her
family for rising against her would be yet another nail in the coffin of her and her husband's
conquest.

"My son, Prince Jaime will depart on the morrow with a quarter of our men and form the
Vanguard. My brother Prince Gerion will take a quarter of our me and seek to join him from
the east while I myself will lead the main body of our men from the west. Highgarden is the
goal, my lords, the Tyrell Queen, and her family the targets. Heads or hostages, I care not." he
said as he brought the meeting to an end.

In truth, he wished for hostages and so Jaime would see to their capture long before the main
force of their army arrived to truly crush those who stood in their way. With Margaery Tyrell
and her mother under his control, House Hightower would yield and he'd have no need to
sack Oldtown, earning him even more favor with the Faith. Without them, well he didn't truly
care for anyone's favor but his own and if need be, he'd see the city in flames before he was
done.

Waiting until the tent was empty of any but family, Tywin looked down at the map once
more. Dorne's army should be passing through the Prince's Pass and other than at Nightsong,
they would face no obstacle until Ashford. He'd wager however that the Dornish army would

march east from Nightsong and past Horn Hill, meaning that it would be Uplands or
Honeyholt that their first real test would come. More than that it would keep his right flank
protected. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was and he'd send a message to
them before he took to his bed to see that was so. The lie he'd put in that message claiming
that the bulk of the Reach's forces marched towards them, should be more than enough to
bring about the outcome he desired.

"Margaery and her mother, Jaime. One or both of them I wish alive," he said repeating the
orders he'd given his son already.
"And the others?" his son asked eagerly.
"I care not."

He turned to look at his brother. Gerion was standing far too nonchalantly for Tywin's taste,
but he knew that he'd do as he was bid and once the fight itself came, then he'd be far more
concentrated on it than anything else.

"Ensure that there are no surprises coming from the east other than the one you yourself lead,
Gerion. Support Jaime's attack only when you're completely certain of it."
"I will."
"Kevan and I will lead the men in a quick march, but you both may face the brunt of any
resistance. Crush them and show them why it's Lions and not Dragons who truly roar loudest
of all."
"And what of the dragon, father?" Tyrion asked, his voice annoying him a little "Can we be
certain that the Dragonknight won't return or that we'll be in such a position of power should
he do so that his return will be rendered moot?"
"After we've defeated the Reach's forces and added its men and coin to our own, we'll have
an army twice the size we have now. Dragons are powerful things, Tyrion, but men win wars
and once we've shown that we can do so, the other kingdoms will seek to ally against this
upstart from the East. What is he going to do, burn us all?" he asked half japing.
"Mayhap," Tyrion said softly.

Tywin looked not at his son and instead dismissed them all from his tent. He feared not the
Dragonknight, not given the problems he'd caused for him in the east. Aemon Targaryen
would be so busy dealing with them that Tywin would have taken the entire seven kingdoms
by the time he returned. With luck, he'd have taken his wife from him too and Rhaenys

Targaryen would reside deep in the bowels of Casterly Rock alongside Margaery and Alerie
Tyrell. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he sipped it while sitting at his desk, enjoying the
taste of it on his tongue. Other than the taste he was soon to enjoy, it was as pleasant a one as
he knew. Though the taste of victory would be all that much sweeter and victory drew ever
closer.

The Conquest of Westeros XLIX
Dorne and The Reach.

Forever contentious, the relationship between Dorne and the Reach was one filled with blood
and loss. Incursions from both sides, attacks, large-scale conflicts, and petty disputes, over
the years both regions had known their share of both. The bounties that the Reach possessed
were ever looked upon avariciously by those in Dorne. Their own lands were harsher and far
less fruitful and oft times it's easier to take from another than to grow for yourself.

Yet it was truly the fraught relationships with the primary Houses that produced most of the
bad will and caused most of the spilled blood. House Gardener and House Tyrell had both
lost much to the Dornish Princes and their vassals. It was the Dornish who had sacked
Highgarden and who slay King Garth Greybeard as he lay whimpering in his bed. An event
that only fuelled the desire of those who sat the Oakenseat.

Some years later be it in an act of belated vengeance or a forlorn search for justice, an army
led by Harlan Tyrell marched into Dorne and took the Uller seat of Hellholt. Harlan's aim
was much higher though and buoyed by his victory, he set his sights on Sunspear only to find
the deserts to be an unforgiving and deadly place. What happened to him and his army is
unknown to this day. Though it's said the desert simply swallowed them up.

Many years after that, a descendant of his, Lyonel Tyrell, marched an army and took the
Prince's Pass. Allied with Lord Qorgyle of Sandstone together they won many victories and it
seemed that on his king's behalf, Lyonel Tyrell would be the man to bow, break and bend
House Martell and its Vassals. Yet it's not just the deserts of Dorne that make the Dornish
such dangerous foes, but their nature too. Laying in his curtained bed, Lyonel Tyrell pulled a
cord so he could block out the sun and rest easy for the night, little knowing that it was to
lead to his doom. A hundred red scorpions fell upon him and death was painful and a long
time coming.

Betrayal, subterfuge, harsh conditions and a willingness to do whatever it takes are what kept
Dorne a free and independent land for so long. Yet for all their experience in such dark arts,
they were in truth novices at them. Westeros is not Essos you see and to win wars against the
foes the Empire has faced over the years, such tactics had at times become routine. Face to
face, the Dragonknight would look at an enemy and offer him naught but defeat. A fight with
honor mayhap was one he'd most wish for, one without, however, was one he was most
capable of fighting too. And in the Second Sons, he had men more practiced in such than
even the men of Dorne.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Prince's Pass 301 AC.
Daario Naharis.

They'd ridden hard to Maidenpool and taken a ship from there to close to Wyl. Normally he'd
not have wished to travel through Dorne given the army that marched and yet time was of the
essence and so he'd been left with no other choice. The entirety of the Second Sons were with
him on the ship and once they reached Dorne, they split into two. He, Lucearon, and Jaedor
led one half to where they believed the Dornish army was, and Yraegon and Valarr led the
other half to meet up with the Stormlords and offer their expertise.

Watch, count, and see if there were opportunities to cause disruption in the ranks was to be
the extent of what his own party would do. Daario had sent a letter to the High Emperor, one
that would let him know that Aemon was needed back in Westeros and one that would
probably out him as a spy, and yet he cared not if it did. He had faith in Princess Rhaenys and
Princess Daenerys, but he'd be a liar if he said that there were no limits to that faith. With
Aemon, his faith was boundless. Regardless of the numbers that Dorne, the West, or even had
it been the entirety of Westeros that had needed to be faced, he and those with him had
always believed they'd be successful. Now for the first time since this campaign had begun,
Daario had some doubt that they would be.

Oh, in the end, they'd win. Even should they suffer some losses before Aemon's return, his
return would see to that. Yet, until that return, Daario feared somewhat just what those losses
may entail. The simple truth was that neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys were true Dragonriders
yet and even together they didn't make up for the absence of the Dragonknight, or so he
believed. If the battles to come were to come down to men and men alone, they'd be bloody.

Worst of all, there was no certainty that the numerical advantage their enemies held over
them wouldn't be enough to see them beaten. So he would play his part and try and somewhat
even the odds.

"Where the fuck are we?" Jaedor asked as they rode through lands that reminded them most
of those they'd left behind two or more years ago.
"A few miles from Vulture's Roost," Lucearon replied.
"And how far is that from this Prince's Pass?"
"About 100 miles or so."
"That fucking far? Could we not have landed somewhere nearer?" Jaedor asked with a sigh.
"Not if we wanted to ride unhindered, no." he japed which at least got a chuckle out of those
who rode with him.

They set up camp and enjoyed the cold air that the desert brought them at night. Memories of
battles long since past and marches to far-off lands soon filled his and he had no doubt, his
men's minds. He doubted that the Dornish were as true a threat as the Dothraki or some of
their other foes had been over the years. Especially given what Prince Oberyn said about his
nephew and how ill-suited to command Prince Quentyn was.

Had it been Oberyn who led this army as Prince Doran had wished, then they'd be in far more
trouble than they already were. After eating his meal and laying down on his bedroll, Daario
found himself looking to the stars above and laughing about how the gods and wherever they
named their home, must look down upon them and laugh at times. Plans had been made that
would no longer come to pass. A mummery that would have seen him travel to these lands
and ingratiate himself with the Dornish Prince while working from within to see him brought
to his knees. Yet, those plans had gone up in smoke when a dragon had come calling and
Aemon had flown east.

"It's almost time to play your favorite game, Daario."
"And what game is that, my prince."
"Betrayer," Aemon said as he looked at him.
"And who am I betraying you to?"

"Prince Doran. Sell yourself most expensively Daario for he'll not believe it otherwise and
though I may believe him to be a stupid man, he's truly a snake."
"He's the Empress's brother, my prince. I would expect nothing less."
"Offer him the key to the dragons, Daario. The way to bring them down. Speak to him of
scorpions and poisons and aim for the highest price you can get. One he'll not pay, but will
allow for a true negotiation."
"Should I not just end him, my prince? Send Lucearon to see him fall? Would that not be the
end of things?" he asked curiously.
"Would that was so, Daario. No, lull him into the battle I wish to give him and after it's done,
he'll kneel or die."
"When my prince?"
"A moon, two. We have time I believe."

Waking from the dream, he sighed. They'd not had enough time and the more he thought
about events in the east, the more he was sure that either the snakes, lions, or both, had done
to them what they'd wished to do, only they'd done so first. They'd forced them into the fight
they wished to have rather than the one his prince wanted, and without Aemon here, he
shuddered.

It took them four days to reach the Dornish Army. The speed of their riding allied to the
slowness of Prince Quentyn's march meaning they'd not even reached Nightsong when
Daario and his men caught up with them. They had left their rear exposed too and didn't even
send out outriders to make sure there was no one following them. Prince Quentyn was no
doubt convinced that with their own lands behind them, they were safe from any attack and it
proved him as poor a commander as Oberyn had named him.

For three days they shadowed them and on the fourth, he'd come up with a plan. A plan he
hoped would do as he wished and so calling his men together, he readied them to sneak into
the camp and bring an end to some of those they believed were in command. The prince
himself would live to see another day, but some of his Lords and Knights would very much
not So after telling Jaedor, Lucearon, and the others what he wished from them, Daario kissed
his lady and waited for night to fall.

"We ride and ride hard once we're done. Head for Yraegon and Valarr and the Stormlords.
With luck they're better marchers than these poor fools." he said as half his men readied their

horses, while he and the other half readied to sneak into the Dornish Camp and cause as
much chaos as they could.

R'hllor granted them favor as it was a moonless night. Prince Quentyn's ineptitude helped as
there were few pickets and patrols. Again the prince relied on their lands offering him
protection when men with swords and spears worked far better in that regard. Five men were
all they'd needed to kill to have free roam through the camps. One fell to his lady's kiss across
his throat while two to arrows and another two to knives through their skulls. With a nod to
Jaedor, Daario moved one way while Lucearon went another.

The sound of the man snoring was loud enough to cover his footsteps and though he had
guards, they were at the front of the tent and not the back. Daario cut through the back of the
tent with his Arakh and crept inside quietly. He moved silently to the sleeping man and past
his armor which bore the sigil of his House. A quick glance at it showed that he'd found his
target, the black portcullis over sand naming the sleeping man as a Yronwood. With his lady
in hand, he placed his hand over the sleeping man's mouth and then drew the blade across his
neck. It was over in the blink of an eye and Daario was out the back of the tent even before
the man had breathed his last.

Hurrying back to where his horse and the rest of his forces were, he was soon joined by more
and more of his men. Though to his surprise, there seemed to be no sign of Jaedor or
Lucearon. That it was only those two who were missing worried him, as each of the others
had done their own task and he'd have put his life on both Jaedor and Lucearon completing
theirs. The explosion rocked the peacefulness of the night and the camp was lit up with a
hundred or more lights as men at arms awoke and panic set in. Daario swore he saw horses
ride off and then he heard bowstrings being drawn back as figures moved his way.

"Fire that fucking arrow at me and I'll shove it up your arse," Jaedor said and Daario smirked
to see both he and Lucearon were unhurt.

With no time to waste and not willing to run the risk of being caught, they mounted their
horses and rode off quickly. By early the next morning it was clear they'd not been followed
and so he turned to the two men to ask what had kept them. Daario soon laughed loudly at
their reply.

"This one here." Jaedor said as he took a swallow from his water pouch "Not content with
killing some fat lord, he spied the large supplies of wine that the Dornish Prince had seen fit

to bring with him. Right by the pen where they kept the horses in, it was."
"What can I say, I like to see things burn. That's why I follow a dragon, I thought you all
knew that." Lucearon japed.

Daario shook his head. Five and ten men they'd killed, mayhap more with Lucearon's
diversion. Horses, supplies, and men, they'd cost the Dornish army much this night. If Valarr
and Yraegon were lucky and Stannis Baratheon was a true soldier, they may have just tilted
things largely in their favor. Still, his eyes would occasionally look to the sky as he sought
sight of the Blood Wyrm and his prince. For until he saw them, he'd not breathe too easily.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

She had found it hard to rest and sleep in a strange bed. Though she knew that in truth it was
because she slept alone that was the reason for it. Ghost had been left behind in Harrenhal
and Rhaenys felt such a fool for doing so, yet she'd not been comfortable enough to have the
white wolf fly with her. Margaery had seen both she and Dany were given all they needed
and in terms of material things, she could ask for no more. Highgarden was even better
equipped and more luxurious than Harrenhal was and was almost like being in the Grand
Palace again.

In terms of food alone, the Tyrells ate even more elaborate meals than her family did on
important occasions in Volantis. Rhaenys had wondered if this was their standard fare or if
they were going out of their way to impress her. Only to be told that more often than not, this
was what a Highgarden feast looked like. Given the sheer amount of Lords, Ladies, and
Knights who'd made their way to Highgarden and had joined Lord Gwayne and Ser Garlan
upon their return, a feast had been more than needed.

Barristan being from Westeros had known more of the sigils and which Houses they
represented than even she had managed to garner in her studies so far. So it was to him she
looked when she had questions. Who had come? Who had not? What numbers this lord or
that one could bring to bear and what numbers they had brought with them? She'd asked and
he'd told her and other than Randyll Tarly and one or two lesser Houses, the Reach had come
out in force. Still, something felt off to her and so rather than go to her bed, she'd called a
meeting with the Tyrells and Lord Gwayne. A meeting that she was now on her way to
attending along with her aunt.

"You seem concerned, Rhae," Dany whispered as they walked.
"I am, I know not why, but I am."
"Surely with these numbers…"
"It's not the numbers, Dany. Nor even us flying into battle that gives me pause, it's…."

What it was, she couldn't explain. A feeling, a tightness in her stomach, and words that
Aemon had spoken to her once about when he too would feel that way.

"For as much as they're about tactics and preparation. Knowledge of your enemy and his
numbers or even picking where the fight is to be had, your gut plays just as important a part
in seeing a battle won."
"How so?"
"If you feel it twisting, tightening, it's trying to tell you something. Something you forgot,
overlooked, or something that's off with your plans. It matters not. You listen to it and act
upon it."
"And you've felt this much?"
"Many times my love," he said as he kissed her softly.

Eyes closed, she was almost back in their bed with him, and yet she was very much not.
Upon reaching Gwayne's Solar, the doors opened for them and she, Dany, Arthur, Barristan,
and Torgho Nudho walked inside. Olenna, Margaery, Gwayne, Mace, Willas, Garlan, and
Loras Tyrell were already there and waiting for them and she was pleased to see that both
women had not been barred from attending what was in essence a war council. Taking her
seat, she turned down the offer of wine. Given that she had no true idea what it was that was
bothering her, Rhaenys took a moment, closed her eyes, listened to her gut, and then she
spoke.

"Lord Tarly." she began, surprising herself that it was there her mind went to "He's not a wellliked man and has few friends if I have the right of it."
"Very few, your grace," Olenna replied, her disdain for the man clear in her expression.

"And those other Houses who've not answered the call, they are among them?" she asked to a
shake of Lord Willas' head.
"No, your grace. Lord Rowan and Lord Caswell are both here." Willas said when she
prompted him to go further.
"And we can be sure that their loyalty is to us and not to him?" she asked.
"Mathis is a good and true man, your grace as is Lorent." Mace blustered.
"Lady Olenna?" she asked somewhat ignoring what Mace had said.
"Randyll was ever prickly, your grace. You saw that yourself at Bitterbridge. Lord Lorent was
repulsed by his words and that they were spoken under his roof. He'd been more than happy
to host our meeting and upon seeing the dragons, I doubt he thought any different than any of
us."
"And Lord Rowan?" she asked.
"Mathis was one of the loudest voices against us giving you battle, your grace," Gwayne said
and Rhaenys nodded.
"So the two closest lords to Lord Tarly, the two he was on the best of terms with both refused
to join him, but other Houses did. Why?" She asked, giving in to what her gut was telling her
completely now.

There was silence for a moment, not a single word spoken as Lord Gwayne, Margaery, and
the Tyrells all tried to find a reason that answered her question. Not a single one of them did
and it was actually Torgho Nudho who gave voice to her true concerns.

"Their gods." Torgho Nudho said drawing all eyes to him "As Thoros follows my prince, as
the Flames of the Dragon and those who follow R'hllor look to the Dragonknight…."
"The Faithful look to Tarly…" she began and before she'd said any more, Margaery had
beaten her to it.
"Grandfather, we must speak to grandfather."
"Margaery?" she asked confused.
"While we may have some idea of who the most pious are, your grace, my grandfather is the
Defender of the Faith, the Voice of Oldtown. He'll know better than any who the Faith would
reach out to and who may listen."
"He is here?" she asked having not remembered being introduced to Lord Leyton Hightower.

"No, your grace, but our uncles are, Ser Baelor and Ser Garth, they'd know as much as he."

By the time she went to her bed, she'd been told which Houses were here that she may need
to keep a closer eye on. They readjusted their plans accordingly and those men would, while
not being put directly in the firing line, they'd not be in a position to stab them in the back
either. Aemon may have sent them away or even confronted them directly and Rhaenys did
consider it. However, if she was wrong, they then risked causing discord where they needed
harmony and so she left it for now.

After waking the next morning, they began their march. She and Dany would soon take to the
sky to see what plans the Old Lion had in store for them. Thoros and the Flames of the
Dragon should arrive to shore up their rear before the battle truly began, but only if Tywin
hadn't marched more quickly than they'd estimated. So they needed to establish where exactly
he and his army were and what size that army was. Something that was done far better from
atop a dragon than by sending outriders out and then awaiting their return.

Inexperienced at battle she may well be, but she doubted anyone had a better teacher than
she. Aemon spoke and spoke often since she'd joined him in Westeros. He may have kept her
away from the worst of it and she may not have seen much action, but she was no green girl
as some may have named her. So with the sun at its zenith, she and Dany along with Arthur
and Torgho Nudho climbed upon their dragons' backs and took to the sky. It took them some
hours to find them and the sight beneath her sent a shudder down her spine.

"How many?" she asked Arthur, her voice barely carrying over the wind.
"Too many, my queen, yet not all." I say we fly to the west." the knight replied and she did as
he bid and soon Meraxes was flying away from the large force beneath her and heading west.

An hour, two, mayhap even three, they flew with no sight nor sign that an army had marched
over the ground below them. Just as she was about to turn back and name this a wasted
endeavor, she caught sight of them and she both smiled that Arthur had been right and
frowned at the fact that the Lannister army was even larger than Olenna had feared. After
doing two circles of the forces, Meraxes flying so high that she'd look no more than a bird to
them, Rhaenys bid her dragon take her back to her own army.

They landed to see that Dany and Torgho Nudho had already arrived and after speaking
briefly to her aunt, she found out that they had seen both the main force and another force to

the east. Torgho Nudho, like Arthur before him, had come to the same conclusion as the
Sword of the Morning did about the Lannister numbers. Rhaenys kept the information to
herself and continued the march atop a horse now instead of a dragon. She had the men with
her to figure out what Tywin's plans were and she knew now what it was she had to face. An
army split in three with even the main force of it outnumbering her own. Soon a choice
would need to be made. For two into three just didn't fit, and she'd have to direct men one
way while dragons went another.

"Fired and Blood, Aemon, I'll bring them Fire and Blood."

The Conquest of Westeros L.
Fathers and Sons.

For as much as the tale of the House of the Dragons is about the great beasts that they forged
their Empire with, it's about the relationship between fathers and their sons. From issues of
succession, an attempt to live up to or go beyond what a father had done. A wish to have your
name spoken of as reverently as your father before you had with his or to have your deeds
remove the stain of a father's before you or a son's after you This one relationship defines the
Empire even more than that of a husband and wife.

From Maegor who never got along with his father, to Bloodraven who because of his father's
desire to have a Dragonknight as a son, almost saw the Empire crush itself under civil war.
Or Viserys II who wed the wrong son to his daughter and almost saw brother kill brother in
the years to come. Aerys whose madness made Rhaegar the man he was. To Rhaegar himself
whose relationship with his own son both created another Kingdom and risked the Empire in
doing so.

Little was spoken by the Dragonknight about the issues between him and his father. To all
who looked upon it from the outside, Rhaegar erred and Aemon suffered because of it,
initially at least. It was not until many years after Rhaegar had died that Aemon spoke about
his father and the truth of things was finally revealed. A truth that should have been clear
enough to any given the events during the Conquest and what followed afterward.

"My father loved my mother more than he did me. So he did as she wished and not as I
wanted" the Dragonknight said "Who am I to fault him for that."

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Volantis 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

He'd not truly slept since he and his father had spoken in the Crypt. The words and what they
meant had wormed their way deep inside him and he'd found no respite in dreams or comfort
in a bed. Instead, he'd walked the floors of the Grand Palace alone at night with no escort.
Aemon would get lost in memories of stories told to him when he was bit a boy. Memories of
his mother as he followed after her on unsteady feet or was carried by her in her arms.

He thought back to the lessons that his granduncle had given him and looked upon them all
now with much different eyes. All of them now took on different meanings than they once
had. Where before he'd believed they'd been lessons to make him a man, now he was more
certain they were lessons to make him a particular type of man. As were his mother's tales of
the North, the Wall, the lands beyond it, the history of the First Men, the Children of the
Forest and so many other tales she'd told him.

As he walked, he thought back to the trips they'd made together and to the ones she'd
undertaken even before he'd been born. To how it was her will and her will alone that had
seen Aurane raised so close to a prince of the blood. She'd freed Torgho Nudho and had
brought him with her when she returned from Astapor and almost every step that Aemon had
taken in this world had been one taken by his sworn shield too. His wandering took him to
the balconies that they would stand on and look out over the city and his mind was soon full
of words she'd spoken to him so very long ago.

"What do you see Aemon?"
"Varantis…" he said, not truly able to speak the word.
"Close your eyes. Now, what do you see?"
"Nothing."
"One day you will, my son. One day you'll see it all."

Aemon hadn't even realized he'd done it. His eyes were closed and he stood where they had
all those years ago and just like then, he saw it, or mayhap it was only now he truly saw it. It
was blurry at first, like the world when you first awoke from a truly deep sleep. Images that
could barely be made out and then he saw it clearly and opened his eyes, wary of looking too
deeply at what he believed he'd seen. So much so that he barely blinked for the next few
hours and there was nothing or no one that could make him take to his bed.

So it was the sparring yard and then to break his fast that he next went. He was soon joined
by his brother and his Goodsister in the latter and he noticed how much happier Aegon and
his wife seemed to be. His father and Haegon then arrived and they ate and made small talk.
It was only that Talisa asked so many questions about Westeros, Rhaenys, and Dany, or they
may have not spoken on anything of any import at all.

"Dany welcomes the adventure and being by Rhaenys' side. But it's a visit for her, nothing
more. Our aunt charms each Westerosi she meets and I'd wager that more than one wishes for
her hand, yet she's more clever than we at times give her credit for and she knows it cannot
be." he said, the last part while looking at his father who nodded his head slightly.
"And Rhaenys?" Talisa asked.
"I believe like me she's happiest when we're together. She is a true queen, Talisa. Far more
suited to rule than I and to watch her sway people with mere words is an awe-inspiring sight."
he said, smiling a little "She's made friends of those who swore to us too. The Lord and Lady
of the Reach are of an age with us and while if it was left to me, I'd no doubt give either little
time, It's not left to me." he added fondly.
"And the battles, Aemon, they were as fierce as the ones you've fought here?" Aegon asked
worriedly, Aemon shaking his head before answering.
"In truth, we've fought little, brother. The Vale fell to one swoop from Gaelithox. The Blood
Wyrm burned their Bloody Gate and showed them that not even stone could protect them.
My uncles beat the Hoares before I had a chance to do so and the Stormlands army and our
own never got the chance to face each other."
"Because of the Trial by Seven?" his father asked and Aemon looked at him curiously,
wondering how he knew of such.
"I wished to send a message to the Faith. So Arthur, Thoros, Daario, Torgho Nudho, Aurane,
along with a man from the Vale who turned his cloak on us and me faced seven men from the
Stormlands including their king. After winning and taking his life myself, Robert's brother
knelt and swore fealty."
"And the North?" his brother asked.

"Came to their senses, eventually. Though they'd suffered losses by then. My uncle Brandon
and grandfather Rickard were both ambushed and killed. Given what they did here, I'd now
name the Lions as the perpetrators."

He let the words sit for a moment and then Talisa changed the subject a little, still speaking
about Rhaenys but more about how she was doing and would a visit be welcomed.
Something he said both would and would not.

"In time, most definitely. But I'd not suggest it be soon. The war will truly begin upon my
return. Dorne and The West have allied and will need to be brought to heel." he said and
heard the gasp as Elia entered the room.

She turned and walked hurriedly away and when his father rose to his feet, Aemon shook his
head, and instead it was he who ran after her. He caught up with her before she reached her
rooms and though she didn't look happy he'd done so, she didn't deny him when he followed
her inside. They talked for some time, Aemon explained what it was he must do and listened
when she bid him be merciful. It was clear she held no hopes for Doran, but for her niece, her
nephews, Oberyn, and his children. Them she bid him spare and he promised that if he could
he would. It was a promise he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep.

The day took him back to the crypts and once again he was joined by his father not long after
he'd gone there. This time, Aemon had brought an offering for his mother and had laid the
blue rose in her palm before speaking to her. He'd asked her questions that received no
answer and then had asked his father the same ones when he'd turned to him. This time
getting some and none of them were ones that brought him much comfort.

"Is it just the Faith?" he asked.
"No, though what more than that I know not."
"But I'm to stand as a champion for each and every different Faith am I not?"
"You are."
"Fighting against zealots is a surefire way of getting yourself killed, you know this."
"Yet she believed you'd be more than a match for them. Aemon. That once they saw the
strength of your will they'd accept that change had come."

"Tell that to the Good Masters, for my will alone wasn't enough to stop them from cutting
men was it," he said annoyed.
"No, though I wager were your path to have kept you in Essos it would be."
"And you truly know not what it is I must do?"
"Other than it's to do with the North and the Lands Beyond the Wall, no."
"The Wildlings?" he asked.
"Did she ever tell you the tale of Bael the Bard?" his father asked and Aemon nodded,
knowing the tale well "You are kin with the Wildlings if that tale is true, son. Do you believe
it to be so?"
"Mother believed it."
"And so do you, Aemon."
"Could she truly have known how things would play out? That I'd conquer, seek to bring the
lands under my control, and unite them under one king?"
"I have no doubt of it, son. She knew." his father said leaving him alone with his mother's
statue and with just as many questions as Aemon had when he'd walked into the Crypt.

It was as he was standing there that he felt it. The pain in his head was intense and it brought
him to his knees. His eyes closed of their own accord and before he knew it, he was no longer
in the Crypt or even in Essos. Instead, it was Harrenhal and his own chambers.

"How many men can the West and Dorne call upon?"
"And the Reach"
"Dany it falls to you and me to come to Highgarden's aid. Arthur, Barristan, see to the
provisions for a long flight, on the morrow we head for the Reach and I'd have you both with
me when we do so."
"Fire and Blood, Dany. Just as Aemon would bring them. We, you and I, will bring them Fire
and Blood."
"Hurry back to me, my love. Hurry back, for I miss you so."

He looked to the sky and saw Meraxes and Nightwing flying south. Arthur, Barristan, Torgho
Nudho, Dany, and Rhaenys all now flying to war. Time seemed to pass and then Thoros and

the Flames of the Dragon too were riding away from Harrenhal. Aemon believed he heard
what seemed to be a wolf's howl in his head and then he was sharing memories from days
past and present as he and Ghost truly became one.

Through it all, one phrase stuck in his mind and so after the visions had gone and he
stumbled back to his feet After he'd closed his eyes and found himself back in the white wolf
again. It was that phrase that had him running from the crypt and calling for the Blood Wyrm.

"Danger to the Pack," he said repeating the words he'd heard in his head. Words that he was
sure now had been spoken by a wolf somehow.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: Four conflicts, two dragons, as Rhaenys and Dany make their choices as to
where best to deploy Meraxes and Nightwing, Aemon and Aurane fly from East to
West.
Stannis and Quentyn meet in the field. Tywin faces the biggest fight of his life, Jaime
faces off against a Gallant Knight and Gerion comes face to face with a former king,
while Darkfyre and the Blood Wyrm arrive in Westeros and Aemon prays he's not too
late.
For those following my other fics, Dark Prince is up sometime this week. Followed by
Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold, Winter King both Next Week. Along with another
as yet unnamed fic's update.

Lions or Dragons, Who Roars Loudest Part Two.
Chapter Summary

I've split the battle in two, as I wanted to get some of it out this week and not end the
chapter on a cliffhanger. The second half of this chapter will be next week.

The battle lines are drawn as Stannis faces off against Prince Quentyn and the Dornish
Army and Randyll Tarly's plans are put into action. Arthur chooses the ground the battle
is to be fought upon while two dragons arrive back in Westeros to join the fights to
come.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Reach 301 AC.
Ser Arthur Dayne.

They received the news that Thoros and his men were but a day away from shoring up their
rear. Though they brought little actual numbers to the fight, their presence was more than
welcomed. Barristan had seen to the defenses of Highgarden itself and only that his presence
was needed with them, or Rhaenys would have bid him stay and protect those they'd left
there. The Reach meanwhile had come out in force much to Arthur's delight. It meant that
they were now not as outnumbered as he had at first believed them to be.

He'd wager it was closer to two to one in the Old Lion's favor than the three to one he'd
assessed it as earlier. While he'd have liked to have Daario and his Second Sons with them
here, their presence was far more needed to deal with the Dornish threat. The battles they
faced here would be hard enough to win as it was, the last thing they needed was the Old
Lion's army to be reinforced from the south. Arthur had spoken much to Barristan about
Stannis Baratheon. The Bold had quickly made it clear that he thought much more of the new
Lord of Storm's End than he had the former king. His words had been most welcomed by
each of them when he'd said that Stannis would, at the very least, hold the Dornish Army at
bay.

It gave them the chance to fully concentrate on the armies that marched their way and on the
threat that they may face within their own ranks. Threats that came to them from so-called
men of faith. Arthur was no longer such a man and had long since given up following the
Seven who are One. Years spent in Essos away from the true Septs of Westeros had seen to
that. As had how those Septons and Septas, that had been allowed access to the royal court,
had spoken about Aemon and Rhaenys' relationship and love for each other. He'd never
understood why Rhaegar had allowed them to do so and it, as well as the distance from his
homeland, had been enough to make him less fervent in his beliefs. So to hear that Randyll
Tarly and others may very well be zealots in their own had given him much pause. Though he
was thankful that they'd found out about the possibility of such before they marched and not
during the march itself.

"My uncle, Ser Baelor, your grace," Margaery said as she led in a man of age with Arthur
and who wore an easy smile on his handsome face.
"Your grace." Ser Baelor said, offering a small bow of his head.
"Please sit, Ser Baelor. Margaery, you'll join us?"
"I'd be delighted to, your grace."
"Have you spoken to your uncle regarding our concerns, Margaery?" Rhaenys asked.
"I have, your grace," Margaery said nodding to her uncle as she bid him speak.
"I'm surprised at it being Randyll Tarly, your grace. He was never the most pious of men. As
for the others, I've written out a list of those I'd name the most likely to listen to the Faith
above all others." Ser Baelor said as he handed Rhaenys some parchment, which after her
reading of it, was then handed to Arthur so he could read it too.
"So few?" Rhaenys asked.
"All in all, I'd wager it would be no more than five to ten thousand men at arms that could be
called upon, your grace. Six Houses in all."
"I thank you for your counsel, Ser Baelor. Margaery."

They'd taken note of each of the Houses and found that when they looked at the numbers
they'd brought to bear, they were fewer than they should be. So they'd ensured that none of
them were left behind at Highgarden and all had been brought on the march as part of their
own forces.

Rhaenys would lead the largest part of their own army against the main force of Tywin
Lannister's and these men would be right at the heart of it. They'd be placed near the front

and at the first sign of betrayal, they'd feel a dragon's flames. As for Randyll Tarly himself, he
was among one of the three forces they would soon be facing or had some other plan they
knew not as of yet. In truth, it mattered not. The Lord of Horn Hill would be dealt with and
dealt with most severely. If he truly had the gods on his side then it would be Rhaenys who
dealt with him and not Aemon. Arthur shuddered a little at the thoughts of what Aemon
would do to the Faith once he had been informed of their plans.

Lord Gwayne was ostensibly in charge of the force they marched with as they were made up
of his Bannermen, though all took their orders from Rhaenys, Barristan, and Arthur himself.
It would fall to Ser Garlan to lead the force that Daenerys was with. While Torgho Nudho
rode with the princess and would serve her as ably as he always had Aemon no doubt. Arthur
and Barristan rode at Rhaenys' back and side, for now at least. Once the battle began, they'd
fight on the ground while the queen fought from atop Meraxes and Arthur felt more nervous
about that fact than anything else. Not that he worried about the battle he was to fight in.
Long had he come to terms with the fact that even a stray arrow could take him from this
world. While in his head Lyanna's words spoken long ago to him now began to ring out even
more as they marched.

"It is by his side that your name will live on long after you have fallen, by his side you'll
reach your greatest heights, and by his side that you'll meet your end. Fear not for that end
will come not on foreign shores and not without its glory. Fear not for when it comes you'll
welcome it and what an end it shall be."

It was late afternoon when their outriders arrived back. Their reports confirmed what they
already knew. Ahead of them was the main force of Tywin's army and they were marching
fast. Once they'd made their reports, Arthur spoke to Rhaenys in private. After leaving
Barristan and Lord Gwayne with orders to continue on their march, he and Rhaenys made
their way to Meraxes and were soon flying ahead of the army itself.

How long it took him to find the ground, he knew not. An hour, two, mayhap, even more,
they'd flown for until he saw it. The hill was as steep as he hoped it would be and so Arthur
asked Rhaenys to fly closer to where Tywin's army and his own outriders should be. As much
as he was aware of just how advantageous a dragon could be in the battle itself, it was only
now that Arthur truly saw the other benefits of having one. To see the field of battle from up
high and to then be able to scout over your enemy without any fear of discovery. Along with
the flames that the dragon would soon lay down, these two things were without equal.

Once they'd found them and he was happy enough that they'd have no other choice but to
march towards the battlefield he'd chosen, Arthur bid Rhaenys to fly back to the hill and once

there to land. It took them almost no time at all to reach it. After he helped Rhaenys down
from Meraxes' back. Not that she truly needed any help to do so, they then walked the
grounds and Arthur looked over them from a more conventional viewpoint.

"This hill gives us an advantage, my queen."
"It does?" Rhaenys asked unsurely.
"To march men or charge horses up a hill is folly. Most armies would prefer not to do so and I
doubt Tywin Lannister would feel any differently. Yet we should reach these grounds before
him."
"Would he not seek to go around us, Arthur? To pick a field of his choosing to fight on?"
Rhaenys asked and Arthur was certain that those words had come from her talks with
Aemon.
"He would, my queen. Yet sometimes you must fight the battle that's in front of you. I've no
doubt that Tywin knows this ground and seeks to make it his. Once he arrives and finds it's
not, then it's too late for him to do anything but give battle."
"And the advantage we hold will negate his numbers, Arthur?"
"Somewhat. Though in truth it'll be you and Meraxes who do so most truly, my queen."

The smile that appeared on Rhaenys' face was a small but true one. With one last look out
over the field, they made their way back to the dragon and were soon flying once more. It
was almost night when they and the army finally reached the field for true. Arthur was more
than happy to see that they had indeed beaten Tywin Lannister to it.

After setting up pickets and beginning work on making their position as defensible as it could
be, they held one more war council to go over their battle plans. Lord Gwayne would lead
their cavalry when they finally charged while he and Barristan would manage the infantry,
and archers while holding their lines as best they could. Through it all, Meraxes would fly
overhead and Westeros would soon learn just how hot a dragon's flames could truly be.

Arthur didn't sleep that night, or to be more precise, he slept only intermittingly. He broke his
fast and ate heartily the next morning. Then he ensured that Rhaenys did the same and that
she was both well-armored and well-provisioned with food and water before she took to the
sky. With that done, Arthur took his place on the top of the hill and waited for the Old Lion
and his army to come into view. It was not a wait he had to endure for long.

The Conquest of Westeros LI
Dragonlords II

How the Conqueror and his sister-wives bonded with their dragons is as lost to the world as
Valyria itself. As is why it was Visenya Targaryen and not Aegon who was the first
Dragonknight. Yet while every Dragonknight that came after her followed in Visenya's
footsteps, each Dragonlord walked the same ones as the Conqueror himself.

From the moment they bonded with their dragons in the dragon nursery at Lys, their time
with them in those first few days, weeks and moons were the most important. Rarely would
they be sent into battle during that time. Instead, it would be either a Dragonknight if there
was one or a different Dragonlord whose own bond was more fully developed who would be
called upon in times of need. Some say that there was a danger to be had from being called
into action so soon, a risk that the bond would not be strong enough that would put both the
dragon and the Dragonrider at peril. The Dragonknight was not among those who'd speak
such.

The truth was much different and it was not until Aurane Velaryon was called to fight so
suddenly that it was eventually revealed to me. A dragon's bond is a strange and mysterious
thing and in the case of a Dragonknight, it is one formed for life. For a dragon and his newly
bonded to fight together so soon a different bond would need to be formed. A bond that was
closer to the Dragonknight's own than to other Dragonlords. Very few survive the forming of
such a bond and so unless the need was dire, the House of the Dragon forbade the practice.
Given how deep the feelings between the Dragonknight and his brother by choice were, the
need for such must have been dire indeed.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Lys 301 AC.
Aurane Velaryon.

Each day he'd spent with Darkfyre was unlike any he'd known before. While he'd spent much
of his life around dragons, there had always been a distance between them and him too. That
was no longer something that Aurane could say in truth. He'd slept next to Darkfyre as he'd

seen Aemon do with Gaelithox more than once. They'd eaten together. Spoken together. Or
Aurane had spoken much to the indigo dragon while looking deeply into its all-knowing
eyes. More than anything else, they'd flown together.

To say it was different than flying behind Aemon as Gaelithox soared the skies would be an
understatement of epic proportions. The feeling of true power that you felt while a dragon did
your bidding was awe-inspiring. It was almost addictive. Bidding the dragon to fly higher,
faster, to go where you wished it to, or to let loose its flames. All of it reminded him of
sailing a ship for the first time or riding a horse, only for the feelings to be intensified by a
multiple of ten or more. In truth, there was no feeling quite like it and what surprised Aurane
most of all, was the sense of peace he felt when he and Darkfyre just flew together.

While he'd hoped to have Aemon with him to help him come to terms with what being a
Dragonrider truly meant, he was not alone in his learning of such. Daeron Targaryen was the
Imperial Governor of Lys and the man charged with looking after the dragon nursery. He
along with his wife Elaena had helped countless Dragonriders in the first forming of their
bonds. Be it with dragons newly hatched or ones that had been previously bonded such as
Darkfyre, they guided each and everyone in those early days. As they did him in his.

It was with Elaena flying on her own dragon Dreamfyre that Aurane took his first flight. With
Daeron and Sunfyre that Aurane had bid Darkfyre to first let loose his flames at his
command. They'd both spoken much to him and helped him in those early days. So much so
that by the time they saw Gaelithox in the sky above the dragon nursery, Aurane believed he
knew all he needed to. Little knowing that his true lessons were just about to begin.

"All went well?" he asked Aemon after Gaelithox had landed.
"Yes and no. Come there is much we must speak on and we've got a journey ahead of us that
must be made in haste." Aemon said, his expression unworried, and yet there was a small
tremble in his voice that Aurane liked not.

After Aemon had greeted his cousins as warmly as he could, he asked for food to be brought
to him and Aurane joined him as he ate hungrily.

"Aemon?" he asked once he was done eating.
"Forgive me. The Blood Wyrm and I have flown and flown hard. I've not had a chance to eat
but while atop his back and I realized not my hunger."

"What's going on, Aemon?" he asked worriedly.
"It was the Lannisters, Aurane. They were behind the death of my granduncle, though he was
not their target."
"Aemon?"

Aurane listened to the tale and he did so in disbelief. The things that Aemon said made little
and no sense and yet were clearly true. It boggled his mind that the Lannisters could be that
stupid. That anyone could be that stupid. Opposing the Dragonknight was one thing, pulling
on the Empire's tail was quite another.

Did they not understand that they'd bring down the full wrath of the Empire on them for what
they had done?
Were they that deluded that they thought there was a path to victory for them in these plans?
Did they not understand they'd just ensured their doom?

"Aurane, Aurane," Aemon called out and Aurane shook his head clear of the thoughts that
had been running through it.
"I was lost in thought, Aemon," he said to a nod of Aemon's head.
"I know the feeling, brother." Aemon chuckled, Aurane glad he could do so given all he'd
said.
"You think the Lannisters behind your grandfather and uncle's deaths too, Aemon?"
"I had suspected it which is why I sent Daario to find it out. Given what they tried to do in
Volantis…"

No more needed to be said and yet Aurane was surprised not to see the fury in Aemon's eyes
that he expected. Believing there to be things Aemon had not yet said, he waited for him to
do so. Aurane was stunned by what he heard and it explained somewhat Aemon's demeanor.

"They truly are launching a full-scale invasion of the Reach?"
"I…" Aemon began only to shake his head "They are." he said a moment later "And Rhaenys
and Dany have flown to stop them."

Not waiting for the question to come, Aurane answered it immediately.

"I'm ready, Aemon. Darkfyre and I are bonded and though I'm nowhere near the rider that
you, Rhaenys, or Dany are, I'm ready."
"No brother, you're not."

They left Lys the next morning. Only that Gaelithox needed to rest or they'd not have stayed
the night. Aemon barely slept and though Aurane wished to offer him whatever comforting
words he could, he knew there was nothing he could say or do to make it so. It took them
almost a full day to reach the Dornish coast and just one look at Aemon showed how close he
was to unleashing the Blood Wyrm on the keeps and cities beneath them. Dorne had allied
with the Lions before they'd then joined their Houses with a wedding and it would be the end
of them for doing so. Whatever promises that Aemon had made Empress Elia about her
family while in Volantis would be rendered null and void by their actions. They had marched
and had taken up arms directly against the Dragonknight now and they'd pay most severely
for it.

Their fate would be merciful though compared to the one the Lions would endure. While
Aemon may not have truly known his grandfather and uncle enough for them to bond, they
were his blood all the same. That alone would have probably been enough to seal the Lions'
fates. Attempting to kill his brother. Murdering his granduncle. Trying to rile up the enemies
of the Empire to rise against his father and family. Aurane shuddered at the thought of what
Aemon may do. He shuddered even more knowing that not even Rhaenys would stay his
hand once he began.

"Tegun," he said to Darkfyre when he saw Gaelithox land near a stream that was a rare
enough sight in the desert they flew over.

Aurane filled his water pouch while both dragons drank thirstily. A little distance from him,
Aemon threw water over his face before turning to walk to him. His brother by choice wore
as determined a look as Aurane had ever seen him wear as he did so.

"It's time to teach you to be a true Dragonrider, Aurane. Time for you to learn and to prepare
for the fight you're soon to take part in."

"I'm ready, Aemon."
"I hope so, brother. Though I wish we had a few more moons at least."
"When has time ever bothered us?" he japed.
"True enough," Aemon said, though there was no mirth in his words or expression.

The next two days were spent laying loose flames over the desert they flew over. Aurane
watched and then repeated, as well as he could, all the things that Aemon did on Gaelithox's
back. When Gaekithox dropped low, so Aurane bid Darkfyre to do likewise. He watched as
the Blood Wyrm loosed flames in an arc or in a direct focused attack. Noticed the difference
in the intensity of those flames and bid Darkfyre do as the Blood Wyrm did.

Whether it was his own command or that Darkfyre had done these very same things at some
point in his past, Aurane knew not. But not once did the indigo dragon falter or fail to do as
he was bid. At night when they sat around the fire and the dragons rested, Aemon spoke to
him of battles he'd fought in and gave him an insight into how different they were from atop a
dragon's back. He warned him of arrows and scorpion bolts, and while he told him that few if
any could actually harm Darkfyre, he was not as well protected as the dragon would be.

"You'll feel it, brother. When they fire upon you, you'll feel how Darkfyre feels. His worries,
his concerns and mainly his anger will course through your veins as much as they will
through his own."
"And I should not let it distract me?" he asked to a shake of Aemon's head.
"You should revel in it. Embrace it and let it be your guide, brother."

Within another day they were flying over the Dornish Army and how Aemon didn't just bid
the Blood Wyrm to let loose his flames, Aurane knew not. Instead, they flew past them and
were soon flying over Daario and his Second Sons. After they'd landed and heard what he
had to say, Aurane saw it in Aemon's eyes. By the time they reached Stannis Baratheon and
his army, it was clear they'd be parting most quickly.

"Do all you can for them, Aurane, but protect yourself first and foremost. If what Daario says
is true then you'll face a lesser threat here and they'll not expect to face a dragon."
"And you?"

"Rhaenys, Dany, they'll be most welcome of my return I wager." Aemon smiled before
schooling his features "The Old Lion will very much not."

Aurane watched as the Blood Wyrm flew further into the Reach and felt no sympathy for the
men he'd soon put to the flame. As he made his way to speak to Stannis Baratheon and
smiled to see both Yraegon and Valarr along with some other men of the Second Sons,
Aurane felt no nervousness at the battle to come. He was as ready as he could be and he'd do
as he must. Fire and Blood would soon be spilled and Aurane would ensure that it was their
enemies that knew much of both.

The Battle of Horn Hill 301 AC.
Stannis Baratheon.

They'd marched and marched hard, even if for the longest time they'd not known where they
were marching to. In the end, Stannis was somewhat relieved when they left the Stormlands
behind. As comforting as it may have been to fight on familiar ground, it was far better in
Stannis' mind to keep the battle far from their own lands. Still, little did he expect that it was
to be so deep into the Reach that they'd eventually see the army that opposed them.

Along the march, they'd been joined by some of King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys' men. The
Second Sons played some part in the Dragonknight's army that up to now Stannis was
unaware of. One conversation with Yraegon and Valarr was enough to make that no longer
true. They were Aemon's spies, lookouts, and very much more. It had been them who'd taken
Renly prisoner and Stannis was relieved that his brother was still at Storm's End. The last
thing he needed was to have ill-feeling between these men and his own and he doubted Renly
would yet be able to put aside his grievances. It allowed him to listen to the men's tales
without much interruption other than with the questions he wished to ask.

"Lord Stannis, our queen sends her regards." Valarr the oldest of the two men said after he'd
introduced himself and some of his companions.
"I pray her grace is well."
"Most well, my lord. May we speak in private?" Valarr asked.

Soon enough they were sitting in his tent and though food and wine were offered, for now, it
was only the former that was partaken of.

"The rest of our men are at present shadowing the Dornish army. They'll soon join us with
reports of numbers and most likely will have done much to limit their effectiveness." Valarr
said almost smirking as he did so.
"How so?"
"We're well trained in such things, my lord. Infiltration, confusion, and much more are all
within our wheelhouse."
"How many men do you bring?"
"Twenty or so with us, another thirty to follow," Yraegon said and Stannis ground his teeth.
"It's not our numbers that will help you beat the Dornish, Lord Stannis, it's our expertise."

Though he had no idea of the true extent of that expertise and could see not how thirty men
could cause the Dornish problems, he welcomed the men all the same. Three days after they
had joined him, a letter arrived from their commander telling them where it was most likely
they'd face the Dornish Army. A day or so after that, the dragons arrived.

To say he was happy to see them would be an understatement. While he'd not truly seen them
in action and had heard only tales of them, Stannis doubted those tales not. Good men and
true of the Vale had spoken of how the Bloody Gate was no more. That along with the tales
of the Dragonknight's adventures in Essos were more than enough to make Stannis believe in
the dragons' effectiveness. The fact that so far in Westeros they'd not truly been needed was
more a testament to the Dragonknight's own than anything else.

"Your grace," he said with a bow of his head as he greeted King Aemon and Aurane
Velaryon. The latter now being a Dragonrider was a surprise to not only Stannis, given the
conversation he was engaged in with the men of the Second Sons.
"Lord Stannis, all is well?"
"As well as could be, your grace. Better now that you're here."
"Would that I could stay, Lord Stannis." the Dragonknight said and then bid Stannis to join
him away from the others.

It was a far more worried Stannis that walked with King Aemon. Worries that he was about
to express only for the Dragonknight to speak of them first.

"Aurane and Darkfyre will travel with you from here on, Lord Stannis. Though less
experienced than myself or the Blood Wyrm, I've no doubt he'll prove himself just as
effective. Mine own journey takes me deeper into the Reach as it seems the Old Lion has
stirred from beneath his Rock."
"He truly marches on the Reach, your grace?"
"Among his many sins, Lord Stannis."

Stannis didn't need to be a clever man to see that there were things being withheld from him.
Were he a more suspicious one he may have questioned why that was. Instead, he was sure
that in time he'd find out and that in truth it changed things not.

"Daario Naharis and the Rest of the Second Sons should join you before you engage the
Dornish Army. They're being led by Prince Quentyn and have already suffered great losses."
"You attacked them, your grace?" he asked to a shake of Aemon's head.
"Daario and the Second Sons did. They struck a significant blow and removed some of their
best commanders as well as destroying a large portion of their supplies. Prince Quentyn is as
inexperienced as my wife's uncle named him as and that is no doubt something you can use
to your advantage."
"Indeed."
"Offer him a weaker target than he may expect, Lord Stannis. Aurane will keep the dragon
far from sight and I've no doubt that Prince Quentyn will take the bait."
"And when he does?" he asked, wondering how true a victory the king wished of them.
"Break them, my lord. After that, I leave it up to you."
"As you command, your grace."
"I bid you good fortune, Lord Stannis. My wife may have said so already but if not I'll do so
now, it means much to us that you've answered the call and it shall not be forgotten."

With that, Aemon Targaryen walked away and after a brief conversation with Aurane
Velaryon and the Second sons, he and the Blood Wyrm took to the sky and flew North.
Stannis marched that day with Aurane Velaryon riding by his side. That night they camped
and a day later they were joined by Daario Naharis and the Second Sons. Listening to the full
extent of the damage they'd wrought upon the Dornish almost brought a smile to Stannis'

face. It did to others who were present at the meeting. As did the Commander of the Second
Son's words that named Prince Quentyn as truly a fool. The idiot had posted no pickets, no
true guard, and no outriders to cover his rear as he marched.

When the day finally came and Stannis lined up his men across from the Dornish Army and
its fool of a prince, he did so exactly as King Aemon had suggested. The target he offered
was as weak a one as he could present and yet still strong enough to make it look true.
Hidden in the trees behind him was the majority of his cavalry and flying so high in the sky
that they were but a speck was Aurane Velaryon and Darkfyre. Stannis held a parley and was
left even more unimpressed at the newly named Frog Prince. Then after offering a prayer to
the Warrior and the Stranger, the battle began.

Prince Quentyn Martell.

A dozen of his best lords. The same in his truest warriors. Sons now grieved for fathers and
swore revenge while Quentyn mourned the loss of his good wine more than the fools who'd
allowed themselves to be murdered in their sleep. Like those who mourned, however,
Quentyn did vow vengeance too. Though who was to be the target of that vengeance he knew
not.

Was it the Dragons?
Someone Else?
Could it have been Reachmen?

Quentyn understood it not. They'd been traveling through their own lands. How was it
possible that someone could sneak up on them so completely? It made little sense to him.
That he was trying to forget the panic he'd felt at the sounds of death and the explosions of
their wine stores, well that only was known to him alone. The attack did change their
determination and forced them to march faster. It made them send out outriders in all
directions and when they came across the dead horse and the satchel it bore, Quentyn was
sure it was a mummery of some sort.

It couldn't be true.
Why would Stannis Baratheon march their way?

Why would he fight for a man who killed his brother?

It all made no sense to him and so he'd at first refused to believe it. Only for the outriders to
bring him news of a force that marched his way being led by the Lord of Storm's End himself
given the banners they bore. The war council he called was filled with men just like him.
Sons and nephews of fathers and uncles who'd won great glory in their time in this world.
Not a one of those present had earned much of their own and yet all were just like Quentyn,
eager for it.

Other than Ser Symon Santager, Ser Ryon Allyrion, and Lord Franklyn Fowler, none of them
had truly fought in a battle or fought for their lives. So despite the way some of those men
looked at him, Quentyn accepted their counsel. When they told him of the need to beat the
enemy at his back, Quentyn agreed. A novice to the ways of war he may be, but he'd listened
as his father and uncle had spoken and he knew full well the dangers being attacked from
behind could bring to him. Though he shouted down the voice which told him that he should
have taken more note of them when he'd marched.

They were almost in sight of Horn Hill itself when it became clear that they'd march no
further without a battle taking place. Lining up his men, Quentyn rode on his white horse
down the lines and looked out at the enemy in the distance. Through a Myrish Eye, he took
note of their positions and of the ground they would fight on. It was flat with no hills and the
only thing which gave him pause was the forest behind the Stormlanders. Should they break
their lines as easily as he believed they would, then Quentyn liked not the thought of them
escaping into the trees.

He rode to where Cletus and Archibald Yronwood were positioned. Pointing to the trees, he
bid them to cut off any escape and then turned to give a speech to inspire his men.

"Stormlanders. Not the Reachmen we'd all prefer to wet our spears on but they'll do for today.
A thousand gold dragons to the man who brings me the head of Stannis Baratheon. Now, let
us bring this day to an end and show this pitiful force of Stormlanders that we are men of
Dorne.
For House Martell! For Dorne!"

Arrows soon filled the sky and when he saw the first breaking of discipline in the Stormlands'
lines, Quentyn himself led the charge. It was halfway across the field that he heard the roar

and a little further than that when the horses came out of the forest. Before he even had the
chance to order the retreat, an indigo dragon had flown over his head.

"By the gods," he said as he turned his head to see the flames being loosed behind him and
when he turned to look the other way, the cavalry riding towards him was almost a pleasant
sight.

Aurane Velaryon.

He had never felt as nervous as he did when he finally bid Darkfyre to show himself.
Armored, hands gripping the reins that he held tightly, Aurane felt his stomach tumble as they
dropped low and down to the field beneath them.

The Dornish army was led by a fool who had let anger and vengeance cloud his judgment.
Even were that not so, then what Daario and the Second Sons had done in their ambush and
what it cost Dorne, had clouded the judgment of those who advised and followed him. Prince
Quentyn had then fallen for the mummery that Lord Stannis had performed as truly as they
could have wished him to. Even without Darkfyre here today, this battle would end only one
way. Their victory was all but assured, though it would still cost much blood to see it so.
Aurane's true tasks were twofold and as he closed his eyes, Aemon's words played out in his
mind.

"Show Lord Stannis and those who ride with him the true majesty of a dragon in action,
brother. Let them see who they are allied with and leave them in no doubt that the truth of
their victory was owed to you and Darkfyre."
"And Dorne, brother?"
"Fire and Blood, brother."

Darkfyre let out a loud roar as it flew over the first line of charging horses. Aurane could
have gotten the indigo dragon to let loose his flames here, but he did not. True chaos to their
ranks would come from the fires they faced from behind them. Those flames would break
their spirits and win the day and so he bid Darkfyre to fly further from the front of the lines.
Once he was as far from them as he wished, then and only then did he tell the indigo dragon
to let loose his flames.

"Dracarys."

The flames came in a wave that was almost like a wall of fire. One moment horses rode
beneath him and the next they had simply been blown away as mere ashes in the wind.
Darkfyre stopped only when Aurane bid him to and the devastation he had wrought was a
wondrous and terrible sight. As he neared the lines of spearmen, Aurane was surprised they
hadn't broken and ran from the field such was the sight they must have just witnessed. Be it
fear, that they were stunned and so rendered immobile, or foolish bravery, they held the line.
Though they did so but briefly.

"Dracarys."

Darkfyre loosed his flames once more and Aurane bid the dragon turn and fly along the line
of spearmen as he did so. It was a feat that the dragon managed without a moment's pause.
When the flames had stopped and were replaced by a loud roar, Aurane was momentarily
unsure of why that was. Holding the reins tight, he almost lost his balance when Darkfyre
moved in mid-air and as arrows crashed harmlessly against the indigo dragon's belly. He felt
it then, the anger and rage almost threatening to overwhelm him and Aurane was certain it
was not only his own feelings that made it so.

"Dracarys," he shouted out loudly and the archers were soon engulfed in flames.

Turning his head back to the battlefield, Aurane bid Darkfyre make for the horses once more.
Now flying from behind them, the indigo dragon awaited his command.

"Dracarys," he said before repeating it again and taking one last look at the carnage beneath
him, Aurane bid Darkfyre let loose a roar that was both one of victory and one that brought
any resistance to an end.

As they flew high over the remnants of the Dornish army, Aurane praised his dragon for all
he'd done here today. He felt no shame at the lives they'd ended. Dorne had been offered a
high seat at Aemon and Rhaenys' table. They'd have gained much from any agreement they'd
made with their kin. Instead, they'd reaped the whirlwind and the lives lost here today were
their fault and not Aurane's or Darkfyre's. The lives they'd soon lose were their fault too for
Aurane was under no illusion that Aemon was finished with Dorne just yet.

The Battle of Highgarden 301 AC.
Mace Tyrell.

Two of his sons were marching to battle and to glory while he had been left behind. Mace had
bristled, pouted, and argued to no effect. He was not even placed in charge of the defenses of
Highgarden itself. That honor instead fell to his son and heir, Willas. That it was his own
blood in charge should have made him far prouder than it did. Yet his own shame at being left
behind and the knowledge that he'd win no honor or glory here today wouldn't allow him to.

It was not as if anyone would even manage to launch an attack on the keep itself. The battle
would be fought far from here and so Mace walked around Highgarden's halls unarmed and
without armor. He was heading to the Great Hall to have his luncheon when the horns rang
out. At first, he ignored them. For surely they could not mean what they suggested. Then
around him, guards began to run to place and Mace felt his breath still. Torn between
hurrying back to his chambers to arm and armor himself or to the parapets to see what in the
seven hells was going on, Mace stood still for the longest time.

"My lord." his guard said behind him and his words prompted him into action.

He was not a fit man. Not a man cut out for running fast and yet for the first time in so many
years, Mace Tyrell moved as if his body had not turned to fat. In what felt to him like no time
at all, he arrived at the stairs that led to the parapets. Out of breath and in dire need of a rest,
he forwent it for now and hurried up the stairs and out into the coolness of the day. The sight
that greeted him was both a pleasant one and one that was very much not. Lined atop the
parapets were so many archers that Mace couldn't count them all. In the distance, close
enough to be seen yet far away from the range of their arrows, a force of men were making
the way to Highgarden itself. To Mace's dismay, it was a far larger force than they had to
defend the keep.

Looking from the men on the parapets to the army that marched towards them and around
him, Mace soon spotted his son Willas and hurried to where he stood. Unlike him, Willas was
armed and armored. Standing next to his son stood Ser Vortimer Crane, Highgarden's Master
of Arms, and Igon Vrywel the Captain of the Guard. Moving to his son, Mace asked for and
was given the Myrish Eye that Ser Vortimer held in his hands. He looked through it and felt
his heart beat that much faster as anger replaced the fear that had threatened to take a hold of
him.

"Tarly." he spat.
"You must go to grandmother and mother, father. Arm yourself and see to their protection."
Willas commanded.
"I.."
"Go, father, we'll soon be under attack."

Mace wished to embrace his son. To hold him in his arms and offer him a father's comfort or
to mayhap feel a son's comfort for his own peace of mind. Instead, he did as he was bid and
after wishing those who remained on the parapets good fortune, his son most of all, Mace
hurried back down the stairs and to his chambers.

He'd just entered them when he realized his mistake. The men who awaited him there were
quickly joined by his guards and the fight soon began. Though he was not agile, Mace moved
past hands that reached out for him and made it to his sword. He cut down one of the men
just as his guards fell to the floor and moved to attack what seemed to be the leader of those
who'd attacked him. Ser Hyle Hunt was a man known to him somewhat and the knight
seemed surprised by the fight Mace was putting up. Something which annoyed him greatly.

"You! I welcomed you into my home! You supped at my table!" Mace shouted as he swung
his sword.
"You betrayed the gods, Tyrell." Ser Hyle retorted.

Time seemed to slow, Mace moved past Ser Hyle's strike and brought his own sword down in
an arc that was certain to hit home. The sound of the other blade blocking his own rang out
and then he felt a burning pain in his stomach. Falling to his feet, Mace dropped his sword
and placed his hands on the open wound. There was so much blood that soon enough his two
hands were completely red and he barely heard the argument behind him.

"He was to be taken alive."
"We needed him alive."
"FUCK!"

Through eyes that were now failing him, Mace saw Ser Hyle move to him with his sword in
hand.

"I'm sorry Lord Tyrell. May you find peace in the next world." Ser Hyle said and then Mace
felt the tip of the sword as it was pushed through his shoulder and deep into his chest.

Mother.
Willas.
Garlan.
Loras.
Margaery.
Alerie.

In his final moments, the gods were good to him as he saw them all one last time before he
then breathed his last.

The conquest of Westeros LII
Faith II

When the offer came from the Empire, the High Septon and the rest of the Conclave of the
Starry Sept welcomed it greatly. The chance to expand their influence to Essos, to stand side
by side with the House of the Dragon and see their gods accepted as the only true ones were
all too good to resist. Yet it had never been the High Emperor's desire to see it so which had
seen the offer made. Initially, it was to offer an olive branch to Westeros and honor his new
wife the Empress of the Sun. Later it was at the behest of his second wife, the Empress of the
Ice.

Sending their best and brightest, the Faith found little purchase at either the High Emperor's
Court or in Essos itself. Misunderstanding why that was and finding themselves outraged that
their teachings had not been accepted by the entirety of the House of the Dragon, they set

their sights on one of its members in particular. Words of scorn, looks of disgust, and open
talk that named the Dragonknight an abomination, all of it led not to the end they expected it
to. Nor at the time were they or anyone other than the High Emperor himself aware that it
was for those very reasons that the Faith had been offered a place at court in truth.

The seeds were planted from the very first moment they spoke of the love between the
Dragonknight and his sister as being something sinful. Those seeds grew over the years and
mayhap even without words spoken to him by his father, Aemon Targaryen would have still
sought to bring a reckoning to the High Septon and those at the Starry Sept. Whether that is
true or not matters little, for their actions during the Dragonknight's conquest sealed their
fate and changed Westeros forever.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Randyll Tarly.

He'd thought long and hard about how best to achieve what his gods wished from him. Had
the Dragonknight been here himself then it would have been he that Randyll sought to give
battle to. Aemon Targaryen was far from these shores and while taking his wife or aunt
prisoner held some appeal, it was not a task that Randyll felt easily accomplished. Though it
was with thoughts of it in his head that his new plan had come into being.

Prisoners allowed for so much to be done, especially if they were the right prisoners.
Margaery Tyrell and her mother would bring Hightower swords to his banner. They would
strengthen the Faith's grip on the Reach and if the dragons cared so much about their lackeys,
it would bring him close enough to strike the blow that took Aemon Targaryen from this
world once and for all. So while a large part of his Warrior's Sons would march with the
Lannister army, so as to make it look as if he did too, Randyll had taken just as large a
number of them with him to Highgarden. They were not the only strings to his bow either, he
thought happily.

Men who had hidden their true loyalty to the Faith had managed to remain at Highgarden
while the Dragons and the traitors to the faith had marched away from it. Not many, but
enough to get good and true men into the keep itself, and right now, his son Dickon along
with Ser Hyle Hunt and others would be rounding up their prisoners to bring them to face

their reckoning. Randyll felt he could take the keep, even at the cost of many men and he was
still undecided whether or not to do so. In the end, the decision was somewhat taken out of
his hands. The gods, ill fortune, or sheer arrogance were what decided his day's course of
action for him.

"Lord Willas, my lord." Mathos one of the men given to him by the High Septon said to him
as Randyll looked at the keep some distance away.
"What?"
"It's Lord Willas who's in charge of the defenses, my lord," Mathos said before handing him
the Myrish Eye.

As he looked to the parapets and saw the archers lined up, Randyll felt his blood begin to
boil. They'd left a man incapable of battle to hold the keep. A man who'd earned no glory in
spars or jousts and had led no men in any campaign of any sort. Had it been Ser Garlan or
even the younger more foolish brother, Loras, then it may have stayed his hand. Seeing who
it was, it very much did not.

"We attack," he said angrily.
"My lord?"
"We attack, blow the damn horns."

Staying out of arrow range, Randyll maneuvered his men closer to the keep. Soon enough
some of them were falling to the arrows anyway and his own archers fired back. Leaving his
horse so he was afoot, Randyll had the men use their shields for cover and they managed to
make up the ground between them and the keep. Just as he was about to give the order to
fully attack, a different set of horns rang out and the sight that Randyll was presented with
was one that seemed to have been let free of the seven hells themselves.

"Are those swords alight?" he heard a voice call out.

Looking at the men who rode towards them, Randyll could see that they very much were.
Though there were no more than a couple of hundred or so, the swords covered in flames
were more than enough to make their numbers not the most pressing concern.

"Archers fire!"
"Form Up!"
"Form Up I say!"

His words were lost in the wind and the moment the first sword collided with one of his men
and that man caught alight, was the moment he lost the day. They would not be taking the
keep here today. That would have to wait for another. For now, Randyll had bigger concerns.
His men had lost their discipline in the face of fiery swords and seeing those near them catch
fire showed just how dire his situation now was. His own archers couldn't even fire straight
as their fear won over their training.

"Retreat!"
"Retreat!" he shouted out and though he may have wished for a far more organized retreat
than he got, in the end, he welcomed that at least this order was followed through completely.

The riders with their flaming swords gave some chase, but they didn't seek to rout them nor
mayhap would they have been able to. Instead, they seemed happy enough that they'd forced
them from the keep and won the day. How many men he'd lost in this folly, Randyll knew
not. Some men were burned and now cried out in pain while others were unmarked. He'd
wager a quarter of his men were dead or would not fight again. Though it could be even more
than that.

When he reached where his horses were, Randyll looked back to the keep and worried now
about his son and the men he'd sent there.

Had they too faced men with fiery swords?
Had his son felt the flames?
Was his son still alive?

They were questions that for now, he had no answers to. So with a last look at Highgarden,
Randyll ordered his men away from the keep and to ride to where he'd arranged to meet up

with Dickon and Ser Hyle Hunt. He prayed to the Seven that his son and those with him were
safe and that they'd managed to do what he had not. Before he then offered a prayer to the
Stranger and vowed to see the men who wielded the flaming swords would pay dearly for
their insult. As would the man they owed their allegiance to.

Thoros of Myr.

Their orders were to march and join up with Rhaenys, Ser Arthur, and the others. Thoros
would have wagered that not a thing in this world would have stopped him from carrying
those orders out to the letter. Yet, the flames told him otherwise and so after sending word to
his queen, it was to Highgarden that he and the Flames of the Dragon made their way. It did
not take long for the vision in the flames to be proved to be true and as he looked at the men
who were readying their attack on the keep, Thoros knew why he'd been sent here by his god.

Despite the advantage that defending a keep gave you over taking one and even with
whatever adjustments Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, or Torgho Nudho had made to the defenses
of Highgarden, the keep would fall today. Or it would without the Flames of the Dragon's
arrival. The numerical advantage the attacking force had was too much for them to withstand.
Given how close they were now to the keep itself, they'd almost already lost.

Thoros closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to R'hllor. He then unsheathed his sword and
at his signal, his men did likewise. As one the prayers were spoken and around him swords,
lances, spears, and other weapons all alighted. Raising his hand in the air, Thoros pointed his
sword at their enemy and shouted out the order.

"Charge!"
"Give no quarter!"
"Force them back!"

Over a hundred horses were soon in full charge and the sound of their hooves as they hit the
ground was like thunder. Thoros could clearly see the fear in the eyes of those they charged
toward. These men had never faced the flames before and after today, some would never face
them again. He had no need to look back to the keep that was now behind them or to listen to
the cheers that the men atop that keep roared out. Nor did he need to tell his men to dodge the
arrows that flew their way in such a haphazard manner.

Faced with flames a man quickly learned the full extent of his courage. Few who did so for
the first time didn't find that it would falter. Those he now faced were not among that few. As
his sword struck home it wasn't the blow that took the man it hit from this world. That honor
belonged to the fire that his strike had left behind. Around him, some men fell dead from the
strikes his men laid upon them. The lucky ones that was. Men whose own good fortune
smiled not on them today, however, they felt the full force of R'hllor's light.

The screams of men as they burned were loud. Some of them rang on for some time as they'd
only known a kiss from the fire and not its full embrace. By the end of the day, there would
be many men who'd bear the scars of this battle. There would be many men who'd bear those
scars into the next world as well.

"Force them back!" he shouted when the discipline of those they faced had deserted them
completely.

They were broken. Defeated. Their will had been shattered and the truth of them was now
known to one and all. These men were so-called men of faith. Men who knelt and named the
Seven who are One as the true gods. The men who rode with Thoros named another so and it
was he who proved truest of all this day.

"For R'hllor!" he shouted.
"For the Dragonknight!"

In what felt like no time at all, the attack on Highgarden had been repelled. Though a part of
him wished to ride after these foolish men and teach them even more of a lesson, that was not
the task he'd set himself. Looking to his men, he saw that but a few had fallen. Those who did
would be warm in R'hllor's embrace and be given to the fires before Thoros and the Flames
of the Dragon left here today. For now, he needed to ensure that the keep he'd come to defend
had truly held and once he'd done so, then it would be to the next battle he rode.

"To the Keep!" he shouted as those who'd fallen were carried there on their horses and those
who'd not, they rode knowing they'd earned their god's favor once more.

Margaery.

The attack had caught them all by surprise. Margaery had been with her cousins and they'd
tried their best to make it to where she knew her grandmother and mother were. It was not to
be. The men had come out of nowhere and her guards were soon dead. Worst of all, other
than not knowing how the rest of her family fared, was who it was who had attacked them.
Margaery knew Dickon Tarly. While she'd not named him a friend, he had supped with
Gwayne and her brothers many times. She'd seen him spar and practice his jousting with
Loras and Garlan and now he'd killed good men and was taking her prisoner.

Her words weren't listened to until she literally threw herself to the floor. Acting like the
spoiled brat that she very much was not, Margaery played up on how some men may think of
her, Dickon included. She was stunned when he slapped her across the face and yet it only
strengthened her resolve. The need to do what she must had overruled even her fears for her
own safety and so his slap didn't have the effect he imagined it would.

"No, you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming through the keep. How long do you think
you'll manage to do so before more guards come our way?"
"I'll fucking bind and gag you." Dickon sneered.
"And you or your men will lose their fingers when they do so."

Margaery almost smiled when she saw him sigh and his shoulders dropped. There was
nothing she could do for herself, but her cousins didn't need to suffer her fate. Elinor may be
trying to put on a brave face but Megga was close to breaking down completely. For once
Margaery was grateful she had been only with both girls this day. Usually, there would be a
much bigger group of them and she could only shudder at the thoughts of who else they may
have managed to take hostage.

"Very well, what do you want?" Dickon said.
"Leave my cousins be. You are not here for them and they are worth little to whatever your
cause is."
"No."
"Then we are at an impasse."

"I'll hurt them if you don't cooperate," Dickon said and Margaery knew she couldn't look to
either of her cousins as the sight of their fear would break her. So she instead looked only at
Dickon Tarly and did so with hate-filled eyes.
"Then you'll have to kill me, or the first chance I get I'll take my own life," she said to gasps
from Megga and Elinor.

To her relief, neither of her cousins spoke any words for she feared that were they to do so
then she'd not have been able to continue. Dickon seemed to take some time to consider
before finally accepting it once she gave her word that her resistance would now stop.

"Very well. Lock them both in one of the rooms." Dickon said to the guards before glaring at
her "One divergence from you or non-acceptance of my orders and I'll see them both dead. I
swear it on the Mother."

Margaery nodded and then gulped once Dickon had turned from her. She rose to her feet and
walked silently with him and the guards and prayed they'd be found before they left the keep.
When she heard footsteps coming her way, she smiled inside. Only to find that it was more of
Dickon's men and not more of her own that had joined them.

She listened as Ser Hyle Hunt spoke about her mother and grandmother. There was some
mention of her father though she could hear not the words that were spoken. To her surprise,
there was an argument between the two men that she hoped would give her some advantage
or means to escape. Dickon's words about her cousins' fate if she tried being what stopped her
from attempting to do so.

"We're leaving," Dickon said a few moments later and Margaery was manhandled as they
now hurried through the keep.

As much as she hoped someone came to rescue her before they reached their destination, a
part of her begged the gods to have them hold back. There were close to twenty or mayhap
even thirty men with her now and she doubted that any fight would end well for her were it to
come. Soon enough she was being placed atop a horse and she felt Dickon Tarly's arms as
they wrapped tightly around her. It was not a feeling she welcomed nor did she appreciate the
speed as they rode away from Highgarden.

No words were spoken and after who knew how long, she eventually saw more and more
men in the distance. Knowing that these were not friends or allies almost broke her. Finding
out what she did once she reached them, very much did. Not only was she taken to Randyll
Tarly who looked at her with disdain and disgust, but the Lord of Horn Hill reveled in what
he told her. Her father was dead. Soon her brothers and husband would be too according to
Randyll Tarly. As she cried until she could no more, Margaery swore she'd live to see both
Randyll Tarly and his son in the ground. She prayed not to the Seven or the Stranger to see it
so. Nor did she wish for her brothers to be who sought justice for her father's death and her
abduction.

"May they know the bite of Dark Sister and may her hunger for blood be as true as Rhaenys
named it," Margaery said as they rode to where she knew not.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: Jaime and Gerion come up against forces led by Garlan Tyrell and a dragonriding princess. While Tywin faces off against Rhaenys and her army. In Highgarden
Margaery’s absence is noticed. While bodies fall and those he cares about face a fight
for their lives, Aemon, and the Blood Wyrm make ready to unleash hell on their enemies
as the battles come to a conclusion.
For those following my other fics, the next part of this chapter, Dragonverse, and
Brothers Keeper are all up next.

Lions or Dragons, Who Roars Loudest Part Three.
Chapter Summary

Jaime and Gerion come up against forces led by Garlan Tyrell and a dragon-riding
princess. While Tywin faces off against Rhaenys and her army. While bodies fall and
those he cares about face a fight for their lives, Aemon, and the Blood Wyrm make
ready to unleash hell on their enemies as the battles come to a conclusion.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Reach 301 AC.
Ser Jon Fossoway.

He rode with his Goodnephew Garlan and as part of the princess's escort. Somewhere above
them, a dragon flew and Jon found his eyes would turn in search of it every so often. Other
than a dark speck that could be the dragon or even a bird, he found no sign of each and every
time. Yet one look at just how relaxed the princess seemed to be was enough to tell him it
was still there. As for the man who rode next to the princess, Jon wasn't sure that man knew
how to relax. Targo Nadhoo or something he'd heard him named as and the man hadn't smiled
once since they'd left Highgarden.

It was a strange thing, as had someone asked Jon a few days earlier if he'd have been able to
raise a smile, then he'd have looked at them as if they'd lost their minds. As they rode,
however, he'd found himself in good cheer. Almost all of the reason for that was the princess
herself. Small, slight, barely a slip of a girl, and yet there was something about her that just
exuded confidence. She was a beauty too, one that Jon wagered he'd never seen the likes of
before. The dragon in them, he'd heard some of his men say as he'd passed them when they
were at camp.

Princess Daenerys rode her horse as if she'd been born in the saddle. She told tales of riding
outside Volantis with the queen and king along with other members of her family. When she
laughed it was like the sound of the sweetest lute or harp and she laughed often. Jon had even
wondered if there was something more than just friendly talk between her and Garlan more
than once. Though his Goodnephew had been quick to set him right. Not that Garlan was

against the possibility of a match, he very much was not, but he now understood it was never
one that could take place.

'More's the pity' Jon thought as he caught the princess and Garlan laughing at something once
again.

The sound of the wings beating above them was loud. As Jon turned his head once more to
the sky, he saw the black dragon clearly. It was, as it had been the first time he'd seen it, an
awe-inspiring sight. As too was the even truer smile that came over the princess's face when
the black dragon landed some distance away from them. With some words to Garlan that Jon
didn't hear, the princess and her stoic guard both rode away from them and quickly
dismounted before one after the other, they climbed up on the dragon's back and took to the
sky. Watching them as they flew off, Jon moved his horse closer to Garlan's and asked where
they were going.

"Princess Daenerys intends to scout the army we're to face, Jon. They can see far more as
they fly over the ground than our outriders as they merely ride over it."
"Can they truly?" he asked, not that he didn't believe it, but more he wondered what could be
seen from atop a dragon's back.
"Torgho Nudho told me of it somewhat," Garlan said and Jon quickly took a mental note of
the correct way to say the name. He had no wish to get on the man's bad side after all as had
seen him beat even Garlan in a spar "Though he wouldn't go into too much detail, it's how the
Dragonknight makes his plans of attack I'd wager."
"And the princess seeks to do the same?"
"She does," Garlan said, his smile an easy one and despite already having had this
conversation, Jon felt the need to do so once again.
"You and the princess, Garlan, is there truly no chance?" he asked and Garlan sighed before
answering.
"Though she's not said it to me herself, Jon, the queen has spoken to Margaery about it during
one of their talks. It's not she nor the Dragonknight who'll choose who the princess weds, it's
her brother, the High Emperor. Queen Rhaenys has made it clear that it'll not be a match in
Westeros her father will consider."
"They think so little of us?" Jon asked, somewhat annoyed.
"Compared to them we are little. Do you know how much coin there is in reserve in
Meereen? Lys?" Garlan asked and Jon shook his head.

"No."
"Neither do I, but I wager it puts the entirety of the Reach to shame. No, any hope we ever
have of a match with the dragons won't be through me, I'm sorry to say."
"You think there is hope though?" Jon asked curiously.
"Margaery, Jon. There's your hope." Garlan said proudly.

They rode for more than an hour or so. During this time both he and Garlan had started to
look to the sky more and more in worry. The day was darkening and they'd need to make
camp soon enough and so at the sight of the stream, they began to do so. No sooner had they
stopped than the dragon arrived back and landed some distance from them. Garlan and Jon
himself were among those who rode to offer the princess and her guard a horse to ride back
to their still-forming camp.

The sight he was greeted with when they reached the black dragon was as much an aweinspiring one as seeing it fly through the air. Standing in front of it and looking tiny in
comparison, the princess whispered words in a language that Jon understood not. As for the
dragon, the sounds it made could only be described as joyful. Torgho Nudho stood a couple
of feet away, his hands behind his back and the tip of his spear protruding over his shoulder.
To all eyes he looked uninterested at the sight in front of him and yet Jon would wager that
their swiftest horse and rider wouldn't reach the princess before the spear was in their chest.

"You found the Lannisters, princess? "Garlan asked as the princess left the dragon behind and
mounted her horse easily.
"We did. There is much we must discuss, Ser Garlan."

They held a war council that evening and Jon worried that their numbers would prove even
more of a disadvantage than he had feared. All in all, they had close to 10,000 men with
4,000 of those mounted. According to the princes, it would be twice that at least that they
faced with the danger of more arriving to join them. The Lannisters had split their army into
three with the largest force being led by Tywin Lannister himself no doubt. Though they
knew not who led the force they'd face, Jon would wager it would be one led by either Prince
Jamie or his uncle Prince Gerion. Either one would be a formidable opponent. Especially
with the numerical advantage.

"Would it not be best to attack this second force, princess?" Garlan asked and Jon looked to
see the small nod of Torgho Nudho's head.

"I intend to do so, Ser Garlan." Princess Daenerys said, "I mean to break their spirit and their
ranks long before we give battle to the army we must face."
"What are your orders, princess?" Garlan asked.

By the time they marched the next day, they did so without the princess but with her stoic
guard. The Princess and the dragon had left sometime during the night and with the gods'
good graces, they would arrive before their own battle began. A battle that would be
happening today if what the princess said was true. Again, Jon's eyes looked to the sky often
as they rode, and once again he found no sight of the black dragon when he did so.

It was after midday when they reached the field and almost as they did so, the Lannisters did
as well. Looking across at them as they lined up in the distance, it was clear that their
numbers were as the princess had named them as. Waiting for the parley to be called, Jon
again looked to the sky and once again found no respite at what he saw there. He, Garlan, and
their guards rode out to the middle of the field and they were soon joined by the leaders of
the army they'd come to face. It turned out to be Prince Jaime who led them and Jon had
rarely if ever seen a more impressive-looking warrior.

Jaime rode a white stallion and wore gilded golden armor. His helm was a lion's head forged
in gilded gold complete with what looked to be a mane of sorts. Watching him as he removed
the helm, Jon could imagine that he was every young maiden's dream. Gold of hair and green
of eye were it not for the cocky look on his face then Jon would name him the most
handsome man he'd ever seen. He both wished the princess was with them and was glad she
was not at the same time. Some women would be swayed by a man who looked as Jaime
Lannister did and Princess Daenerys was still a young girl at heart.

"Ser Garlan."
"Prince Jaime."
"Well, now the pleasantries are over with." Jaime said chuckling "I offer you but these terms.
Kneel and pledge your sword to my father and join your men to mine own. Together we can
force the dragons from our lands and who knows, in time mayhap we can join our great
Houses too."
"We reject your terms, Prince Jaime, and offer you our own. Give up this folly and we'll
speak on your behalf to King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys. The dragons are merciful, but only
to those who deserve it."

Jon looked on as Jaime raised his hand to his brow and looked behind them and then to the
skies above before laughing loudly.

"Dragons? I see no dragons, Ser Garlan? Have your so-called king and queen deserted you?
Do they leave you to fight alone? I'll make my offer one more time…."
"And I reject it still."
"Very well. When next we meet I'll offer you no quarter, Ser Garlan. I'll look forward to
putting the Gallant to the sword."

The two sets of horses turned and rode back quickly and Jon chuckled despite his worries
when Garlan spoke.

"Cocky prick."
"Why not tell them of the princess?" one of the guards asked and Garlan laughed.
"You'd have me give up all our surprises, Gareth?"

Though he didn't show it, Jon was sure that Garlan was as nervous as he was when they lined
up. As he had to have been when he gave the order to attack. There was no sign of dragons in
the sky and as he rode out to give battle, Jon prayed he would hear the beating of the black
dragon's wings sooner rather than later.

The Reach 301 AC.
Tyrion.

He'd said goodbye to his uncle and his brother. Jaime and Gerion had their own tasks to do in
the upcoming battle and Tyrion envied them not. Nor did he like the fact that they were
parting here. As much a folly as he thought the upcoming battle to be, he'd feel it somewhat
less so with his brother amongst their own forces. The men who'd instead lead them into the
fray were far lesser than Jaime. Though the Mountain would see men's courage falter no
doubt.

His father marched their men fast and sought to take the best ground. His battle plans were
sound and were it just men of the Reach that they were facing, then Tyrion would feel no
doubt whatsoever. It was not just men of the Reach however, it was not simply men nor men
at all that gave Tyrion so much doubt. While his father may think that the dragons'
reputations were overblown, that was partly because of his nature and mainly because he'd
not seen them in the flesh. Tyrion had, and he feared that everything he'd ever heard about
them was true. More than that, he feared it was understated and not overblown.

Yet it was not Tyrion Lannister who led this army or who was the architect behind this
campaign. His father, the almighty Lion of Casterly Rock, King Tywin Lannister, a man
who'd not admit he was wrong even after being proved so, was who was in command. All the
rest of them had no choice other than follow. So they rode, he drank alone in his tent and he
worried more and more. Then the next day, he'd ride close to, but not too close to his father,
and he and the Hound would discuss the battles to come.

"You worry not?" he asked.
"Of course, I worry. Only a fool doesn't worry."
"Yet you show it not?"
"Only a fool shows his worry."
"Is there anything a fool doesn't do?" Tyrion asked in jest.
"Ask fool questions." the Hound said grumpily.

Though some thought Sandor Clegane a poor choice of sworn sword and a man whose
tongue was far too sharp for his station, Tyrion was not amongst them. There was an honesty
about the Hound. You knew where you stood with him. He was well aware it was coin and
coin alone that had both Sandor's loyalty. So many years earlier he'd made him an offer that
he believed the man would always live up to.

"Whatever they offer you, I'll pay double, Sandor. Remember that."

Tyrion had meant it too. Should anyone ever seek to get Sandor to betray him, then he'd at
least like the chance to beat their offer. He had the coin, there was no point in being stingy
with it. Especially if that cost him his life. As they rode through the Reach and each mile took
them closer to the battle to come, Tyrion found his thoughts drifting to Jaime.

Had he fought already?
Had he faced no resistance and taken Highgarden by now?
Did his father have his prisoners and so reduce the need for any battle to be fought?

It made him look not to the sky and not search for dragons. Instead, he sought out any sign of
riders arriving that were not his father's outriders and yet no message came. When he thought
about it more logically it was clear that none would either. There was no way that Jaime had
reached Highgarden as of yet. If anything their own fight would come long before then.
Something that was proved to be true, not more than a day later.

Tyrion had slept comfortably. He'd found a camp follower and paid her twice the coin that the
captain of Lord Banefort's guards was offering. She was a pretty little dark-haired thing and
talented to boot. After breaking his fast, he'd mounted his horse and by midday, they had
reached the grounds his father wished the battle to be fought upon. To both Tyrion's and his
father's dismay, they were not the first to do so. As there lined up against them on the hill that
his father had wished to name his own, the Reach Army awaited.

While he'd not lie and say that seeing his father's annoyance was something that he enjoyed,
it was a short-term feeling only. For all too soon he began to ponder on the fact that his father
was right to be annoyed and that while they had the numbers, they'd lost some of their
advantages. Tyrion was almost apoplectic when the time came for the parley. His father
showed his pettiness and gravely insulted Rhaenys Targaryen in doing so. So much so that by
the time they rode out to meet with the self-proclaimed Queen of Westeros, Tyrion worried
that no rules of parley would be respected. To his relief they very much were.

"King Tywin." the woman he assumed to be Rhaenys Targaryen said.
"Lady Targaryen." his father replied arrogantly.

Tyrion was torn between looking at the woman for whom Aemon Targaryen had accepted
exile and turned down the offer of wedding Tyrion's niece, and the men who were with her.
The sheer beauty of the woman winning out for now. Rhaenys Targaryen was clearly from
Dorne. She had black almost raven-like hair and deep purple eyes. Tanned, poised and though
she wore armor, clearly possessing a wondrous figure, he could fault the Dragonknight, not
for his choice.

As for the men with her. One of them was clearly the former King Gwayne Gardener while
the man next to him seemed to be one of the Tyrells, Loras, or Garlan mayhap. The two men
who whore white cloaks were known to him only by reputation and yet it was easy to see
which was which. Ser Barristan Selmy was as old as Tyrion's father and looked as fierce and
vibrant as Jaime had named him. His brother respected the man's skills greatly and would be
upset that he'd not get the chance to face off against the Bold. As for the other man, his
legend was even more storied than the Bold's was. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the
Morning, arguably the greatest swordsman in Westeros or Essos and even more arguably the
greatest swordsman that ever lived. Knowing Jaime as he did, Tyrion would wager seeing
Dawn and imagining it against Brightroar would only be beaten by facing the Dragonknight
and Dark Sister in his brother's dreams.

"Your offer is rejected, King Tywin and your insults will be remembered and answered in
kind. We offer you no quarter and this war now ends with your death. Be thankful that my
husband is elsewhere or that death would be a long time coming and not one I'd wish even on
a fool like you." Rhaenys said as she turned her horse and she and those with her rode back to
their lines.
"What happened?" Tyrion asked the Hound as his father and uncle turned their own horses
around and did the same.
"Your father named the queen a foreign whore, Tyrion. Told her to take her lizard and scurry
back to the lands from whence they came."
"The fucking fool." Tyrion spat, though far out of his father's earshot.

He would not be fighting in the upcoming battle. Nor would the Hound whose job it was to
make sure that he suffered no wounds here today. Joffrey would be and his horror of a
nephew was busy regaling people with the things he was going to do to Rhaenys Targaryen.
Tyrion almost wished the Dragonknight was here and that he heard some of them. Only the
worry that if he and the Blood Wyrm were here then they'd already be lost stopped him from
truly thinking so.

The sky seemed to darken before the first skirmishes began. Archers fired arrows that didn't
hit home, and some cavalry moved onto the field and tried to will their enemies to leave their
ranks and give chase. Not that a single one of them did so. His father sat on his white horse
wearing armor that looked like an even more expensive version of his brothers. Tyrion
however was forbidden from wearing anything that named him a Lion other than his cloak
and the family sigil embossed on his breastplate. Meanwhile, both Jaime and his father took
to the field like lions reborn. As too did his uncles, though both of them as much lesser lines.

Thus far there had not even been a true fight and they'd seen no sign of the dragon. Tyrion
heard his father name it once again as a myth and legend used to frighten children. Not that
he was saying they didn't exist mind, his own words and others having named them as true
enough for his father to accept they did. More it was that his father was now even more
convinced that it was only the Dragonknight who could truly bring a dragon to bear. That
with him far from here, they'd not face one today.

So confident was Tywin Lannister in his assertions that after an hour or so of teasing and
prodding, the battle began for true. Archers, infantry, cavalry, and men were sent to the flank
and led by his uncle Kevan. His father sent in his first wave and it was enough to bring the
dragon into play. All eyes looked to the sky as Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and Meraxes flew
out over the field. Tyrion's gaze however was on his father and he swore he saw fear there
albeit briefly.

"Fire the Scorpions"
"Archers aim for the Rider, not the dragon!"

The orders went out and then they were greeted by the sound of thunder as Meraxes roared
loudly before unleashing her flames.

The Princess's Wroth, The Reach 301 AC.
Gerion Lannister.

They rode with Jaime and the larger part of their army for some of the distance before
splitting off. Jaime was to lead the Vanguard while he was to attack from the east. He had a
little over ten thousand men in his command, not quite a quarter of the full army but a large
enough force given they'd be somewhat unexpected. Still, as he led the march from the front,
Gerion did so with one eye on the sky at all times.

While his brother may sneer at the effectiveness of dragons, Tywin had never seen the
Bloody Gate for himself, Gerion had. Many years earlier he'd traveled to the Vale in search of
a bride, or to be more precise he'd done so with his brother's hope for a betrothal as the reason
for his journey. Gerion had ridden through the Bloody Gate and into the Vale itself and he
knew full well just how formidable an obstacle it was. To hear that it was now no more and

all it had taken was a couple of passes of the dragon. No, Gerion would certainly not
underestimate just how big a danger one would cause their forces.

So, they camped in cover and marched not too far from the same. It made it heavier going but
was more than worth it to Gerion's mind. They'd still reach their destination with time to
spare and thus far it had been both an easy march and a boring one. He wished he had Tyrion
with him. His nephew was a great wit and always amused him. Instead, he was left with dolts
like his cousin Stafford and Leo Lefford. Though he did have Lord Brax's son Flement with
him and he'd always much liked the younger man. As they readied to set up camp for either
the last or second last night, he turned to Flement and bid him to give the order.

"At once, my prince," Flement replied and Gerion tried not to glare at his smiling face as he
rode off to do as he'd been bid.

He had never considered himself a prince, not in the same way that his nephews or even his
brother Kevan did. A title meant little to Gerion other than it was one that had been passed
down to his daughter along with his name. The advantages of being a king allowed for his
brother to do as he'd asked him, even if it had cost Gerion much in the way of his future.
There was to be no traveling until Joy came of age, no great adventures. His job was to do as
all Lannisters and to enhance the family's name and holdings. Hence this folly, he thought
bitterly.

Gerion was no craven and he'd even enjoyed listening to the plans that Tywin had come up
with over the years. Plans that would see their House rule over not just one kingdom but all
seven, plans that should have been abandoned the moment a dragon arrived in Westeros. It
was not his place to tell his brother what to do, however. Not his words that would be listened
to even if it was. The only person who could get Tywin Lannister to change his mind when it
was set was long since gone and so like a good little brother, he sat, accepted, and now
sought to carry out this fool's errand.

'Less foolish with the Dragonknight far from these shores' he heard the voice in his head say.

Gerion had listened when Tyrion spoke. His brother may have no time for his youngest son,
but Gerion always had. As had Genna. They had seen the intelligence that Tyrion possessed
and along with his wit and ability to make dull situations far more interesting, they were traits
that marked Tyrion as being far more than his size. In his own way, Tyrion was as worthy a
son as Jaime was, though Tywin would never see that when he looked at his son.

It was because of how highly he thought of his nephew that he'd taken his words to heart.
While Tyrion had agreed there was an advantage to be had in making their move now, he'd
not agreed with his father's assertion of what the Dragonknight would do upon his return.
Should they manage to take down a dragon or to either capture or kill Rhaenys Targaryen,
then they'd bring the Empire's wrath down upon them. Yet it wasn't their wrath that Tyrion
spoke of and which gave Gerion shivers in the night.

"That man defied his father, Gerion. He did so for love by all accounts. Imagine what he'll do
should we put his love in harm."
"We could capture her, take her hostage. Surely it'd be enough to allow us to negotiate with
the Empire. Her release for them leaving Westeros to its own devices."
"Mayhap, but I doubt the Dragonknight will accept any terms. I fear that this ends with our
House in flames and not even the Rock will be enough to shelter us from a dragon's wroth."

He had wanted to put it down to worry and doubt. To explain it all away by the fact that
Tyrion knew little of war. Yet to his dismay, Gerion found he could not. Instead, he'd done his
best to bury it deep within himself and to keep up a brave face as they marched. Only
allowing it out when he was alone with his thoughts or laying in his bed. Tonight for some
reason it had come upon him earlier than ever and he knew not why that was.

With the camp set up, he ate with the men and soon enough was laughing and japing along
with them. Flement proved himself a good mummer as he spoke of how Mace Tyrell and
Gwayne Gardener would look when they saw the army that marched against them. That he
made no mention of Rhaenys Targaryen or her dragon only helping keep the men's moods
light. Gerion eventually made his way to his bed early where he found his dreams full of fire
and men's screams. He woke in a cold sweat and couldn't eat his morning meal to break his
fast.

Later as they marched, he again felt a shiver go down his spine. Looking around him, he
could see there was little cover and it concerned him greatly. When he saw it in the sky, he
could not tell. It was after midday, on that much he was clear, and yet soon it mattered not.
The dragon had found them and as he ordered arrows to be fired and the scorpions made
ready, it roared loudly and drowned out his words. Black as the night's sky and looming large
over their heads, Gerion was not the only man among them to lose his discipline when it flew
towards them. In some ways, it helped save his life the first time it did so.

"MAKE FOR COVER! MAKE FOR COVER!"

The shouts were soon replaced by screams as a wave of fire swept over the men making
them. Though he was riding hard in search of someplace where the dragon's flames would be
rendered useless, his eyes took in the devastation around him as he did so. Again and again,
the dragon dropped lower and loosed its flames, and any in their path was simply blown
away and turned to ash. Those lucky enough to be in the dragon's direct path that was. For
Gerion had found that there was something much worse than being caught in the full wave of
the dragon's flames. Being caught only partly by them.

Men screamed as they burned. Others rolled on the ground as they tried to put out the flames
that had taken their hair from their heads and covered their backs and chests. While others ran
or rode in any direction that took them out of the dragon's path. Only to find that there were
few directions that did so.

How many passes it took to break his army, Gerion knew not. Broken they were though and
as the dragon flew over them one last time, Gerion awaited the fiery death that was soon to be
his. Eyes closed, he thought of his daughter and of her smile and laughter. It comforted him
little to do so. Gerion doubted that the dragons would be satisfied with his, Tywin's, Kevan,
Tyrion and Jaime's deaths. They'd seek their entire House to know the flames as Tyrion had
suggested and he couldn't bear to think of Joy being burned alive. There was little he could
do, however, for his time was now upon him. So as the dragon roared even more loudly,
somehow he found the courage to face his death with his eyes open.

It was not to be. Today was not his day to die and he looked on in relief as the black dragon
flew away from them rather than toward them. Around him, there were men like him who
hadn't felt the lick of the dragon's flames, though there were far more who had. His army was
broken and given the direction the dragon flew in, his nephew would soon know the truth of
the war they'd brought down upon themselves. There was nothing he could do for Jaime. Nor
for his brothers or his other nephew. Looking around at his men, there was little he could do
for them either.

Riding fast from the field and heading west, Gerion resolved himself to do the one thing any
father should. A father's job was to protect their child and so it was to Joy and Casterly Rock
he rode. He prayed to any god that would listen that he'd make it there before the dragons
flew and loosed their flames upon it.

The Princess's Battle, the Reach 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

They had almost reached it when they saw the army in front of them. Another day or two of
marching and Highgarden would have been in sight. To some who rode with him, it was
disappointment that marred their features. Yet Jaime wore an eager smile as he, Addam
Marbrand, and the Strongboar rode out to parley. They soon face to face with Ser Garlan
Tyrell, a Fossoway of some sort, and some other men that Jaime cared not about.

He offered the terms that would cause the most insult and laughed when mention of a dragon
was made. There were no dragons in sight and should Rhaenys Targaryen be leading these
men, then she'd have led the parley and not Garlan Tyrell. No, the dragon was no doubt
where his father was and while that gave him some pause and made him worry for his father,
brother, and uncle, it made his task here easier.

Riding back from the parley, Jaime felt as confident as he had when he'd ambushed Rickard
Stark. He had the numbers, the men, and those lined up against him were poorer by every
measure. Still, he felt the need to impress upon his men that Garlan Tyrell was to be his and
his alone. He wished to test his blade here today and while cutting down men would win him
much glory, cutting down the Gallant would be a tale worthy of song.

"You truly believe there is no dragon, my prince?" Addam asked as they reached their own
lines once more.
"We know there is a dragon, Addam. Yet not one here. Fortunately for us, it's my father
who'll have to deal with a dragon's rage here today. Our task is as it has always been. Take
Highgarden and the hostages that will win us this war." Jaime said to nods of agreement.

Looking down at his lines, he reached into his pack and took out the Myrish Eye before
turning to look back at how the Reach had lined up their own forces. There had been no
change to their formation at all and it pleased him greatly. The ground they were to fight on
was flat and there was nowhere that men could be hidden or no time for caltrops and other
obstacles to be placed in their way. A true cavalry charge would break the army they faced,
yet Jaime remained cautious.

"Have some men ride around our right, Addam, have them each carry an archer with them
with orders to take down the Reach's archers when they move forward to stop our charge."

"At once my prince."
"Lyle."
"My prince." the Strongboar replied.
"You and I will lead the cavalry charge, break through their lines, Lyle."
"As you command my prince."
"Lord Serret."
"My prince."
"The infantry is yours."

With his orders given, Jaime bid Honor to ride down the ranks in front of his men. His long
golden hair flowed in the wind and when he unsheathed Brightroar, the men cheered loudly.

"Men of the West, we come here today to dine on Reachmens' blood. To show them who
rules for true. Today we roar loudly. For King Tywin and the Westerlands."
"For King Tywin."
"The West."
"Prince Jaime."

Riding back to his position, Jaime put his helm on his head and with a nod, the horns began
to blow. The horses moved out in a trot before soon speeding up to a gallop. By the time they
reached the middle of the field, they were in full charge and it was then that the arrows began
to fly in the sky. Some men fell when their horses were hit, yet soon enough their own arrows
were being fired. Both from behind their charge and from where he'd bid Addam to send their
riders.

It was a wondrous sight to behold. Their arrows flew from the right of the field and one by
one the Reach's archers began to fall or retreat. When he heard the horns ring out, Jaime
smiled under his helm, the true battle was about to begin. Lowering his lance, eyes focussed
only on what was in front of him, he saw the horses as they rode towards him and felt his
heart race at the sheer exhilaration of it all. This. This was what he was born to do. This was
his destiny. Today was his day.

Feeling the first hit of the lance and watching as the man he'd taken from his horse was
crushed under the hooves of his cavalry was as inevitable as the death of the second man who
fell to him. Jaime had no equal in the joust and here today, he proved it true once again.
Eventually, though all good things must come to an end and his lance broke after taking five
men from their horses. Those who faced him were soon to find that Jaime was even more
lethal with a sword in his hand as he unsheathed Brightroar and went about his work with
ruthless efficiency.

To his surprise, the Reach's lines held and their charge faltered somewhat. Jaime then ordered
his men to reform and charge again. His infantry had taken to the field far too soon and so as
he reformed their charge, he sent riders with orders for them to retreat and hold their position.
When this battle was won he'd give Lord Serret a public dressing down. Should the man have
managed not to get himself killed that was. He'd risked too much too soon and only that the
Reach's own cavalry was busy trying to repel Jaime's attack, or they'd have cut through his
lines like a knife through butter.

"Charge!" he shouted once he was ready and the attack began anew.

He saw him as he rode and felt his glory slipping away from him. Turning his horse, he began
to cut through men so as to reach Garlan Tyrell. Jaime was relieved that the man stood still
when he finally made it to him. Garlan had been unhorsed and Jaime could easily just ride
towards him and cut him down where he stood. There would be some, including Ser Benedict
Bloom his old Master of Arms, who'd demand it of him. But there was no glory in that and
despite it not being something that anyone would advise, Jaime dismounted his own horse
forcing those with him to do likewise.

"Tyrell," he shouted as Garlan looked his way.
"Lannister," Garlan responded and Jaime moved his hands to tell those with him that this was
his fight and his fight alone.
"I'll send you to the seven hells, Lannister."
"No, Tyrell, not this day."

While Brightroar was a masterful blade made out of the finest Valyrian Steel, Ser Garlan
wielded a simple castle-forged one. It was of decent quality but like the man who wielded it,
it was not of the same level as Jaime's own sword or Jaime himself. Soon the dance began

and Garlan showed he was a decent swordsman. Mayhap even the best that Jaime had faced
until now. Jaime though fought well within himself and almost toyed with the man as he did
so.

He easily dodged and parried and had more than one chance to end the fight. Though he
wished to drag it out a bit longer. Just as he had done, Garlan too bid men to let them fight
and not interfere. After a flurry of blows that forced Garlan backward, Jaime readied to
deliver the killing blow only to have his glory stolen from him.

"What the fuck did you just do?" he shouted at one of his guards, the man's lance protruding
from the back of Garlan's leg.
"My prince I…."

Anger almost took a hold of him and it took all he had not to end the man right there.
Looking to Garlan, he instead readied to take him from this world. It was not the clean
victory he'd wished for, but it was a victory all the same. Not to mention that once the
Reachmen saw that their commander was dead, it would break the spirits of those they fought
against.

"Any last words, Tyrell?" Jaime asked as the sounds of fighting around him grew louder.

To his credit, Garlan spoke none and accepted his fate. Jaime raised Brightroar and readied to
strike the blow, only for its descent to be stopped in mid-air. He looked at the dark-skinned
shaven-headed man who'd blocked his blow. The spear in his hand and shield on his arm
along with his armor marked him as not from these shores. It took Jaime a moment to realize
who it was he was facing and his smile soon reappeared on his face.

"Very well, Shall We?" he asked as he moved Brightroar back and readied to fight anew.
"Valar Morghullis." Aemon Targaryen's sworn shield said as Garlan was helped away.

The Conquest of Westeros LIII
Princesses of the Empire.

While it was through its male line that most believed the Empire drew its strength, only a fool
would look upon the princesses of the House of the Dragon and think them lesser. Some wrote
their legends large and enhanced them upon ascending to the role of Empress while others
bore and carried the rank of Princess for all their lives, their legends no less storied because
of it.

From Princess Alyssa who rode the fired Red queen Meleys to Princess Gael who was her
mother's strength after the loss of her sisters. Princess Shiera whose beauty enflamed men's
hearts like no other to Princess Baela and Rhaena the daughters of the Rogue Prince and
who were just as feared atop their dragons as their father at times. Few had ever named
Princess Daenerys as a woman who'd prove herself more than for her looks. Fewer had
thought she'd have amounted to more than a mere footnote in the annals of House Targaryen
history. A forgotten princess who mayhap would birth a son or daughter who'd achieve more
than she and while in some ways the latter proved somewhat true, it very much did not at the
same time.

For in war and later in peace, Princess Daenerys Targaryen along with her dragon
Nightwing proved to be far more than she may have looked at first sight. Resolved, resolute,
ruthless when needed, the princess was all of these things and yet she was compassionate,
caring, and considerate when needed to. Queen Rhaenys once told a tale of how many years
before, the Dragonknight had named his aunt Daenerys as the true terror and wonder of the
Empire and in Westeros and later Essos, his words were proved very true.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Dany.

She shook a little as she flew back to where Garlan, Torgho Nudho, and the rest of their army
were. How many lives she'd taken today, she knew not. Only that when she'd bid Nightwing
let loose her flames, her dragon had responded immediately. The army that was marching
towards Highgarden was defeated and broken, or one of them was at least. It was now time to
make sure the other was too. So she bid Nightwing to fly even faster and readied herself to do
what she must.

Reaching behind her, Dany took her water pouch and drank down a large swallow from it.
They were flying fast over the ground beneath them and yet she had no need to hold onto the
reins or to the saddle's horn. For years she'd flown on Nightwing's back and at times done so
with her hands outstretched. The feel of the wind as it hit her and moved her on her saddle
was something she'd always welcomed and though she kept her hands closer to her body this
time, she welcomed this wind all the same.

Despite the need to hurry back and knowing that she and Nightwing would be fighting an
even bigger and more true fight this time, Dany bid her dragon to land when she saw the herd
of aurochs. Without the need for her to tell Nightwing to do so, a wave of flame caught two
of the slower beasts, and soon enough her dragon was eating its meal happily. From there it
was to the stream that flowed nearby so that she could fill her water pouch and Nightwing
could drink her fill and once they'd both done so, it was back to the skies once more.

Dany felt it long before she reached the field of battle. Some second sense told her that the
battle had already begun and she cursed herself for her delay. Bidding Nightwing to fly high
in the sky, she looked down at the battle beneath her. The two forces were locked together,
though both had reserves and men who'd not yet been called to fight. So it was to those that
Dany's attention soon focussed upon.

"Zirȳ Nightwing, naejot zirȳ istiti jikagon." (Them Nightwing, to them we must go.) she said
directing the black dragon to the infantry that was regrouping some distance from the fight.

Her dragon needed no further order and almost as soon as the words came from her mouth,
they were flying over the Lannister infantry and reserves. As she'd seen with the army they'd
just broken, the men beneath them panicked and tried to escape. Just as it had been with the
others, they'd find no escape until Dany and Nightwing wished them to.

"Dracarys," she said as they flew a little lower.

The flames came in just as fierce a fashion as they had earlier that day. There was no letup in
their ferocity or their frequency. Each time she bid Nightwing to loose them, loose them she
did. With the reserves and infantry dealt with it, it was to the cavalry and the battle that was
raging deeper into the field that Dany now turned her attention to. With a loud roar,
Nightwing announced her presence to any who'd not already seen her and it had the desired
effect.

As had any of those who'd seen the black dragon today, those wearing Lannister colors now
worried far more about Nightwing's flames than they did anything else. They broke off from
the fights they were engaged in and Dany allowed them to put some distance between them
and the Reachmen before she bid Nightwing loose her flames once more. Three passes were
all it took. The Lannister army was as broken and defeated as the one she'd faced earlier that
day. With a loud roar of victory, their own reserves and infantry took to the field and the day
was won.

Were she Aemon then she'd probably have flown after those who now raced away from the
field of fire beneath her. She'd have ended them all without a second thought, mayhap. Dany
though was not her nephew and besides, her day was probably not truly done as of yet. She'd
seek out Ser Garlan and the other commanders, make sure that they had truly won the
comprehensive victory she believed they had, and then she and Torgho Nudho would fly to
where Rhaenys was. One more army would feel their flames before they rested.

"Kirimvose Nightwing, kirimvose ao sīr olvie." (Thank you Nightwing, Thank you so much)
she said as she praised her dragon for all she'd done.

Garlan Tyrell.

He should be dead, he should be dead and the battle should be lost. They'd been
overwhelmed by the numbers they faced and yet had held firm. Garlan looked to the sky as
much as he did the field. Hold on for a little longer the voice in his head had shouted to him.
The princess and her dragon would come, all they needed to was not break before she did so.
So they'd fought with all they had only to find it was not to be enough. They would lose and
his only true hope had been that the princess would arrive back before the Lannisters reached
Highgarden itself.

Still, he'd fought on as had his men and none had made it easy for the Lannisters to break
through completely. That was when he saw him come his way. Jaime Lannister had been
adorned with the very gold that had made his House so wealthy. He cut down men as if they
were nothing and when his eyes locked on Garlan's own, Garlan had known the fight would
come down to them both. He'd readied himself for it, cleared the ground so it could be
fought, and then he'd waited.

It soon became clear it was not a fight he'd win and when he felt the pain in his leg, he
awaited the killing blow. That he'd been sneak attacked gave him little comfort. Inevitable
death had a way of making you care not that those you'd faced had shown no honor. Not even
hearing Jaime Lannister berate the man who'd attacked Garlan had brought him any comfort.
Resolved and resolute, Garlan simply waited for the Prince of Casterly Rock to shut up and
take him from this world. Only for the blow to never come.

"Take him from here." a voice called out and Garlan looked to see Torgho Nudho had
blocked the blow that would have ended him.
"No, we stay," he called out painfully.
"GO NOW!" Torgho Nudho shouted as he and Jaime Lannister began their own fight and
before Garlan could argue any further, he was being carried from the field.

To his relief and annoyance, he wasn't carried far enough so that the fight was not still in his
sights. One of his men worked on the wound in his leg and had stopped the bleeding, thank
the gods. Garlan stupidly tried to rise to his feet only to fall to the ground in a heap. Then he
heard it and the cheers of his men as the black dragon flew over their heads. Injured,
bloodied, and in pain, Garlan smiled a true smile when he saw first the dragon and then the
flames it let down upon the Lannister lines.

The sight of the princess upon its back as she single-handedly ended the battle was a majestic
one. Soon enough the black dragon had dealt with the Lannister reserves and infantry. It then
turned its attention to the cavalry and they fared no better than their brothers-in-arms had.
Garlan wished to look just at the black dragon as it went about its deadly business but he
remembered that Torgho Nudho was out there facing off against Jaime Lannister. Turning his
attention to their fight, he looked upon two men who were well beyond his own skills.

Garlan had faced the Dragonknight in a spar and though he believed the king had fought well
within himself, he'd shown enough for Garlan to name him the best sword he'd seen.
Apparently, Ser Arthur was just as good if not better, something Garlan could barely believe.
If so, then he'd name Jaime Lannister as close to them both if not their equal. Torgho Nudho
however was easily matching him blow for blow. How he moved his spear was almost poetic
and whether or not Jaime had never faced off against a man who wielded one or it was
simply the skills that Torgho Nudho possessed, the match was far more even than Garlan's
own had been.

"He's got him."

"By the gods, he's fast."
"We're going to kill or capture Tywin Lannister's golden heir."

Around him, his men's voices told the tale of their own confidence in the outcome. Garlan
wasn't as confident as they were, but the more the fight went on, the more he began to be.
Torgho Nudho dodged out of the way of Jaime Lannister's strikes while at the same time, his
spear landed some of its own. Garlan was too far to see if it truly found purchase or not, but
at one point the swore he heard a loud cry of pain that came from Jaime Lannister and not
from the Unsullied warrior.

The princess and her dragon had left the field and other than wounded or men retreating, it
was now bereft of life. How many men had lost their lives here today, he knew not, but
looking to Jaime Lannister and Torgho Nudho, he wagered it would be one more before the
day was truly done. Dodge, move, strike, block with his shield, and repeat. Watching the
Unsullied was watching a man who knew his craft as well as he knew the lines on his face.
Jaime Lannister was proving that he too was incredibly skilled as he began to grow more
comfortable with facing off against a spear.

"BACK OFF OR I'll TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEADS MYSELF!" Jaime shouted out when
some of his men moved to offer him aid, a simple wave of Torgho Nudho's hand enough to
repeat the same message to Garlan's own who had moved closer to the fight.

Unlike his own fight, this one would be settled honorably. Garlan found himself somewhat
disappointed by that. While he was sure now that he'd have lost even had there been no
interference in his fight with Jaime Lannister, a part of him still wished to know for true.
Even if the likeliest outcome would have been his death. It made him look at this fight with
an even keener eye and then to his horror, he saw the moment it was lost.

Jaime Lannister wielded Valyrian Steel and while thus far Torgho Nudho had answered each
strike with the steel tip of his spear, Jaime had learned much during the fight. Feigning
another attack, this time he changed his sword's target in mid-air and brought the blade
crashing down on the shaft rather than the tip of the spear. The wood broke in two and it left
Torgho Nudho holding only a broken half of a spear shaft in his hand. Blocking the blow that
came at him with his shield a moment later, Torgho Nudho pulled out a short sword and
though he fought valiantly, the reach advantage that Jaime Lannister possessed soon began to
pay off.

One cut, a slice to the arm that cost Torgho Nudho his shield. A slice down his chest that
even Garlan winced at. All too soon one man was faltering while the other only gained in
strength and confidence.

"End this, protect him," he shouted, though around him men looked on unable to do anything
more than that as the death blow was finally struck and Torgho Nudho fell to the ground.

Whether it was some inner honor that Jaime Lannister possessed or mayhap more likely the
knowledge that there were now more of Garlan's men close by than his own, there was no
desecration of the corpse. Garlan, though he liked the man not, gave Jaime Lannister the
benefit of the doubt and said he at least respected his opponent enough to accept the victory
as enough. Ordering men to kill or capture the Lannister prince regardless, Garlan looked on
as a white horse was provided to Jaime and he and his men rode away. Though still pained
and finally feeling both the fatigue and blood loss, he ordered his men to take him to where
Torgho Nudho lay dead.

"See he's treated honorably and carried back to our lines with respect. He saved my life and
that's not something I can now pay him back for." Garlan said sadly as he looked down at the
fallen man.

The princess would be devastated and yet it was not her that was at the forefront of Garlan's
mind as he, his men, and Torgho Nudho were taken back to his army. Instead, it was the
Dragonknight and Jaime Lannister he thought about and the fight that would one day
inevitably come to pass.

The Battle of the Dragon Queen, the Reach 301 AC.
Ser Barristan Selmy.

Arrows filled the sky and yet none hit home. Atop the hill, his men were lined up and ready
to form a shield wall at his order. Further down the line, Ser Arthur took charge of the other
half of their standing army. Archers and Infantry they'd lead both while Lord Gwayne had his
Goodbrother would lead the cavalry. Barristan had expected that it would be Arthur or
himself who'd be charged with doing so, although politics as always played its part. Taking
orders from the Queen was one thing for the Warden of the South, doing so from him and
Arthur was quite another.

Still, they had horses in reserve and his own stallion was no more than two hundred years
from where Barristan stood, just in case he was needed to ride today. He had no need to look
off in the distance to know that Ser Arthur too was ready to take command of their cavalry
should the need arise. Far sooner than he had expected, the Lannister Cavalry came into view.
Barristan looked at them in the distance and did so with a disbelieving eye. It was too soon,
the conditions were not yet right for a cavalry charge and yet it seemed as if they were soon
to face one.

Wondering why the Old Lion would commit to such folly, he felt the shiver go down his
spine and looked to his archers. They'd strayed too far from the lines in an effort to get more
distance and actually hit their targets. To his horror, arrows soon flew at the archers
themselves. These came from the side and so he led men with shields covering their heads to
rescue however many of his archers as he could. It was as he was helping them back to his
lines that the horns blew and the cavalry charge commenced.

"Shield Wall!"
"Shield Wall!"

He shouted loudly and down the line men moved their shields in front of them. They'd lost
almost half their archers and those they'd not were shaken or injured. Still, they'd need to
fight or they'd find that they'd been only spared a little longer and not for true.

"ARCHERS MAKE READY!"

Grabbing one of the men who'd not answered his order, Barristan shook some sense into him.

"Ready you bow or ready yourself to face your gods, lad. The fight is upon us."

Fewer though they were and shaken they may be, but soon enough the archers formed up.
Then they, the men in the shield wall and even their own cavalry who were readying their
own charge began to cheer as the dragon flew over their heads.

It was as it had been the first time he'd seen it, a wondrous sight. The one that came next was
more a terrible one, though Barristan took some comfort in the fact it was their enemies who
faced the dragon's flames and not themselves. Enough men would die here today as it was.
Without the dragon leading them into the battle that number would contain far too many of
their own. So despite the horror of seeing men burn alive, Barristan breathed in relief at the
sight.

Horns rang out and then their own cavalry took to the field. Lord Gwayne looked ever the
cocky young man as he led them out. Though compared to the young Tyrell, he looked
actually modest. The charge was soon in full effect and so Barristan looked out at the
battlefield once more. Off far in the distance, the dragon was laying down its flames on
Tywin's lines. In the middle of the field men on horseback fought against other men as lances
and swords were brought to bear. At the moment they held the advantage and there was little
need for him or his men to do anything but wait. Something that all men in battle hated doing
and Barristan himself was no exception.

When he heard the sound, he knew not what it was. Louder than any roar and somewhat
shrill, at first he believed it to be some unknown weapon. It took him a few moments to
realize that it was the dragon who was making it and searching it out in the sky, he liked not
what he saw. Usually, Meraxes glided through the air almost effortlessly. Right now it was
almost fighting with itself as it tried to right itself for some reason.

Had it been hurt?
Could it be hurt?
What would they do if it had been?
Was the queen safe?

The questions fought for prominence in his mind and he had no answer to any of them.
Looking to the field he saw the tide was beginning to turn against them. With the dragon no
longer laying down its flames and with it not having done as much damage to the Lannister
ranks as they'd all hoped, the fight they were engaged in had suddenly become a far different
one. They were outnumbered and the Old Lion now held the advantage. Something that he
was now seeking to press home.

"Make Ready!"
"Form Up."

"HOLD THE LINE!" Barristan shouted as the true battle readied to begin.

Gwayne Gardener.

All along the march, he'd heard tales of battles fought, victories won and glory earned.
Gwayne had sat and spoken much to Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. He'd listened as the queen
regaled them with tales of the Dragonknight's battles in Essos or other tales of her family's
great victories over the years. Through it all, he and Loras had listened and dreamt of their
own glory. He'd imagined sitting in Highgarden's Great Hall as he told tales to his wife and
their future children. In his mind's eye, he reveled in the looks that Margaery aimed his way
and that his lords, knights, and men at arms shared with him as he told his tales.

Riding out to parley with Tywin Lannister, Gwayne found himself stewing in his anger. Even
more so once he'd returned from doing so. The sheer nerve of this old man to come into his
lands and make demands. This man who his father had wished to be named as his
Goodgrandfather. How the queen accepted his insults, Gwayne knew not. Yet Rhaenys sat
through them all regally and it was that and that alone which kept him from losing his
composure. There at least.

"Who does he think he is."
"What has that old fool ever accomplished."
"By the gods I hope it's my sword he falls under."

Loras had allowed him to rant and only insisted that he did so far from the queen's sight. His
Goodbrother seemed to be worried far more about Gwayne's reputation than he himself did.
Once it was out of his system, Gwayne made his way to the Queen and Sers Arthur and
Barristan where they went over their final plans. From there it was to his horse and his men
and soon enough they were riding out into the field of battle itself.

Lance in hand, helm shut, eyes were focussed only on the men in front of him, Gwayne
almost felt as if he was back in Highgarden and running a tilt against Loras. As his lance hit
home and the man he faced fell dead to the ground, he thanked the gods he was not. Loras
was always the better lance and now with no target in front of him, Gwayne looked to see his
Goodbrother prove it once more. The poor fool Loras faced had no chance and was taken
from his horse as easily as any Gwayne had ever seen. Quickly enough another rider moved
Gwayne's way and again the man found that his lance work was no match for Gwayne's own.

All too soon, it was with a sword in hand that he rode while Loras still wielded his lance as if
it was an extension of his arm. Ahead of them all, the dragon laid down its flames, and
Gwayne could only be thankful that they'd picked the right side. It had not been something
he'd at first wished to do. Instead, his pride almost demanded that he fight against the
dragons. Margaery though had proved herself far cleverer than he and as he swung his sword
and took another man from this world, it was with thoughts of his wife that he did so.

When he heard the loud shrill call and noticed men looking to the sky, he knew not. Nor did
he truly have a chance to do so himself. More men rode their way and for the first time,
Gwayne began to worry about how this day would end. Turning to see where Loras was, he
was much relieved to see him close by. Though his relief lasted only a short time.

"What the hell is that?" he gasped as the giant of a man cut through his men as if they were
nothing.

Atop a horse that dwarfed his own, the man must have been twice Gwayne's size at least. In
his hand, he bore a huge Greatsword which he swung one-handed. Any man unlucky enough
to be in its path was almost cut in two by the force of the blow that the giant caught them
with. Lance or sword, it mattered not. The Greatsword smashed through their defenses and
their armor. Blood stained its blade and none could slow the giant's progress.

It was Loras who somewhat did so. His Goodbrother aimed his lance, not at the giant, but at
his horse and Gwayne looked on as it unhorsed him. Men swarmed him the moment he hit
the ground and to Gwayne's dismay, they had simply run to their deaths. The giant rose like
the titan of Braavos that he'd heard Queen Rhaenys speak of. He stood with sword in hand
and cut down any who moved too close to him. Arrows, crossbow bolts, swords, maces,
morningstars, and lances all bounced harmlessly off his heavy plate armor.

Looking at the bodies that piled up around him, Gwayne was torn between seeking an easier
opponent or helping his men take this monster down. Seeing Loras move to him, it was that
which made his choice for him. Together with his Goodbrother, they and five other men now
faced off against the giant. One by one, the other men fell and when Loras moved close and
struck his sword at the giant it was a hard kick he was met with. Gwayne could barely believe
the sight he was now witnessing. Loras flew through the air and landed in a heap and though
he wished to go and check on him, he could not for the giant now moved his way.

"GARDENER!" the giant bellowed and Gwayne soon found himself in a fight for his life.

More than once his sword hit home and yet it stopped the giant not. The Greatsword was
swung at him with great power and far more speed than should be possible. Dodging the
strikes, deflecting them when he couldn't do so, aiming his own in return, was this a fight
against any other man then it would be one that Gwayne would already have won. Yet
nothing he did had any effect on the giant whatsoever and after he dodged yet another heavy
blow, he felt the searing pain in his arm as it was broken and his sword fell to the ground.

A simple clubbing of his sword arm had rendered it useless. With his off hand, he reached for
a dagger and then felt himself be lifted from the ground. His helm was knocked from his head
and through the slit in the giant's own helm, he looked into a set of unfeeling dark eyes.
Gwayne tried to stab at them only to watch as his knife too was knocked from his hand with
barely any effort. Then he felt the pain as hands grabbed his head and began to squeeze.

"Margaery." he gasped as the pain became unbearable and his skull was crushed between two
unyielding hands, his glory as lost to him as his life now was.

Rhaenys.

She'd swallowed the insults and Tywin was lucky he'd spoken them to her and her alone. Had
Aemon been here then there would be no stopping the rage he'd unleash on these men before
the day was won. Rhaenys wished to win, to break the army against her, and end this war. Yet
unlike how her husband would be if his anger was raised, she sought not to take life just for
the sake of it. The only messages she wished to send were that to rise against them was folly
and that they would always come to their allies' aid. Aemon after hearing Tywin speak to her
so would wish another message to be sent, a message wroth with fire and blood.

Both would be seen here today regardless. Her allies demanded it of her. Meraxes wished it
of her and so once the parley was over and their battle plans were confirmed, Rhaenys took to
the sky. She flew over the charging cavalry, though a part of her wished to tell Meraxes to let
loose her flames upon them. Instead, it was to the men further back that she bid her dragon to
take her. Once she reached them, then and only then did she give her dragon the order to see
them burn.

"Dracarys," she called out more firmly than she expected.

Meraxes answered immediately, her flames loosed down on the Lannister lines and it was a
devastating thing to behold. Men burned and Rhaenys tried not to let their screams reach her
as they did so. One pass, then another, and then she readied to bring the flames to those who'd
already taken to the field. The angered roar of her dragon caught her somewhat by surprise.
As did the way Meraxes seemed to turn in mid-air, almost causing Rhaenys to slide sideways
in her saddle.

Arrows.
Arrows and Scorpion Bolts.

She felt the first of them as they bounced harmlessly against Meraxes scales. Then she looked
on in surprise at the second of them as they seemed to miss the dragon by some distance. It
took her a moment to realize why that was and the thought that came to her was not one she
was prepared for.

'They're aiming at me.'

Beneath her, Meraxes raged and wished to let loose her flames on all of them. Rhaenys bid
her dragon to fly higher and out of range. The need to see where the threat came from and
then deal with it was all she could think of for now. It was then that she felt it, the pain was
unlike any she'd ever known. Reaching down to her leg she saw the bolt as it protruded from
her thigh and the blood that seemed to spurt out from the wound.

"How?" she said as she looked at her armor where it had been pierced.

The world around her began to dim as her vision blurred. Her leg throbbed and the pain was
almost unbearable. Grabbing a handkerchief that she'd been gifted by Aemon some time
before, she pressed it against her wound before she fell forward against Meraxes' neck.

"Dracarys," she called out, though whether or not Meraxes loosed her flames was unknown
to her.

How long she passed out for she knew not. What time she awoke or where she was when she
did so, was at first beyond her ability to ascertain. She was outdoors, the sun shined in the
sky and men loomed over her. Reaching for the knife she had, her hand was soon being held
and she looked up to see silver hair and violet eyes looking down at her.

"Father?" she asked her voice hoarse.
"No, Rhae, it's me," Dany responded worriedly.
"I…Where…the battle?" she said as she began to move or tried to at least.
"Rest, Rhae. Aemon and the Blood Wyrm are dealing with the Lannisters." Dany said as
Rhaenys closed her eyes once more.

She dreamt of him and his kisses and touches. His whispered words as he spoke softly to her.
When she awoke it was to see him looming over her and to feel his kiss for true. Few words
were spoken and she rested when he told her to. His promises that all was well and she
needed to rest for now were enough to calm her worries. As for the battle that had been
fought, she had no need to ask who had won, Aemon's presence was enough to tell her its
outcome.

Tywin.

He'd taken the measure of this so-called queen and found her wanting. So much so that he sat
with almost a smile on his face as he watched the battle begin. Seeing the dragon when it
came into view did give him some pause. As did seeing the flames it loosed upon his men.
Tyrion had been right, which Tywin was loathed to admit. A dragon was a fierce and
dangerous thing and no army could truly stand against it. Thankfully, however, this dragon
was not the Blood Wyrm and its rider was not the Dragonknight. Instead, it was a woman and
a battlefield was no place for even a woman who named herself a queen.

Tywin shouted out his orders. The plan he'd made in the event that Tyrion was proved more
right than he was now the one his men adopted. Scorpion Bolts and Arrows, though neither
were to be aimed at the dragon but its rider. He looked on as the sky filled with arrows and
snarled as the dragon turned in mid-air and let them bounce off its belly. The Scorpion Bolts
fared little better and so with a raise of his hand, he bid the crossbowmen to fire. Almost all
of them flew harmlessly and missed their target. Some fell short while others flew by and
missed by some distance. One of them though did hit home and the sound of the dragon's
lament was one that Tywin relished.

He, his men, and Tyrion off to his right, all looked to the sky as the dragon began to twist and
turn as if it had been it that was hit and not the woman upon its back. Tywin watched as it
eventually righted itself and flew from the field. Once it did, he gave the order and sent his
reserves in. The Battle was now one that was to be fought on his terms and one whose result
was as inevitable as he'd always believed it to be.

"No Quarter," he shouted to the last of his lords and knights and as one they charged down
into the field to overwhelm their enemies' lines.

Taking his Myrish Eye from his saddle, he looked out to see that Kevan's cavalry charge had
broken the pitiful response from Gwayne Gardener's own. Looking over the field he saw Ser
Daven's men engaged in battle with the Reach's infantry and he was pleased to see the whitecloaked figures of Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy were no longer standing idly by. The
Mountain was inflecting his own particular style of warfare on any fool enough to be in his
path and many men would fall to his sword before the day was done.

"An excellent victory, my king." one of his men said and yet Tywin had already turned from
him upon seeing Tyrion ride his way.

Hoping for news of Jaime or Gerion, he for once welcomed seeing his dwarf of a son.
Though quickly it became clear he had news of neither.

"Well done, father." Tyrion said and Tywin barely acknowledged him "Is the queen dead?"
"What queen?" he said dismissively.

The loon on Tyrion's face changed so abruptly that Tywin almost snapped at his son. Only
that it was not him that Tyrion was looking at or he would have done so. Instead, it was
behind him and as he turned to see what it was, Tywin's own expression changed just as
quickly.

"The Blood Wyrm, father," Tyrion said as the red dragon loosed a roar that shook the very
ground beneath them.

Tywin called for arrows to be fought, Scorpion Bolts to be fired and the crossbowmen to
make ready. Yet barely had the words left his mouth when he felt the wave of heat as the
Blood Wyrm's flames took each of those groups of men from this world. He felt the shade of
its shadow as it flew over his head and then he looked on helplessly as his cavalry, his
infantry, his reserves, and mayhap even his kin were taken from the world just as easily.

Wave upon wave of fiery death was unleashed upon his men. By good fortune, the gods' own
favor, or mayhap that Aemon Targaryen was simply that practiced, not a single one of those
flames hit anyone but men wearing the colors of the West. His own men in their crimson and
gold seemed to bear the brunt of the Blood Wyrm's anger. Or was it the anger of its rider that
Tywin was watching be unleashed?

A loud roar rang out and the Blood Wyrm now flew his way. Tywin turned his horse quickly
and rode from the field with all the speed he could manage. Few men kept pace with him and
whether or not Tyrion was one of them, he knew not. He felt the heat from the flames and
was he not wearing his helm then he'd have wagered his whiskers would have been singed at
least. Behind him, men screamed and yet Tywin rode and did not look back even once.

Only when his horse couldn't run any longer did he stop and when he did he was far from the
battlefield. With him were no more than twenty men and his son was not among them. What
remained of his army was lost to him. His only hope now lay in Jaime and Gerion doing as
he'd sent them. For the next few days, he rode by night and hid by day. His and the eyes of
every single man who rode with him looked to the sky fearfully each mile they rode. The
dragon never came his way, a small respite that meant little in truth. For it was only a matter
of time until it did and Tywin only hoped that he made it back to the Rock and its walls
melted not once he did so.

The Conquest of Westeros LIV
The Lions of Casterly Rock II.

It was cleverness and not might which won Casterly Rock for the Lions. Or so the tales would
have you believe, the truth of those tales something that was kept hidden in the bowels of the
Rock's vaults for many years. The truth however was a much poorer tale and involved a
father with no living sons and a man who put a babe in a maiden's belly. Disgrace looming, a

lord accept a marriage offer and the Casterlys soon were no more. Now married to the lord's
daughter, a new name and a new House was formed and so Casterly Rock became home to
the Lannisters and the formation of their House was spun anew in a far more worthy tale.

Mayhap King Tywin Lannister should have remembered the truth and not the legend when he
finally chose to go to war. Or mayhap it would have made no difference at all. Hubris,
overconfidence, ego, name it as what you will, the result was the same in the end. Battle plans
were made and an army marched yet knew not what those in Essos had long since learned for
themselves. It wasn't just the sheer power and destruction that a dragon brought to a battle, it
was the speed in which it could arrive at one that made the House of the Dragon such a
dangerous foe. Speed that only a fool wouldn't know would be even more brought to bear
given whose tail the lions had pulled on.

All those who knew the Dragonknight and had served him over the years were fully aware of
the wroth he'd lay down at Tywin Lannister's door, they knew full well that the rage he
unleashed upon them on the Field of Fire was merely the beginning too. For the lions had
taken much from Aemon Targaryen, they'd almost taken more than he could bear from him. In
return, there could only be one response and upon hearing the words spoken loudly to one
and all, I was not the only one who shared some pity for the Lions of Casterly Rock. Though
the man who spoke them held none.

"All of them. Every last one of them. None of them will survive. I vow it on all I am, I vow it
on Fire and Blood." Aemon the Dragonknight.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: As Rhaenys recovers, Aemon learns the full extent of the losses and
Highgarden comes to terms with their own. Randyll Tarly seeks sanctuary at a Sept
while wounded lions return home to lick their wounds before the Dragonknight lets his
rage fuel him as he makes ready to deal with all his enemies.
For those following my other fics, Am I my brother's Keeper and Dragonverse are up
next.

The Dragonknight Mourns.
Chapter Summary

As Rhaenys recovers, Aemon learns the full extent of the losses and Highgarden comes
to terms with their own. Randyll Tarly seeks sanctuary at a Sept while wounded lions
return home to lick their wounds before the Dragonknight lets his rage fuel him as he
makes ready to deal with all his enemies.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Reach 301 AC.
Ser Arthur Dayne.

The battle had been lost, he knew it, the men knew and Tywin Lannister had no doubt known
it too. With the queen injured and Meraxes no longer loosing her flames on their enemies,
Tywin had sent fort a full attack and would have won the day. Then, like a red comet or one
of the flames that came from any of the dragon's maws, the Blood Wyrm and Aemon arrived
and brought the seven hells with them. At least to their enemies.

In the lull of his own personal battle, Arthur had looked on and it had taken him little time to
see the difference between a Dragonlord and a Dragonknight. While Rhaenys and Meraxes
had been doing an admirable, and most likely, a winning job before his queen's injury,
Aemon and the Blood Wyrm went about their own work with ruthless efficiency. Flames
were loosed with practiced ease and even as close as they came to their own men, not a single
one of them would be touched by fire when the Blood Wyrm was done.

To the sounds of another dragon arriving, Arthur was torn between staying to accept the
surrenders and ensuring the victory was as complete a one as he believed it to be, or riding to
Rhaenys and making sure she lived still. Seeing Nightwing head in the latter's direction, it
was to the former that he turned his attention. Long before he'd finished doing so, the Blood
Wyrm and Aemon had completed their day's work and it was to his wife's side that Aemon
now flew. Arthur took the surrenders from those who yet lived and ordered prisoners to be
taken and guarded. He sought and was given a list of their losses and soon came upon a body
that he named Gwayne Gardener's. Though only because of the armor he wore.

"See that the body is treated with honor and respect," he said to the men with him all of them
trying not to look at the mangled mess that had once been Gwayne's head.

Riding across the field, Arthur found his attention drawn to a man who lay in a heap on the
ground. Dismounting, he moved to the prone body and sighed when he saw the colors of
House Tyrell. Ser Loras too seemed to have met his end today. As he was about to walk away
and order for men to see to the young knight's body, a sound caught his ear and he moved
quickly to where Loras lay. It was with great relief that he heard the cough and saw the eyes
slightly open. Arthur's hand then stopped the young man from trying to rise to his feet.

"You've been injured, Ser Loras, let's find out the extent of it before you try and move," he
said to a shaky nod of the younger man's head.

Arthur asked question after question as he checked for injuries. Happy with the fact that Ser
Loras, confused though he was, seemed lucid enough to offer some answers. During the
battle, the young man and others had come face to face with a giant. It had not ended well for
any of them and when Loras asked about Gwayne, Arthur was in two minds about whether or
not to tell him the truth. Honor and the man's own desperation for news both won out and so
Arthur then told Loras of his Goodbrother's demise. The loud pained cry and the tears that
fell showed the depth of the misery that Loras was feeling. Even after finding out that he was
far less injured than it had first seemed, there would be little or no respite for the young man
today.

"His…Can I see his body?" Loras asked as Arthur helped him up to his feet.
"In time, Ser Loras. Let's get you looked at by a more learned man than me first," he said to a
nod from Loras as they moved to where Arthur's horse awaited them.

Doubling up on the horse and with little more to be achieved from looking over the
battlefield, Arthur turned back to ride to their camp. Loras asked questions about the battle,
their victory or defeat, whether or not the Old Lion and the rest of the Lannisters were dead,
and inquired about the queen's health, all the while. Arthur answered those he could and
ignored those he could not. Upon reaching the camp, Arthur stopped by the healer's tents and
had one of them give Loras a more thorough examination. He ordered some guards to follow
the young man and make sure he didn't do anything foolish, such as ride off in a vain search
for justice or vengeance. Then he bid them to take Loras to where Gwayne Gardener's body
now lay.

With Ser Loras taken care of and knowing that Aemon would wish a full accounting of the
battle and its aftermath, Arthur rode to the queen's tent. He caught sight of all three of the
dragons as he neared the tent. Could see just how many men milled around outside them and
how many guards were on duty. Praying that Rhaenys' wasn't injured too badly and certain
that she lived still, given that Aemon and the Blood Wyrm were still here and not burning
Casterly Rock to ash, Arthur dismounted and hurried inside.

"Ser Arthur." Ser Barristan said relieved to see him hale and hearty.
"The queen?" Arthur asked, looking past his fellow knight and to the prone figure on the bed
and the two that loomed over her.
"Injured but not too badly, thanks be to the gods," Barristan said and Aemon's head turned
quickly to glare at the knight for his words.
"Were there such thing as gods they'd not have allowed this to happen, Ser." Aemon said
angrily.
"Forgive me, your grace," Barristan replied, though Aemon wasn't angered with the knight
and had turned back to look upon his wife.

Rhaenys awakened more than once and both Daenerys and Aemon whispered to her softly. A
Maester belonging to one of the Reach Houses entered and changed the dressing on the
princess's wound. While Arthur saw Aemon speak quietly to the man once he'd done so. With
some words spoken to the princess that Arthur heard not, Aemon rose to his feet and bid
them both to join him outside. Arthur and Ser Barristan doing as they'd been ordered and then
watching as Aemon paced before calming himself down enough to speak.

"Ser Barristan, you will join me, my aunt, and my wife when we fly to Harrenhal. I'll not
entrust Rhaenys' recovery to men I know little of and trust even less. Daenerys and
Nightwing will add to Meraxes' own protection and I wish the keep to be locked down. Any
visitors who are not part of mine own forces are to be denied entry, is that clear?"
"It is, your grace."
"Arthur, gather the army and march it to Highgarden. I shall join you there upon my return."
"Your grace," he said with a bow of his head.
"Torgho Nudho, Arthur." Aemon said before closing his eyes and bringing his hand halfway
to his face and then stopping its movement "He fell….his body...Arthur. None but Thoros and
his own men are to take care of it."

"I'll make sure of it, your grace."
"The Lannisters, your grace?" Barristan asked and Arthur had never seen such a dark
expression come over a man's face as the one he saw then.
"Are soon to exist no more," Aemon said as he walked back into the tent.

It was dark when the three dragons took to the sky. Aemon and Rhaenys on Gaelithox,
Daenerys and Barristan atop Nightwing, and Meraxes flying alone. The silver dragon seemed
both sad to do so and yet eager for vengeance at the same time. After watching them fade
from view, Arthur made his way to the command tent and ordered the commanders brought
before him. To his surprise, Ser Loras was among them and the young man glowered and
glared at him when Arthur spoke of their march to Highgarden. It was only by the sheer force
of the look that Arthur gave him in return that it stayed as only that.

Bidding the young man to stay when the others left, Arthur stopped the angered declaration
that Loras was about to make. He knew full well the argument that was on the knight's lips
and that he was about to be told it was Casterly Rock and not Highgarden that they should be
marching to. There was no need for him to speak thus and Casterly Rock was soon enough to
be their destination anyway.

"You think the king is not even more determined than you to see the Lions pay, Ser Loras?
That the dragon that he is, wished not to unleash his flames on the men who harmed his wife
and took his sworn shield from this world?" Arthur said, Loras looking at him abashed upon
hearing his words.
"Torgho Nudho fell?" Loras asked softly.
"Saving your brother's life apparently." Arthur said, surprised that there was no bite in his
words "Believe me, Loras. The Dragonknight's wrath and rage will be a thing to behold."
"Good."
"Your Goodbrother needs to be buried and mourned too and no doubt you wish to see your
family as well?"
"I…What do I say to them…to her." Loras said, shamefully.
"That those responsible will be dealt with by fire and blood, Loras," Arthur said
unequivocally.

Harrenhal 301 AC.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

She had woken but briefly. First to see Dany sitting by her bedside and to be informed that
Aemon had arrived and then later to see Aemon himself. The wound to her leg had been
tended to and now felt little more than a consistent dull throb, as long as she didn't move it
that was. When Aemon told her that he was bringing her back to Harrenhal, Rhaenys hadn't
the strength to argue with him. How he managed to do so without causing her even a moment
of further pain, was something known only to her husband.

Rhaenys had sat cross-legged in front of Aemon atop Gaelithox and they flew at a far more
leisurely pace than she, Dany or no doubt Aemon himself had during the battle. As they'd
done so, Aemon had spoken softly to her and whispered in her ear, telling her some of what
had happened with the battle and during his time in Essos. Hearing that Aurane was now a
true Dragonlord was something she most welcomed as she did the fact that he was now
offering a dragon's aid to Lord Stannis and his men. Aemon had managed to keep the promise
she'd made to the Lord of the Stormlands and Rhaenys was most grateful to him for doing so.

Once they'd landed in Harrenhal, it was to Meraxes that Aemon took her first. Her dragon
needed to hear from her own lips, that while injured, she would recover quickly. Aemon had
cradled her in his arms and once again she'd marveled at how he was able to move her
without further aggravating her injury. With Meraxes soothed, for now, Aemon had then
carried her into the keep and sent for Marwyn. The Mage hurried to their room and looked
both annoyed and slightly worried by the sight of her injured leg. At her husband's behest, the
Mage redressed her wound and did a most thorough examination of it.

"The healer did a most excellent job, my prince." Marwyn began and Rhaenys saw how
Aemon breathed out in relief at his words "The bolt damaged nothing further than its initial
entry did and barring a small scar, her grace will bear no signs of this injury in a moon or so."
"How long must she rest the leg itself, Marwyn?"
"A week, no more. I'd wait for two before flying atop your dragon, your grace." Marwyn said
looking first at Aemon and then at her.
"Leg armor, Marwyn. I wish you to take both my wife and aunt's measurements and to design
and see that such is made before the week is done."
"I shall see to it at once, my prince." Marwyn said before moving to place a small bottle on
the table nearest her and Aemon's bed "Should you feel any discomfort, your grace. A single
drop or two to soothe the pain if needed."

"I thank you, Marwyn," Rhaenys said, offering the Mage a warm smile before he hurriedly
left the room.

He'd no sooner done so than Aemon was beside her on the bed and begging her forgiveness.
Something she refused to do as there was nothing for him to be forgiven for. When she told
him so, her husband refused to accept it, and only because it threatened to turn into an
argument between them, or he may not have. Rhaenys made it clear that the battle was not
one that could be fought without the dragons. Aemon's own words on what Dany had done
with the other half of the Lannister forces and then those he spoke on who'd fallen, were
more than enough to prove that true.

Gwayne Gardener had lost his life and while politically that was a huge loss, personally, there
was an even bigger one. Aemon was not a man for tears. Rarely if ever had she seen him
share sad ones. The loss of his mother when he was but a boy and she had no doubt that he'd
shed some over their greatuncle's death too. While he didn't shed any for Torgho Nudho in
her presence, Rhaenys believed there were two reasons for that. The first being that his worry
for her was ever present. While the second was that her husband's mind and focus were on
vengeance for his fallen friend more than on the sadness of losing him.

"All of them, Rhae. Each and every single one of them will pay the debt they owe to him and
they'll pay it in blood before they meet the fire. On that, I vow." Aemon said and other than
his declarations of love to her, never had she heard him speak so passionately. Even if it was
a far different type of passion that he now spoke with.

Feeling her eyes grow heavy, Rhaenys asked Aemon to help her undress and then begged him
to stay with her as she drifted off to sleep. She later awoke to find him laying in the bed
beside her. His whispered words were spoken to her as he thought she slept still. So softly did
he speak them, that Rhaenys had to still her breathing in order to hear what it was he said.
Smiling to herself when she did as they were words of both love and a promise that the fools
who dared to harm her would not live long in this world. The rumble of her stomach alerted
him to the fact she was awake and with a soft kiss to her lips, Aemon rose from the bed and
moved to the door. A moment later he was back with her and at her behest, Aemon helped
her dress and carried her to the small table where they sometimes ate a more private meal.

"You sent for Dany?" she asked after he'd placed her gently down upon her seat.
"I did, my wife will wish our aunt to join us, will she not?" Aemon asked, a half smirk on his
face as he did so.

"I most certainly will." she japed in return.

Dany arrived before the meal and immediately asked her about her injury and how she was
feeling. Rhaenys quickly told her that both it and she were far better than they'd been just that
morning. When the meal arrived, Rhaenys ate it with gusto. Her appetite surprised her and
only later when she and Aemon were alone again, was the reason for that shared with her.

"Most people often eat heartily after a battle my love. Be it that they've avoided death and
wish to celebrate life or simply that their bodies need to replenish the strength it lost in the
battle itself. Be most thankful that your appetite is a full one. I am." Aemon said before he
soon put his lips and tongue to other work.

Despite desperately wishing to lay with her husband. Each time she tried to move into a
position where they could do so, the throbbing in her leg would only increase to the point of
almost making her cry out in anger and frustration. That it amused Aemon somewhat, was
not something she was pleased about. Yet, her husband simply told her that she'd recover
quickly and until then, he was most glad to bring about her own pleasure as best he could. In
the end, she was able to bring Aemon some relief with her hand and it at least stopped the
voice in her head that had dared to name her a bad wife.

All too soon, Aemon began to make preparations to fly to Highgarden and Rhaenys knew
he'd already sent ravens to the North and the Vale. The army that marched on Casterly Rock
would be a far larger army than Tywin Lannister had brought to bear on the Reach. Not that it
would be the army that finally brought the lions low. The night before he was to leave,
Aemon bid both her and Dany to join him in another meal. Once they'd finished eating, he
then spoke to them of events in Essos and his time there.

"Our father and your mother are well, Rhae. As are Aegon, Viserys, and the children."
Aemon said before pausing "Someone attempted to assassinate Aegon and to mayhap lay the
blame at my door. It cost us our granduncle's life and had it not been for him, then it may
have been our brother we mourn." Aemon said looking directly at her "But Aegon was
unharmed and he and Viserys have since brought Fire and Blood to some of those
responsible."

She and Dany listened keenly as Aemon spoke about who was behind the attack and even
had she not already known the Lions were not long for this world, the words Aemon spoke
only proved that even more so. Hearing that Littlefinger was involved too was a surprise. As

was finding out that Viserys and their cousin Haegon had ended the Sorrowful Men for once
and for all. Aemon then spoke of how Aurane had bonded with Darkfyre and that even on the
short flight back from Essos, he'd shown enough for Aemon to name him as adept in the sky
as he was on land. When talk turned to their allies and their own losses, Rhaenys truly joined
in the conversation.

"Lady Olenna and I agreed that should anything ever happen to Lord Gwayne, should he and
Margaery find themselves unable to birth an heir, it would still be her House that we sought
as Wardens, Aemon."
"It could cause some issues with the other Reachlords." Aemon began but before Rhaenys
could decry him for contemplating breaking her word, her husband showed he'd no intention
of doing so "But my wife's word is as good as mine own and so our agreement with Lady
Olenna will stand. Damn any fool who dares complain about it."
"Margaery, Aemon." Rhaenys said looking at him as he bid her continue "I had named both
her and Gwayne as friends and I'd seek that to stay the same. Aurane needs a wife does he
not?"
"It's too soon, Rhae. There is the dragon to consider too." Aemon said and Rhaenys just
stared at him until he nodded slightly "I'll speak to Lady Olenna and to Aurane. Not to the
Lady Margaery herself."
"No, I'll do that at a more appropriate time," she said, to a firmer nod from her husband.

They spoke then on the Faith, Rhaenys hating to bring it up but needing to do so given the
fact of Tarly's actions and the actions of others at Highgarden. Seeing the dark expression that
came over Aemon's face, she wished she'd not. Yet it was out there now and Aemon's words
left her in no doubt that the Faith would certainly face her husband's wrath soon enough. This
was proved even more true when later that night, Aemon spoke to her about his conversations
with their father and the things he'd been told about his mother.

It angered her and annoyed her greatly. His life had been a plaything for other people and
while those people were his mother and their father, it made it no less a thing that she
despised. Aemon's words calmed her ire somewhat and Rhaenys would not lie and say that
hearing him say he'd not change his life or where he was right now for anything, was a great
and true comfort to her. Less so were his words that both she and Dany had to follow the
Mage's advice and that neither of them was to come to him until she'd been given the all-clear
and their armor was ready.

"I would have you both protected as best I could," Aemon said kissing first Dany on the
cheek and then her on the lips.

The next morning, they broke their fast together, and upon Dany's arrival at their rooms,
Aemon bid them both his farewells. Rhaenys was sad to see him go and wished that she
could leave with him. Her leg was giving her little discomfort and it was only that she knew
Aemon would overly worry about her, or she'd have fought him a little more on things.
Instead, she accepted it, and then she and Dany went about seeing to other plans. For the
West was not the only kingdom that stood against them and Rhaenys had much she needed to
speak to Oberyn on.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Lady Olenna Tyrell.

There were few times in her life when Olenna was as lost as she felt right now. Her son was
dead, murdered by men who'd supped and broken bread with him and her. Garlan and Loras
were fighting or facing a battle that they were not certain to survive and Margaery, her
precious Margaery, had been abducted. Where she was? Olenna had no idea. Who had taken
her? On that, she was more certain. That she'd be returned safe and sound. Olenna could only
pray to the Seven who are One and beg the Maiden to protect her and for the Stranger to stay
far away from her.

Willas had set Left and Right, her giant guards, to task. Bidding them to secure the keep and
to place scouts to inform them of the first sign of friend or foe. Alerie had wept over Mace's
body and seen to the preparations for him to be laid amongst his forefathers. Olenna
meanwhile had pottered about almost in a daze and had found little she could do to focus her
attention in any helpful way. She'd not even argued when Willas had suggested some
Dreamwine and had welcomed the darkness of sleep when it came.

For the first time in more than fifty years, Olenna Tyrell woke up after luncheon had been
served. She felt no more refreshed or capable than she'd been the day before. Through sheer
force of will, she dressed, ate, and then finally made her way to where Mace lay. Her son
looked to all intents and purposes as if he was merely resting and Olenna felt her tears
threaten to fall. She refused to let them, however. So after placing a small kiss on Mace's
forehead, it was to her grandson's solar that she made her way.

"What are you doing about your sister, Willas?" Olenna said as soon as she entered the room.
Her thoughts were now on firstly getting her family back to Highgarden safe and sound and
then secondly on the wrath she'd unleash on those who'd taken her blood from this world.

Willas' answers were not ones that brought her any comfort. While he'd sent out riders, the
fact that there were two very large armies engaged in or recovering from a battle, didn't allow
for a true and proper search. Her grandson painted a dark and disturbing picture and while
later she may welcome that he didn't sugarcoat things for her, at the time she very much did
not. Quite simply, until they knew the results of the battle and whether or not they'd be forced
to flee, fight or welcome the victors, their hands were somewhat tied.

"You've sent men to the battlefield?" she asked.
"I have. The Queen will be victorious, Grandmother. She and the Princess will win, I've no
doubt of that. But…"

Waving her hand in the air, Olenna turned and let the words her grandson was about to speak,
go unspoken. She spent the day once again almost as a shadow of herself. At one point,
Olenna made her way to Margaery and Gwayne's chambers and found herself sitting on their
bed while holding one of Margaery's dresses in her arms and against her face. The smell of
lilac and roses was as clear to her as if Margaery was wearing that dress and not out there and
mayhap lost to her.

Before retiring for the night, Olenna once again asked Willas to tell her all he'd heard or knew
and was once again disappointed by how little that was. She spent some time with Alerie and
offered her what little comfort she could and again it was with some Dreamwine that her
sleep came to her that night. Olenna at least awakened early the next morning and after
breaking her fast with Willas, she was relieved somewhat by the return of the riders that he'd
sent out The news they bore at least was good. In the sense that the victory that Willas was so
sure of had been achieved. What form that victory had taken, however, none of them knew as
of yet.

It allowed Willas to send out more and more men to seek Margaery out and by midday, the
army, or those who led it, had arrived at their gates. The news they bore with them was in one
way relieving and in another very much not. Garlan had suffered an injury to his leg that
would require a moon or more of healing. Loras too had suffered an injury, though physically
he was in far better shape than he was mentally or emotionally. Gwayne had fallen and while
Olenna had never truly taken to the young man, she knew that Margaery had felt something

for her husband. It made her briefly glad that her granddaughter wasn't here. Though only
briefly.

Hearing that the queen had taken an injury and that the Dragonknight had arrived to end the
battle, was somewhat of a worry. As was the fact that all three dragons were now in
Harrenhal and not here where they were most needed. That somehow had dared to harm the
queen was enough to tell Olenna that the war against the Lions was not yet over and done
with. Though, the mere fact the Old Lion and his son had survived was worrying enough and
proof of that. Once the commanders of the army were situated, Olenna had a chance to speak
to Loras and Garlan, and offer her condolences to Lady Melessa over the loss of her son.
Something that Olenna had yet to come to terms with regarding her own. Olenna then asked
for and was taken to a meeting with Ser Arthur Dayne and Thoros of Myr.

"My condolences on your losses, Ser Arthur, Thoros. My grandson owes his life to the man
who saved it."
"Torgho Nudho will be much missed, my lady. You have our sympathies on your own
losses." Ser Arthur replied, a small bow of his head as he did so.
"My sister, Ser Arthur. Can your men aid in the search for her?" Willas asked and it was
Thoros who answered.
"Our prince himself will lead that search, Lord Willas. The Dragonknight will be here on the
morrow."

Olenna most welcomed hearing those words. So much so that she ate her meal that night with
a truer appetite than she'd had for days. She even slept that night without the need for any aid
and while her dreams were most disturbing, they were but dreams. No sooner had she
awakened, than the sound of the dragon was heard and so Olenna moved hurriedly to her
window. Seeing the Blood Wyrm and watching the man and the giant white wolf that climbed
down off its back, Olenna felt a need to speak to King Aemon immediately.

To her annoyance, and yet understanding, it was to the man who'd saved Garlan's life that the
Dragonknight went to first of all. Not she, Willas, or anyone other than his own men was
allowed to join King Aemon as he paid his respects to his sworn shield. Even when he left
the room that Torgho Nudho had been taken to, it was to her other grandson and not to her
and Willas that the Dragonknight sought to speak to. Once again, no one other than his own
men was allowed to join him while he did so.

Finally, she and Willas were asked to join King Aemon in the rooms she'd put aside for
Queen Rhaenys. Olenna outpaced her grandson in her haste to get there. The man she saw
once she entered those rooms was a far different man than the one she'd met now more than
once. While usually a serious man, the Dragonknight had shown some lightheartedness at
times. He very much was showing none now and as Olenna took her seat, his first question
and his reply to her own was all she needed to hear.

"Tell me all you know about Randyll Tarly," Aemon said and Olenna did as she'd been bid,
Willas adding his own parts to fill out any blanks in her knowledge.
"What are your intentions, your grace?"
"I'll need some of Lady Margaery's clothing, Lady Olenna. My wolf will find her and when
he does, Randyll Tarly will find out what happens when you wake my dragon." Aemon said,
his voice like ice while the look in his eyes was pure fire.

The Sept of the Mander 301 AC.
Randyll Tarly.

While the attack had been an unqualified disaster, his son had at least been successful in his
own endeavor. Though Randyll could do without having to look at the Tyrell bitch. This
woman had seduced a weak boy and made herself a queen before using what was between
her legs to get that same boy to bow to heathens. Was it not for just how valuable she was to
his cause, then Randyll would have asked the Septon to organize a Walk of Shame for the
little slut. Instead, he took comfort with the fact that once he'd brought the Hightowers to
their knees, he'd see her do so in a far larger setting than this.

The small village was no place for him and the few men he had with him to hold up. There
were few supplies and even the Sept was badly provisioned. It had forced him to send out
men to forage and he liked it not. Already he was severely lacking in numbers, losing some
of them to foraging missions was not something he could afford. Yet news had come for the
battlefield and it was not news that helped his or the Faith's cause in any way, shape, or form.
Nor did it make the Reach, or this part of it at least, a place where he could remain for long.

Awaiting Dickon's return, Randyll, despite having no wish to, checked in on their hostage. He
feared that some of those who were guarding her would be taken in by her sweet words or
what offers she may make them. So Margaery had been gagged at his insistence. For gold,
coin, position, or given the harlot that she was, what lay between her legs, men could be

tempted to turn their cloaks and he'd not have his men do so. When she saw him enter the
room she was held in, she dared to glare at him and Randyll almost wished to slap the taste
out of her mouth for doing so. Looking at her untouched meal, he nodded to one of his men
and bid him to take the plate away. Smiling wickedly at the thought of this far too privileged
whore having to now finally go hungry.

"You would do better eating what you're given, for you'll be a long time with us and your
treatment can get much worse." he sneered before turning to leave the room.

Dickon arrived back later that night and the news he bore with him was far less welcome than
the supplies he'd foraged. The victorious army had marched to Highgarden and the Lion's
defeat was all but complete. Those words alone were hard enough to accept but hearing that
the Dragonknight and his red dragon had returned sent a chill down even Randyll's spine. It
made their position here even more precarious and so after he'd eaten his own meal, he and
his son sat and looked at the maps and made their plans to return to Oldtown.

"The river, it's our only true choice, Father," Dickon said and Randyll found he'd no true
argument to make against his son's words.
"I saw no boats, Son. No way of navigating it."
"The Septon, Father. If anyone knows where a boat can be found it'll be him."
"Ser Hyle."
"My lord."
"See that Septon Orwald is brought to me."
"At once, my lord."

Tracing the river with his fingertips, Randyll found his eyes drawn to Brightwater Keep. His
wife's family would provide him with a ship to take him to Oldtown and once there, not even
the dragons could stand against them. Not without unleashing the true wrath of the faithful
upon themselves. Awaiting the Septon's arrival, Randyll asked Dickon for any more
information he had on the battle or the Dragonknight's whereabouts only to find he had none.
Soon enough the Septon had arrived and after a brief conversation where he was told of a
riverboat captain in a village some miles up the river, Randyll bid his men to make ready to
ride.

"May the Father guide your path, my lord." Septon Orwald said to him as they were leaving.
"I believe he will, Septon."

They rode under the cover of darkness. Randyll knew not where the dragons were and yet he
believed that even should they be seeking them out, then it would be in the daylight they'd do
so. More than once they had to stop their hostage from trying some stupid plan of slowing
their progress and how he kept his hands to himself, he knew not. Day broke before they
reached the next village and so they were forced to take cover in a small forest.

It was while they were there that Margaery tried to escape and Randyll was furious with both
the girl and his fool of a guard who'd almost cost them their prize. Slapping first one and then
the other, he left both in no doubt about what would happen should it occur again. Randyll
enjoyed the worried look that came over Margaery's face when he said that they didn't need
to bring all of her with them and that she'd find it very hard to embroider were she to lose a
finger or two. As for his fool of a guard, he was lucky he'd not been flogged. Something that
Randyll promised himself he'd see to once they were on safer ground.

"Next time she makes water, You lift her fucking skirts herself and watch every single
fucking drop," he ordered, meaning exactly what he said.

They rode again as soon as darkness fell. Each mile took them closer to the village and the
riverboat they were seeking. To his dismay, when they finally arrived it was to find no sign of
it or its captain. Though both were to return in two days. Randyll liked it not, yet they'd
traveled further from their destination and were still too deep in the Reach to be safe. The
village unlike the last was at least decently supplied, however, and so their stay would be a
far more comfortable one. So once they'd secured their prisoner and made themselves as
comfortable as could be, it was to a far softer bed than he'd known for a few weeks that
Randyll found himself heading to.

His sleep was not a peaceful one, however. The dreams were not pleasant ones. In them, he'd
looked on as Horn Hill burned and his wife, daughter, and his son and heir burned with them.
Tied to a stake, he'd been forced to watch and listen to their screams as the red dragon took
great glee and spent much time reducing his family home to ash. Only when the smoke
cleared did the rider of that dragon move his way. Then as the thin sword was unsheathed,
Randyll Tarly found himself face to face with the Stranger.

The Reach 301 AC.
Thoros of Myr.

To see Torgho Nudho laying lifeless shocked him to his very core. He'd never have believed
that any man could have taken the Unsullied Commander from this world. So stunned was
he, that for a few moments, Thoros had actually considered giving him the Last Kiss. Only
the fact that Torgho Nudho shared not his faith in R'hllor and that Thoros had never actually
delivered that rite to anyone were enough to stop him from doing so.

Instead, he listened as Ser Garlan spoke of who it had been who'd taken Torgho Nudho from
this world. Thoros took little comfort in the man naming his friend as a hero for saving his
life before losing his own. It wasn't that Thoros thought badly of Ser Garlan, it was more
simply that in his, those with him, and especially the Dragonknight's, the Gallant meant far
less in their eyes. Thinking of his prince, Thoros knew now that unless the Lions had already
been dealt with completely, Aemon would take it upon himself to see each and every one of
them in the ground.

Putting all thoughts of that aside for the time being, Thoros had seen to the preparations for
Torgho Nudho's body to join his soul in the next world. He and his men had covered him with
their sacred oils and stood vigil over him until their queen, Princess, and most especially,
their prince could pay their own respects. Rather than any of the aforementioned people, it
was Ser Arthur who arrived at Highgarden first and he who informed Thoros of the extent of
the victory. The knight had then gone to spend some time with Torgho Nudho before they had
both spoken to the Tyrells and discovered the extent of their own losses.

Thoros looked to the flames and found no sign of Margaery Tyrell or those who'd taken her.
The visions that were shown to him were of a keep atop a mountain covered in flames, a city
surrounded by an army as the Blood Wyrm flew overhead, a great wall of ice, and a savage
people. Then things that were not men marched against those who were. Death was the true
enemy and at some point, Thoros believed it was death itself that they would need to defeat.
Before he could make any sense of the visions, or truly consider them, his prince arrived on
Gaelithox and he was not alone when he did so. Sitting up front beside him was the white
wolf and while it was a truly wondrous sight, it was one that Thoros would have gladly
swapped to see his prince's sworn shield beside him once more.

"My prince."
"Take me to him, Thoros."

"At once my prince."

Aemon entered the room alone and spent some time with Torgho Nudho. What words he
spoke were for them and only them and when he walked back out of the room, he was far
more composed than Thoros expected him to be. Ser Arthur had joined Thoros outside while
Aemon paid his respects and so as they walked to meet with the Tyrells, words were shared
about the Queen's injury, the prisoners they had captured and the losses that the Tyrells had
suffered. It surprised Thoros greatly to see the angered scowl come to his prince's face at the
mention of Margaery Tyrell, though he remembered Daario saying that she and the queen had
become close.

Once they'd spoken to the Tyrells, Aemon bid Ser Arthur to remain and look after the men.
They were to be given some time to rest and then to make ready to march to Casterly Rock.
When they reached it, they'd find they were not the only ones to do so. Aemon wished riders
sent to Lord Stannis and Aurane and had already sent word to his family in the North and
called the Vale's banners. The largest army ever assembled in the history of Westeros would
march on the West. Thoros, however, was more than certain it would be his prince and the
Blood Wyrm that would tear the Lions asunder.

While Ser Arthur remained in Highgarden, it would be Thoros, the men of the Flames of the
Dragon, his prince, and Ghost along with the Blood Wyrm who would handle the search for
Margaery Tyrell personally. When he asked where they would begin to look and how they
would find the young lady, his prince only pointed to the white wolf. So Thoros looked on as
what seemed to be some of Margaery's clothing was sniffed at by Ghost before then as one
they mounted their horses and rode in the same direction that Ghost had run off to.

"You're certain he'll find her, my prince?" he asked as he watched Ghost change directions
more than once.
"He'll find her and them," Aemon replied.

That night it wasn't Randyll Tarly that they found. The sound of screams that came from the
small home had drawn the white wolf's attention and Aemon had bid them follow. They
found a group of six men wearing Lannister colors and not a single one of them was given
leave to throw down their arms. Arrows were fired and the two men lucky enough not to fall
to the archers, quickly found that was where their luck ran out. Thoros looked on as the white
wolf made quick work of the two men and then as his prince dismounted and moved to the
door of the small house. Ordering his men to provide guards for his prince, by the time
Thoros himself reached the door, Aemon was already inside.

A young woman was laying on the floor after clearly being beaten and mayhap even worse.
While what seemed to be her father and mother were now rising to their feet. The two men
who'd been holding them, prisoner, were both unable to do so any longer. Death had
welcomed them both into its cold embrace and looking at the blood that dripped from Dark
Sister, the famed sword had quenched its thirst somewhat already. Looking for his prince,
Thoros found him holding a young man aloft with one hand wrapped around his neck. Blond
of hair and green of eye, the young man was being slapped repeatedly by the hand that held
Dark Sister in it. His prince's words rang out loudly as he did so.

"Like hurting women do you."
"Raping them."
"Beating them."

Each sentence was interrupted by another slap from his prince's hand and the young man
wailed and bawled as if he were a babe at his mother's teat.

It took Thoros a few moments to recognize both the quality of the armor and the sigil that the
boy wore. Both marked him as not just being in charge of these men by right, but by blood
too. Moving to his prince, he whispered in his ear that he believed this man to be a Lannister
of some sort. Something the young man himself confirmed when Aemon threw him to the
ground and kicked him heavily in the side.

"You can't do this to me."
"I am a prince."
"The whore deserved it."
"She should be honored that Prince Joffrey of House Lannister spent inside her."

Over the many campaigns that Thoros had served with his prince, he'd seen most of the
moods and almost every expression that was in his prince's arsenal. Never before had he seen
such a dark look as the one that came over Aemon's face just then.

"See the prince is treated how a prince of House Lannister deserves to be. Remember too that
the prince is, as he acknowledged himself, a confirmed rapist. Take him to Highgarden and
do your utmost to see that in time he'll return to Casterly Rock alive." Aemon said and while
Joffrey got an odd and then almost gleeful look on his face, it was one he very much should
not have.

They sent him back to Highgarden with ten men of the Flames of the Dragon and once he'd
left the small house, Aemon told the girl, her mother, and her father just what his words truly
meant. It would be knife and flame that Prince Joffrey would feel much of on his journey
back to the Tyrell keep. He would not arrive there as intact as he left the small house. Rapists
in the Empire suffered but one sentence, they were unmanned and so too would Prince
Joffrey be before the night was done.

"This helps not, I know, but it can at least get you a home someone safer. "Aemon said
handing the father a small coin pouch "Rest assured, the last days that the so-called prince
will know in this world are ones that will bring him great suffering, and only when he's paid
his debt to you, will I allow him to leave this world."

It was small comfort, Thoros, his prince, and each man there were all aware of that. Yet it
was mayhap more comfort than this family would have been given by anyone else. Justice, or
as close to it as anything could be after what the young woman suffered, would be dealt out.
Thoros knew, however, that there would be some vengeance meted out along with it too.

Leaving the small house behind, they rode after the white wolf who led them to the river.
Riding alongside it, they stopped only to let the horses rest a little and drink some of the cool
crisp water. Once they'd done so, they mounted up and were soon in search of someone else
who would find only vengeance on Aemon's mind and in his heart.

The Ocean Road 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

Jaime had ridden hard and while at first, he'd done so with few men, as they rode further
away from Highgarden, more and more had joined them. He'd been relieved to see Ser
Addam Marbrand once again. Less so to see the Mountain. Other than having the man with
them would stand them well should they be forced to fight their way free of these lands. Yet
thus far there was no sign of any of his kin and that worried him greatly.

Even when they finally reached the Ocean Road they did so with only the sights of some of
their scattered forces to offer them any comfort. The army had been broken, both his and his
father's. As for his uncle Gerion's, Jaime could only guess at their fate and he doubted it had
been any better than his own. The black dragon that had attacked his men was one he knew
little about. The Dragonknight's Blood Wyrm he'd heard tale of and the queen herself flew a
silver one to the best of his recollection. Where the black one had come from and who rode
upon it, was a mystery that Jaime wasn't certain he wished to solve.

It took them days to leave the Reach behind and as they passed Old Oak, some among them
wished them to sack the keep. They rightly believed that the vast majority of the keep's
fighting men were among the Reach army and so far from here. Wrongly, however, they
believed that their numbers of just shy of four hundred were enough to take the keep. Jaime
knew they'd lose more than half in the first attempt alone and they were not men they could
afford to lose. So despite the feeling amongst the men, it was their prince's words that they
listened to. So Old Oak remained unmolested and they simply passed the keep by.

As they camped that night, Jaime pondered much on the fate of his family. He refused to
believe that they'd all perished in the failed battle that they'd fought. Tyrion was smart and
clever and while he was no warrior, Jaime was sure those things would see him safe.

'Unless he fell to the flames' the voice in his spoke, sending a shiver down Jaime's spine.

His father would have commanded from the rear as was his wont, so mayhap that would have
been enough to give him time to retreat. A retreat was the only option that would have been
available to Tywin Lannister if he too had faced a dragon's fury today. Gerion may have been
luckier than either of them. It could well have been just Jaime that faced the black dragon
today, or so he tried to tell himself. Again another, truer voice, coming from within to tell him
he was a fool to think so.

'The black dragon arrived late to the battle, why? Because it had already fought another and
this was but its second of the day'

Jaime sat some distance from the fire and he was not alone in doing so. Each of the men with
him had gained a new respect and most definitely a new fear of what flames could do. So
while it burned, only the bravest souls among them sat close enough to feel its heat for true.

Drinking the wine that Addam had somehow managed to find, Jaime's thoughts turned to his
wife, his sister, and his children. He quickly found he cared or worried not about Joffrey's
fate. His son would live or die and Jaime was sure that the only true feeling he'd have
regarding him, would be if he lived and others did not.

He thanked the gods that his other children were safe at Casterly Rock and in Dorne. Fought
down the voice which named that untrue and dared to say that nowhere was safe from a
dragon's rage. Then Jaime closed his eyes and pictured himself in his wife's loving arms. An
image that was soon replaced by one just as powerful and just as stirring. Jaime now laying in
a bed while wrapped in his sister's embrace. So lost was he in this little dream that he didn't
hear Addam when his Goodbrother took a seat beside him.

"You should get some rest, my prince," Addam said and his voice took Jaime from the
sweetness of his thoughts.
"You have the right of it, Addam. You too," he said rising to his feet and patting his
Goodbrother on the shoulder.

He'd gotten not more than an hour, mayhap two, when the commotion awoke him. Rising to
his feet and grabbing Brightroar, Jaime left his bedroll behind and readied himself for the
fight that never came. It wasn't enemies that had arrived in the dark of night, it was allies.
Another two hundred or so men and yet it was but one that truly garnered Jaime's and
everyone else's attention. Tywin Lannister lived still and other than some dust and dirt from
the hard riding he'd obviously been doing, his father seemed no worse for wear.

"Father," Jaime said softly as his father dismounted.
"You are well?" his father asked and Jaime nodded.

Sending a man to bring a warm plate of food for his father, Jaime bid them all to leave them
alone while he watched the meal being eaten hungrily. Once his father had done so and had
taken more than one swallow from the water pouch, then and only then did Jaime ask about
the rest of their kin.

"I know not Kevan or Tyrion's fate. As for Gerion, I had hoped you'd have more news of
him."
"I have none." he said dejectedly "The black dragon, father, I knew not of it."

"Nor I. Though I've since heard some tale that Princess Daenerys rides a black dragon."

Jaime listened as his father told him all he knew of the princess, which wasn't truly that
much. The words worried him greatly though as did his father's confirmation that the
Dragonknight had returned and it had been he and the Blood Wyrm who had lain waste to his
father's army. Jaime took little comfort in hearing that Rhaenys Targaryen had been injured or
even killed. They held no hostage to stay the Dragonknight's hand when he came their way
and come their way he surely would.

To his dismay, his father seemed to have no true plan to deal with him once he did so and so
after a few brief hours of sleep, and while they rode again, Jaime did his best to come up with
one. Over the next few days, he came up with more than one. Though most were quickly
discarded. It wasn't until they finally reached a keep that they could truly rest easily at, that a
truer plan began to form. As he lay that night in a bed in Crakehall, that plan was all he could
think of.

His father sent ravens and ordered Lannisport to be put on high alert and Casterly Rock to be
made ready for a siege. While the word was sent to other keeps to do likewise. Not that any
of it would do any good and even his father seemed to recognize that. They could not stop the
dragons from reaching them at Casterly Rock. No keep other than their own could withstand
their flames and while they would raise more men, their true strength was lost to them. Any
man they gave a weapon to would be one that barely knew how to wield one and even were it
not for the dragons themselves, the army that marched toward them would be one that to a
man very much did.

"No, it'll not be with men we win this fight, but with a man," Jaime said quietly as they left
Crakehall behind.

The Conquest of Westeros LV
The Dragonknight's Wroth.

The injury to his wife or the death of his sworn sword. The daring to pull on the dragon's tail
or the hubris of Lions and Snakes. Whether it was one of them or all of them, the outcome
was the same. These acts reaped the whirlwind and the Dragonknight's Wroth was unleashed
on Westeros because of them. Yet it was not to be Lions or Snakes who were first to feel that
wroth, but a different and more insidious foe.

Mourning the loss of his sworn shield had been put to one side while matters of the realm
were soon to take center stage. From Harrenhal to Highgarden and then to the lands of the
Reach. The Dragonknight held his rage intact until he very much did not. Those in Essos had
seen firsthand just what lengths Aemon Targaryen would go to should he feel the need or
desire to do so. They knew full well that there was a worst fate in store than simply facing the
Dragonknight and the Blood Wyrm in battle. To ever be forced to face them when they sought
to bring about your true end.

No quarter would be offered and no surrender accepted. Blood was all that the Dragonknight
would accept and there would be much blood spilled before he finally rested once more. It
was in the Reach that the first of that blood was to be spilled and in the Reach that the truth
of Dragonknight was finally revealed. Aemon Targaryen could be merciful, reasoned with,
negotiated with, and would always be restrained in his actions. The Dragonknight could not
and would not be so.

"They wished to see the true me, Marwyn. To see why I was feared so. Only fools make such
wishes and yet for even fools, some wishes come true." Aemon the Dragonknight.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

The Reach 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

Aemon was a long way from quenching the burning need he felt inside himself. The rage that
he wished to unleash upon those who'd dared firstly to harm his wife and secondly to take
Torgho Nudho from this world. The need to burn was one he most wished to give in to and
was one that was shared by the Blood Wyrm too. His dragon's wish to bring the flames to
their enemies was one that it took all he had in him for Aemon to deny.

For the first time in all his life, another voice called to him. Softer and yet no less insistent, it
bid him to wait and so wait he did. As hard as it was for him to do so. Whose voice that was
or where it came from, Aemon could only speculate on. Should someone ask him to give it a
name, then he'd name it Ghost, for the White Wolf was speaking to him as clearly as the

Blood Wyrm always had. It had been for that very reason that he forewent his initial impulse
to leave Ghost with Rhaenys and Dany and had instead brought him with him. Why as he and
Blood Wyrm had flown through the sky with Ghost in front of him, Aemon had felt it to be
the right thing to do.

Now, as they moved along the river and drew closer to the small village ahead of them,
Aemon felt Ghost in his head once more. This time the White Wolf and the Blood Wyrm's
words were far more similar than they had been until then. His rage was soon to be assuaged
a little and Aemon closed his eyes and let himself calm so he'd be ready to let it be his
vengeance rather than his doom that it led him to.

Night had fallen and as he bid Thoros and his men dismount, he did the same. The Blood
Wyrm flew high over the village itself, ready for his call should Aemon have a need for him.
Tonight though it was almost a wolf's work rather than a dragon's that he was about. Telling
the archers among the Flames of the Dragon to make ready, Aemon, Thoros, Ghost, and
Thoros' men, all quietly made their way to the first buildings of the village. Without the need
for a signal from him or from Thoros, five arrows flew through the air and hit their targets
perfectly. The five fools that had been placed on watch all now fell to the ground and not one
of them would rise ever again.

'Go left. You right. You with me and the prince.' Thoros' orders rang out, Aemon happy to see
it was with hand signals and not words that they were given. Not that there had been any true
doubt that would be how Thoros commanded their men. As the red priest was far too
seasoned to do so any other way.

It took them little time to find more men that were soon joining their compatriots in death.
Two more fell to arrows while four others had their throats slit before they could even think
about shouting out a warning. Holding his hand up, Aemon, bid those with him to halt, and
then they all watched as Ghost moved around a large building and stopped underneath a
window. There was no need for Aemon to wonder why the wolf had stopped and as he
moved to where Ghost stood, he almost expected what it was he then saw.

Margaery Tyrell was bound and gagged and tied to a post in the middle of a large room. Two
men sat at a table supposedly on watch and did a piss poor impression of doing so. While a
look to the door of the room led him to wager that there were no doubt guards on the other
side of it. Motioning with his hands where he wished his men to go, Aemon looked to Thoros
and bid him to ready the Myrish crossbows. In no time at all, they were locked and loaded
and after making sure they had a direct line of sight to the two guards, Aemon took one while
Thoros readied to aim the other.

Three, Two, One, he counted down with his fingers and as soon as he reached one, both he
and Thoros fired in unison. So true was their aim that the two guards slumped over in their
chairs and barely made a sound as they breathed their last. Handing one of his men the
crossbow, he whispered the words and told Thoros to make ready the full attack. Then,
looking through the now broken window, he saw the panicked and yet hopeful look on
Margaery's face. Showing her Dark Sister and hoping that was enough to tell her who he was,
Aemon opened the window, jumped through, and moved to the door. He reached it just as it
opened.

"What the fu…" a guard cried out as Dark Sister gutted him.
"AMBUSH!" the second guard called out as he too fell to Aemon's thin blade.

Less than a moment later, the attack from Thoros and his men was launched and panic took
over among those they faced. Inside the room with Margaery, Aemon had cut her loose from
the posts and bid her to find somewhere she could hide. He was shocked and pleasantly
surprised by her ingenuity when she used one of the guard's bodies to shield her from
whoever next came into the room. It turned out to be most fortuitous that she did so too. As
the first men who entered fired an arrow at the post where she'd just been held. His orders to
end her had been made very clear by his actions.

The unlucky archer didn't get a second chance to fire as Aemon cut through the arm that had
held the bow and then stabbed Dark Sister through the man's unprotected head. Two other
guards had moved with him, and they found that the close confines of a room were far
different than fighting out in the open. Their unfamiliarity with close-quarters fighting, as
well as who they faced, was enough to bring about their ends. Both men fell to Dark Sister,
though not even their blood was enough to quench her thirst.

"Who the…"

Aemon recognized somewhat the face of the man who walked into the room. He was a Tarly,
Randyll's son and heir and though he couldn't name the man, it mattered not. Cutting down
first the guard to Tarly's left, Aemon quickly did the same to the one on the right and then
turned his attention fully to the man in the middle. The fear was there to see upon the
younger man's face, though he tried in vain to fight anyway. His skills were not enough to
save him and Aemon cared not for the final words he spoke as he breathed his last.

Thoros and some of his men soon arrived and after bidding them to see to the lady's
protection, he asked Thoros where Randyll Tarly himself was. The Lord had not been found
and Aemon felt his rage rise once more. So much so that even later on that night, he couldn't
be certain that he'd have enacted the plan he did or would have gone with another one.

"Lady Margaery, you should turn your head," Aemon said as Dark Sister removed Tarly's
son's head from his shoulders.

Leaving Thoros and his men to see the lady to safety. Aemon walked from the room and
found it was a tavern that Randyll Tarly had sought to hide in. In one hand, he held Dark
Sister, and in the other, a severed head. Both left a trail of blood drops as he moved and after
taking one last look around the large open room that he'd found himself in, Aemon walked
out from the tavern and into the village square.

To their credit, the men who'd joined Tarly had all fought to their deaths and not one of them
had surrendered or pleaded for mercy. Which was just as well as Aemon was not in a
merciful mood. Holding the head up high so it could be seen clearly, Aemon shouted out
whose head it was and bid Randyll Tarly to come and avenge his son. He named him a
craven, faithless, and promised that should he not face him, then from here it was to Horn
Hill that Aemon and the Blood Wyrm would fly to next.

To his left, he heard the sound of a man falling to the ground and he looked to see an archer
had been unlucky enough to draw Ghost's own fury. With the last of his men now dead,
Randyll Tarly stepped out from behind the door of what looked to be stables. The Lord of
Horn Hill bore a Valyrian steel Greatsword in his hands and looked at Aemon with fury in his
eyes. It actually brought a cruel smile to Aemon's face and though he saw Thoros and Lady
Margaery looking his way, it stopped him not.

"Look, it's your father. Shall he be joining you soon do you think?" Aemon said to the
severed head "What's that you say? He should run as far from here as he can? " he laughed.

As Randyll ran at him, Aemon threw the head through the air and it struck the Lord of Horn
Hill smack bang in the face. Ducking under the swing of the Greatsword, Aemon twisted and
spun and then brought Dark Sister down hard on Randyll Tarly's arm. The arm and the sword
it had wielded both fell to the ground and then just as Aemon was about to send Randyll to

whichever hell he'd sent his son to, Ghost took the man to the ground and took the hand from
Randyll's other arm. The white wolf looked at him and Aemon nodded.

"Thoros, seal the wounds. Today is not the day that Tarly dies." Aemon said as he moved
closer to the man who rolled on the ground in great pain "You'll tell me everything before you
leave this world and the pain you feel today, is just the beginning. You've woken the dragon,
Lord Tarly. It's time to reap what your actions have sown."

Bodies were burned, words spoken over only the three men that Aemon and Thoros had lost.
Randyll's heir, who Aemon had learned from Margaery was named Dickon Tarly, had his
severed head covered in salt to preserve it, and then his body was burned along with the
others. One of the bodies provoked an angry reaction from Lady Margaery and Aemon later
found out that the reason she spat on his corpse was that he'd killed her father. After the fires
had burned out, they left the village behind them and began the long trek back to Highgarden.

The Blood Wyrm came to them long before they set up their camp. Aemon spoke to his
dragon softly and promised him that they would fly soon. Randyll would survive his wounds
and would no doubt be welcomed how he deserved to be once they reached Highgarden.
While Lady Margaery both longed to be back home once more and worried greatly about
what she'd find once she reached there. Aemon considered only telling her the good news, yet
he knew he could not. So once she had washed and eaten, then and only then did he speak to
her about the losses her family and she herself had suffered.

"I had not wished to tell you this, my lady, no lie. And I beg your forgiveness that I have not
my wife's tact for such things."
"My family, your grace….are they…"
"Your grandmother, mother, and oldest brother are all well and uninjured. Ser Garlan suffered
a wound to his leg that I'm certain will have no long-term effects. Ser Loras has broken a few
ribs and requires some rest…..your husband….I'm afraid your husband was killed in the
battle, my lady."

Margaery shed some true tears and yet she didn't collapse or fall in on herself. Aemon had
nothing to offer her in way of comfort other than later on when he spoke on what was to
befall the Lions and how he'd make them pay. It pleased him some to hear the concern in
Margaery's voice when he spoke on Rhaenys' injury and he felt it to be a true concern. It
showed much about the lady that she could do go given what she herself was going through.

As they rode the next day, Aemon looked at Margaery more than once or twice with Rhaenys'
words in mind. Aurane could do little better than to be wed to such a woman and while the
time for such conversations was not yet upon them, it soon would be. Much as he wished it to
be Rhaenys to speak to Lady Olenna and Margaery herself about it, he wagered it would fall
to him and so he resolved himself to be ready for it if it did. As he then resolved himself for
the march into the West he would soon lead and the one to Dorne that would then follow.

Tywin Lannister and Doran Martell had both pulled on the dragon's tail. Neither of them
would like it when the dragon pulled back.

The Conquest of Westeros LVI
The Huntsman's fall.

A storied history that stretched all the way back to the Age of Heroes, House Tarly, like the
Striding Huntsman that they had taken as their sigil, had loomed large over the Reach for
centuries. Famed for their military prowess and their resoluteness in battle, there were some
who'd say that they were the Reach's true military might. Never had this been proved more
true than during the reign of the Vulture King and especially so during the Vulture Hunt.

Led by Savage Sam Tarly, a large force of several thousand knights and archers was what
eventually broke the Vulture King's lines and ended his reign. Tales would tell of how
Heartsbane was covered in blood from hilt to tip, so many men did Savage Sam himself kill
that day. Though the Vulture King escaped, his respite was but fleeting. The Vulture Hunt was
launched and it was once again Savage Sam Tarly who was to prove the thorn in the Vulture
King's side.

Captured, beaten, and bloodied and then tied between two posts by Savage Sam himself, the
Vulture king's death is one spoken of often. Some say he died of thirst and exposure while
others peak of a far more bloody end. Tales of the very vultures that he'd taken his name from
flying down from on high and tearing into the Vulture's King's flesh leading to his eventual
death. Whatever the truth of such tales is, only those who were there truly know. What is
under no doubt, however, is that from that moment on, when the Reach was called to war, the
Striding Huntsman was the sigil that most were wary of.

After his actions during the Battle of Highgarden and once the Dragonknight turned his
sights upon him, the Huntsman would stride no more and Randyll Tarly would be
remembered as the last of his line. Horn Hill was stripped from the remainder of his family
and his wife and daughter were named Florents and sent to live with the rest of their kin at
Brightwater Keep. As for Randyll Tarly, his death was a slow and painful one and while I was
not there at the end, I believe the words of those who were who say he begged for death's
release.

A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: A Stunted Lion and his protect find no comfort on the road and run into the
very last people they would wish to. Aurane arrives at Highgarden and speaks to Arthur
about his own victory and prisoners. Aemon and Margaery return and Olenna's relief
soon turns to worry as she ponders the future. At a meeting, the succession of
Highgarden, the Reach, and the future of its former lady are discussed and decided. In
the North, Ned calls the banner and marches to avenge his kin while in the Vale, Elbert
Arryn and the Knights of the Vale answer their king’s call. Oberyn learns about the fate
of the Dornish army as Rhaenys recovers from her injury. While the west looks on with
bated breath as the Dragonknight and his army march to the Lion’s Den.
For those following my other fics, Winter King and the Dragonverse are up next.

Nowhere to Run to, Baby. Nowhere to Hide.
Chapter Summary

A Stunted Lion and his protector find no comfort on the road and run into the very last
people they would wish to. Aurane arrives at Highgarden and speaks to Arthur about his
own victory and prisoners. Aemon and Margaery return and Olenna's relief soon turns to
worry as she ponders the future. At a meeting, the succession of Highgarden, the Reach,
and the future of its former lady are discussed and decided. In the North, Ned calls the
banners and marches to avenge his kin. While in the Vale, Elbert Arryn and the Knights
of the Vale answer their king’s call. As Aemon says goodbye to a friend and makes an
oath before heading west to face the Lions.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The conquest of Westeros LVII
The Fall and Rise of House Velaryon II.

There had been many famed members of the House of the Seahorse, none more so than
Corlys Velaryon, The Sea Snake. A man who truly owned the seas as much as any member of
the House of the Dragon owned the skies. The Sea Snake's sense of adventure was only
matched by his ambition. Wed to Rhaenys Targaryen, the Sea Snake sought his blood on the
Imperial Seat and was willing to use almost any means to achieve his goal.

As a member of the High Council, Corlys had always served his own interests as much as he
served the Empire. After the death of Emperor Jaehaerys. Corlys put forward his wife's name
as his successor as he had years before when Prince Baelon, The Spring Prince and
Dragon's Heir had died. Again he was denied as instead it was accepted as the Emperor's
Will that his grandson Prince Viserys rather than his granddaughter Princess Rhaenys
should ascend to the Imperial Seat.

Corlys stewed in his anger and yet bided in his time, sensing a chance to see his dream
fulfilled through his daughter only to push too hard and lose his position, his privilege, and
almost his life too. Over the next century, House Velaryon lost and then regained favor in
equal measure until finally it was all but cast out from any role of true power within the
Empire.

Had it not then been for the Empress of the Ice, they may never have regained any. For
dragons don't easily forgive, they rarely ever forget and while ambition is welcomed and
applauded, such blatant ambition usually goes unrewarded and sometimes even punished.

Through Aurane Velaryon's bond with the Dragonknight the House of the Sea Horse rose
once more. Yet it would not be upon the Imperial Seat or even in Essos that Corlys' dreams
would be realized. With a match requested by the Dragonknight and his Queen, the Princess
of the Sun. Bonding with a dragon that finally answered the long-asked but never answered
question of who Aurane's Velaryon's mother had been and through children born from the
union of Sea Horses and Roses, was a crown once again gifted to House Velaryon. And
through that union between the House of the Dragon and the House of the Seahorse that the
next Dragonknight was born.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Aurane Velaryon.

With what Daario and the Second Sons had done before the battle and his arrival on
Darkfyre, the victory had been complete and total. Which had then led Aurane to wonder was
Aemon's own just as true as his. For he had no doubt that his brother by choice would prevail
and worried about him not, and yet still he wished to be by his side sooner rather than later.
The horseman that soon arrived bearing words for him and Daario carried both the news he
wished for as well as new orders for him, Daario, and the Second Sons. Though Stannis'
Baratheon's part in the war against Dorne and the West was somewhat at an end.

"The West is to fall," Aurane said as he sat with Daario, Stannis, and Ser Davos Seaworth in
Stannis' tent.
"I had assumed as much from what the king said, Lord Aurane. Are we to march?" Stannis
asked.
"No, my lord. Your part in the war is at an end, in this respect at least." Aurane answered,
Stannis looking at him with some confusion now. "His grace wishes for you to take the
prisoners back with you to Storm's End, Lord Stannis, Quentyn Martell in particular is most

prized and so he's to be treated better than most. While still to be left in no doubt that he is
but a prisoner."
"His grace needs not our armies in dealing with the West, Lord Aurane?" Ser Davos asked.
"His grace welcomes all you've done thus far, Ser Davos. He deems your oaths fulfilled and
while more men would be helpful in bringing the West to heel, it's now time for others to pay
their own dues. The Knights of the Vale, men of the Reach, and the Northern Army will all
now descend upon the West. Along with myself, Darkfyre, and the Second Sons, we have
more than enough men to deal with the Old Lion. Especially now his army has been broken
as truly as the one we ourselves faced here."

Aurane saw Stannis look to Davos before both men then looked back at him. He then rose
from his feet and offered both men his hand, shaking first the one and then the other of the
hands offered back to him. Again he thanked them on Aemon's behalf and assured them that
their actions here had won them favor, that this was not a snub but a reward for those actions.
Something that he believed was true given the words the horseman had carried to him.
Leaving the tent with Daario, Aurane made his way to where the prisoners were and had one
final look over each of them. He paid more attention to Quentyn Martell than any of them
and could see that though uninjured, the man was somewhat broken.

Happy enough by that, he and Daario walked to where the Second Sons had made their camp.
Both of them spoke quietly along the way. Daario wished to know if he should fly with
Aurane on Darkfyre or had he the time to travel with the Second Sons and meet up with
Aemon's forces later. So Aruane told him that the letter had only sought Daario and the
Second Sons to make their way to Highgarden to join up with the army that would soon be
heading to the West. While it had said to do so with haste, it had not specified that Daario
was to do so ahead of them. For Aurane's part, he'd just been asked to make his way to
Highgarden once things were resolved with Stannis Baratheon, little else.

"Not only am I not yet comfortable enough to carry a passenger on Darkfyre's back, I believe
Aemon wishes for both you and the Second Sons, Daario. Not one without the other."
"We'll ride today and do so with as much haste as we can manage," Daario said and Aurane
nodded.

Aurane thanked the Second Sons on Aemon's behalf and gathered some food for his journey
to Highgarden. As he was still getting used to flying on a dragon, he had no true idea of just
how long it would take him to reach the Tyrell keep or whether or not he'd feel the need to
land before they arrived there. So the food and water were more a precaution than a necessity.

He said his goodbyes to Daario, took one last look at the Stormlands' army as he walked to
where Darkfyre awaited, and then climbed atop his dragon and took to the sky.

In the end, he needed no stop, and other than taking a long swallow from his water pouch, he
touched not his supplies. The journey took no more than an hour or two and only that Aurane
was still so inexperienced with being a Dragonlord, or he'd have known whether or not it was
Darkfyre's sheer speed or that the distance was not so very far which was the reason for it.
Whichever it was truly didn't matter in the end and long before he began to feel
uncomfortable in the saddle, Darkfyre was flying over Highgarden while Aurane sought a
place to land.

No sooner had he done so than he was joined by some Unsullied who escorted him into the
keep after he'd thanked Darkfyre and bid the dragon to find some food to eat. Something
which shouldn't prove too difficult given the large numbers of dead horses they'd passed on
their way here. The remnants of the Lannister Army and the carnage that had been wrought
down upon them were still clear to see. Aurane was certain they would serve as true a
warning as to what happened when you faced dragons as what was soon to come.

Walking through the keep it appeared that Ser Arthur had sought him out as he'd been in the
keep only a few moments when he saw the Sword of the Morning walk toward him. The look
that Arthur wore was both welcoming and yet one that suggested the victory had not been as
conclusive as Aurane had believed it to be. Though even that look didn't truly prepare Aurane
for the news that Arthur shared with him when they spoke, in what the knight had taken for
his solar.

"It cannot be," Aurane said, shocked and stunned that anything could have taken Torgho
Nudho from the world. Not to mention worried at how Aemon had taken the news.
"I wish I could say it was not true, Aurane. Alas…."
"Rhaenys was injured too, you say. How badly, Arthur?"
"It seemed minor, the Queen took an arrow in the leg, and yet…"
"Aemon cares not and promises fire and blood to those who dared harm his wife." Aurane
finished Arthur's words for him.
"He does. The Queen is well, Aurane. Aemon took her to Harrenhal and she's in the care of
the Mage. After doing so Aemon then arrived here at Highgarden, he'd not have come unless
she was well and recovering."

"No, he'd not," Aurane stated, knowing full well what Aemon would have done should
Rhaenys' injury be more serious or even life-threatening. "Where is he now, Arthur?"
"He and Thoros have set off in search of Lady Margaery. She'd been kidnapped by one of
their Bannermen, Tarly I believe."
"That miserable fucker, I should have let Aemon end him when he wished to."
"I've no doubt that will soon be his fate if it's not already," Arthur replied. Both of them as
sure as the other was that was what Aemon would see done.

Aurane listened as Arthur told him then of the extent of the victory. The Lannister armies had
been broken, two of them by Princess Daenerys and Nightwing. While the last and largest of
them had been in the process of being beaten when Rhaenys had suffered her injury and so
had faced the Dragonknight and the Blood Wyrm for their sins.

There had been losses other than Torgho Nudho too. Gwayne Gardener had fallen as too had
Mace Tyrell, both Ser Garlan and Ser Loras had been injured and of course, Lady Margaery
had been abducted. Yet for Aurane it was his queen and the fall of his friend that his thoughts
went to.

"I need to see him, Arthur. To pay my respects."
"I'll have one of the Unsullied take you to him. They stand vigil still."

Aurane was taken to a room that seemed colder than the others. Outside the door, a half
dozen Unsullied stood in strict formation and he would wager that none but those who
actually knew Torgho Nudho were allowed to pass. Entering through a second door into a
smaller room, he saw the body laying atop a table. Moving to it, he felt the tears begin to
build and by the time he was looking down on Torgho Nudho's face, they had begun to fall.

Aemon's sworn shield looked to be simply resting. There was no sign of injury and no wound
visible. Thoros and his men had gone about their work and had done a sterling job, not that it
brought Aurane much comfort. Reaching his hand out so as to touch Torgho Nudho's face,
Aurane almost expected to feel warmth and life rather than the coldness of a life no longer
lived. He then stayed for more than an hour or more just standing there and looking down on
a man he'd known all his life. A man he'd been proud to call a friend and who he couldn't
truly comprehend wouldn't be around any longer. Never again would he see him stand at
Aemon's side or shield his back and Aurane was not sure he was yet ready for all that meant.

Eventually, he left the room and made his way back to the solar where he and Arthur had
met. Taking a seat in front of the Sword of the Morning once more, he then spoke on the
extent of their victory over the Dornish Army. Just as he was getting ready to speak on
prisoners other than Quentyn Martell, the sounds of a dragon landing were followed by those
of guards rushing and servants scurrying about. Both he and Arthur moved to the window
and as he looked out, he was greeted first by the sight of the Blood Wyrm and then by
Aemon, Thoros, Lady Margaery, and what looked to be one or more prisoners.

"We should go greet him, Arthur. I doubt we'll spend much longer here." Aurane said as
Arthur nodded.
"No, we'll soon be marching west and to a reckoning."

Aurane believed it would be even more than that. He had already been certain that Aemon
would bring a reckoning to the Lions. Now he'd bring wrath and ruin too. For injuring his
wife and for taking Torgho Nudho from the world, Aemon would give no quarter and
Westeros would finally see the true Dragonknight. They'd not like what they saw. Nor would
they ever forget it, of that Aurane was certain.

The Reach 301 AC.
Tyrion Lannister.

A complete and total disaster. That's what the battle had been and all his father's well-laid
plans had led to naught. Tyrion was in no doubt what the result of Tywin Lannister's folly
would lead to and yet for now he had other problems. He was lost in the Reach with only the
Hound to shield his back. Somewhere out there was an army as well as at least two, mayhap
three dragons. One of which was the Blood Wyrm and Tyrion had already seen as much of
Aemon Targaryen's rage as he ever wished to. As too had the Hound who'd threatened to
leave him alone here more than once.

Coin didn't make a man immune to fire, after all. Something which had been proved true
enough to the Lords of the West on the field of fire that Tyrion and the Hound had somehow
managed to escape from. The fire had proved something else to Tyrion as well. It had shown
that rather than the Hound being a man who was fearless, there was actually something in
this world that scared him half to death. It was something that Tyrion should have been able
to figure out long before now given the Hound's scarred face. Yet, it had taken dragons

unleashing their flames on men and seeing them turn to ash, or were they unlucky enough to
not be truly caught by the flames, hearing their screams as they burned to death, that had.

So when Sandor Clegane had run from the field, Tyrion was not fool enough to stay on it. He
cared not if men saw him as craven, for only a fool showed courage when facing a fiery
death. Thankfully he'd caught up with his sworn sword and together they'd ridden fast and
far, leaving the Lannister army and his father to deal with the Dragonknight and the Blood
Wyrm. In the days since then, Tyrion had been even more thankful that he'd kept his coin
purse. Though it was starting to feel a little light and he was beginning to worry it wouldn't
stretch enough to get him to safety.

'Not that I know a place that is safe from a dragon's flames' he thought as they rode through
the night.

They set up their camp by day or did so once they found somewhere they'd not be disturbed.
In the forests among the trees, while trying not to imagine those trees alight. Once in a cave
that they found and once in a tavern, where both of them got very drunk and cared not if they
were to meet their ends that night. Today it was by a stream with no cover and yet they'd little
other option open to them. There was no village nearby, no forest, and no caves, and their
horses' needed rest. As too did he and Sandor Clegane.

After eating dried meat and bread that had long since passed its best. Tyrion laid out his
makeshift bedroll and was asleep in moments. Whether or not Sandor stood watch or joined
him in that sleep, Tyrion knew not. Though when he woke up and felt the cool night air on
his face, it was to find his sworn sword already up and readying their horses for another
night's ride. Little did either of them know at the time that it was to be the last one Tyrion
took of his own volition.

An hour or two, that's all the time they had before they were on them. A red dragon flew over
their heads and then landed in front of them and a white wolf that took Sandor's horse first
before then taking Tyrion's own. Luckily, or not, Tyrion only crashed to the ground and didn't
fall beneath his horse when its legs were taken from under it. Sandor jumped from his own
and drew his sword, though soon enough, and much to Tyrion's dismay, he threw it down and
accepted the offer that was made to him.

Though given the man who made that offer, Tyrion blamed him not. How Aemon Targaryen
had found them, Tyrion was unaware. He doubted that he'd been looking for him and yet, in

the end, it really made little difference. They'd been found and were now surrounded by more
men than the Hound could face alone. Not to mention a huge dragon and a giant fucking
wolf. Looking at the dark expression on Aemon Targaryen's face, Tyrion somehow didn't
empty his bladder and piss his britches, nor did he soil himself. Instead, he simply resolved
himself to his fate.

"I know you're his sworn sword, Clegane. I know too that you shield his back for coin and
coin alone." Aemon said from atop his horse.
"I do."
"I'll make you a better offer than he then. One only a fool would turn down."
"I'm listening." The Hound said as Tyrion sighed.
"I offer you your life and a place in my service." Aemon Targaryen said with a half smile that
showed no true humor present on his face as he did so. "What say you? Would you prefer to
serve a king or a prince of a House that is soon to meet its end?"
"You have my sword, your grace."
"Thoros, see that the prisoner is secured and that our new friend here is given bread and salt.
As well as some of the good wine."

Tyrion was manhandled, bound and gagged, and tied to one of the men in red's horses. He
wasn't blindfolded, nor was he the only prisoner being held in such a way. Not that the sight
of Randyll Tarly did anything to comfort him. Looking around, he could see that he was
amongst a group of no more than twenty or so men and one woman. Though why Margaery
Tyrell was with these men, he knew or cared not. The looks the lady was giving him were
more than enough to tell him that she knew full well all that his father had tried or planned.
After they set off, no words were spoken for some time. Other than a conversation between
Aemon and Margaery and some words spoken to Sandor by Thoros of Myr, they practically
rode in silence. That they rode through the night surprised him somewhat and he wondered if
they like he and Sandor had, would make camp during the day. Only to find that other than
stopping to eat, rest the horses and make water, the ride continued at the same pace all
through until the next day.

It wasn't until the next night that they finally stopped and made camp. Tyrion then found to
his surprise that he was to be kept separate from Randyll Tarly. He was fed well and even
given some wine, which he drank down thirstily. Around the fire, some distance from where
he was kept, Sandor Clegane sat with men he now served with while Margaery Tyrell sat
with Aemon Targaryen and laughed at something he said to her. Tyrion wondered if there was
something illicit going on between the two of them, but later when they went to their beds,

they did so alone and not together. Though Aemon did not rest before coming to speak to
Tyrion and making him completely aware of the fate that now awaited him.

"Your family has much to pay for. A debt they now owe me and what is it you say, ah yes, a
Lannister always pays their debts." Aemon said and Tyrion was in no position to correct him
and say his rather than theirs, though given Aemon's next words, he mayhap had it more right
than Tyrion did. "I'll collect them from every single last one of you. By the time I'm done,
there won't be a Lannister alive. Be that your father, brother, sister, nieces, nephews, aunts,
uncles, or cousins."

Tyrion tried to speak up for the children. He tried to say they were innocent and yet the gag
he wore and the expression on Aemon's face made that an impossible case to make. As too
did the next words that Aemon Targaryen spoke.

"I know all about your little trip east, Lannister. Your meeting with Littlefinger and your
hiring of assassins to kill my brother and lay the blame at my feet." Aemon said, his eyes
ablaze and yet his words were spoken softly so that only he and Aemon could hear them. "I
know what your father did to my grandfather and my uncle. That alone is enough to bring the
doom to your house. What you did to my wife, what you did to my sworn sword….." Aemon
composed himself before speaking once more. "You will beg for death before I grant you its
sweet release. Enjoy your journey back to your home, Lannister, for once we reach it, then
your true suffering will begin."

Tyrion wet himself. The fear that he'd felt upon seeing the Blood Wyrm and the White Wolf
were nothing compared to the fear that Aemon Targaryen's words and his expression now
instilled in him. As around him people slept, Tyrion wept. Not for the children, his brother
and sister, aunts or uncles, and certainly not for his father. He wept for himself and even the
next morning when he was once again tied to a horse and they rode, the tears still fell. All the
way to Highgarden, he wept, and long after he believed that he had no more tears to fall, they
still came.

The North 301 AC.
Ned Stark.

Even now moons later, Ned was still surprised that they had been given leave to return to the
North. Though in some ways he'd welcomed it too as there was much to do and organize. The

first of those things had been to try and come up with a future plan for his Goodsister.
Something that wasn't as easy as Ned had hoped it would be, given that Barbrey was now
almost a shadow of the woman she'd been but a few moons earlier. The loss of Brandon had
been hard on them all and so it was unsurprising that it was the woman who loved him the
most who took it hardest.

Ned had been most grateful for Cat and Robb in those early weeks, as other than his wife and
son, Barbrey had shut herself off to most people. Not even her father and brothers were truly
able to get through to her. Yet, for Ned, it had been Rodrik Ryswell and his son and heir
Roger that he'd conferred with about his Goodsister's future. While they and he had allowed
Cat and Robb to be there for Barbrey to help her through her grief. In the end, Ned agreed
with Rodrik to offer a keep and a decent holding for Barbrey to live out her days in. While at
the same time making it clear that she always had a home in Winterfell.

It then left the Moat to be dealt with and while in the future it would fall now to Bran to rule
there, for now, Ned had asked Jory Cassel to take up residence and serve as its castellan. The
Moat was still the gateway to the North and while they now no longer had to worry about
Harren and the Iron Born getting ideas above their station, they would still protect it as if they
did. Though the days of anyone ever threatening the North and attacking them through that
avenue were long since gone. Especially given the new rulers who resided in Harrenhal.

As the days, weeks, and then a moon passed, life began to return to a new normal. Ned was
now Warden of the North, though to his surprise he had been named a prince still, and other
than answering to a different king and moving to a new home, nothing much had changed.
Barbrey had somewhat come back into herself, though he doubted if the formidable woman
that his Goodsister had once been would ever be who she was again. Robb had taken to his
lessons both in the sparring yard and with the Maester with fervor. Bran too had found his
own lessons had now taken on a far more intensive schedule, while his wife, daughters, and
youngest son had adapted to the change best of all. All in all, Ned was content, or as content
as a man who'd lost his father and brother to murderers could be. Then the raven came which
changed everything.

"My Prince." Maester Luwin said as he hurried into what had once been Ned's father's and
then his brother's solar. 'Though Brandon held it but briefly' Ned thought angrily. "From the
king." the Maester said taking Ned from his dark thoughts.

Ned took the scroll from the Maester's hand and broke the seal, reading the words eagerly
and being shocked by what they said. Glad he'd asked Luwin to come with him from Moat
Cailin and sent Waldron there instead.

To the Warden of the North,

I bid you call your banners and march, uncle. As many men as you can raise in as quick a
time as you can do so. I seek not them all, but enough to send a clear and unmistakable
message. The time for justice for fallen kin has finally arrived. For I know now who it is who
took my grandfather and uncle from the world and I seek to pay them back in kind. Tywin
Lannister is the culprit we both seek to make pay, uncle. He and his son, Prince Jaime are the
men with blood on their hands along with Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides.
While I've seen their armies fall already, the Cowardly Lions that they are have retreated
back to the rock I intend to bury them under. March and make haste and mine own men will
meet you on the road to the West.

It's time for the Wolves to howl, uncle, and they will have a Dragon's flames to guide them to
their prey.

Aemon Targaryen.

How Ned kept his cool, he knew not. In his mind, all he could see or think about was the fall
of Lions and it took the Master calling his name a fifth time for Ned to answer him. When he
did it was not to share the contents of the raven, but rather to tell him to make sure that their
own were ready to be sent out across the North. Taking some parchment, Ned went looking
and soon found ink and a quill. Then for the next hour, he wrote out orders to all the major
Houses of the North.

Men were to move quickly and to meet him at the Moat. Justice and Vengeance for a fallen
king and brother were soon to be meted out. Lions were to be put in the ground once and for
all. Ned wrote the words in as succinct and direct a manner as he could. Once he was done,
he handed the scrolls to the Maester and bid the ravens to be sent immediately. Then he
walked from the solar and went in search of his wife, son, and his Goodsister. Two of those
he found together along with his oldest daughter while Robb soon came running when he'd
heard his father was looking for him.

"Sansa, I needs must speak to your mother and aunt," Ned said, far more composed than he
truly felt.
"Of course, father." Sansa, ever the lady, said before walking from the room.

Cat looked at him worriedly and though Ned tried to assuage those worries with his own look
back at his wife, his anger which thus far had been held back was, however, clear on his face
and in his eyes. Barbrey, to her credit, reached out her hand and took Cat's to offer her back
some of the comforts she had gotten from her these past few weeks. As Ned began to speak,
Robb arrived and so he bid his son take a seat and then he composed himself once more.

"I've received an order from the king. The banners are being called and we march once
more." Ned began.
"So soon," Cat said, her worries even more clear now.
"It was the Lions, Cat. Tywin Lannister was the man behind Father's and Brandon's deaths.
He gave the order and his son Jaime and Gregor Clegane are the ones who carried them out."
"You know this for true?" Barbrey asked and Ned handed her the raven's scroll that his
nephew had sent.

Cat read the words over Barbrey's shoulder, her worries increasing the more she read and Ned
was grateful for the first words that his Goodsister uttered.

"Their armies have been defeated already. This is just a march to the West, to Casterly Rock."
Barbrey said, mostly for Cat's benefit, or so Ned believed.
"Aye, that seems to be the truth of it, Barbrey. It's not truly a war we march to but more…"
"A reckoning," Robb said and Ned nodded.

Ned spoke briefly to his son and told his Goodsister that they would speak again before he set
out for the Moat to join up with the Northern Army. Both Barbrey and Robb then left him
alone with his wife and no sooner had they left the room, than Ned took a seat next to Cat.

"Aemon seeks us not to win this battle for him, Cat. Read his words, he wishes us to march
with as many men as can be mustered quickly, but not our full strength."
"It's still a battle, Ned. I had hoped you'd seen the last of them."
"Aye," Ned said reaching out for his wife's hand. "As had I. Yet Brandon and I swore a blood
oath for Father. I swore another one for him. Be it by mine own hands or by Aemon's, the

Lions have to pay and pay dearly for what they've done. I need to be there to see it so, as too
do Benjen, Robb, and Torrhen."
"Surely not," Cat said shaking her head. "They're boys, Ned, far too young for such."
"They are Princes of the North, Cat. Men in all but name."

His wife looked at him and could see that his mind was already made up on this. Though it
was clear she wished to argue and try to change it, she did not. Instead, Cat simply made him
promise that he'd not force the boys into battle and would allow them a watching brief more
than anything else. Something that Ned had no problem agreeing with her on. After then
asking him how quickly he'd leave and being told it would be by week's end, Cat showed
great resolve as she turned her mind to the practicalities of ruling while Ned and Robb were
away.

Bran would stand as the Stark in Winterfell, though it would fall to Cat and Barbrey to rule
and Ned had no qualms about leaving either in charge.

For the next few days, preparations were made and Robb showed true eagerness to be riding
to his first battle. Little knowing about Ned's agreement with Cat or the fact that Ned didn't
believe it was truly a battle they were riding to. The Northern Army was to be little more than
a show of force, or so Ned believed. He doubted they'd have even been called for if it was not
for the justice owed in regards to Brandon and his Father's deaths, as they'd not been for
whatever battles that Aemon had already had with the men of the West.

On the day they were marching out, Ned made his way to his Goodsister's room and found
the lady sitting on the bed that she and Brandon had shared. Barbrey sat quietly while holding
one of his brother's tunics in her hands. It was clear to him that his Goodsister had been
weeping and yet there were no tears being shed when Ned entered the room.

"I came to promise you that they'd pay, Barbrey. That I will not rest until they've suffered and
met their ends."
"Make me a different promise, Ned."
"Barbrey?"
"Oh, I've no doubt they'll suffer nor that they'll die, but make me a different promise. Promise
me that you and my nephews will return, that Benjen will return. Don't let Cat and Dacey
become me, no matter what."

"I…"
"Promise me, Ned. Promise me that and I can rest easy." Barbrey said and Ned moved to the
bed and dropped to a knee, reaching out his hand to place it on Barbrey's which still held
Brandon's tunic in it.
"I promise, Barbrey," he said firmly and Barbrey nodded as he then rose back to his feet.

In the courtyard, he said his goodbyes to Bran and told him to listen to his mother and aunt.
He hugged both his daughters and then his youngest son before then moving to embrace his
wife. Ned's promise he made then to Cat was almost identical to the one that he'd made
Barbrey. Sharing a nod with his Goodsister, Ned climbed up on his horse, and along with two
hundred men at arms and his son and heir, he rode out through the South Gate.

Three days later he joined up with Benjen, Torrhen, and the Men of Sea Dragon Point, Bear
Island, and Deepwood Motte. Later on the road he was met by the Ryswells and Tallharts. By
the time he reached the Moat, the Umbers, Karstarks, and the Boltons along with the
Manderlys had joined them too. More than ten thousand men rode through the Neck with
him, all of them eager to avenge his father and brother. The North had come out in force and
shown just how missed Brandon and Rickard Stark were, and the Wolves would howl loudly
while the Lions cowered beneath their Rock. Each night before sleeping, Ned swore to
himself that once the dragons had opened the gate, his sword would take at least one of those
responsible for his losses from this world. He cared not which, but at least one Lion would
feel a wolf's bite before he rested again.

The Conquest of Westeros LVIII
The Dragon Nurseries of Lys II.

Many had traveled in the hope of bonding with a dragon over the many years that the
nurseries had existed, not all had been successful, however. First there needed to be a
dragon's call and not all who were born with the blood of the dragon would hear that call.
Then the travel itself, where the gods and fate would judge you worthy as some had found to
their cost. More than one ship bearing a potential Dragonlord had sunk over the years and
other than the Dragonknight saying that not all were worthy, few words had ever been spoken
of such.

Those lucky enough to have received the call and to have arrived unscathed, then needed the
most important approval of all, that of the dragons themselves. How this was achieved or

what the process was for doing so, only those who underwent such a thing could tell. Even
then, only those who had actually managed to bond with a dragon, as those who had now,
knew not why they'd been rejected. To speak of it, however, was the greatest crime known in
the empire and so no one, not even the Dragonknight himself ever did so.

"I'll gladly tell you the tale of Gaelithox and me, Marwyn. Yet, it'll not be until you're ready to
breathe your last breath that I'll ever tell you more than that." Aemon the Dragonknight.

Blood was key, that much was known though what form that took was very much not. It was
not simply that you bore the blood of the House of the Dragon in your veins, however, as not
every child born with such gained a dragon because of it. The dragon chose not the rider,
that was all Queen Rhaenys would ever speak on it and so it was left at that. For many years
some had sought answers, others had sought ways to force a bond with a dragon rather than
wait for one to be formed and none of those had been happy with what they'd found. For the
true strength of the Empire lay with the dragons and the lengths they went to protect that
strength knew no bounds.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Highgarden 301 AC.
Olenna.

Each day since Aemon Targaryen had ridden out in search of her granddaughter would find
Olenna standing at one of the many windows or on one of the many balconies looking out
over the labyrinth that led to Highgarden's main entrance. She would eat and rest there. At
times she'd almost sleep there as she looked to the lands below or the sky above for a sign of
the Dragonknight and her Golden Rose.

Sometimes she'd be joined by Garlan, though her grandson needed his rest. Loras, though he
mourned both Gwayne and his father and he too had been injured. Alerie, who Olenna
believed would be broken beyond repair should Margaery come to harm or Willas who was
the rock that held their family together in these trying times. Olenna hadn't even truly
mourned her son as of yet, so worried was she over Margaery's fate. While the longer it went
with no word from the Dragonknight, the more fearful she became that the very worst had
occurred.

It wasn't Aemon Targaryen who was the first of his party to arrive, either. Instead, that honor
fell to some men that the Dragonknight had sent back with a prisoner. A prisoner that Olenna,
had she been in a better state of mind, may have sought to see dead by her own hands simply
for the fact that he was a Lannister. Yet she never even bothered to go and look at Joffrey
Lannister nor did she really care that the boy had clearly suffered greatly. So uninterested was
she in the Prince of the Rock's fate that she barely even heard Willas tell her that the boy had
been unmanned. Olenna simply stood her vigil and waited for horsemen or a dragon to
return. A dragon that when it did arrive turned out to be the wrong one. Much to her
annoyance.

"I heard a dragon land." Olenna cried out as she rushed through the keep faster than a woman
of her age should. "Where is it? Where is the King? Is Margaery with him? Is my
granddaughter well?"

The dragon and its rider, however, turned out to be most disappointing. Olenna cared not that
Aurane Velaryon now was a Dragonrider, in truth it barely registered. Nor did the fact that
he'd beaten the Dornish Army with help from Stannis Baratheon. Willas informed her that
had they not stopped them where they did, then they too would have joined the attack on
Highgarden and their own forces. That too was something that Olenna simply waved off as
irrelevant. After all, it wasn't as if they didn't suffer much from those who did attack. They
hadn't come out of the battle unscathed, so what care she that it could have been even worse.
How could it be so when her heart was so very close to breaking as it was? When her
granddaughter could be out there suffering or dead.

It was little more than a week after he had left that Aemon Targaryen returned. To Olenna it
had felt like one of the longest years of her life. Time had lost all meaning to her as days
rolled into one and her nights were spent in a dreamwine induced sleep. She'd for once not
been on a balcony or near a window when the horses arrived and the dragon landed. So it fell
to Left to enter her room unannounced and knock on he privy door to tell her that the king
had returned. Though her loyal guard couldn't tell her if he had done so alone or bearing her
granddaughter's body. Steadying herself and preparing for the worst, Olenna tried to walk
slowly to the courtyard to greet the king only to swear she heard Margaery's voice and so
once again she found herself hurrying through the keep.

The sight that greeted her was enough to almost make her fall to her knees and thank the
Seven for Aemon Targaryen. Standing there and being embraced by her mother was
Margaery. Willas was by her side and thanking the king before then greeting his sister while
Olenna looked on and tried to see if her granddaughter had come to any harm. Unable to see

and even more unable to simply stand still, Olenna ran through the open double doors and
called out her granddaughter's name.

"Margaery!"
"Grandmother!" Margaery shouted back before running to embrace her.

Feeling Margaery's arms as they wrapped around her was the single greatest feeling that
Olenna had ever experienced. Hearing her tell her that she was well and unharmed, then came
damnably close to beating it. All the fears Olenna had that she'd not see her Golden Rose
again or even should she be lucky enough to do so, she'd find her a shadow of the girl she'd
once been, all now evaporated as she held Margaery and listened to her granddaughter speak.
Eventually, they parted and after Olenna looked Margaery over and saw to her great relief
that she was truly unharmed, she moved to the king before embracing him just as truly as she
had her granddaughter.

"I owe you everything, your grace. My oath, my fealty, my very life is yours from this
moment onward. Thank you for bringing her back, thank you for not forsaking us." Olenna
said as Aemon, uncomfortable with her show of affection though he clearly was, allowed her
to move from him in her own time.
"You are most welcome, my lady," Aemon said as he let him free from her arms. "Mayhap
you would like some time with your granddaughter and the rest of your family. I have much
still to do, but we can talk more truly on the morrow."
"I thank you, your grace. Truly." Olenna said before she then moved to where Margaery
stood and took her granddaughter by one arm while Alerie took the other and together they
walked into the keep.

Both Loras and Garlan left their beds to come and see their sister with their own eyes. Loras
wept as he spoke to Margaery and begged her forgiveness for Gwayne. While Olenna glared
at her grandson for bringing that up before Margaery had settled. Garlan simply embraced his
sister and told her that he would recover fully. After then giving Margaery some time to share
in her mother's grief over the loss of Mace, Olenna bid her to tell the tale of her kidnap and
rescue.

To no one's surprise, certainly not Olenna's, she far enjoyed the latter of those tales more than
the former. Listening keenly as Margaery told her that the Dragonknight himself had been the
one to rescue her and that he'd not sent other men to do so. Hearing what he'd done to Dickon

Tarly and how he'd used that to bring Randyll out from hiding was something that Olenna
truly welcomed. As she did finding out that the man who'd taken Mace from the world no
longer drew air into his lungs. When she was then told that Randyll Tarly still lived, Olenna
was furious, only for Margaery's words about him and Tyrion Lannister, who was now held
prisoner too, to bring a smile to her face.

"His grace promised that they'd both suffer much before they drew their final breaths,
grandmother. He has men coming to deal with Randyll Tarly, men who'll seek answers from
him before he meets his end."
"Answers?"
"About the Faith and who it is that he was working with," Margaery said and Olenna nodded.
"Tyrion Lannister?"
"Will be used to bring his family to heel, grandmother."

Olenna understood it not, as all she'd heard about the Imp of Casterly Rock was that his
father hated and despised him. King Aemon had earned her unwavering faith and loyalty,
however, so she'd raise no objections and ask no questions of the man. Instead, she'd simply
welcome whatever fate was to befall the Lions and the Huntsman. For now, all she truly
cared about was that Margaery was safe and well and back where she belonged.

"I worried so much for you, Sweetling. I…."
"Grandmother." Margaery said moving to embrace her once more "I am well and I was
unafraid. I knew you'd never give up on me."
"Never," Olenna stated firmly.

That night they stayed up until they could do so no longer and Olenna even tucked Margaery
up in bed as if she was a little girl and not a grown woman. The next morning when she
awoke, Olenna hurried to her granddaughter's room just to make sure it had not all been a
dream and looked in to see Margaery sleeping. They broke their fast as a family, with no sign
of the king or any of his men. Afterward, Margaery went to speak to Melessa Gardener and
together they went and paid their respects to Gwayne. With Margaery now in Highgarden,
Olenna felt ready for the day for once and so when Willas told her that the king was ready to
speak to them, she was more than happy to do.

"Did he say what it was about?" she asked as she and her grandson made their way to the
solar that they'd given Ser Arthur and which the king had now taken over.
"The future, grandmother, that's all he said."

Olenna shivered a little at that, as she wasn't quite certain what shape that future would now
take. Regardless of whatever she was asked for, requested, or demanded to do, Olenna would
argue with it not. She owed the dragons more than she could ever repay them, yet she was
willing to try. As she and Willas made reached the solar, she looked to the Unsullied and
other men who guarded the King, With barely a word spoken, the door was opened for them
and Olenna stepped inside. Willas walked by her side and was mayhap far less composed
than she was.

"Your grace." Olenna curtsied as well as she was able while Willas bowed and they were bid
to take their seats.
"Your granddaughter is settled, my lady?" the king asked, curiously and not as some may
have done so as a reminder of who had rescued her, or so Olenna believed.
"Most settled, your grace. She mourns her father and husband while being relieved at the
same time that her brothers' injuries are not so severe. Mostly, I believe she is just happy to
be home, and again for that, you have my thanks."
"As you have mine, your grace," Willas added only for the king to shake his head and wave
off their gratitude.
"My House and yours are allied, my lady. An attack on you is as one on myself or my wife
and so will be treated as such." the king said and Olenna smiled at hearing it stated that way.
"I know too that my wife and Lady Margaery are well on the way to becoming good friends
and so forgive me if I had mine own selfish reasons to see your granddaughter safe too."
"I am pleased to hear it, your grace. As I was to hear that her grace's recovery continues
apace."

Aemon nodded at her words and then offered both her and Willas some wine which Olenna
accepted. After some brief words about the prisoners and his plans for them, the
Dragonknight then spoke of his plans in regard to the Lions, Huntsman, West, and the Faith.
Some of those plans sending a chill down Olenna's spine, even though it was by their own
actions that those now in most danger had brought the Dragonknight's wrath down upon
them.

"House Tarly is to be attainted, my lady. Horn Hill is to be stripped from them and given to
another, I care not who." Aemon said as Willas tried his best not to look at her as the king
continued. "I know not the further makeup of the Tarly line, other than there is a son at the
Wall, I believe, a Samwell."
"There are some daughters, your grace."
"I care not of their fate, Lord Willas. Other than they will no longer reside at Horn Hill or
bear the Tarly name. The Huntsman dies when Randyll Tarly breeds his last."
"Which will be when your grace?" Olenna asked, doing her best not to send reproachful or
demanding.
"When he's spilled his very last secret, Lady Olenna. Then and not before." the king said, his
words spoken and as cooly and collectively as ice. "House Lannister too will cease to exist
and soon will be nothing more than a cautionary tale whispered in the wind."
"All of it, your grace."
"Every last one of them, my lady." the king said, leaving no room for doubt. "As for the West,
I've not yet decided fully as the fate of its lords will depend on their actions as I march. The
Faith, however." Olenna looked on as the king picked up his glass and almost swirled the
wine around inside of it before then taking a swallow. "They too have a reckoning to face.
For they are not the final arbitrators on people's fates they may believe they are."
"They're not?" Willas questioned.
"No, I am." the king said as Olenna brought her wine glass to her mouth, her hands shaking
somewhat at the fire she saw in Aemon Targaryen's eyes as he spoke.

It wasn't madness, instead, it was pure determination. A True will to do whatever needed to
be done and it was as frightening as the dragons themselves, more so, because Olenna wasn't
sure that anything could stand in the face of that will. Not that she intended to. Almost as
soon as he'd spoken he words and they'd sat there in the open for a few moments, Aemon's
expression changed and Olenna felt she was looking at a completely different man. Where
but a few moments earlier it had been the Dragonknight for true, now it was Aemon
Targaryen, her king, it was disconcerting, to say the least. Yet she was far more relaxed about
the fact that she was to deal with that man. Especially now that her own and her Houses' fate
was to be discussed.

"You and my wife had an agreement, my lady." Aemon began, stopping himself before
clarifying his words "Have an agreement."
"Your grace.?" Olenna asked as she tried to remember what she and Rhaenys Targaryen had
agreed to.

"Lord Willas, I name you as the Warden of the South and Lord of Highgarden. May you
serve it as well as my wife and I believe you shall." Aemon said and Olenna looked from the
king to Willas and back, unsure of what had just happened.
"Your grace?" Willas asked just as confused as Olenna was, though her own confusion was
clearing up somewhat.
"My wife and your grandmother agreed that should for any reason House Gardeners' line
falter, then it would be to House Tyrell and House Tyrell first we'd look to rule over the
Reach. I see no reason to go against my wife in this matter and far more that show she's as
right in this as she always is." the king said almost proudly as he spoke of the queen. Olenna
found herself sitting there looking at the man in front of her and thanking the Seven for him
once again.
"I am honored, your grace, truly. Any oath you wish me to swear I…"
"We've taken your oaths already, Lord Willas. Yours and the oaths of your House, I've seen
naught that makes me question them or seeks me to need to hear them repeated."
"I thank you, your grace."
"I will require some of your men, Lord Willas. As well as your own participation in the
march to the West. However, I doubt they or you will see any true action and it's more for the
symbolism than any military reason I seek you to march with my army."
"I would be honored to march with you, your grace, truly I would."
"Then that is settled, Lady Olenna I wonder if you and I could have a moment alone."
"Of course, your grace," Olenna said looking to Willas who rose to his feet, bowed, and
thanked the king again before leaving the room.

The silence lasted only until Willas had left, the king not a man who seemed to like to waste
time, which Olenna much appreciated.

"Though we will of course give your granddaughter time to mourn the loss of her husband,
my lady, his loss provides us with a quandary."
"It does," Olenna replied, though whether she was agreeing with the king or asking him a
question, she knew not.
"My wife is most fond of your granddaughter, my lady. I lied not when I said I had mine own
selfish reasons I wished to return her safely to Highgarden. While I may not have felt the
same about Lord Gwayne, I liked the man well enough. In time, mayhap I'd have seen him as
close to me as some of those who I name my friends. Though I'd never have seen him as
close to me as my brother by choice."

"I would imagine not, your grace," Olenna said, unsure where Aemon was going with this.
"I would seek that closeness between our Houses, however." the king said and Olenna looked
at him, still somewhat lost. "To that end, when the time is right, I would seek a marriage
between your granddaughter and Lord Velaryon, my lady."

There had been very few times in her life when Olenna was truly speechless. Fewer still
when an opportunity too good to resist fell into her lap. With Gwayne she had thought she'd
finally put her blood on the Reach's throne and their rise would be complete. When the
dragons had then taken that throne from her grasp, Olenna had sought another prize. It was
one that she doubted she'd ever live to see realized and yet it was one that she believed could
be attainable. A child of Margaery's and Gwayne's to one day be wed to a dragon.

Whatever true chance there had been of that, had died with Gwayne, and Olenna, in truth,
had mourned its loss not. In time, she may have. Once she'd put away her worries and
suffered through her grief, her old ambitions would have raised their head once more, of
which she doubted not. Never would she have ever dared to dream that it could be offered to
her on a silver platter, however. For whatever chance there was of a child of Gwayne and
Margaery's marrying into the House of the Dragon, a child of her granddaughter and Aurane
Velaryon, that wasn't just possible, that was almost certain.

"Forgive me, your grace," Olenna said as she took a swallow of her wine and let the words
sink in. Then despite her own best interests, Olenna spoke honestly to the king. "I will not lie
to you, your grace, and say that I've not thought of a great-grandson or great-granddaughter
or mine marrying into your House one day."
"I would expect no less, my lady."
"This match I would wager would see more chance of that?" she asked.
"It would and yet even if it did not…."
"It would bring us together more closely." Olenna interrupted, before apologizing for doing
so, which the king waved off.
"I've come to know your granddaughter more, my lady. Far more than I had up to now and so
I've seen the strength of her character much more truly. I believe she and Lord Velaryon
would not only be a wise match, politically but one where a love could blossom that both
Margaery and Aurane deserve. For me, this is more than simple politics, my lady. Were it but
that then I'd seek a different match for both of them." the king said and Olenna smiled as she
nodded.

She wished for more than simple political expediency for her granddaughter. Despite her
ambitions, Olenna had always wished for Margaery to be happy too. In Gwayne, her
granddaughter had found a love of a sort, though how true that love was, Olenna wasn't
certain. Could she find it in Aurane Velaryon? Olenna knew not, and yet she believed there
was more than a chance for it. At the very least she hoped there was.

"I would ask for time, your grace. Not to consider the match, nor to agree to it. On that you
have my own agreement here and now." Olenna said firmly.
"To allow your granddaughter to grieve for true and to give her time to get used to the idea of
being wed again." the king stated and Olenna nodded. "Mayhap for both she and Aurane to
get to know each other too."
"I believe that would be most advantageous, your grace."
"As do I, my lady, as do I."
"Then we have an agreement, your grace? After some time to grieve and spend with her
betrothed, Margaery and Lord Velaryon will be wed."
"We have an agreement, my lady."

Walking out of the solar, Olenna felt as light as she ever had in both heart and mind. Not only
would Willas now rule over the Reach, but in time Margaery would be wed to Aemon
Targaryen's brother by choice. Her granddaughter would be wed to a Dragonlord. So happy
was she by this turn of events that Olenna took until she was back in her rooms to realize
she'd never asked about the finer details of the agreement. Where Margaery would live, how
she'd be supported, what lands were to be hers and her new husband's. The funniest thing was
that Olenna found she cared not and thought them simply insignificant details.

Later as they ate a far more formal dinner that the king, Aurane, Thoros and the rest of the
king's inner circle attended, Olenna found herself more looking to the silver-haired Aurane
Velaryon than to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. She couldn't help but try to picture what
children born to him and her granddaughter would look like. As Aurane said something to
Margaery which brought one of her true smiles to her face, Olenna turned to see that Aemon
too was watching them both with just as keen an eye as her own.

The Reach 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

Since he'd arrived back at Highgarden and returned Margaery to her family, Aemon almost
went about crossing things off a list. Ravens were sent and Highgarden's Maester Lomas was
entrusted to do so and bring them the replies immediately and very much not at the same
time. Olenna, Willas, and others may have vouched for the man's loyalty but until the Mage
did so too, Aemon would be wary of the man. So two Unsullied were tasked with seeing that
ravens left in a timely manner and that any replies were brought as soon as they arrived.

With Aurane having made it to Highgarden before him, Aemon was able to hear the full
extent of the victory against the Dornish Army and the prisoners that were taken. Happy to
find that along with Quentyn Martell, there were some heirs and sons of notable Houses as
well as some Lords themselves who didn't perish. Though a lot had in both Daario's surprise
attack on their camp and in the battle that followed.

Aemon had then, at Rhaenys behest, spoken to Lady Olenna about the succession and who
would rule the Reach now that Gwayne Gardener had passed. He'd seen how relieved she'd
been by him naming Willas and then how intrigued she was in regard to the match he
proposed. As for himself, had he not gone on the rescue mission to return the lady to her
family, then he may still hold doubts about Margaery Tyrell and her worthiness, rather than
her suitability to marry his brother by choice. Seeing her as she was being held prisoner,
riding with her after she'd been rescued, and getting to know her far better, he now had few if
any. Something which made him far happier in bringing it up with Aurane himself.

"I must have words with you, alone," Aemon said upon rising to his feet after they'd eaten
their meal.
"Of course, your solar?" Aurane asked and Aemon shook his head.
"The dragons," Aemon said before waving off Thoros and Arthur who moved to guard him.

He allowed the two men of the Flames of the Dragon to accompany him at Thoros' request
and he and Aurane walked through the halls of Highgarden, out into the coolness of the
night, and on to where Gaelithox and Darkfyre awaited. Smiling to himself when Aurane
moved to speak to his dragon, he took the chance to stroke Gaelithox and speak softly to his
own. Aemon telling the red dragon that they'd be flying soon and would be bringing death to
their enemies as they once had.

"What bothers you, brother?" Aurane asked after a few moments of speaking to his dragon.
"Other than I wish to mourn a true friend and cannot."

"Other than that."
"I feel a fool, brother. An arrogant fool." Aemon sighed.
"For why?"
"I should have ended them before it got this far. The Lions should have been first, they were
the message I should have sent to the realm. Had I but done so….."
"This isn't you, Aemon," Aurane said softly. "You do not second guess yourself."
"He's dead, Aurane. Torgho Nudho is dead because of my arrogance. Rhaenys is…..She could
have been killed. All because I fucking believed that no one would dare….I swear it here and
now, I swear it with all I am, nothing and no one will stay my hand. I will not rest until there
is not a Lannister alive, not a single one." Aemon said. His voice even though he wished to
roar it out as loudly as Gaelithox would.
"I am with you, Aemon. Thoros, Daario, even Arthur is with you."
"Only because he knows not what I'm truly capable of, brother." Aemon said before shaking
such thoughts from his head as they were not why he'd asked to speak to Aurane." The Lady
Margaery, Aurane, what think you of her?" Aemon asked and Aurane looked at him in
surprise. Both at the question and how different a subject it was from what they'd just been
discussing.
"She's a beauty, for certain. Seems a stronger woman than I'd have named her before her
kidnap."
"She is, far stronger. I….Rhaenys." Aemon stopped himself as Aurane looked at him
curiously. "Rhaenys and I wish for you and her to be joined."
"Joined?" Aurane asked. Though it was clear he knew what Aemon meant.
"Wed."
"Aemon?"
"Rhaenys likes the lady, Aurane. She saw something in her that I did not."
"Did?"
"I see it now. Yet standing here speaking to you, I…."
"It's truly what you wish?" Aurane asked.
"It is. But I'd not force you into something you wish not. So if you object…"
"I had not thought of being wed, Aemon. Our life really didn't allow for it." Aurane said
before chuckling "Not that it stopped you,"

"I was luckier than most, I found my love and knew my heart from when I was but a boy."
"That you did," Aurane stated. "You truly see much in the lady?"
"I would not have gone through with it had I not."
"Then as long as it's what she wishes for too, I have no objection."
"Thank you, brother."

That had been that. A conversation between Aemon and his brother by choice followed by
Aurane then paying far more attention to Lady Margaery, grieving though she was. With the
Reach and House Tyrell's future decided upon, Aemon had then turned to the prisoners.
Joffrey Lannister had been treated exactly how he'd expected him to be and the boy had lost
some if not all of the arrogance he once possessed. Aemon chuckled as he walked away from
the cell to the sounds of threats that he knew full well would not be realized.

Tyrion on the other hand was a much different character. Resigned to his fate he may be, yet
that did not stop him from seeking to talk his way out of the death that was soon to be his.
Not that his words found a willing ear in Aemon or any of those guarding him. Even his
sworn sword had deserted him and while normally Aemon wouldn't trust a man who'd do
such a thing, something about Sandor Clegane named him trustworthy. Though time would
be the only thing that proved the full truth of that.

As for Randyll Tarly, each time that Aemon visited the man, was another that brought a true
smile to his face. Hearing himself be cursed by the Seven who are One and being told that the
faithful would see him dead had always had that effect on Aemon anyway. The gods had
never worried him before and they certainly wouldn't now simply because a tired and deluded
old man now said they would judge him and bring about his end. Aemon had never been
under any illusion that he would live forever or that his end, when it came, would not be
bloody and violent. He just knew, however, it would be men and not gods who brought about
that end.

"The Warrior will end you, boy."
"The Father will judge you."
"The…"
"Oh do shut up," Aemon said, having heard the same refrain countless times now. "The gods
if they exist, envy us. They envy us because we are mortal and because every moment can be
our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. Food tastes better, wine is

sweeter, love is more true, because in the blink of an eye or at the click of someone's fingers."
Aemon clicked his fingers for effect." It could all be taken from you and there is naught you
can do to stop it."

Randyll looked at him as if he was about to speak some more, yet Aemon continued,
expressing more of what he truly believed to this man than he had to any other, though he
knew not why.

"Death is the last embrace any of us will ever know. Its cold fingers are ones every man,
woman, or child will feel eventually. There is no way to fight or defeat that enemy, that god.
For death is the only god that truly exists and the only thing we say to death is, not today."
Aemon said before moving closer to Tarly "Not Today, nor tomorrow, nor the day after. Not
when your gods decide or when you beg for it, will I allow you the comfort of its embrace.
You will die only when I say you die. Now tell me, Lord Tarly, do you believe your gods
have forsaken you yet?"

Aemon waited and received no answer and so he simply left the cell. He walked through the
keep and made his way to the Tyrell family wing. While there he visited first Ser Loras and
offered the man a place in his and Rhaenys guard alongside Ser Arthur, Barristan, and
mayhap one day, Sandor Clegane. Leaving the man to mull it over and recover from his
injuries, he next went to Ser Garlan and absolved him of any blame for Torgho Nudho's
death. The gallant knight was more than relieved to hear it come from his lips. After then
paying a visit to Lady Margaery to see for himself that she was well, it was to Lord Willas
and Lady Olenna that Aemon took himself to see.

"Your grace, I…we would have come to you." Lord Willas said rising to his feet as too did
his grandmother when Aemon entered the room.
"There was no need, Lord Willas. I wished to spend some time with the other members of
your family and so it was for the best if I came to you while here."
"All is well, your grace?" Olenna asked worriedly.
"It is, Lady Olenna," Aemon said taking a seat beside the lady while Willas sat behind his
desk. "We march on the morrow, Lord Willas. You are ready for such?" he asked and Willas
looked first to his grandmother and then to Aemon before answering.
"I had thought to have more time, your grace. I've raised no more than two thousand men…"
"Which is more than enough, my lord. As I said, I wish not for you to truly fight in what's to
come, more to bear witness and to stand as my Warden of the South and your family's

representative."
"Then I'll be ready on the morrow, your grace."
"Lady Olenna, your grandson, Ser Loras." Aemon turned to face the older woman.
"Your grace?"
"I've offered him a place in my service. When he recovers, of course. To serve alongside Ser
Barristan and Ser Arthur. A guard similar to the one my father employs in Volantis and which
Ser Arthur is tasked with forming."
"A Kingsguard," Willas said, his voice soft and considered.
"A Dragonguard may be more suited, Lord Willas. My queen would not take it well if I left
her unguarded." Aemon said, and it took a moment for the Lord to realize he was japing,
though Olenna was far quicker to see the jest.
"You honor us, your grace," Olenna said and Aemon just nodded as he rose to his feet.
"I now must bury my friend, my lady, my lord. You'll not see me before the morrow and we
may not truly get a chance to speak before I leave. Those who attacked you, Lady Olenna,
those who now owe both you and me a blood debt, they have a saying do they not."
"A Lannister always pays his debts," Olenna said and Aemon smiled a mirthless smile.
"Truer words have not been spoken as the weeks and moons to come will soon prove. My
lady, Lord Willas." Aemon said before he turned and walked out of the room.

That night they gathered around the pyre. Aemon, Aurane, Thoros, Daario who had arrived
just hours earlier, Arthur, men of the Second Sons, Company of the Sea Snake, and Flames of
the Dragon. The Unsullied, who were now led by Torgho Timpa (White Worm), a man who'd
changed his name in honor of his fallen leader. Both dragons looked on as Aemon, Aurane,
Daario, and Thoros all held the torches in their hands. Aemon, however, barely listened to the
words spoken by any of those who spoke. His eyes were focused only on the man laying atop
the pyre. The man he'd known for almost all his life and who he'd not ever see again.

His friend.

Stepping forward, Aemon held back the tears which truly threatened to fall and swore to
himself he'd weep only for Torgho Nudho after he'd killed the man responsible for his death.
Only when Jaime Lannister's lifeblood had been spilled by Dark Sister, would Aemon allow
those tears to fall. Now, he wished to speak words and yet he knew not what those words

would be, even as they left his lips and were carried in the wind all the way to the West or so
he hoped.

"He was my friend. My sworn sword. As close to me as my brother in blood or my brother by
choice. No man was truer than he. None so resolute. Yet that speaks only of what he meant to
me and does not do it true justice. For Torgho Nudho was better than me in all respects.
Never could I hold a candle to the strength of will and purpose that defined his life. Nor
could I ever wish to be as honorable as he was.
For him to be taken from us by ignoble men, by men who didn't deserve to breathe the same
air that Torgho Nudho breathed shows that the world is cruel indeed.
For him not to stand here by our sides and they not rot and wither while worms feast upon
their bodies shows that the world is cruel indeed."

Aemon moved forward, raising his hand, and planted in the ground before he climbed atop
the pyre and unsheathed Dark Sister.

"He was the noblest among us. The truest man any of us will ever know. I now damn those
who dared to besmirch their blades with his blood." Aemon said as he cut his hand and let his
own blood drip over the body that was wrapped in muslin. "I now swear this oath here on this
day. I will know no rest, no comfort, no peace until those who took Torgho Nudho from this
world breathe no more. A curse shall light upon the men of the West and the Lions who dared
to feast on this good and true man.
Blood, destruction, and a dragon's flames are what they've reaped by their actions and so that
is was I'll bring to them. I call upon the Blood Wyrm to let the men of the West know we
come for them. To let them know that we come in search of blood and together we bring the
fire." Aemon said as Gaelithox roared loudly "Upon the body of Torgho Nudho. For my
friend. I swear it to be so."

After Aemon climbed back down, he sheathed his sword and picked up his torch. Daario,
Aurane, and Thoros all then stepped forward and Aemon joined them as they lit the pyre.

Long after the fire had burned out, Aemon stood and watched as the ashes blew in the wind.
This was not where and certainly not how Torgho Nudho should have died and yet he had.
Due to Aemon's negligence, arrogance, and forgetting of who he truly was, he'd lost a man
who deserved a far longer life. He'd lose no others even if it meant that he had to leave the
West a barren wasteland to ensure it.

After receiving two ravens from the Maester. One from his uncle telling him the North was
marching and the other from Denys Arryn, telling him that so too were the Knights of the
Vale, Aemon set Daario to his work in regard to Randyll Tarly. A raven was then sent to
Harrenhal to Rhaenys and finally, Aemon was ready to do what he had sworn his own blood
oath to do. Gathering the prisoners to take with him, Aemon, his men, Lord Willas, and his
own, rode out of Highgarden and headed west. In the sky above them, Darkfyre flew as too
did the Blood Wyrm, for Gaelithox would not be needed again until each and every Lion
could no longer roar.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: As Rhaenys recovers and readies to fly to her husband, she and Oberyn
discuss the ramifications of Aurane’s battle against Quentyn. Dany begins to feel
homesick and the Lords of the North join with the Knights of the Vale to meet up with
Aemon and his own army. In the West, Lords seek a way out of fighting while
Lannisport and Casterly Rock witness a Dragonknight’s Rage. Lions begin to fall and a
challenge is made and accepted.
For those following my other fics, Winter King is up next followed by Purple Deception
and Dragonwolf danced, which will be either next week or the week after.

A Bright Roar and a Dark Sister.
Chapter Summary

As Rhaenys recovers and readies to fly to her husband, she and Oberyn discuss the
ramifications of Aurane’s battle against Quentyn. Dany begins to feel homesick and the
Lords of the North join with the Knights of the Vale to meet up with Aemon and his own
army. In the West, Lords seek a way out of fighting while Lannisport and Casterly Rock
witness a Dragonknight’s Rage. Lions begin to fall and a challenge is made and
accepted.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

Being injured was frustrating, as too was how coddled Rhaenys was by those around her. Her
aunt, uncle, and even Ser Barristan all acted as if she was incapacitated. When, in truth,
Rhaenys felt no discomfort at all. Whatever ointments that Marwyn had used on her injury,
added to the small potions he made her drink, had her feeling no pain whatsoever. Instead, it
was frustration that was her most prevalent emotion.

While she had welcomed being fitted for her new armor, happy too to see that it was not only
to be functional but decorative too, Rhaenys more than anything wished to be back atop
Meraxes and flying west. Something that Aemon had left strict instructions that she was not
allowed to do until fully recovered. No matter that she was now a queen and so by right
people answered to her. On this, she was given no leeway.

"The Dragonknight tasked me with clearing you to fly, my queen. It is not a task I take
lightly." Marwyn had said when Rhaenys argued with him and told him she wished to join
Aemon now and not later.

Even Meraxes seemed to have been given instruction from her husband that overruled
Rhaenys own commands. The silver dragon refused, again and again, to allow Rhaenys to

mount her and take to the sky. It forced Rhaenys to look on in annoyance when Dany and
Nightwing flew. Even if it was ostensibly to allow them both to get used to the armor that her
aunt now wore.

So with her departure not allowed for now, Rhaenys instead threw herself into the rest of her
queenly duties. Ravens had come from the Vale and the North, confirming that they had
marched and would soon be joining up with Aemon and his army. While word had come
from the men that Aurane had left in charge of seeing that the work at Dragon's Landing
continued apace. Some of what they'd said in their ravens even brought a smile to Rhaenys'
face and forced her frustrations away, for a short while at least.

To their graces, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys,

I write to inform you that the ships have arrived from the Empire bearing stonemasons, glass
blowers, carpenters, and other artisans to help with the building of Dragon's Landing and
fitting out of Harrenhal. I've sent them on their way with a large escort as they bring some
supplies that were personally requested by his grace. We've received too, a number of
travelers who've heard of what is being built here and the new kingdom that is being
established. Merchants, traders, shipwrights, and former slaves who seek a new beginning or
to make their fortune. Some I've sent on to request an audience directly with both your graces
and some will remain here to meet with my lord upon his return.

I remain as always your ever-faithful servant,
Valon Antigus.

Rhaenys smiled as she read the words. Aemon's plans and her own coming to fruition far
sooner than either of them had dared to hope for. Or mayhap it was only Rhaenys who'd not
dared to hope, Aemon she knew had always been daring. Reading through some of the other
ravens that Marwyn had brought to her attention, Rhaenys found herself disappointed that
none bore Aemon's seal. Though there was one from Stannis Baratheon that soon perked her
interest. Especially given how it was addressed.

For the attention of their graces, King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys of the House Targaryen
of Westeros.

Your Graces,

I write to inform you that the prisoners have all arrived safely at Storm's End. They will be
treated with the honor and courtesy that their station affords them and we await your further
request in regard to their future. Prince Quentyn has recovered fully from his injury, while
some of the other lords and their heirs are taking longer to do so. My Maester, however, is
happy to assert that none will pass or suffer any more permanent damage than they already
have.

Hereby, I enclose a list of the captives and their conditions. As well as a list of those
confirmed to have died in the battle and its precursor.

Stannis Baratheon,
Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

Looking at the list it was clear to Rhaenys just how true the victory against the Dornish Army
had been. Along with Quentyn, the heir to Yronwood, Qorgyle, and Wyl were now their
prisoners while Lord Vaith and Lord Uller too had been captured. The list of the dead was
even more extensive and it took Rhaenys a moment to realize why that was. At first, thinking
that they'd just had the most outrageous good fortune and Dorne had very much not. Before
then remembering that she'd sent Daario and the Second Sons to offer Stannis aid.

Whether it was enough to bring Dorne and her uncle Doran to their knees, she knew not.
However, it was at least enough for one final offer to be made on her and Aemon's behalf.
Rising to her feet, Rhaenys took Stannis' letters with her and went in search of her uncle.
Barristan quickly took up his place at her back, along with two of the men of the Flames of
the Dragon that were among those left behind to garrison Harrenhal.

It was no surprise that it was the sparring yard where she found her uncle. Ellaria his uncle's
paramour was there too looking on as Oberyn and his oldest girls faced off in a series of spars
against Ser Daemon Sand and some of Rhaenys' own men. What was more surprising to
Rhaenys, however, was seeing her aunt here too. So it was to Dany that she made her way to
first.

"Are they any good?" she whispered after she'd greeted Dany with a kiss on each of her
cheeks.
"Your uncle moves as close to Aemon as any man I've ever seen. He's a true artist with a
spear and would give Torgho…." Dany gasped. "Forgive me, I…"
"There is naught to forgive, Dany. I too can barely believe that he fell." Rhaenys said softly.
Her eyes closed as she thought both of Torgho Nudho never being seen at Aemon's side again
and how Aemon would be taking the loss of such a true friend.

Looking at her aunt, Rhaenys could once again see something in her violet eyes that she
doubted even Dany was aware of yet. For as much as she'd wished to be by their side and had
fought as valiantly as any of them had, earning a true victory over two sets of Lannisters in
the process, Dany misliked war. She'd been sheltered from it by Rhaegar for her entire life, as
too had Rhaenys if she was being honest with herself. Though in her case, Aemon had never
sugar-coated what it was like how both he and Rhaegar did for Dany.

Her aunt would soon wish to return to the comfort of the life she'd known before. At least
temporarily, for Rhaenys had no doubt that in the years to come should she and Aemon or the
Empire call upon Dany, then they'd find no fiercer Dragonlord than her. Yet, it was balls and
feasts, large celebrations, and being feted by the Empire that her aunt most reveled in. To be
with family, those here and those that with one look into Dany's eyes, would show that she
was now missing as much as she ever had her and Aemon.

A hug, a soft embrace, and a whisper in Dany's ears were followed by a look at her uncle
who nodded back to her. While Dany stood and talked with Oberyn's oldest daughters,
Rhaenys walked back to her solar and felt the stiffness in her leg come over her long before
she reached it. Her uncle offered her his arm and allowed her to place some of her weight on
him rather than her leg, which she was most grateful for. Then Oberyn and Barristan both
helped her to her chair once they entered the solar.

"You should rest the leg more, my queen," Barristan said worriedly.
"I will, Ser, you have my word on it."

Forgoing the need to rub some of Marwyn's ointment over the wound or to drink down a little
of the pain draught he'd left for her. Rhaenys instead steadied herself and readied to give
Oberyn the news of the battle against Dorne.

"The Dornish Army has been comprehensively defeated, uncle." Rhaenys began, Oberyn's
expression showing he knew or expected this much at least. "Prince Quentyn is among the
prisoners taken, wounded but not seriously so."
"Thank the gods." Oberyn sighed with relief.
"My cousin was among the fortunate ones, some were very much not, uncle," Rhaenys said
holding out the list of prisoners and the dead.

The shocked look on Oberyn's face was more than enough to tell her that he expected this
not. No matter how much she'd told him about how Aemon waged war it didn't truly prepare
you for it. Unless and until you actually faced that war yourself and took part in it, it was a
hard truth to take. While the battle against the Dornish Army had not been one that Aemon
had participated in, it was still one that had his fingerprints all over it.

Rhaenys had tried to mimic his tactics by sending the Second Sons and Daario to do what
they did better than any. Aemon had then arrived along with Aurane, adding a dragon to the
mix. After that, the outcome was as inevitable as the sun rising of a morn, or so those who
knew her husband best would say. Each time that the Empire had sent Aemon out to do its
bidding, the result had been the same. Another enemy was vanquished and beaten and
Aemon and his second army, returned victorious. She'd tried to tell her uncles that and been
ignored, now at least one of them knew so for true.

"Doran can't remain in power, uncle," Rhaenys said, taking Oberyn from his contemplations.
"He is the Prince of Dorne, niece…"
"And Dorne will be conquered and brought into the kingdom that Aemon and I are forging,
uncle. I warned you both this would happen and offered you the chance to take a knee rather
than be forced to kneel. Dorne may raise other men at arms. They may seek to deny our will
on this. But Dorne will kneel and when it does, Doran will rule no longer." Rhaenys said
firmly, a small nod of Oberyn's head the only reply.

Rhaenys sighed, rubbed her hand over the bandage that still lay over her wound, and longed
to rip it off so she could rub the wound itself.

"Quentyn will never replace his father now, uncle. Though I know it's not the way of Dorne
for a second son to come before a first daughter."
"No, it's not."

"Arianne, uncle. I know not if I can trust her or if she'll bear a grudge and so I ask you to be
honest with me. For the sake of your House and our kin, you need to be so."
"Ask of me what you wish, niece," Oberyn said, resolvedly.
"Will she accept her father's imprisonment and removal from power? Accept the need for
Doran to be placed in a cage, gilded though that cage may be?"
"I…"
"Will she keep to the terms I offer her or will she force me to unleash Aemon fully upon
Dorne and our family?" Rhaenys asked, Oberyn looking at her both worriedly and with some
hope as she was offering him and Dorne an out that she doubted Aemon would offer without
her. "I told both Doran and yourself to look to the rest of Westeros and see what Aemon is
capable of, to see the man you wished to stand and fight against. All you've seen up to now
has been merely a prelude, uncle."
"Niece?"
"The West has woken the Dragonknight, uncle. Tywin Lannister and his brood are about to
see why Essos cowers in fear at my husband's name. I need my cousin to understand this, I
need you to understand this. For should you not, then this and not what happened to Quentyn
and his army, this is what you'll face next."

Later that day, Oberyn and his three oldest daughters set out for Dorne and a meeting with
Princess Arianne. Her uncle carried with him the final offer that would be made to her cousin
and her other uncle. Oberyn bore with him the one last offer that she'd then make regarding
Doran. Rhaenys hoped that Arianne proved herself smarter than her father had thus far. If she
did not then she hoped that Oberyn had the strength of will to do what needed to be done.

"Should the offer be rejected then it falls to you, uncle. Doran stands down and Arianne
accepts her new role or they both stand down and are replaced by you. You know what the
only other choice to either of these outcomes is, I pray you to bring about one of the other
two."

It was not the only prayer that Rhaenys uttered that night. An examination from Marwyn and
a question that she bid an answer to, both seeing that prayer answered. Later, as she lay her
head down on her pillow, it was with the thought that she'd need to wait but two more days
before she and Dany could fly to join Aemon. Two more days before she could offer her
husband the comfort of her arms and take just as much comfort from Aemon's own.

"Two more days, my love."

The Goldroad 301 AC.
Ser Denys Arryn.

After kneeling and bringing the Knights of the Vale to the Dragonknight's side, Denys
expected that he'd know little but war until Westeros was conquered. Yet, in truth, they'd been
asked to fight not at all. He'd not even been given leave to take part in the Trial by Seven,
though Elbert had and shamed them in doing so. He, Yohn, and the other lords had all looked
on in horror when Elbert turned his cloak and tried to kill Aemon Targaryen. Not that he'd
managed to even come close to it and when he'd fallen, none had mourned him.

Seeing the Stormlands kneel and Stannis Baratheon accept Aemon and Rhaenys Targaryen as
his king and queen, had allowed for an even truer acceptance from his fellow Valemen. It
showed that they had been right to kneel rather than fight. As too did how easily the
Dragonknight then took Harrenhal. Denys himself was amazed that with but a handful of
men, Aemon Targaryen had taken an impregnable keep and made it his own.

When the Northmen and Riverlords arrived, Denys wondered if they were finally about to
shed blood on their new king's behalf. Only for words spoken both by the king and queen and
then by Denys himself, to help the North and Riverlands make the same decision that the
Vale and Stormlands had. Four kingdoms were defeated and brought to their knees and not a
true battle had been fought. It was something that none of them would have believed had they
not been there to see it. So they'd expected then that it would be a march and a battle to take
the final three, only to be called to speak to the king and queen and given leave to march back
to the Vale. Something which stunned Denys completely.

"In time we'll call for you, mayhap. Or things may continue in the same vein as they have
thus far and we'll not. Yet, my husband has the men he needs and there are things you must
attend to in the Vale are there not?" the queen asked.
"There are, my queen. Though I had thought…"
"You're being here has helped already, Ser Denys. Go set the Vale to rights and should we
call, be ready to answer. We ask no more of you than that."
"For now." the king added.

So he'd done as he was bid and while an army marched to Tumbleton, the men of the
Riverlands, Vale, Stormlands, and the North were all given leave to march home. Riders were
sent on ahead and his family was brought to the Gates of the Moon to greet him. Denys was
more than happy to see and embrace Jeyne again. As he was too to see his children, Jaspar
and Rowena. At Yohn's behest, he, Lady Anya, Ser Symond Templeton, Lord Gilwood
Hunter, Lord Benedar Belmore, Lord Horton Redfort, and Yohn, along with his wife and
children, made their way to the Eyrie. Once there, they'd hold a meeting with their former
king and allow Jon Arryn to decide what future he sought for himself.

They held a short meeting where Elbert's actions were discussed and condemned. Followed
by a longer one with Lady Rowan, Elbert's widow, where Denys spoke of her future and
assured her that she would be provided for. Later, at a much longer meeting, the governance
of the Vale and its place in the newly conquered kingdoms was discussed. Jon Arryn removed
himself from any role other than an offer to act as a counselor to Denys should he need it,
while Denys then made certain appointments that were well received. Less than a sennight
later, they received word that Aemon and Rhaenys Targaryen had added another kingdom to
their collection. Again doing so without the need for battle.

"Surely it cannot be so easy." Jon Arryn said as he and Denys sat in his solar in the Eyrie.
"You saw the Bloody Gate, Jon. How long has it stood and held back our enemies and yet…."
"It leaves but Dorne and the West, lest the Dragonknight looks to the Iron Islands too."
"He will in time, no doubt," Denys said as Jon nodded.
"Tywin won't kneel so easily, nor Doran Martell I wager."
"Doran is kin to her grace, Jon."
"And the Dornish are ever proud and ever prickly," Jon replied and Denys nodded. "As for
the Old Lion."

There had been no need to say more and Jon Arryn had quickly been proved right in his
assessment. An alliance between Dorne and the West caught them all by surprise, however. A
true war and at the very least a battle was now inevitable and so Denys and the Knights of the
Vale had awaited a call, only for none to come. Instead, it had been emissaries from the
Empire. Men who were called forth by either the king or queen so that new and more
expansive trade routes and opportunities for the Vale could be discussed. The Queen's words
had come to Denys' mind as he and the other lords worked out the coin that would be added
to their coffers.

"We seek all to rise, Ser Denys. The Empire is generous to those who fall under its protection
and so too shall we be. What you'll pay us in taxes will seem little compared to what you can
and will earn by your fealty."

So, in truth, little had changed and things had soon returned to a somewhat normal in the
Vale. Denys was now Warden and had almost the same powers as a king, if not the crown of
one. Jon Arryn was able to settle into a routine of doing things he wished to do rather than
those he was expected to do. Jaspar was given more extensive training to be the heir to the
Vale that he now was and marriage prospects for both his children were even more carefully
considered. Other than that, and the rebuilding of the Bloody Gate, life was as it had always
been.

Then the ravens arrived. First, one that told of the Field of Fire and how three Lannister
armies had been defeated in a single day. Followed by the news that the Dornish army had
been defeated in the Stormlands too. All of which preceded the final one that called for the
Knights of the Vale and bid Denys to raise his banners. Something he did unhesitatingly and
as per the Dragonknight's specific instructions.

To the Warden of the East,

Ser Denys, I bid you to call your banners and rally the Knights of the Vale. Once you've done
so, you are to march along the Goldroad and head to Casterly Rock. Your knights, Ser Denys,
your mounted men are all I seek for upon your arrival you'll find that you're not the only
army that's been called for. The time has come for the Lions to fall, Ser Denys. Make haste,
march fast but not hard, and show me your fealty means more than words.

Aemon Targaryen,
King of Westeros.

There had never been a question of not answering the call. Not only did none care much
about the Lannisters, but oaths had been sworn and the Valemen believed they lived up to
their oaths as well if not better than any. So Denys said his goodbyes once again to his wife
and children. He left Jaspar in charge, with Jon Arryn offering his counsel to his son, and
then with close to 10,000 mounted men, Denys set off and left the Vale behind once more.

By the time they reached the Crossroads, they'd learned more of what had happened and
some of it was most shocking indeed. The queen had been injured, though not seriously.
Mace Tyrell and Gwayne Gardener had been killed, one in a battle and the other had resulted
in the kidnapping of Margaery Tyrell by persons unknown. Highgarden had come under
attack and with the Dragonknight away in Essos, it had fallen to Queen Rhaenys and Princess
Daenerys to come to its aid. Something they'd both done quickly and decisively.

From there it was rumor and speculation and so until they met up with the king's forces, they
couldn't be certain what had happened. What they'd heard was that the princess had brought
her dragon to bear against two separate Lannister Armies while the Queen had faced the
other. In the Stormlands, Stannis Baratheon had faced off against the Dornish Army and had
been given aid by a fourth Dragonrider. Before the Dragonknight and the Blood Wyrm's
return had added their own might to the queen's fight.

How much of it was true or not, was hard to ascertain. The battles occurred, of that they'd no
doubt, and the Dragonknight was certainly a part of them. Whether King Aemon wished for
credit for the victories to be shared or they truly had been won how Denys and the Knights of
the Vale heard they had, they knew not. What they knew was that the North had risen and
they marched along the River Road to the same destination as Denys now did. While along
the Ocean Road, the Dragonknight and the Reach marched too.

"I wished for a battle, hoped for one, even. It seems the Gods listened and I'll be gifted at
least one before this war is won." Denys whispered to himself as they rode along the Gold
Road and neared Deep Den.

The Conquest of Westeros LIX.
The Dragon Princess.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Dragonrider to Nightwing and for many years thought to be
the most gentle soul in the Empire, was a regular visitor to the Kingdom that the
Dragonknight and the Princess of the Sun had forged. From her first hurried visit after an
incident with Gerold Dayne. The Darkstar later finding out why touching a dragon without
consent only ever led to death, to those later when the wars were won and peace reigned, she
and Nightwing were welcome sights. As too where her children, Rhaegar and Rhaenys, and
their own dragons, Nightfyre and Darkwing.

Wed to her cousin and the commander of the Second Army, Haegon, the princess grew to be
one of the fiercest of all the Dragonlords. From her earliest battles in the fields of Westeros
against the Lions of Casterly Rock to the battles of the Last War against the Dothraki and
then those of the Great War. The princess showed more than once that those who looked at
her and saw her diminutive size, and friendly nature, and believed her weak, were very much
mistaken.

At her husband's side, Princess Daenerys helped the Second Army maintain the standards
that the Dragonknight had raised them to. So much so that even the Dragonknight was oft
heard japing that the Empire needed him not with his aunt around. Though the most heard
jape was that the Dragonknight had always known that no man could ever fill his shoes, but
that his aunt was not a man and her dainty little feet filled them most easily.

A friend to the Targaryens of Westeros, a Sword and Shield to the Empire, a mother and a
wife, Princess Daenerys was many things to many people. Yet, to the Dragonknight and to the
Princess of the Sun, for all her life she remained, simply.

"Dany"

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Harrenhal 301 AC.
Daenerys Targaryen.

The dreams had finally stopped. Daenerys truly welcomed the full nights of sleep that she
once again enjoyed. No one but Aemon had ever told her this. None but he had ever even
thought to do so and she still thanked him in her mind for doing so. For had he not, then she
may have feared she was losing her mind. Rather than simply dealing with all she'd done, as
Aemon had named it.

"You'll feel the urge to use some Dreamwine, Dany. Forgo that urge, suffer through it and
you'll be the better for it."

"I'm tired, Aemon. I'm so very tired," she said softly.
"I know, but waking up is part of it, Dany. Trust me it's far better than being forced to sleep
through it and being unable to wake."
"How long? How long must I suffer so?"

She felt her nephew's arms wrap around her and he kissed her cheek softly.

"I know not. For some, it could be a day, more, for others…"
"It will stop though? I'll not feel this way forever?" She asked worriedly and Aemon kissed
her cheek once more.
"You are stronger than most men I know, Dany. No, you'll not feel this way forever and when
you come through it, you'll be even stronger because of it."
"I will?"
"Did Rhaenys ever tell you what I told her about you?" Aemon asked and she shook her head.
"I said that one day, you'll be the terror and wonder of the Empire. That you carry a strength
within you that few women or men do. My fierce little aunt, who feels things with a passion I
envy her for."
"You do?"
"I do," Aemon said kissing her cheek once more.

He'd been right, she'd suffered for a few days and while during that suffering, Dany believed
she'd lose her mind, she very much did not. Even though she walked around Harrenhal
almost in a daze because of lack of sleep, she still walked. Dany still rose each and every
morning and worried as much about Rhaenys or Aemon, mourned Torgho Nudho, and feared
for Thoros, Daario, and Aurane as much as she did for her sanity. When the night came that
she dreamed not, Dany slept a full night's sleep and woke up refreshed the next morning.

A night without the images of men and horses ablaze. Where she heard not the anguished
screams of men that she and Nightwing burned and killed. Followed by a morning when she
ate the first hearty meal that she'd broken her fast on in days. An afternoon where she took to
the sky and flew for pleasure as she'd not done since the battles in the Reach. Then a night
where she and Rhaenys sat and chatted about little and nothing, rather than some of the silent
nights they'd shared more than once since arriving back at Harrenhal.

Dany welcomed her bed that night even more so. Almost jumping into it in her excitement at
the thoughts of a dreamless sleep. Though the dreams came to her still, even if they were far
different than the nightmares had been. Dreams of Volantis, of Viserys, her Goodsister, and
her nieces and nephews. Of Aegon and Talisa. Elia and Rhaegar. She dreamt of balls and
feasts and of being a Princess of the Empire and when Dany opened her eyes the next
morning, it was a sadness that she awoke to.

"I miss my family," Dany exclaimed, almost shocking herself with her words and more so by
the next ones she uttered. "I miss my home."

When she broke her fast with Rhaenys and the youngest Sand Snakes, along with Prince
Oberyn's Paramour, Dany was far quieter than she'd been the day before. Not even the
younger girl's antics were enough to bring a true smile to her face. Hoping that Rhaenys took
it as Dany having another nightmare, she excused herself and almost rushed back to her
room. Throwing herself on the bed once she got there and giving in to the tears that then fell
freely.

A knock on the door was followed by soft footsteps and an even softer hand brushing through
her silver hair. Then a tight and true embrace where she was allowed to cry as much as she
wished or needed to. Whispered words of comfort that only Rhaenys was ever truly able to
offer her and no pressing of her to tell her niece what was wrong or what ailed her so. In this,
Rhaenys was much like Aemon. They both at times were so able to see her moods that words
needed not to be spoken. Other times, her moods were unknown even to Dany and so they
could not be to anyone else.

"I know, Dany. I know." Rhaenys said softly as her hand brushed her back in small circles.
"I don't want to leave, I don't…I want to stay with Aemon and with you…I…Gods, I miss
them all, Rhae…why do I miss them all so much?"

Her words were a lie, she knew it, Rhaenys knew, and were he here to hear them, then
Aemon would no doubt know it too. She did wish to leave, more than that, she knew she had
to. As much as she may want it to be, Westeros was not her home. It was an adventure, a
thing she'd needed to do and see and that was it. More than that, it was simply a dragon ride
away.

Dany composed herself, allowed Rhaenys to wipe away her tears, and felt such a fool for
being so emotional. Looking into her niece's eyes, she saw no judgment and no anger. Which
brought a half smile to her face and allowed her tears to stop falling. Her niece and nephew
would blame her not for leaving. They'd miss her and she them, but they'd not feel she'd
abandoned them and a single look at Rhaenys was enough to tell her that they both would
understand. Even had it not been, the words that Rhaenys now spoke would undoubtedly do
so.

"Aemon and I knew it was to be just a visit, Dany. We know this was never to be your home.
You're a Princess of the Empire. You belong in the sun and are the Darling of Volantis."
Rhaenys said, making Dany's smile grow larger. "But, you're not to leave without promising
another visit. Not to get wed without inviting both Aemon and me to judge the man who'd
seek your hand. And not to leave alone."
"Rhaenys?"
"Aurane or Aemon, Dany. One of them flies with you, on that I'll not be dissuaded." her niece
said firmly.
"I'm…" Dany began, about to say that she was a Dragonlord now and had faced men who
wished her harm. She was not the same naïve and protected little girl they all saw her as. Or
so she would have said had Rhaenys not placed her finger on her lips and brought a giggle
from Dany for doing so.
"Aemon would demand it, Dany. After what happened with the assassins, Aemon would
demand it, you know he would."
"Very well, I'll not fly alone," Dany said, a mummery of being annoyed when in truth she
welcomed the thought of sharing the long flight back to Volantis with someone else rather
than in solitude.

Coming to Westeros she'd been upset, angry, and fearful. What Gerold Dayne had said and
tried to do had sent her running to Rhaenys and Aemon. So she'd not truly noticed that she'd
flown alone. Nor been bothered by it. Dany no longer felt how she had felt then and while
flying atop Nightwing was one of her greatest pleasures, she knew she'd grow bored and tired
of it on the journey back to her home. She'd not now be flying alone and though it meant the
journey would not be for some time yet, it bothered her not.

"Now come, I'll seek to enjoy every single moment I've left with my aunt before she leaves
me all alone," Rhaenys said and Dany's mood would have turned guilty or even sad was it not
for the beaming smile on her niece's face as she spoke.

"You're terrible. I hate you." Dany said, sticking out her tongue and giggling loudly when
Rhaenys did the same back to her.
"I hate you too, my sweet aunt."

The River Road 301 AC.
Ned Stark.

The army that marched to the West was a smaller one that had marched south just a few
moons earlier. Though, as then, it now marched with the same objective in mind. Justice for
fallen kin. Blood that was owed to the North and House Stark and that was soon to be shed.
This time Ned marched with no doubts, no fears, or worries. For he knew that in truth the
North wasn't truly needed to take down the West and House Lannister.

They'd been joined by the Blackfish and close to five thousand mounted men of the
Riverlands, bringing their number to almost fifteen thousand. Brynden had quickly informed
them even more about what had happened in the Reach and the Stormlands. Of how under
Queen Rhaenys and Princess Daenerys' commands, two of Tywin Lannister's armies had
been beaten comprehensively. Ned, Benjen, Robb, and Torrhen, along with the Lords and
Ladies of the North had listened as they were told that an army led by Stannis Baratheon and
joined by a fourth Dragonrider had beaten the Dornish Army in the Stormlands. Before then
being told that Aemon had returned from a journey to Essos, one that Ned was somewhat
aware of the reason for, and had destroyed the Old Lion's main army once he'd done so.

There were other tales too, though the veracity of them couldn't yet be proven. Deaths of
Gwayne Gardener and Mace Tyrell, something about a kidnapping of the Tyrell's oldest
daughter and of an injury to the queen. Ned was not the only one hoping the latter was either
untrue or at least minor. Other than that, the news was far more simple and far more direct.
Aemon had marched with an army from the Reach, the Knights of the Vale had been called
and now marched too, and along with their own army, Casterly Rock was their destination.
Before they could reach that, however, they had to pass through the Golden Tooth. So the
Greatjon mayhap get his wish to wet his sword in Westerman blood soon enough.

"Your orders, Prince Eddard?" the Blackfish said from beside him, taking Ned from his
thoughts and forcing him to look at Cat's uncle and at the men who rode nearest to him.
"We parley, Ser Brynden," he said, to some disappointed looks, the Greatjon's most of all. "I
doubt that the defenders of that keep wish to slow our march, not at the risk they'd bring to

themselves."
"They are men of the West and the Old Lion has a fierce reputation, my prince." Tytos
Blackwood said.
"Aye, I doubt that reputation means as much as it once did now that the dragons look his
way," Ned replied to some laughs. "Jon, Rickard, fly a flag of truce and offer a parley to the
defenders of the keep."
"At once, my prince."

Robb and Torrhen looked at him confused, while Benjen seemed more than pleased by his
words. Around him, the men of the Riverlands simply accepted that since he was Aemon's
kin, and had been named a prince by the Queen, that was enough for them to take their lead
from him, for now. Once they joined up with Aemon's army, even Ned would be taking his
lead from his nephew, prince or not.

It was a funny thing. He'd believed he'd given up a crown and all royal titles. Had been happy
to be named a Warden as long as the North was accepted into the new kingdom and treated
fairly. Something he had no fear of with his nephew or Goodniece and which had been
proven true already in the boons granted to the North since he'd knelt. The extra trade and
access to learned men who knew more about building and getting the best from the lands than
even those who'd grown up and lived their whole lives in the North. So, Ned had been more
than happy with his lot, only to then be told that House Stark would bear the title of Prince or
Princess from here on in as well.

Why that was, he knew not. Whether it truly mattered or not, he was unsure. That they were
being honored for some reason, was more than clear, however. So he and his, Benjen and his,
all would be named princes and princesses of the North, and in time mayhap that would
prove a boon too. Now smiling to himself, Ned looked at the other boons that traveled with
them, the two very large Direwolves that raced now to join their masters. It was as he was
doing this that the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark rode back from their initial parley.

"The lady will meet us outside her gates, my prince." Rickard Karstark said the moment his
voice could be heard.
"They seek a fight?" Benjen asked and the Greatjon laughed loudly.
"I fucking doubt it, my prince." Jon Umber guffawed. "The woman damn near shat herself at
the sight of me and Karstark here."

Ned hid his smile. It had been the reason he'd sent the two gruffest lords amongst them to
organize the parley. Other than men from the Mountain Clans, few of whom he'd asked to
march, The Greatjon and Rickard Karstark would stand out as what these Southerners
believed Northmen to be. Savages. Looking then at the size of the army at their gates, Ned
believed that only a fool or a madman would then seek to try and hold a keep that would
eventually fall.

"Ser Brynden, Lord Blackwood, Maege, Roose, Ser Wylis, Benjen, I'd ask you to join me for
the parley. Jon, Rickard, the army is yours and Prince Robb's until my return." Ned said
looking to his son who nodded and rode to join the Lords of Last Hearth and Karhold.

Six men and one woman rode to the parley, setting up just beyond any archers' range of the
gates of the Golden Tooth. Ned dismounted which gave the others the leave to do the same
and then a party the same size as their own rode toward them. Leading it was a lady who
seemed to have seen her fiftieth year at least. Golden-haired, though some of it was turning
grey, drawn, and pale, the woman looked as if she had the weight of the word on her
shoulders. Yet she rode side saddle and looked every inch the lady as she did so.

"Lord Stark." the lady greeted him stiffly when she was helped down from her horse.
"Prince Stark, Lady Lefford." Ser Brynden corrected.
"Forgive me, my prince."
"There's naught to forgive, Lady Lefford," Ned said, trying to put the older woman at ease.
He'd no wish to scare her any more than was absolutely necessary and had never taken with
frightening women. "You know why I'm here?"
"I believe so, I…hope so." the lady said shakily. "A raven from King Aemon." Lady Lefford
said, her hand shaking as she handed Ned the raven's scroll.

He read it quickly, nodding at the words and then looking at the lady once he'd done so.

"You'll allow us to pass unhindered?" he asked and the lady nodded as firmly as her fear
would allow.
"You'll tell the king we did so?"
"You have my word, Lady Lefford."

"I...I thank you, my prince."

Behind him, six sets of eyes looked at him in disbelief, trying to understand what had just
happened and Ned knew that he'd need to speak to them before they returned to where the
rest of his army awaited. Firstly, he had to put the woman in front of him even more at ease,
so he spoke the words and rejected the offer as politely as he could.

"I thank you, Lady Lefford. Yet we carry our own supplies and I'd seek not to take from your
own stocks. Winter is coming, after all."
"That it is, Prince Eddard." the lady replied. "I'll not wish you good fortune, my prince. I pray
that you do not think harshly of me because of it."
"I will not, my lady."

With that, it was over. The Golden Tooth and Ned would wager Ashemark too would pose no
hindrance to their march. Mounting back up on his horse, Ned waited until Lady Lefford and
her escort had ridden back to their keep before he then turned to those with him.

"All the Houses in the West were bid to stand down or face the Dragonknight's Wroth. Some
were informed that their kin was being held prisoner and would be the first to do so. Aemon
has informed the West that he marches for the Lions and only the Lions, as does his allies.
Any who impede that march name themselves as his enemies and his enemies will know only
fire and blood." Ned said as some of those with him laughed loudly, while others seemed a
little warier of his nephew's words.

"My old Maester was right then." the Blackfish said, all eyes now turning to him. "The Quill
truly is mightier than the Sword."

Even Ned laughed at that, and the ride back to their army was one that was done with good
cheer. Within the hour they were on the march again. Each mile brought him closer to
fulfilling the Blood Oath that he, Benjen, and others had sworn. Every hour was another one
that led them closer to seeing the Old Lion and his Pride, pay for all they'd taken from them.
Winter was coming was his House's words and as they rode, Ned promised himself that it
would not be a winter that the Lions would live to see arrive.

Lannisport 301 AC.
Willas Tyrell.

Garlan's wounds hadn't completely healed which Willas was actually happy about. Had they
done so, then his brother would have sought to march West, leaving their grandmother,
mother, and sister, to hold Highgarden alone. Loras now wore a white cloak and rode close to
the king and beside Ser Arthur Dayne. His brother was as proud as Willas had ever seen him
and because of the honor he'd been granted, Loras could not do anything other than join the
march.

The king had personally asked for Willas to do so too, which left him with no other choice
but to follow Aemon's orders. Yet Garlan because of his injury had been left behind and it
comforted Willas to know that Highgarden and their family were safe and well. As it did to
be part of the army that marched West if truth be told. To be there and see the Lions brought
low and their House ended. For no one deserved their fate more in Willas' mind. Blood begat
blood and the Lions had taken his father's blood already.

"Would have taken Marge's too were it not for the Dragonknight'

Willas believed that completely. Despite the fact that it was Randyll Tarly who'd organized
the attack on his family and Dickon Tarly who'd actually taken his sister, hostage, it was the
Lions who were truly at fault. Randyll was a loud fool, a man who'd have remained simply
that until he'd spoken too freely and Aemon Targaryen or one of his men had then taken him
from this world. With the Old Lion's backing, he'd been put in a position to kill Willas' father
and kidnap his sister.

'A far better position than that he was in now' Willas thought and smirked at the suffering
that Randyll Tarly knew nightly.

Every single night on the march, the screams came from where the prisoners were being held.
Yet, Willas and others all knew that those screams belonged to one man and one man alone.
Randyll Tarly had secrets to give up and Aemon Targaryen wished to know those secrets. So
each night, Daario Naharis went about his work and the day drew ever closer when Randyll
had spoken of all he knew and would then be sent to the seven hells where he belonged.

As for the other prisoners. Tyrion and Joffrey Lannister would both suffer greatly before they
too met their ends. None but the king or his men were allowed to see them and from all that
Loras had told him, they'd been treated well enough on the march. Though his brother and
one of the king's men had confided in Willas that Joffrey had suffered greatly already. The
Prince of the Rock had been caught trying to rape a woman and had lost his manhood
because of it. It was not all he'd be losing and like his grandfather, the Old Lion, Joffrey
Lannister's day of reckoning was almost here.

The King was a much different man than he'd been on the few occasions that Willas had
spoken to him. Though he'd not considered Aemon Targaryen to be the most open of men, on
this march he was a closed book to any but those closest to him. Focussed only on what it
was he wished to do and how he was to do so, Aemon spoke little and smiled less. Though
Willas remembered he'd laughed at something Margaery had said before they'd left
Highgarden and that he seemed more relaxed when he talked to Aurane Velaryon than with
anyone else.

'My future Goodbrother'

After a few weeks of riding and finding no obstacle in their way and keeps almost
abandoned, the looming sight of Casterly Rock soon came into view. Yet, to Willas' surprise,
they marched right past it and onto Lannisport. The battle, if you could call it that, lasted less
than half a day. Two dragons laid down fire that opened the gates and with their roars and
threatened flames, followed by a ride from Aemon's men, the city was taken.

Some prisoners were rounded up, given the chance to kneel, and asked their names. The few
that answered Lannister soon found that it was no longer a name to be feared and were
offered but two choices. Death by fire or death by the sword, far too many of them choose the
latter of those things. For almost a full day, heads rolled. Each of them fell to Dark Sister and
be they women, children, or old men, it saved them not.

It shocked him, truly it did and he was not alone in that. Mathis Rowan, Lord Ashford, and
others spoke to him and asked Willas if it was right that they followed such a man. Willas
then spoke as simply and directly as he could in reply.

"The Reynes and the Tarbecks, my Lords. All of you know the song," he said to nods. "What
plans do you think the Old Lion had for my House? For the King and Queen? Do you think
he would show mercy?"

"But women and children, my lord."
"Lannisters, my lord," he replied angrily.

The truth of it was that he felt as they did. Willas believed that Aemon had gone too far. Yet,
who was there among them who could stop him, and really, did any of them truly wish to do
so? He knew not and mayhap it would take until all this was ended for him to know how he
truly felt. An end that was soon to come as after securing the city, making sure it was theirs,
and leaving a garrison behind, they marched then to Casterly Rock.

Within a day of doing so, the Northmen arrived. A day later, so too did the Knights of the
Vale. Other than two flights atop the Blood Wyrm, the Dragonknight did nothing of note.
Today, however, they were all called to witness the end of a man that Willas, Loras and he
knew his grandmother, mother, brother, and sister, would all cheer.

Randyll was broken, physically, mentally, and emotionally too, Willas would wager. Dragged
out to a block, with the Lords of the Reach, North, Riverlands, and the Knights of the Vale all
looking on, he shook, cried, and at one point almost wet himself at the sight of Daario
Naharis. Whatever secrets he'd held, had been given up. The truths he'd spilled were known
only to Daario Naharis, Thoros of Myr, Aurane Velaryon, and Aemon Targaryen. Today it
was the last of those who now sentenced the men to death.

"For the crime of betraying your liege house and treason against your king and queen, I, King
Aemon of House Targaryen, sentence you to death. Speak whatever words you wish to and
I'll send you to the seven hells where you belong." Aemon said. His words were like ice as
they resounded loudly in the still of the morning.

There were no words from Randyll Tarly. None more were spoken by Aemon Targaryen
either. Dark Sister was unsheathed and Aemon took Randyll's head as easily and as
efficiently as he had all those in Lannisport. One swing and it was done, Willas looked to
Loras who nodded back to him as Randyll's head rolled along the ground.

"See he's buried deep," Aemon said as he moved away from the body that still gushed blood
from the open neck where once a head had been. "Ready the other prisoners, the day of their
ends is upon them too," Aemon said loudly, the words sending a shiver down Willas' spine
for he doubted that Tyrion and Joffrey Lannister would find their ends as swiftly or as
cleanly.

The sound of dragons flying forced all eyes to the sky and the sight of the Queen and the
Princess brought smiles to most of the faces there. Not to the Dragonknight's, however, as
Aemon 's brow creased and he walked to his tent and not to greet his wife and aunt.

Something that once again showed it was not Prince Aemon or even King Aemon that led
this army, but the Dragonknight himself.

Lannisport/Casterly Rock.
Aurane Velaryon.

All through the march Aurane had worried just how far Aemon was willing to go. The loss of
Torgho Nudho weighed heavily on them all, but Aemon outwardly seemed to be unaffected
by it. Only those who truly knew the Dragonknight well would see that this was far from
true. If you knew where to look, knew Aemon's moods, as well as Aurane, Daario, Thoros,
and some of their men, did, then you'd see it in his grey eyes every so often. It was there too
in how, at times, Aemon would turn to say something to a man who was no longer there.

Yet, the Lords of the West and the Lannister prisoners had been treated well, or as well as
could be expected. Joffrey had been bandaged up and allowed to recover, and Tyrion had
been given the same meals that Aurane himself ate. While the Lords of the West, their heirs,
or those lucky few who'd survived Nightwing, Meraxes, and then the Blood Wyrm's flames,
had been given the option to kneel. They'd been bid to watch what happened to those who did
not before they would then be released back to their families after they'd sworn their fealty.

Given the sheer devastation that all three dragons had wrought on them and their men,
Aurane found few of them unwilling to name Aemon and Rhaenys their king and queen.
Tywin Lannister may have instilled fear into the hearts of the Lords of the West with his
actions against the Reynes and the Tarbecks. Most of them may have worried that one day
they too could be little more than names that were sung. Compared to what the dragons had
done to them, however, those were pleasant dreams and the Lords of the West had now
witnessed the true nightmare firsthand.

"A nightmare that has not yet run its course," Aurane whispered as he made his way to the
dragons where he knew Aemon would already be.

Their other prisoner had not been so well treated. Randyll Tarly had questions to answer and
had been living on borrowed time ever since Tumbleton. The proud Lord of Horn Hill may
have believed himself capable of withstanding anything they dared to do to him, as he'd
called out loudly more than once. He may even have believed the words he said about doing
his gods' work and so having their protection. It saved him not and his death when it came,
was most probably one that was welcomed.

"My men are experts in getting secrets from those who wish to hold onto them," Aemon said
as Daario, Jaedor, and Valarr, entered the tent. "Call out for your gods and bid them help you
all you wish. By the time I'm done with you, we'll both find out if they exist or not."

Seeing the dragons come into view and Aemon standing there as he'd expected, Aurane was
able to fight back the shudder that almost went through him as he remembered Randyll
Tarly's fate. Days, weeks, each and every night, Daario went to work and Lucaeron took
notes. Their prize was a list of twenty-two men of the Faith who'd soon be joining Tarly in
the afterlife. If there was indeed such a thing.

It had been tooth and claw that Aemon had wished to take Tarly from the world. Then fire,
and finally after much persuasion on Aurane's part, Dark Sister. Westeros was not ready to
see men burned as a way of execution. No matter how much more humane it truly was.
People would not see the quickness of the death or the lack of suffering, they'd see naught but
the fire and a man being burned alive. As for the other, only the worst of the worst were ever
sentenced to such by Aemon or the High Emperor. None here would understand, or so
Aurane had told him.

"Would that I'd kept silent with the others," Aurane whispered, and this time he did shudder.

Lannisport had fallen to a true attack by Aemon and their men. The dragons had been used to
lead the way and open the gates, before providing protection from above. As well as putting
the fear, of a like that made most men crumble, into the defenders below. While Daario and
the Second Sons, Thoros and his Flames of Dragons, some of Aurane's own Sea Snakes, and
Torgho Timpa's Unsullied were who then took the city.

It fell so easily that at first Aurane believed it to be a mummery. A trap waiting to be sprung,
though later they found it was because the Old Lion sought to heavily garrison the Rock and

had needed the men. A welcome piece of information, yet not one that brought Aemon any
joy or stopped him from what he planned to do. Nor did Aurane's, Thoros', or even Daario's
words.

"They are Lannisters, there are no innocent Lannisters." Aemon declared before he walked
away and readied to execute the prisoners.

Four and ten had lost their heads. Most of them men, some boys, but two women and a girl
who was not yet two and ten, Aurane would wager. No pleas, no amount of crying, and
certainly no looks of distaste from their allies had stayed Aemon's hand. So long did it take,
so red was the blood on Dark Sister's blade by the time it was done, that Aurane found
himself unsure whether he'd been right to talk Aemon out of using the Blood Wyrm. What he
was less unsure about was trying to talk him out of what he was about to do now.

"You're ready?" Aemon asked as he neared the dragons and Aurane nodded.
"You're certain that you don't wish Meraxes and Nightwing to join us?" Aurane asked.
"No, this is on me."

It was that simple. The Dragonknight was in full effect and not Aemon's uncles or cousins
who'd arrived with the Northern Army. Not those who'd marched with him and had known
him for years, or the allies they'd made since coming to these lands. Not his aunt or even his
wife would change his mind on what he was about to do and what plans he had once he'd
finished here.

A nod from Aurane, then a short walk to Darkfyre and a quick climb up onto his dragon's
back. Aemon did likewise on the Blood Wyrm and carried the bloodied sack with him as he
did so. Then a roar from both dragons and a moment later they took to the sky. Beneath them,
their army's camp stretched as far as the eye could see. Siege machines that would never be
used had been pushed close enough to Casterly Rock that it seemed as if that was to be their
intent. Though it would not be a traditional siege that those inside the keep were to face.

Two large stakes stood just out of archer range but well within viewing distance from the
large walls of the Rock. For now, both had no one tied to them, very soon they would have
the Stunted Lion and the Mangy Cat, as Aemon had taken to name Tyrion and Joffrey
Lannister. As for the sack that Aemon carried, it contained heads of the Lannisters of

Lannisport and of some others that had fallen in the Reach. Heads that were soon to be given
back to their kin.

They flew over the rocky ground, smoke still billowing from where Aemon and the Blood
Wyrm had cleared their path to the keep. Daario had been sent to map out the Westerlands
and Casterly Rock itself and had taken note of murder holes and hidden defenses. None of
which caused them a problem anymore as they'd been destroyed and the men inside them had
burned to death. As too had some ships that the Old Lion believed hidden and protected in a
cove below the keep. An escape plan that would now never come to fruition.

"Archers!" Aurane shouted out as men atop the walls readied to fire their arrows not at the
dragons but at the riders who sat atop them. "Eglikta." (Higher) he called out and Darkfyre
did as he bid.

The Blood Wyrm didn't fly higher though. Aemon in fact bid his dragon drop lower and then
unleashed a wave of flames on those atop the wall that either took their lives from them or
sent them running for cover. Then, almost as if they were hovering over the keep, the sack
was dropped and the Blood Wyrm roared loudly. Once, twice, three times before the red
dragon turned and flew back toward the front of their lines. Aurane bid Darkfyre land and no
sooner had they dismounted than Aemon was moving to the tents where the Lannisters were
being held, prisoner.

There was no greeting with Rhaenys or Daenerys, no acknowledgment of his uncles or
cousins' presence. Aemon walked by them all and entered the tent before walking out a
moment later. Behind him, Tyrion Lannister and his nephew were dragged unceremoniously
by four Unsullied. Aurane, Rhaenys, Daenerys, and everyone there could all see the fear on
both their faces and the look of hopelessness on Tyrion Lannisters'. Escape was beyond them,
changing their fate was a forlorn hope, and not even should Rhaenys bid Aemon to desist,
would they be saved.

"TYWIN! TYWIN LANNISTER!" Aemon shouted as Tyrion and Joffrey were tied to the
stakes, "BEHOLD THE FATE OF LIONS!"

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.

They'd made every preparation they could to withstand the inevitable siege. Had brought men
and supplies from Lannisport to bolster their defenses. His father had secreted boats and
ships to take them from the Rock if need be while ravens had been sent to their Bannermen to
call up more men and to slow the Dragons' approach.

Alysanne and Cersei had both needed his comfort and yet it was only one of them he could
give it to. His agreement with his wife had been a hard one to live up to at times, but it was
an oath he'd sworn to her and one of the few that he'd kept. The children were frightened and
not even his aunt telling them all, that the Rock had never been taken by any army, was
enough to chase away those fears. While, in his father's solar, the truth of what they faced
was discussed far more openly and truly.

They'd lost most of their strength in the three battles in one day that had devastated their
armies. Lost kin, who were either dead, held prisoner, or as in the case of Gerion, deserted
them. His uncle having arrived back before Jaime and his father did and simply gathered his
possessions, took his portable wealth, and along with his daughter had then left Casterly
Rock and Lannisport far behind.

"I almost joined him". Genna said softly after they'd both listened to his father's rage.
"Surely not?"
"All that avails is flight, Jaime. Gerion is no fool and never have I seen him as scared as I did
upon his return here. Nor heard him speak so passionately about his daughter"

It had made Jaime think of his own, his sons, the women he loved, his father, and his brother.
Tyrion had not returned and they knew not if he lived or died. They were not the only
thoughts he had as the dragons drew ever closer. As one overriding one came to him each and
every night. A chance to save his House and his family, and one that he begged the gods to
give him.

'It's the only chance we've truly got' he said to himself, more than once.

When the army actually arrived on their lands, they truly made ready for the siege. Only to
find it was Lannisport that they made for before they even looked to the Rock. Jaime asked
for and was denied leave to ride out and attack them from the rear. His words that they'd be
so preoccupied with taking Lannisport had fallen on deaf ears, as his father said they had not
the men and to face them in an open field was folly.

'A pity he'd not thought that way sooner than now'

When Lannisport fell, everyone at the Rock was stunned. Less than half a day it held out for
and while Jaime knew they'd taken much and many men from it, he'd hoped it would last
longer than that. Then the red dragon had flown their way and from a hidden place within the
Rock, Jaime, Genna, and his father had looked on as all the defenses that covered the path to
the Rock had fallen one by one.

"How did he know?" Genna asked, to no answer for there was none that either his father or
he could give.

The day the army set up outside their walls, was a day when even Jaime knew what fear truly
felt like. Aemon Targaryen had brought the might of the Reach, Riverlands, Vale, and the
North to bear. Banners of House Tyrell, House Rowan, and House Redwyne. Those of
Houses Royce, Arryn, Waynwood, and Templeton. Houses Blackwood, Bracken, Tully, and
Mallister along with the banners of the North. The grey wolf of House Stark flew high and
there clearly for all to see.

Above them all, a two-headed dragon locked in an embrace, their heads red and silver,
Aemon, and Rhaenys Targaryen's personal sigil. Not that any of them needed to see it to
know that the Dragonknight was here. Jaime chanced a look at his father and watched as his
eyes grew wide and even Tywin Lannister looked fearful of what he brought down on all
their heads. He looked to Cersei who wept openly and to Alysanne who did her best to
comfort the children. Then he took one look at the army that had come to end them and
sought out the one man whose death may stop that from happening.

He didn't find him that day. Instead, it was two days later that two dragons flew toward the
Rock, and from atop the walls, the archers were ordered to fire. Only to quickly find that true
fire was a much harder beast to master. Jaime stood in cover and far from the walls and he
looked on as the red dragon seemed to hover. Then to his and everyone else's surprise, a
bloodied sack was dropped from the Dragonknight's hands and fell crashing to the ground.

The sound it made as it landed a few feet from where Jaime stood, was more than enough to
tell him a little about what that sack contained. Though even he was shocked by what he
found when he looked inside it.

Men, women, children, it had mattered not, all had lost their heads. His kin, cousins both
those he was close to and those he was not, as well as an uncle whose fate had finally been
revealed. Kevan had very much not escaped from their failed attack in the Reach. It angered
Jaime as much as it worried him. For Tyrion's fate was even more up in the dark now than it
had been already. As for his father, again, Jaime believed that he saw fear in the Old Lion's
eyes when he looked upon his kinsmen's heads. While Genna mourned the brother, nephew,
and most of all the son that she'd lost to the Dragonknight's Wroth.

'I have to face him. I have to kill him else this is to be all our fates'

The thought became a demand of his father and one that was swiftly rejected. Jaime was told
to stay behind the walls and that there was nothing he could do for the dead. Only to then find
that he had the living to worry about too.

"TYWIN! TYWIN LANNISTER!" a voice shouted out "BEHOLD THE FATE OF LIONS!"

Jaime, his aunt, and his father. Cersei and Alysanne, the children, along with the defenders of
the Rock, all looked on as two figures were dragged out and tied to the stakes. It took him
only a moment to recognize one of them and the second was identified both by Joffrey's loud
pained cry for his mother and for Cersei's even louder one for her son.

"MOTHER! HELP ME! FATHEEEERRRR PLEASE!"
"My boy, my precious boy, I must….I must go to him….No, he needs me, he
neeeeeddddssssss MEEEEE!" Cersei wailed.

It was Addam who offered Cersei comfort, while Jaime looked to his father who shook his
head, and to Genna who placed a hand on his shoulder. They may have even been able to stop
him from leaving had the screams not then begun. Jaime moved to the window to look out as
with Dark Sister in his hand, Aemon Targaryen began to cut into first Joffrey's and then
Tyrion's chests.

By the time he was armored up, he was not alone. Addam had joined him as too had more the
fifty men, the Mountain among them. While his father shouted at them to dismount, Jaime,

Addam, and those with him were beyond listening. The gates had opened and they'd ridden
out, not even thinking about what dragon or even some archers could do to them. Down the
hill as fast as they could, lances were drawn, swords at the ready, only to run straight into
four dragons who roared loudly and forced more than one of them off their horses.

"Face me you coward!" Jaime shouted as he looked down the hill to where the Dragonknight
stood between the two stakes, the thin blade of Dark Sister bloodied and yet Jaime had little
idea of just how much it would take to quench her thirst.
"FACE ME!"

Along the ridges, men seemed to just appear. More than enough of them to tell Jaime and
those with him that with a single order from the Dragonknight, they would all die here today.
The Mountain seemed to shake a little atop his horse and then turned craven, trying to ride
away, only for the red dragon to block his path.

"Let them through. All of them, but especially the Prince and the Mountain." Aemon
Targaryen called out.

Then as if the dragons heard him or answered his commands, they were in the sky above
them and their path to the Dragonknight was clear.

"Two fights for two lives." the Dragonknight said. "You and you." he pointed at Jaime and
then at the Mountain.
"When I win?" Jaime asked confidently.
"Then the sun will have risen in the west and set in the east. The seas will have gone dry and
the mountains will have blown in the wind like leaves, A Lannister's womb will have
quickened again, and a Lion will have borne a living child." Aemon said to laughter from his
men. "There is no winning for you Lannister, there is only death and your death and that
death comes today."
"And will you fight your own battles, Dragon?" Jaime mocked.
"Against you, yes. Against him." Aemon pointed to the Mountain before calling out. "Ser
Arthur."

Jaime looked on as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and a man whose legend
even he was awed by, now strode forward. He'd hoped to face him on the field near
Highgarden only to find that it had been the Gallant and then the Unsullied that he tested his
sword against. Smiling now, he looked to the Dragonknight and laughed.

"What was his name? Your sworn sword? Tago Nolo?" he japed.

Aemon didn't turn to face him, instead, he walked to where Joffrey was, unsheathed Dark
Sister, and with two movements of the sword and loud screams from Joffrey, he killed
Jaime's son. Before Jaime could react, Aemon had moved to Tyrion and again with the same
two movements, his brother too died before his eyes. Then and only then did Aemon
Targaryen turn to look at him.

For a moment, Jaime couldn't see what it was that Aemon held in his hands. Then he felt
them as they struck his face and his breastplate before falling to the ground at his feet.
Aemon had cut out Joffrey and Tyrion's hearts and Jaime found himself torn between rage
and despair.

"The Heart of Lions." Aemon spat.
"YOU!" Addam shouted. "YOU PROMISED! TWO LIVES FOR TWO FIGHTS!"
"The lives were not those, but those of the fools who'll fight against Ser Arthur and me.
Those lives as well as the lives of every Lion are owed to House Targaryen and House Stark.
Before this day has ended, justice and vengeance will be served and then the true reckoning
will begin."

Foolishly, Addam unsheathed his sword and ran at Aemon, not making it even halfway
before he was cut down by arrows and then lost his head to a swipe of a sword wielded by
Sandor Clegane, who'd turned his cloak and joined with the dragons. Despite his words, his
men took this as a sign that the only thing they'd find here today was death and so they
attacked as well. Each of them suffered the same or worse fates as the dragons, and what
seemed to be three giant wolves, made quick work of them all.

It left Jaime and the Mountain standing unhurt and with a look at the dead around him and
especially at the two bodies tied to the stakes, Jaime readied himself to kill Aemon
Targaryen. To his delight, he didn't have to wait long for the chance to do so as the fights
were not to take place one after the other, but both at the same time.

Behind him, the Mountain took out his Greatsword, while Jaime unsheathed Brightroar. In
front of him, Dawn and Dark Sister both were brought to bear. One sword was an
unblemished pure milky white while the other was covered in his brother's and his son's
blood.

"For House Lannister!" he shouted as he charged at Aemon Targaryen who simply stood
there and smiled.
"House Lannister no longer exists," Aemon said as he laughed.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.

On the march, Aemon had been lost in his head. Almost chasing after shadows as each time
he turned around it was to find that Torgho Nudho was truly no longer there. He retreated into
himself and welcomed the part of him that at times he was forced to show to others. For
Aemon knew better than most that it was that part of him that was needed to do what must be
done.

The Lions had to fall. They had to be removed root and stem and though there would be
those that named Aemon a monster or said he was too ruthless, it mattered not. To allow one
of them to live after what they'd done wouldn't be just a stain on his granduncle's and sworn
shield's memories, but it would be to court disaster too. Given what Aegon had told him
about the rise of the Khal in Essos and who Khal Drogo was mayhap working with, Aemon
had a living breathing example of what happened when you allowed the sons of those you
killed, to live.

So he'd resolved himself to what he must do and had become the man he needed to be. Those
who knew the Lions best of all were sent out along with Thoros to find out had any of them
perished during the battles in the Reach and if so, were their bodies recognisable still. In this,
Aemon had been fortunate as the bodies of Kevan and Lancel Lannister were found and
while they'd both suffered burns, their heads remained undamaged. So those heads had been
taken and preserved. As too had the heads of those he'd personally removed in Lannisport.

Aemon, even as he provoked the Lions into doing exactly what he wished to do, still
remembered the looks of terror on the women's and children's faces as he showed them no
mercy. As he too remembered the words he spoke to Joffrey and Tyrion Lannister before he
then took their lives from them and removed their hearts from their chests.

"You raped a girl. Forced yourself onto her. This is her justice and mine own sentence for the
blood that runs through your veins, Joffrey Lannister." Aemon said, as he stabbed the Prince
of the Rock in the chest, and with two twists of Dark Sister's thin blade, he then cut out his
heart.

He moved to Tyrion who looked pleadingly to his brother some distance away. On the dwarf's
chest, Aemon had already carved a crude but recognizable version of the Three-Headed
Dragon. Whereas on Joffrey's, he'd simply carved that chest up and wrought the screams he
needed from the boy to bring his uncle out from behind the keep's walls.

"You set these events in motion, Lannister." Aemon spat as he looked at Tyrion, Dark Sister in
one hand and Joffrey's heart in the other. "Your actions cost my granduncle whatever time he
had left in this world. You cost me the chance to see his smile once more and had you been
successful, they'd have cost me, my brother. Did you really think I'd let any of you get away
with such?" Aemon said as he cut into Tyrion Lannister's chest and as he had with his
nephew, he removed the uncle's heart just as efficiently.

It had the desired effect. Not only were there now two fewer Lions in the world, but those
with Prince Jaime and the Mountain, including Joffrey's father, had then launched a failed
attack. Aemon's archers, the four dragons, and three Direwolves, all made quick work of
those men and left only two standing. Then with a simple nod of his head and still with the
blood of Tyrion and Joffrey running through his fingers, Aemon and Arthur faced off against
the Mountain that Rides and Jaime Lannister.

It had been these two that had taken his uncle and grandfather from the world. These two
now owed a blood debt to both Aemon and his mother's House. Aemon had shared that news
with his uncles and his cousins and had told them what it was he planned to do to them both.
That he intended to provoke an attack, a rescue attempt, or simply play into the Old Lion's
pride and offer up a challenge of two on two combat. No matter what it took, Aemon had told
them that both of the men responsible would be seen to face justice.

His two uncles, both his cousins, and even later on some of the most vociferous of Northmen
had all offered to act as one of the two champions in this. Aemon had refused them all.
Daario had spoken about the Mountain's great size and more than that, the sheer thickness of
the plate armor he wore. So Aemon had known there was only one man who could beat him.

'Two actually' the voice in his head said as Dark Sister crashed against Brightroar and the
song of Valyrian Steel began to ring out loudly.

It could only be Arthur though. While he may personally wish to take down both men,
Aemon had known that he'd be facing off against Jaime Lannister. He'd known too that he'd
not have been able to beat first the one and then the other, as in a true fight he'd have shown
too much. It would either give the second man an advantage when facing him or be enough to
see that man turn craven. Either way, it was not something that Aemon would countenance
and so he decided it was to be two on two, both at the same time.

"Trust me, it must be this way. For as much as your blood calls out and demands you to
swing the sword here, you simply aren't skilled enough to do so."

Harsh words but true ones and as to his left, a giant of a man faced off against the man that
even Aemon believed was the greatest living swordsman, Aemon fought against one who
would name himself that way. The Golden Prince of the Rock, Jaime Lannister, the man
who'd killed his grandfather, and Tywin Lannister's pride and joy.

Cocky, arrogant, and with the skills to back most of that up. Aemon had rarely fought against
a man whose fundamentals were as sound as Jaime's were. Yet, he'd provoked him for a
reason. Had done what he'd done to his nephew and brother not simply for the debts both
owed, but to anger the man he was about to face. Anger was not your friend when it came to
swinging a sword. Arthur had taught him that when he was just a boy and the Lion in front of
him swung his Valyrian Steel sword as angrily as any man that Aemon had ever faced.

"He begged for his life." Aemon smiled. "Each night on the march to this godforsaken place,
he begged for his life."
"Lies."
"When he was not busy wetting himself that was." Aemon laughed as he dodged a vicious
blow aimed at his head. "Some nights he soiled himself even worse than that."

He ducked under a blow and moved to the side so that he could see what was happening with
Arthur and the Mountain. The giant was faster than he should be and the Greatsword he
wielded was monstrous. On the ground were the remnants of a large shield and Aemon could
see small gaps in the plate armor where there had been none before. Arthur was as elusive as
he'd ever seen him. The Sword of the Morning danced while the Mountain charged. A slice
of Dawn here, a cut there, Arthur was busy creating the gaps that he would soon use to bring
the Mountain down, Aemon felt the fight was almost over, or would be as soon as Arthur
willed it so.

"Your wife, your children. The daughter you've left behind in Dorne. I wonder will they too
wet themselves when their time comes." Aemon said, and as angered as Jaime Lannister was
before, he raged now.

Aemon blocked the blows and sidestepped away from those that he needed to. To those
watching and who knew him not, it would look as if Jaime's attacks were too much for him to
handle. That the power of the older man was more than Aemon had prepared for. As for those
who knew him well or were better judges of the ebbs and flows of a true fight, they'd see the
truth of things.

Jaime's swings were taking much more out of Jaime than they were out of Aemon. Each of
them had so much power behind them that they would, in time, tire Jaime out. Even now,
Jaime had begun to breathe heavily while Aemon had very much not. A crash, a pained cry,
followed by silence, was enough to tell Aemon that the Mountain had fallen. Whether or not
that was for true or simply for now, was a different matter. As while Aemon had asked Arthur
to simply incapacitate the giant, he'd told him not to do so at any risk to himself.

"One down, one to go," Aemon said as Jaime roared like the Lion he named himself.

Steadying himself, breathing evenly, Aemon now began to truly fight back. Up to now, he'd
been simply absorbing the blows from Jaime and his sword. Allowing them to force him
back, while all the time, simply deflecting them away from him or making them miss. His
own attacks had been weaker than they needed to be, purposefully. Now they were anything
but and though Jaime's had not hit home even once, Aemon's did so now regularly.

A thrust that scraped along the breastplate and cut deep into the gilded golden lion that was
embossed there. A crashing against the helm forced Jaime to take a step backward so as to
shake the effects away. A cut to the joint at the elbow was one that added Jaime Lannister's
blood to the blood of his kin that Dark Sister had drunk up greedily. Followed by two strikes
to the leg in quick succession that first pierced the armor and then the flesh beneath it.

What it looked like to those behind him, Aemon knew not. Arthur stood watching and held
his sword just in case. Dawn's formerly pristine milky white color was now tinged with the
red blood that the Mountain had spilled on its legendary blade. Atop the Rock, Aemon had no
doubt that Jaime's father, wife, children, and those that loved him the most all looked on. Yet,
for him, all Aemon saw was the face of the man who'd guarded his back for most of his life.

Memories that threatened to overwhelm him were forced back down and again Aemon
concentrated on the swings of his sword. A feint followed by a thrust that brought a pained
cry, a slice that cut the mane from the back of Jaime's helm. Grey eyes met green ones and
finally, Aemon saw what he had longed to see. Fear. Jaime Lannister was afraid and it almost
made Aemon's heart sing to see it. A cut, a slice, thrust followed by thrust, and then he began
in earnest. Dark Sister had a thirst for blood and over the years he'd fed that thirst, yet Aemon
and she had never wanted to drink it down more than they did right now.

Two strikes where the gauntlet met the vambrace allowed Dark Sister to create the opening
and Aemon took it gladly. The scream reverberated loudly and behind him, Aemon heard
cheers, as with a downward swing of his sword, he removed Jaime Lannister's offhand from
his body. Blood spurted from the wound, so far that even Aemon's armor was splashed by it.
It was to be the first of many. As now that Jaime tried to ignore the pain the loss of his hand
had caused him, Aemon moved in for the kill.

A thrust opened up a gap in the armor and allowed Dark Sister to be stuck into Jaime's left
hip, almost crippling him in the process. Another opened up the gap between shoulder and
chest and again was followed by a loud grunt as Dark Sister hit home once more. Weakened
by the loss of blood, exhausted by all the efforts that he'd put into the fight, Jaime Lannister
was done for.

Aemon almost considered disarming the man. Then came damnably close to making a speech
about how unworthy Jaime had been to take the life of Torgho Nudho. Instead, he simply
ended it and after moving into Jaime's guard, Dark Sister found purchase and was driven
deep into the gap that Aemon had created near his arm and shoulder. Brightroar and Jaime
Lannister both fell to the ground at the same time. The sound of the sword somehow being
louder than the noise that the man made when he fell.

"For Torgho Nudho," Aemon said as he moved forward, removed Jaime's Lion's Helm, and
with Dark Sister in hand and Jaime facing those who marched with Aemon, and not the
Rock, he cut the man's throat with a single slice of the blade.

It took no more than a moment for Jaime to gurgle his last breath. Aemon then bent down to
pick up Brightroar and to turn and face the Rock. Holding the sword up high in his hand so
that Tywin Lannister could see it, Aemon smiled before turning and walking to Arthur and
then down to where Rhaenys, Dany, Aurane, Thoros, and Daario awaited. With a nod to his
uncles, cousins, and the Northmen, Aemon handed Brightroar to Aurane as he'd already told
him he would, and then he took the rope from Thoros's hands.

A nod to Rhaenys to show her that he was unhurt, followed by a call to the Blood Wyrm, and
while Arthur and some Northmen chained the Mountain, who yet breathed still, Aemon
walked and tied the rope to Jaime Lannister's body before then tying it to the Blood Wyrm's
saddle when his dragon landed close to him. Within the blink of an eye, he was sitting atop
the Blood Wyrm's back and then flying high above the ground. Beneath them, dangling from
a rope, blood still dripping from his dead body, Jaime Lannister looked down on the Rock
through still open but long dead eyes.

How long he flew over the Rock before he cut the rope and let the body crash down into the
keep, Aemon knew not. When he landed, however, he promised that before the night was
done, the Rock itself would fall too.

The Conquest of Westeros LX.
Valyrian Steel.

No one knew how it was made, the secret lost to the Doom. Something which made any item
that was made from it more precious than gold. Be that a simple thing such as a mug or plate,
knife or fork. Though as with most things, it was weapons that were truly prized. For no
weapon kept its edge as well as Valyrian Steel.

How much of it was in existence at any one time, again no one knew. Though when it came to
weapons they were few and far between, swords, even fewer. In the Empire, there were
Blackfyre and Dark Sister, the ancestral swords of House Targaryen, in Westeros it was said

that most of the Great Houses had owned at least one at a time, yet over the years, and
certainly by the time the Dragonknight's Conquest began, they had become rarer still.

House Stark in the North, held Ice which had been added to by Wolfsblood. A sword that had
been won by Prince Benjen Stark from the Iron Born and which had then become the
ancestral sword of House Stark of Sea Dragon Point. While on Bear Island, House Mormont
held Longclaw, wielded by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the Old Bear Jeor
Mormont. In the Vale, there was House Royce's Lamentation, along with House Corbray's
Lady Forlorn. On the Iron Islands, House Harlaw had its Nightfall and in the Reach, House
Hightower's Vigilance and House Roxton's Orphan Maker almost rounded out the list.

Two swords, however, had been wielded by Houses for generations, and yet before the
Dragonknight was done, those Houses stood no more and their ancestral swords were
wielded by far better men. Hearstbane found no truer servant to its history than Thoros of
Myr, while Brigtroar found a new home in Dragon's Landing and in the hands of Aurane
Velaryon. Both blades proved their worth and saved the lives of the men who wielded them in
the Great War. Where Valyrian Steel along with Dragons and Dragonglass was oft the
difference between life and a fate worse even than death.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next. We take a look at events in the Iron Islands. Ned, Benjen Robb, and Torrhen
dole out the justice they long for as the Mountain falls for true. While Tywin finds he’s
no time to mourn his losses as the noose tightens when Aemon launches a full-scale
attack on Casterly Rock and uses dragons to their most devastating effect.
For those following my other fics, Dragonverse is up next, later this week. While
Revenge is a Dish and Dark Prince are up Next Week.

Between a Rock and a Hardcase.
Chapter Summary

We take a look at events in the Iron Islands. Ned, Benjen Robb, and Torrhen dole out the
justice they long for as the Mountain falls for true. While Tywin finds he’s no time to
mourn his losses as the noose tightens when Aemon launches a full-scale attack on
Casterly Rock and uses dragons to their most devastating effect.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Iron Islands 301 AC.
Harren Hoare.

He should be dead. They should have killed him and yet for some reason he'd been left alive.
Not that living was something he welcomed much at the moment. Each day he woke, Harren
cursed himself for not expecting it, for not preparing for it. His father had always warned him
that Balon was an ambitious man who lusted for power, Harren now wished he'd listened to
him more than he had at the time.

Instead, he'd expected his friendship with Theon to be enough to keep the Greyjoys in line.
Even japing with his former friend that together they'd be a match for Euron should the
Crow's Eye ever need to be taken down a notch or two. Foolish, childish games, that in truth
he'd never taken as seriously as he should have. Now, sitting alone in his cell, his thoughts his
only company, Harren could only pray to the Drowned God for one chance to bring his blade
to bear against Balon, Victarion, Euron, and Theon before his time came to an end.

They were not the only prayers he uttered of an evening or a morn when his true fears would
rise to the surface. Thoughts of his mother, his sister, and what may have been, or mayhap
was still being done to them, were never far from Harren's mind. As too were hopeful
thoughts of escape and rescue, justice and vengeance, blood, and death. His own to hopefully
be the last of them. For was he to fall before the House of the Kraken, then his family's doom
would be complete.

"I should have seen it coming," he said despairingly.

Many Moons Earlier.

The force that arrived on Pyke was broken. Their might, strength, and reputation were in
tatters and the defeat they'd suffered at the hands of the Northmen and Riverlanders was true
and complete. They'd suffered many losses in terms of numbers, his father amongst them.
Then they'd found that Harrenhal too had been taken from them in the blink of an eye.

That his mother and sister were unharmed and had been allowed to leave with their wealth
was the only welcome piece of news that Harren was given as he was freed. While the
warning that was relayed to him was one that he very much intended to take note of. For
despite how fierce and resolute the Northmen had proved themselves, they too had withered
when faced with a dragon. Harren still shuddered at the memory of the sight of the Blood
Wyrm and the words its rider spoke quietly to him before letting him loose from his chains.

"The Blood Wyrm put paid to the men your father sent to ambush the North, Harren. With a
snap of my fingers, those men were no more." Aemon Targaryen said as he then snapped his
fingers for effect. "Go back to your islands and await my coming. For not even they will
remain separate from the kingdom I'm forging. Be ready to kneel as swiftly as I demand of
you. Or be ready to face a dragon's flames. The choice of which it's to be I leave to you."

So fearful did the warning leave him that Harren made sure to speak to many of those who
knew more of events than him. Those who'd seen what was left of the men his father had sent
to the Neck. Or those who'd been in Harrenhal when it had fallen, Harren had spoken to them
all. To his mother and sister even more truly and completely and he'd heard the fear and
worry in his mother's voice when he'd done so.

It left him with no choice and so when Aemon Targaryen finally decided to look their way,
he'd find the Iron Islands and its Lord Reaper to be accommodating to his wishes. There was
no advantage in not being so and no path to victory for them in facing off against the man
who would be king. Though Harren knew there would be pushback all the same. He knew
too that he'd need too to be firm with his people in order to get them to understand just how
dangerous a man Aemon Targaryen was.

He had little idea at the time that he'd never get to make that speech and even that night at the
welcome feast, Harren was unaware of the plots and schemes that were going on around him.

Seeing Theon again had been a welcome sight and Balon had been most pleased to see that
Harren, his mother, and his sister had arrived safely. He was given pride of place as was his
right due to him being his father's heir and though talk turned to the Kingsmoot, Harren paid
it little mind. The drink flowed, the conversation was full and friendly, and as the night wore
on, Harren got more and more drunk. Harren was japing and sitting beside Theon eyeing up
one of the thralls to be his bed warmer for the night when he heard the commotion in the
Great Hall.

"Theon?" he asked confused.
"I'm sorry, but you're not my blood," Theon replied as around the room those most loyal to
him and who'd come with his mother and sister from Harrenhal, were quickly and efficiently
disposed of.

Men fell dead in their seats as those they'd been drinking with, now turned on them. Others
were knocked unconscious or simply too drunk to offer any fightback whatsoever. Harren too
was drunk, yet he rose to his feet and removed his throwing ax regardless. Hurriedly adding it
to the dagger that he now wielded in his off-hand.

Theon, like the craven he was, almost ran from him. While two ugly brutes very much did
not. The first of them fell to the thrust from Harren's dagger while the second met his end at
Harren's small ax. Looking around the room in a panic, Harren found that he was now almost
alone and without allies. There were no men he could trust who still stood and so his thoughts
turned to his mother and sister. Gutting another man who moved toward him and caring not if
he was friend or foe, Harren made his way to the nearest door, only to find an imposing sight
blocking his way.

Victarion Greyjoy dwarfed him by more than a head and a half. Though not armored, he bore
his large double-sided ax in his hand and it left Harren with no other choice but to turn tail
and run in the opposite direction. Here too he found a Greyjoy blocking his path. This one
was an even bigger obstacle than the last and while Victarion had looked somewhat
conflicted and had spoken not, the Crow's Eye was very different.

"Run boy. I much prefer the chase." the Crow's Eye cackled.

Pride, annoyance, the knowledge that he was most likely not leaving this hall alive, Harren
knew not which it was that set his feet moving. Only that he ran to and not from the Crow's
Eye, came close to hitting him with first his dagger and then his ax, and then he knew naught
but darkness. Harren never saw the blow that had knocked him out. Nor did he hear the
words that were spoken over his prone and unconscious body. Not until the next day did he
hear or see anything again and the sight and sound that he was met with, was not one he
much enjoyed.

"Your mother and sister are safe, boy." Balon Greyjoy said.
"If you harm them…"
"You'll what? Speak angered words at me." Balon chuckled. "You live still only because I
deem it so, your mother and sister, their lives and whatever virtue they possess are mine to do
with what I will."
"I'm your king." he spat angrily.
"As good a king as your father, no doubt." Balon sneered. "I am the only king the Iron Islands
needs. Kneel to the dragons, by the Drowned God they wished to kill you for that alone."

Harren looked at the man in front of him. Balon's grey hair was long and dank, while his face
was lined with creases that made him look twice as old as he truly was. Where Victarion was
a force of nature and Euron a mad and dangerous fool, Balon was neither. He bore not the
build of Victarion nor the threat of Euron and yet he had something that neither of the other
two had. Age. Balon was the firstborn and so he led their House, Harren tried not to ponder
on what things would be like if he did not. For it did his situation little good after all.

"The Kingsmoot will be held on the morrow and who knows, once I'm named king I may
find I've little use for you. Enjoy the day, my prince." Balon smirked. "It may well be your
last."

Now.

For some reason, it had turned out not to be death that came to him and Harren still
understood it not. He'd been held prisoner, treated relatively well, and fed more than enough
so as not to starve. In terms of visitors, other than his jailors he'd had but three. Balon who'd
come to mock and threaten that today was to be his last day, before then leaving and not

coming back for a week or mayhap a moon. Theon who came and spoke about his mother
and sister and who Harren shouted angrily at and bid to leave him alone, and finally, Euron.
The Crow's Eye would come and look at him with an odd smile on his face and Euron always
left after speaking but two words.

"Not Today."

Harren watched the light fade and the sun as it fell. His eyes were focused on the window as
they re-adjusted to the light of the night sky. So concentrated was he on this, that he never
heard the men as they moved into the cellblock. If it was not for the sound of bodies hitting
the ground, then he'd have most likely drifted off to sleep. Yet with whatever was going on
outside his cell door, sleep was the last thing he could do. Rising to his feet, Harren looked
for anything he could use for a weapon, only to remember he'd had that thought before. As
too had his jailors, which was why he found nothing he could defend himself with. Resolving
himself to his fate, the door to his cell opened and he found himself face to face with one of
the mutes that manned the Silence. The man's scarred face was a most unwelcome sight in
the darkness of Harren's cell.

A muttered word, a gesture that Harren understood not and then he was being dragged and
shoved from the cell. Outside there was more than one of Euron's mutes. Though he'd no
wish to go where they wanted him to, Harren found to his dismay that he had little but any
choice but to do so. He was pushed roughly ahead of them, forced down corridors and
through doors and after some time, Harren found himself outside the keep. A brief moment to
feel the cool wind of freedom on his face was all he was given before he was placed on a
horse.

Again thoughts of true escape entered and then left his mind. Two men with crossbows
quickly made sure he understood that he rode with them or they'd see he fell here instead.
Soon enough the keep was far behind them and Harren began to recognize the cove that he
was taken to. As he did the man who awaited him once he reached it. The Crow's Eye
laughed like a loon as Harren dismounted from his horse and Harren readied himself for
whatever fate the Drowned God had in store for him.

"You look like I'm about to stick my cock up your arse." Euron laughed. "Pretty as you are,
boy, that's not what I freed you for."
"Then why?" Harren asked. As bravely as any man could when they were face to face with a
madman.

"For me to know and you to…." Euron paused before laughing loudly. "For me to know."

Harren looked at the man in front of him, his one eye was alight as Euron laughed at
whatever private jape he was enjoying. Never did he think the man to be as dangerous as he
did right then and he'd always thought the Crow's Eye to be the most dangerous man that
walked the realm or sailed the seas. Tonight, under the light from the full moon that shined
down on them, Euron Greyjoy looked truly insane and it was a terrifying thing to behold.
Thankfully it was not something he needed to see for long, as Euron shocked and stunned
him with what he proposed.

"The boat will take you to a ship, the ship to Lannisport. Call upon a dragon for aid if you
dare, my prince. For should you not, then your mother and sister won't be as lucky as you and
I'll wet my cock on each of them before they're sent off to the Drowned God's halls."

Wish as he might to kill the man in front of him, Harren was unarmed and outnumbered.
Even should he manage to end the Crow's Eye, it would serve him little. Whereas if he was to
find any hope of rescuing his mother and sister, then he needed powerful allies to do so and
there were none more powerful than the Dragonknight. So he bit his tongue and spoke little,
moved to the boat, and was soon rowed away from shore and to the ship. All the while, the
Crow's Eye laughed loudly and the sound sent a chill down Harren's spine. A chill that he
hoped a dragon's flames would be enough to force away.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Robb Stark.

While the camp was located on the path to Casterly Rock, Robb and the younger men of the
North had spent much time in Lannisport. They'd learned how his cousin had taken the city
and what Aemon had done to the Lannisters he'd found there. Not even the women or
children were spared from the Dragon's Wroth. It disturbed Robb greatly. As some ideas were
beyond his thinking and the killing of an innocent after the battle had been won was very
much one of those.

Speaking to the other heirs and second sons of the North, to men that he would now name as
friends, Robb was surprised to find that few of them shared his concerns. The Smalljon had
simply said that there was no such thing as an innocent Lannister, while Eddard and Harrion
Karstark had said that such was the way of war. That this war in particular would end in one

way and one way only, the complete destruction of the Lannister line. Again, however, it
didn't sit right with him and so Robb spoke to the one man he trusted above all others. His
father.

"Is it not dishonorable to do what Aemon did, Father?" he asked as they sat alone in his
father's tent.
"There is little place for honor in war, son. Especially when that war is fought against those
with none. Or do you name the Lannisters as honorable men?"
"No, I'd not do so, but women, Father? Children?" he asked worriedly.
"You know the tales of the North, Robb. The tales of our House and those who sat on the
Winter Throne before my father and even his father before him. The Hungry Wolf is not a man
that either of us would name as dishonorable is he?" his father asked as he looked at him and
Robb was shaking his head in reply almost before he finished doing so.
"So Aemon is truly going to end their entire line?" he asked.
"I would wager so and there is not a thing you, I, or even his wife can say to stop him from
doing so, son." his father said before shocking Robb to his very core. "Nor would I want to."

It had preyed on his mind right up to the day that they made their first true advance on
Casterly Rock. Robb having to force himself to look at his cousin as he killed first Joffrey
and then Tyrion Lannister. Then as he and Ser Arthur Dayne had fought against the Mountain
and the Prince of the Rock. Though by then, Robb had found a man far more worthy to be
named dishonorable than his cousin ever could be.

The Mountain was a true beast of a man. Close to eight feet tall, the monster dwarfed even
the Greatjon. He wore a dark heavy plate that Robb wagered would take four or five strong
men to even lift. Wielded a Greatsword that rivaled Ice in size if not beauty. According to one
of Aemon's men, Daario Naharis, it had been the Mountain who'd killed Robb's uncle
Brandon. So as he watched the fight, he prayed that Ser Arthur would be victorious.
Something that a few moments of seeing the famed Sword of the Morning in action was
proved true.

To his and his father's great joy, the Mountain was incapacitated rather than killed, which was
more than could be said for Prince Jaime Lannister. Aemon toyed with Tywin Lannister's
golden heir, played with him, and then beat him with such ease and contempt that it made
Robb wonder if the tales of Jaime's prowess were exaggerated. Again something that Daario
Naharis had said to him had then come to mind to name it as not so.

"I know the Mountain killed King Brandon, while Prince Jaime himself killed both Martyn
Cassel and King Rickard."
"How can you know for true?" Robb asked when his father did not.
"Because my prince ordered me to find out, and I've yet to not carry out one of his others to
completion," Daario replied, firmly but not angrily.

It was because of that, Robb had then named Jaime Lannister as true a swordsman as his
reputation had. Why he now named his cousin as either the first-best or second-best blade in
Westeros. Only Ser Arthur Dayne of a level that could compete with Aemon, Robb wagered.
With the fight now done, Robb, his father, his uncle Benjen and his cousin Torrhen, along
with the Lords of the North, all looked on as the Mountain was chained and restrained. They
watched as Aemon tied Jaime Lannister's body to the Blood Wyrm and then mounted his
dragon. The massive red beast then took to the sky and beneath it, hanging by a long rope, a
dead Prince of the Rock was soon returned to his father.

As the Mountain was moved to somewhere safe, Robb, his father, and those with them waited
for both Aemon's return and to be told what was to be done with the man who'd murdered his
uncle. On the latter, they did not have to wait long, as Ser Arthur made his way to them and
was soon standing right in front of where Robb himself stood. The man bore no wound, no
sweat fell from his brow, and he looked to all and sundry as if he'd just been taking a stroll.
Apparently, the fight had taken little out of him and Robb promised himself that he'd test his
own blade against Ser Arthur's in a spar should the chance present itself.

"His grace releases the Mountain to your care, Lord Stark. It is to you and House Stark to
judge the proper sentence for the man and his grace only asks that if it's to be execution, you
hold off until his return. For he too would seek to see the man who killed his kin as he takes
his final breath." Ser Arthur said.
"I thank you and his grace, Ser Arthur. As for the sentence, death is all that awaits such a man
and that death will be delivered by those of House Stark, you can inform the king thus." his
father's words were spoken with authority and certainty that Robb had yet to master.
"An hour, Lord Stark." Ser Arthur said and Robb looked to his father, his uncle, and his
cousin, all of whom would play their part in taking the monster from the world, or so Robb
believed.

His father waited until Ser Arthur walked to where the queen and the princess stood and once
he'd done so, only then did he speak.

"Have the man stripped of his armor and see it melted down along with his sword. I want him
chained firmly to the nearest tree, Jon, enough chains that would hold even you." His father
ordered the Greatjon who simply nodded and moved. "Benjen you and Torrhen must play
your parts, you too, Robb, the Blood Oath demands it of us."

Robb shivered a little. He'd never truly fought or shed blood in more than just a spar. He had
certainly not been involved in any action where a man lost his life, though mayhap that
couldn't be said as truly now. For by simply marching with the Northern Army, it could be
said that he now very much had. Whatever the truth of it, by the end of the day, he'd be
bloodied properly. That it was to be with the blood of the man who'd killed his Uncle
Brandon, was something that made him more eager than afraid.

His father spoke to him alone in his tent, his words ones that bid him to show resolve and not
to falter or waver. Robb believed that his uncle was speaking those very same words to
Torrhen in their own tent, mayhap even right at that particular moment. The hour passed
almost in the blink of an eye and with a nod of his head, his father bid him to follow as he
walked from the tent. They move through the Northern Camp where men looked on with
eager eyes and bowed their heads both because of his father's rank and to show their
agreement with what was about to be done. Eventually, they were joined by other Lords, and
even by Lady Maege and her daughters, as they walked to the tree where the Mountain was
held.

Robb looked around subtly, happy to see that Aemon had returned and now stood by his wife
and aunt, his men alongside or behind him. His cousin nodded in his father's direction and
Robb saw more words spoken in the simple nod of his father's head than if he'd spoken them
aloud. There was gratitude for not only bringing the Mountain to justice but for allowing
them to be who meted that justice out. Relief that it had cost them little thus far to see that
was so. As well as determination to do what now would be done, Robb too was determined
and he offered a prayer to the Old Gods to allow him to not hesitate when the time came.

Chained to the tree, the Mountain that Rides looked much different without his heavy plate
armor. He was still as large, heavily muscled, and surprisingly he was more full of scars and
marks than Robb expected. The monstrous man struggled against his chains and at one point
he did so, so strenuously, that Robb worried the chains or the tree itself wouldn't hold him.
Though it very much did and all his struggles were in vain, much to Robb's relief. As the
Lords and Ladies of the North took their places, while around them so too did the other

commanders of Aemon's army, Robb, Benjen, and Torrhen took theirs and his father then
moved forward.

"This man ambushed our king and murdered him. He took the life of my brother, left my
Goodsister a widow, and robbed the North of the man we sought to follow. There can only be
one sentence given for such crimes. So in the name of their graces, King Aemon and Queen
Rhaenys of House Targaryen, I, Prince Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, acting on behalf
of House Stark, do hereby sentence you, Gregor Clegane, to die a murderer's death."
"For the king and queen."
"For the North."
"For House Stark."

Robb listened as the cheers rang out, noticing that only on the last one did Aemon add his
own voice to them. Happy to see he was not the only one who did so, as his father, uncle, and
cousin, as well as the Lords and Ladies of the North, had noticed too.

"Benjen." His father's voice called out when the cheers had quietened. His uncle then stepped
forward bearing his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

A slash across the chest and then a dagger in the eye was what the Mountain received from
Robb's uncle. The first of those was just enough to spill blood while the second left the
Mountain half blinded. Feeling his father's eyes on him, Robb awaited his uncle to move
back and his own name to be called, he did not have to wait long. As with Benjen, he too
bore a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, he too then slashed his sword across the
Mountain's chest. Then with his dagger, he stabbed the man under the arm, a mortal wound,
yet one that would not be what took the Mountain's life this day.

"Torrhen." his father called and Robb looked on as his cousin did as he had done and slashed
the Mountain's chest before stabbing his dagger under the Mountain's other arm.

Benjen stood forward once more, quickly taking the other eye and then slashing the
Mountain's stomach, cutting deep enough that it was not only blood that began to pour out
from the wound. Finally, his father moved to the now dying man, Ice raised high in his two
hands and Robb along with everyone there bore witness as his father wielded the greatsword
as if he'd been born to do so.

A hand, a foot, another hand, Ice took them all and then with two downward slashes, it
opened the Mountain's chest from neck to balls. Through it all, the Mountain screamed loudly
and called for someone to come to his aid. His king, his prince, the very gods themselves, the
monster cried out to them all and received no reply. The end when it finally came seemed to
take an age. His father had finished cutting into the man and all that the Mountain had inside
of him was now clear for all to see.

"For my brother." his father said before moving forward. Ice was swung in an arc that took
the Mountain's head from his shoulders, the man himself having died no more than a moment
earlier.

Had someone asked him before this day if his father was capable of such bloodlust, then
Robb would have told them in no uncertain terms that he was not. As he looked on and
watched his father lift the Mountain's giant head in the air and while the Lords and Ladies of
the North cheered on loudly, he hoped that it was just because of what the man had done and
taken from them that made his father this way. For he'd not deny that he too had a certain
bloodlust when it came to the man who murdered his uncle.

There was to be no celebration of the Mountain's demise, however. No time for such. After a
brief meal and with night now falling, the attack on the Rock began in earnest. Much blood
still needed to be spilled before the Blood Oath his father, uncle, and the Lords and Ladies of
the North were satisfied. While even when it was, Robb doubted that Aemon would be.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Rhaenys Targaryen.

Never had she seen Aemon as focused as he now was. It was clear from the moment she and
Dany had arrived in the West. Not even when they were alone was he anything less than the
Dragonknight and for the first true time in her life, Rhaenys had seen what it was that made
her husband different from other men. Up until then it had simply been tales and stories and
none of them did the truth justice. Nor truly prepare her for that truth.

Neither she nor Dany had seen what Aemon had done in Lannisport and had it not been so
recently done, then Rhaenys may have sought to deny that Aemon would carry out such acts.
If there were not so many who spoke of witnessing Aemon personally execute every single

Lannister he'd found in the city, then Rhaenys would be certain it was simply tales being told.
It very much was not and what she herself witnessed with Joffrey and Tyrion Lannister was
enough to prove that even more truly.

As for Aemon, he had barely spoken to her other than in generalities and to ask about her
health. He'd welcomed her and Dany and made sure they were well guarded and had all they
needed, then once she'd told him that she was well, her husband had gone away and the
Dragonknight was in full effect. He'd accepted no questions as to his behavior, would brook
no rebuke, not that she wished to give him one, and had simply carried out his plans as if she
had stayed in Harrenhal. Although the mere fact that Rhaenys, Dany, and their dragons had
arrived had meant they were now part of the final plan to take Casterly Rock itself.

After he'd brutally and thankfully, quickly, executed Joffrey and Tyrion Lannister, Aemon
had then goaded Jaime Lannister into a fight and Rhaenys had seen his true skills with a
blade in his hand. For as long as she could remember, those in the Empire had named Aemon
and Ser Arthur as the best swords in Essos. Now, she had no doubt that the tales would name
them the same in Westeros. Aemon seemed to play with the Prince of the Rock before he
took his life and then his dignity from him.

"What's he doing?" Dany had asked quietly as Aemon tied Jaime Lannister's body to the
Blood Wyrm and took to the sky.
"I know not," Rhaenys answered truly.

It turned out that Aemon was goading the man's father now, or mayhap he was simply
showing him what was soon to be his fate. In the end, it mattered not. Aemon and the Blood
Wyrm flew for close to an hour and when they returned, Jaime Lannister's body was not with
them. Rhaenys had found herself wondering if and how Aemon had returned him to his
family home. Even after the Blood Wyrm had landed and Aemon walked to where she and
Dany awaited, he spoke little to either of them. Simply telling them to prepare for the night to
come and that he wished for some time to ready himself for the Mountain's demise.

Once again Rhaenys looked on as an execution was carried out. This one was far more
bloody and took far longer than the two Aemon had handled himself or the ones he'd done
before she and Dany had arrived. Aemon stood silently and watched as his mother's family
took their vengeance out on the man who'd killed their kin. His hand though reached for hers
and Rhaenys was most relieved with the contact. As she was with the talk they finally had
upon returning to their tent after it was done.

"I am well, Rhaenys. I know you're worried about me and that I may seem as if I'm not, but I
am well."
"You are grieving, Aemon," she said softly.
"No, I'm not. Not yet." her husband said as he moved to her. "My grief comes once he's been
avenged. Only then can I allow myself to do so."
"Aems…"
"All I do is what must be done, Rhaenys. They….." Aemon pointed to the tent's opening.
"They may see it as cruel, or unnecessary, may name me bloodthirsty, and yet I care not what
they think." Rhaenys looked at him as he moved closer to her, his fingers brushing against
her cheek softly. "I need you to know that it is not and that I am well."
"I know," she said, not sure if she was lying or just being hopeful when she spoke the words,
but knowing that Aemon needed to hear them regardless.

It was the closest look she had at her husband since she'd arrived in the West and it was to be
but a brief one. In the blink of an eye, Aemon Targaryen had once again disappeared into a
hole that her husband hid him in. The Dragonknight was standing now in front of her and
Rhaenys was discomfited by how easily Aemon was able to switch between the two.

"You and Dany are to destroy the ships and keep to the cove, fly over it and any who try and
escape that way are to meet their ends in Meraxes and Nightwing's flames. Aurane will join
me and together we'll break open the Rock and allow our army through."
"Aemon."
"You fly high, Rhaenys, Dany too. I'll speak to her before you take to the sky, but you fly
high." Aemon commanded.
"I'll fly high," she said and ever so briefly, Rhaenys felt her husband's lips on her own before
she was left standing alone in the tent.

Within the hour, she, Dany, Aurane, and Aemon himself were sitting atop their dragons.
Behind them, the force that would take the Rock was lined up. Daario and his Second Sons,
Thoros and his Flames of the Dragon, the Unsullied, and their new commander Torgho
Timpa, who Rhaenys had not yet spoken to. As well as men of the North, Reach, and the
Vale. How many in total there were, Rhaenys knew not, nor how hard or easy to take the
keep would prove to be. What she did know was that before the night was done, Casterly
Rock would fall and any Lannister alive by the morrow, would not see another sunrise.

"Soves Meraxes," Rhaenys called out and as one, the four dragons took to the sky and the
army marched to the gates of Casterly Rock.

The Fall of Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Genna Lannister.

She'd never seen Tywin so broken or so devastated by a loss as he was right now. Not even
when Joanna had passed had her brother looked as much in need of time to grieve as he did
upon seeing Jaime fall. In this he wasn't alone, Cersei, Alysanne, Jason, and even Genna
herself had been at first shocked that anyone could beat Jaime with a sword in hand. Then
they were left stunned when his life had been taken so contemptuously. They'd all then had to
watch on horror-struck as his body was desecrated and flown beneath the dragon before
being dropped unceremoniously down upon the Rock.

Yet there was no time to grieve nor to even truly shed a tear over the loss of the Prince of the
Rock. Not when the Rock itself was in such peril. For despite not being a woman who knew
much of military tactics or warfare, Genna knew full well that other than when Lann the
Clever had taken the Rock from the Casterlys, it was now as close as it ever could be to
falling to a hostile force. A force that given what the Dragon had done in Lannisport, would
see each and every member of their House in the ground once it was done.

So Genna made her way to the Hall of Heroes. Once there she walked past Cersei and
Alysanne and listened not to their weeping and moved straight to her brother. She looked not
at the broken body that lay atop the stone sarcophagus that was supposed to be another's
resting place. Instead, it was Tywin and Tywin alone that she focussed all her attention on
and her words, though harsh, were spoken regardless.

"We have not time for mourning, brother. The Dragon is or will be at our gates and we must
prepare. We must stop him lest he ends us all."
"He was my son." Tywin almost shouted and Genna spoke not on the fact that their brother
and his son too as well as her own had fallen to the dragon or that they'd looked on while
Tyrion had died at Aemon Targaryen's hands. For Tywin only ever had room for one son in
his life after all.
"And to avenge him we need to survive the night, brother."

It was not enough, her words barely registered and Genna left the Hall of Heroes alone. She'd
walked no more than a few feet when Jason and Tommen came to her. Both her
grandnephews were armed and armored and trying their best to look older than they truly
were. She bid them to speak to their grandfather, to try and talk sense to him where she could
not, and then she continued on her way. Her destination was the walls of Casterly Rock
where her own sons and even her fool of a husband would be.

By the time she reached them, Genna knew more than one thing. The men were far more
scared than she'd ever known a man could be. They worried about the fight to come and with
no one to lead them or inspire them, they were almost beaten already. She knew too that they
would be no match for the dragon and its flames and cursed herself for not leaving when
Gerion did. Her brother had spoken the truth about what he and his men had faced and what
came their way, but Genna had been too proud and stubborn to listen.

'She was a Lioness of the Rock, a matriarch of House Lannister, no one would force her from
her home' or so she'd thought at the time.

As she looked at Walder, Tion, and Emmon, she began to think that her true reason was that
in truth there was nowhere to run to or to hide. Essos belonged even more to the Dragons
than Westeros now did. So they'd find no comfort or respite there after what her brother had
done. The attack Tywin had sent Tyrion to organize as well as the alliance they'd made with
the Dornish had now doomed them on both sides of the Narrow Sea.

Genna hugged her boys and for one of the few times in her life, she willingly kissed Emmon
fully on the lips. She asked if they had everything they needed and did the same to the men.
Just as she was about to turn and head back inside, the horns rang out loudly. Looking over
the parapets, she witnessed the siege engines being moved forward. Fewer of them than she
would have expected and briefly, very briefly, Genna felt hope rise in her chest. Then the
roars echoed and Genna, Emmon, her sons, and each and every man atop the walls of the
keep all looked upward.

She'd seen the dragons from a distance and had looked up only momentarily when the red
one had flown over the Rock. The sight of her nephew's dead body had been more than
enough to force her to not pay too close attention to the so-called Blood Wyrm. Now, Genna
could see it in all its terrifying glory. Its flight this time was much different and it took her
only a moment to realize just exactly what it was the dragon and the man atop its back
intended.

"Walder, Tion," she called out and her sons moved to her. "Emmon," she shouted, having to
do so again to get her husband to come and join their sons in her embrace. "I love you all so
very much, my sweet boys. You too, husband," she said, both truthfully and not. Though
Emmon needed a lie far more than he did the truth at that moment.

Placing kisses on each of their cheeks, Genna felt the warmth as it washed over them, the
flames licking against their skin. Then she, her sons, and her husband felt no more.

Aurane.

He'd listened to Aemon's plans and had raised no objection to them. Not that one would have
been listened to. For only a fool would argue with the Dragonknight about how best way to
wage war from atop a dragon's back. Together they would open the gates to the Rock and
allow their army to march right through them. The plan was as simple as that and Aemon had
told him to just do as he and the Blood Wyrm did. To do so and to watch out for arrows or
scorpion bolts.

Rhaenys and Daenerys would fly behind and not above the Rock. Meraxes and Nightwing
were to be used to ensure there was no escape. To ensure that the last remaining ships the
Lannisters had no doubt hidden in order to do so, were burned rather than sailed away
unhindered. Daario and Thoros were given command of their ground forces, with Aemon's
Kin, Lord Denys Arryn and the Vale Knights, Lord Willas and the men of the Reach, and the
Lords and Ladies of the North taking their orders from them. While Torgho Timpa and the
Unsullied would lead the assault on the keep itself. No men were more suited to hand-to-hand
combat than they and none had such a desire to see their fallen commander avenged.

'Well, almost none'" Aurane thought.

It was Aemon himself who lay down the first flames. Aurane looking on from atop
Darkfyre's back when the poor fools who hoped to defend the keep found out to their cost
that it could or would not be defended from the Dragonknight's Wroth. The second wave of
flame came from the Blood Wyrm too, as Aurane was still stunned by the effectiveness of the
red dragon's flames. Blackened walls and ash were all that remained of the men, and what
looked like a solitary woman, who'd been standing there but moments ago.

"Dracarys," Aurane called out, seeing men scurry to find cover or safety. Neither of which
they'd find this night.

Again and again, over and over, Darkfyre and the Blood Wyrm went about their deadly work.
Not only did they end any man who would dare fire on their own from atop the walls of the
Rock, but they made sure that none would seek to try and replace them once the dragons had
moved on to their next targets.

In the distance, Aurane could see Nightwing and Meraxes, their own flames were no longer
being produced and he took that to mean that the ships sailed no more. Now the two dragons
flew high over the cove that lay behind the Rock as if they were two sentinels and Aurane
would wager that even Aemon took some relief from that. Not that his brother by choice
wasn't worried about his wife or aunt, but more that the man atop the Blood Wyrm was not a
husband or a nephew at that moment in time. The Dragonknight had been who the Lannisters
had brought down onto their heads and after this night, Aurane would wager no one in
Westeros would ever be fool enough to do so again.

"Dracarys," he called out as the two dragons turned their attention to the courtyards and what
they'd named as a barracks on a map drawn by Aemon himself.

Aurane had been relieved to find out that the flight over Casterly Rock, while Jaime
Lannister's dead body lay tied to the Blood Wyrm, had not simply been for that purpose
alone. Aemon had sought to identify where to strike and to use the dragon's flames to their
best effectiveness. While at the same time, he was showing contempt for the man who'd
killed his uncle and sworn shield.

A map had been drawn after Aemon had landed and it was that map that they now worked to.
In far quicker a time than Aurane had expected, they were now done. The defenders of the
Rock were by now either hiding in cover and praying that a dragon's flames wouldn't be able
to reach them, or they'd already fallen and so they prayed no more. Either way, it brought
them to their final target, the Lion's Mouth and the great gate that barred the way into the
cavern and the Rock itself. A gate that was soon to find itself no match for the Blood Wyrm's
flames. Aurane was almost awestruck as he watched Aemon and his dragon easily take away
one of the final defenses the Lannisters had to protect them.

Once it was done, the Blood Wyrm roared loudly to call their men into action and Aurane
looked on as once the Unsullied had marched into the cavern, the red dragon landed and

Aemon dismounted, before then joining with Daario, Thoros, and his uncles' men as Aemon
too took the fight to the ground. A part of his plan that he'd told none of them about and one
that left Aurane both worried and concerned. Though not enough to join Aemon and shield
his back as he still had work to do and the dragons must remain seen no matter what.

Taking a long lingering look at the melted steel gates and the army that now marched through
them, Aurane bid Darkfyre to fly over the Rock once more and to make ready to lay down his
flames if needed. He doubted they would be and took some comfort from the fact that the
Blood Wyrm had joined them rather than waited for Aemon to return. If his dragon worried
about Aemon not, then mayhap there was nothing to be worried about. Or so Aurane hoped.

Denys Arryn.

Denys had expected a pitched battle, mayhap even a charge led by the Knights of the Vale, or
at the very least, their cavalry being put to its best use. Yet by the time he'd joined up with the
king's army, those parts of this particular campaign were long since past. Instead, it was to be
a siege and their target was to be Casterly Rock itself. A target that men such as Yohn Royce,
Brynden Tully, and even Prince Eddard Stark worried about taking on.

Besieging a keep was hard work at the best of times. When your supply lines were so
stretched and you were so far from your own lands, it could be nigh on impossible. To
besiege a keep as formidable as Casterly Rock, to do so in the very heart of the Westerlands,
Denys wagered that even with dragons that may prove too much for Aemon Targaryen. Or he
would have if he could have found someone to wager against. He would have lost that wager
too, as Casterly Rock was now open to them and it had all been done in less than one night.

Just as the king had taken Harrenhal with an ease that stunned all who heard the tale of it,
they were now well on the way to doing so with Casterly Rock too. The dragons had opened
the way and the king himself led them into the Lion's Mouth. Denys was not the only one
who was both proud to see that was so and who worried about the man to who they'd sworn
their oaths. Though given how easily said king had dispatched Jaime Lannister, he really
should worry more about himself and his own men.

"I'd not have believed…" Gerold Grafton said as they moved carefully through the cavern
and made their way up the long stone stairway that led to the very heart of the lions' den.
"Nor would I and yet, really we should," he replied as Gerold nodded.

Ahead of them, the Unsullied marched in close formation, their spears all at the ready to be
used at the first sign of trouble. The men who followed the red priest, for once marched with
their swords not ablaze. While those who Denys had heard named the Second Sons, now bore
crossbows and looked to the walls and murder holes. Not that anyone stopped their progress
and as they neared the burned and open gate that led to the inner keep, it was easy to see why.

The dragons had done their work diligently and effectively. Across every murder hole and
atop the very walls themselves were marks and the telltale sign of a dragon's flames. Denys
found himself contemplating on the fates of the men who'd simply been doing their jobs.
Soon enough he was trying not to think about those that the Vale had lost at the Bloody Gate,
or to feel annoyance that the Rock had suffered less damage. Though a small voice in his
head told him that it was a different message being sent here than the one that the
Dragonknight wished to send there.

It was as they reached the final few steps that the first signs of resistance came. Arrows flew
and the Unsullied simply blocked them with their shields while the men of the Second Sons
proved themselves as adept with crossbows as the dragons were with their flames. Two loud
roars rang out loudly and echoed right through the cavern as the Blood Wyrm and Darkfyre
flew overhead in warning. Then the king's voice sounded even louder than any as he gave
them their orders.

"It'll be tough going from here. Men will fight and traps will be laid and so I bid you all be
wary. Move not alone and watch your step and we'll see each other again."

Simple words and worryingly there were no words warning the men to behave or not to act
the beasts that men were wont to do when sacking a keep or city. Those words were left to
Denys, Ser Brynden Tully, and Prince Eddard Stark rather than being spoken by the King of
the Seven Kingdoms. It showed the depths of the king's hatred for the Lannisters and once
again it made Denys glad that the Vale had seen sense and knelt rather than fight against him.

Looking on as the king moved one way, Denys was tempted to follow and yet he knew he
should not. Turning to his men, he motioned for them to go in the opposite direction and bid
them to accept any surrender and to protect any woman and child they found. He reminded
them that they were the Knights of the Vale. That chivalry and honor were things they prided
themselves on. Then he offered a prayer to each of the Seven who are One and bid them to
look down upon them this night.

For the next few hours, they cleared out rooms and fought but sporadically. Denys only had
to use his sword once in truth and even then, he wounded rather than ended the far too young
boy he fought against. More than once they came across maids and servants who hid
wherever they could and who feared for their lives and virtue. Women who dared to hope that
Denys and his men wished not to take the one and had no interest in the other.

"Bring them to the large room we just passed, have them join the others" Denys ordered as
they found a woman and two young girls hiding behind some sacks of flour. "See they are
unharmed," he added for the women's comfort.

It was Yohn Royce who fought the closest thing to a true battle that night. The Lord of
Runestone and his men came face to face with a detachment of Lannister guards who refused
to yield. Five men of the Vale were lost in the encounter and not a single Lannister guard was
left living by the end of it. Be that by necessity or because they'd killed good men and true,
Denys knew or would ask not.

The western wing of the Rock was completely under their control by morning and so Denys
led some of the men to join those who'd gone to take the eastern wing. They eventually
caught up with men of the Reach and North and found their tales to be a match for their own.
Other than finding out that their work had yet to be done.

As for the king, it was a long wait for Denys to see Aemon Targaryen once more. Though it
was one spent with no doubt that he would.

Benjen Stark.

As bloodthirsty as they had been when leaving the North, not one man or woman under their
command had acted dishonorably. They'd taken their lust for vengeance and justice out on the
Mountain and though only the Starks had shed the man's blood, others had seen it done and
allowed it to quench their own thirst.

Those who'd not, soon had done so in the fighting with the Lannister men that they came
across. Quarter was offered but not accepted and once refused, it was never offered again.
Benjen had tried to keep sight of Ned but had lost him, the Greatjon, and others as they

moved deeper into the bowels of Casterly Rock. He did, however, have his son and both
nephews in sight though and he took some comfort in that.

As he did from the Unsullied and Aemon's own guards. Ser Arthur having found his way to
his nephew's side along with the scarred Sandor Clegane who bore some knowledge of the
Rock with him. Though as powerful and fierce as his nephew was, Benjen found it was the
Unsullied themselves that settled his heart and forced away the fear that at times threatened to
overwhelm him. Just watching them in action was more than enough to convince him that
just like with the dragons, with his men Aemon was truly unmatched.

Spears moved and men fell. Arrows were blocked by their shields and those who dared to fire
them, soon found themselves falling to crossbow bolts. Any lucky enough to survive what the
Second Sons aimed their way, soon found themselves fighting against men who were taught
from birth to do so. Men who made no unnecessary motion and who killed with brutal
efficiency.

"UNCLE!" Robb's voice rang out and it was enough to bring Benjen's sword up and stop him
from daydreaming in a place that he very much should not.

He blocked the strike and then slashed with his sword almost instinctively, hearing the cry
and feeling the cut of the flesh that his sword made. Looking at his assailant, Benjen almost
wished to weep loudly. The boy was no more than two and ten or three and ten at most.
Blond of hair and green of eye, not that he truly noticed either at that precise moment.
Instead, it was the look of shock, horror, and pain that Benjen saw as the boy fell to the
ground and cried out for a woman that could only be his mother or his love.

"MYRCELLA!"

Despite there mayhap being more danger and there still indeed was fighting going on around
him, Benjen knelt down and took the boy's hand in his own. He held it as he looked at the
boy's labored breathing and brushed his fingers softly against the boy's cheek while those
green eyes wept tears of sadness or hurt.

"Be at peace lad. May the gods welcome you into their warm embrace." Benjen said as the
boy breathed his last and Benjen closed his eyes for him.

"Uncle."
"Father."
He heard the voices from behind him, though they sounded even more far off than that.
Benjen rose to his feet and quickly embraced first his son and then his nephew.
"I…"
"You're unhurt, Father?" Torrhen asked and Benjen nodded, moving away from the dead boy
on the ground and trying but failing to do so without taking a final look.

He could see what appeared to be a peaceful look on the boy's face. Though later he'd tell
himself that he'd seen only what he wished to. Benjen believed he'd done the lad a disservice
and would name him even younger than two and ten. Something which almost made him lose
the contents of his stomach when he thought about it or when he looked at his son.

"Make sure he's treated honorably," Benjen called out to one of his own men and then he
forced himself to concentrate on what needed to be done.

As the hours passed, they cleared room after room and eventually came to a large metal door.
Benjen, Torrhen, and Robb along with each man there all looked on as Aemon leaned against
the door and placed his ear against it. He doubted that his nephew could hear anything and
when he looked closer, he saw that Aemon wasn't simply listening but that he seemed to be
warging too.

"Thoros, the flames, you know what to do," Aemon said and almost before he finished
speaking the words, the red priest moved forward.
"All of you move back. Even you, my prince," Thoros said and Aemon did as he'd been bid.
As too did the rest of them.

Benjen looked on in confusion as a green liquid was poured around the edges of the metal
door. He turned to look to Aemon who spoke some words to the commander of the Second
Sons and then watched as each of those men followed the commander somewhere he knew
not. By the time the red priest had finished, Ned and the Greatjon along with Maege had
arrived. His brother, godmother, and the giant Umber lord all seemed to be unharmed and
were relieved to see that Benjen, Torrhen, Robb, and Aemon were too.

"You fought?" he asked his brother as they embraced.
"Some, there were few men to face, Benjen. You?"
"I killed a boy, Ned. No older than Torrhen….I…"
"War is one of the Seven Hells, brother. Be thankful that it was that boy who fell and not one
of our own."
"Aye.." he said, unsurely.

It was not that Benjen would trade any life for the boy's own, more that in his final moments,
Benjen wondered what went through that young boy's head. Did he think of all the days he'd
lived, few though they were, or did he wonder about all the days he'd never now know? Did
he miss his mother? Sister? Love? In his final moments when he called out the girl's name,
did he wish it was her eyes that he'd seen rather than the cold blue-grey eyes of the man
who'd taken his life? Would he haunt his dreams for years to come? For Benjen would
certainly dream of the lad often in the future he wagered.

"My prince," Thoros called out and Benjen found himself looking to Aemon and the red
priest and forgetting about the life he'd taken.
"Do it."

A flash of green forced all but Aemon and Thoros to shield their eyes. Benjen and the others
taking some time before they could turn and look at the metal door and the fire that now
engulfed it. Around him, his brother, son, nephew, and his goodmother all wore looks of
disbelief. While the Greatjon stood open-mouthed. None of them had ever seen a fire of its
like before and knew not how it could burn without a source to feed it. Yet burn it did and
when water was called for, Benjen wondered what they'd see once the fire was put out.

"Move further back, all of you," Aemon called out and Benjen saw the men who followed the
red priest had already done so. Those men had clearly seen this fire before.

To his shock and he'd wager to the shock of every single man or woman who'd not followed
his nephew into battle before. When the water hit the fire, it then burned even more truly.
Three buckets full were thrown onto the green fire and each time it only grew stronger.
Benjen stood there and looked on in disbelief as it did so.

"I've never…"
"What sorcery is this?"
"Can it be stopped?"

The answer to that last question was one that took some time to find the answer to. Benjen,
Ned, the Lords of the North, and those of the Vale, Reach, and Riverlands that had joined
them, were all forced to wait until the fire had run its course. Then and only then did it go out
and once it did, ropes and chains were tied to the smoldering door and the Second Sons
arrived back bearing large shields thrice the size of any man.

"Daario. You know what to do." Aemon said to a nod of the Second Son's commander's head.
"Thoros, at my command."
"My prince." the red priest answered.

Aemon held his hand up and then dropped it a moment later. Unseen by Benjen, four of
Thoros' men had taken hold of the ropes and chains and they pulled on them at Aemon's
signal. The metal door then came crashing to the ground and even broke off into pieces in
certain places. At the same time, with practiced ease, the Second Sons blocked the door with
their large shields and Benjen heard the sound of the arrows that almost instantly crashed
against them.

"Fire when ready!" Daario called out and small gaps appeared in the shield wall where
crossbows now fired into whatever lay behind the no longer standing metal door.

For the next few moments, the sound or arrows crashing against the shields was intermixed
with that of crossbow bolts being fired. Eventually, the latter was happening far more than the
former and at a nod from Aemon, men readied to move forward.

"The Unsullied lead the way, shields at the ready," Aemon commanded and Benjen looked to
see that even Aemon himself now carried a shield in his hand.

As one the Second Sons moved into what was revealed to be a large open cavern with
numerous vaults and locked doors. The Unsullied quickly moved past them and then made

their way down the long flight of stone steps. A lone arrow flew and Aemon blocked it with
his shield before a pained cry rang out as a crossbow bolt hit home and took the want-to-be
Kinglsayer from this world.

At the end of the stairs, a group of archers lay dead or dying, and as soon as the Unsullied
reached them, a large group of soldiers came rushing forward. Two things happened instantly,
the Unsullied formed a line of shields and spears, and crossbow bolts once again flew.
Though these were soon joined by arrows.

In what felt like less than a blink of an eye, Aemon led them down the stone stairs and
Benjen watched as his nephew stepped over the bodies of dead men with no care or concern
for their loss. Given these men had tried to kill him and them a few moments earlier, neither
did Benjen or Ned it seemed. To Benjen's surprise, his fight was now over for the night.
Though the Greatjon and Maege both spilled even more blood before their own night was
done.

Tywin Lannister, Part One.

All he'd built had come crashing down around him, figuratively if not as of yet, literally. His
son and heir was dead, which had almost broken him. Tywin felt a grief he'd not known other
than when his beloved Joanna had passed. There was an annoyance too, as Jaime had
disobeyed his orders and lost his life in a vain effort to save those who mattered far less than
he did.

Tywin mourned not Joffrey's passing and almost welcomed Tyrion's. He would have done so,
had it occurred far from here and not been a portent to what was soon to come. When Genna
had then berated him over his grief and willed him to do his duty, Tywin had almost told her
to go to one of the seven hells, only to stop himself from doing so. He was the Lion of the
Rock, Tywin Lannister, and he'd not go quietly in the night. The world would hear him roar
before his end befell him. Or so he'd told himself.

Now, here he was, cowering as the Dragon moved ever closer and with his House on the very
precipice of its end. Genna and her children were dead, Jason and Tommen lost, and Cersei
and Myrcella were scared out of their wits. Steadying himself, he rose to his feet and moved
from the relative comfort of the room he'd sequestered in. Tywin moved through the darkened
corridors and past other rooms where the wealth of the Rock lay and yet served no purpose at

all. Not now at least. He did so without second-guessing himself or attributing blame for
what he wrought down on all their heads.

'For when you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.'

He'd played and was now certain to lose. The Rock itself had proven no true obstacle to the
Dragon's path. Tywin had lost all that he held dear and the only thing he had left was his very
life itself. That he'd not give up without a fight and so gathering the last of his men, he
readied for the final door to be breached and for the Dragonknight and his men to pour
through it.

Tywin resisted the urge to see his daughter and granddaughter one last time. He'd never been
a sentimental man and to be so in his final moments in this world would be a betrayal of who
he truly was. He did mourn them, however, their fate if as of yet not their lives. Cersei had at
times annoyed and angered him, but she was her mother's child and for that alone, he'd loved
her. While Myrcella had ever been his favorite and the thoughts of her not getting the life she
deserved, or any life at all really, were not ones that he welcomed.

As the sounds of men moving came ever closer, Tywin wished he had Brightroar in his hands
rather than the poor sword he wielded. It would be fitting for him to meet his end bearing his
family sword, though it had served Jaime poorly when he'd fought against the Dragonknight.
Not that Tywin would fare much better with it, and certainly not against Aemon Targaryen.

'Still, it would have been nice to have wielded it just the once-for-true,' he thought and
smiled.

The banging was loud and then the door itself was taken. His final fight was now upon him
and Tywin looked to the door and the men who poured through it and he waited. He waited as
his men and Aemon Targaryen's came together, as the fight truly began. Tywin waited until
he saw the Dragonknight himself and then he roared loudly as he charged and men moved
out of his way to let him through.

"TARGARYEN! HEAR ME ROAR!"

Aemon.

He had not told them that he would be part of the army that took the Rock. Aemon kept that
to himself while he wondered if his desire for vengeance would be quenched from atop the
Blood Wyrm's back. It had very much not been and he worried now that it never would. For
not even killing yet another Lannister had been enough to do so. The Prince of the Rock's son
too had fallen to Dark Sister, as Jason Lannister had now met his father's fate.

Unlike his uncle Benjen's own encounter with a young Lannister, Aemon cared not that the
boy he faced was far too young to die. If anything, Jason had been given a far better death
than the one that would befall his grandfather, mother, sister, and the rest of his House. For to
die with a sword in your hand was a much better way to go than to face your death on your
knees as you lost your head. At least in Aemon's eyes.

As his uncle had, Aemon had told his men to treat the boy's body with honor. He'd not allow
them to shame themselves as he had done with Jaime Lannister. It had been wrong of him to
desecrate the dead when all he'd really wished to take from the man was his life. That would
stain him for some time to come, yet it would be the only stain he'd wear when it came to the
Lannisters. Let others think him cruel or bloodthirsty when he ended the House of Lions, for
Aemon would certainly not.

Each step they took was another that brought them closer to Tywin himself and Aemon, was
he a different man, may have prayed to gods he didn't believe in just to be certain to be the
one to bring about the Old Lion's fall. Instead, he'd simply given orders that Tywin was to be
taken alive if possible, but that dead was just as good. He'd spoken privately to Torgho Timpa
and told him if he got the chance to end the man, then end him he should. Aemon believed
that the Unsullied deserved their own measure of vengeance for the loss of Torgho Nudho,
just as Aemon himself did. A small smile now coming to Aemon's face at what Torgho
Timpa had said once he'd done so.

"This one is happy for his prince to avenge Torgho Nudho."
"Avenge him I will, my friend," Aemon said, slapping the Unsullied commander on the back.

How many men's blood had been shed in the search for that vengeance, Aemon refused to
count. The lives that had been taken thus far hadn't even come close to paying for the one he
so longed to mourn for true. So much so that it took him almost until the very last set of

doors to realize that he'd done his great-uncle a disservice and it stopped his footsteps for a
few moments. Forcing Arthur to look at him worriedly.

"I'm good, Arthur," Aemon said after a brief pause.

The truth was that he was very much not. Memories flooded his mind of days gone and of
time spent with a man who'd taught him much about his place in the world. It had been his
great-uncle who'd shown Aemon the path he must walk. He who'd told him of the
responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders and what it truly meant to be a
Dragonknight. Along with Torgho Nudho, his great-uncle had been taken from this world far
too soon by men not worthy to breathe the same air as them. Yet, Aemon had almost
forgotten about him.

Was it because he'd killed Tyrion Lannister by his own hands?
Did he accept that as justice and vengeance for his great-uncle when it was truly neither?
If so, then why didn't Aemon feel the same about Torgho Nudho after killing Jaime Lannister?
After all, it was he who'd taken him from the world.

They were questions that mayhap had answers and yet he had not the time nor inclination to
search for them now. Forcing them back down deep inside of himself where they belonged,
Aemon moved forward and watched as the final door was almost ripped off its hinges. Again
shields were raised and arrows flew and then he heard the sound of the man's voice as Tywin
Lannister began to roar.

"TARGARYEN! HEAR ME ROAR!"

Around him, the Unsullied and his men dealt with Tywin's own. Sandor Clegane and Loras
Tyrell along with Arthur cut down any who came too close to Aemon as Aemon moved
toward the Old Lion. In what seemed like no time at all, his men had the upper hand, and
then their fight was done. Aemon's own was just beginning as he came face to face with the
man who'd all but ordered the deaths of his sworn sword and his great-uncle and who had
certainly done so with his uncle and grandfather.

Though he was no doubt to most an impressive man, to Aemon's eyes he simply looked older
than he'd expected him to be. Bald-headed with bushy side whiskers and green eyes that
seemed to be flecked with gold, for some fool reason Tywin Lannister wore no helm upon his
head. Something that brought a half smirk to Aemon's face as with Dark Sister raised high, he
blocked the poorly aimed blow at his own dragon helmed head.

Though the fight could be ended with one single thrust, death was not what Aemon wished
for Tywin Lannister, or to be more true, not a quick death. So instead, Aemon blocked the
blows and tired the man out, making Tywin look a far better swordsman than he truly was in
the process. He soon noticed some similarities in how Tywin fought and how his son and
grandson had, though both were far more skilled than he.

Dismissing the urge to let some of his strikes hit home for true, Aemon opened himself up
and saw the eager look that came over Tywin's face. As he did the moment the Old Lion
realized that it had all been a feint and that he was to fall here today. Moving inside Tywin's
guard, ducking the blow that had been aimed at his head, Aemon crashed Dark Sister's hilt
against the Old Lion's chin and watched him crumple to the ground.

"Chain him up and see he's well guarded," Aemon said to Torgho Timpa. The Unsullied
commander moved to do as he'd been bid while wearing a true smile on his face for mayhap
the first time ever.

With the Old Lion his prisoner, Aemon bid the men to move further into the vaults and
family rooms, soon coming across a scene that shocked even him. There must have been
close to a dozen of them, most of them women and children, and all of them now lay lifeless.
Calling for Daario, Aemon asked him to name them if he could. Soon finding himself
unsurprised by who they were and in some way thankful that this was the end they choose.

"That's Cersei and Myrcella Lannister," Lucearon said at Daario's bidding. "Dorna Swyft and
her babe Janei. Alysanne Lefford, Prince Jaime's wife…."

The names kept coming, Lannisters who'd been connected directly to the main branch along
with those who were cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, or had simply wed into the House of
the Lion. All in all, there were one and ten bodies and they'd taken their lives so recently that
Daario wagered the Old Lion himself was unaware of their deaths. It allowed Aemon's mind
to go to dark places and had it not been for his uncles' arrival, then each of the bodies would

have soon lost a head. Instead, he simply told his men to treat them honorably and see they
were buried far from here.

"Secure the keep, put men on guard duty both atop the walls and here. That especially needs
to be guarded." Aemon said, pointing to the large chamber that contained the vast treasury
that Tywin Lannister had once named his own.
"As you command, your grace."
"Daario," he called out.
"My prince."
"Casterly Rock is yours, I name you my Warden of the West."
"I…"
"Will serve me as well as you always have," Aemon said before moving closer so he could
whisper in Daario's ear. "The letters you send to my father, they stop now, Daario."
"My prince I…" Daario said worriedly.
"Your word."
"You have it, my prince."
"Then we shall speak on it no more."

Aemon walked away, leaving Daario to come to terms with what he'd said to him. It had
taken him some time to figure out who it was that had sent his father so much news about
him. Thoros would never do so, nor would Torgho Nudho or Aurane, so it left Daario or one
of his men as the only ones who would. In the end, however, it could only be Daario. As had
it been one of his men, then Aemon would wager Daario would have found out and ended the
man himself.

He'd thought it a betrayal at first and had planned to dismiss him from his service. To send
him back to his manse and to the Empire. Yet, the more he thought about it, the less he
looked at it like that. Although it was not until Torgho Nudho fell that Aemon truly decided
what Daario's fate was to be. The Second Sons would serve him still, as too would their
commander, they'd just serve that little further removed and would never again be fully in
Aemon's confidence.

As he walked up the long stone staircase and out of the caverns and caves that the Lannisters
had made their last stand in, Aemon readied himself for what came next. The Old Lion would
not last the night and his death when it came to him would be one he'd beg for. Of that,
Aemon vowed.

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Tywin Lannister, Part Two.

He was tied to the very same stake that Tyrion had been tied to. A large group of men
surrounded it and yet only one of them could Tywin focus on. Aemon Targaryen wore no
armor and Tywin watched as he stripped down to his bare chest before moving toward him.
The Dragonknight bore a leather sack in his hand and for the first time that he could
remember, Tywin felt true fear.

Not fear for his life or even his legacy. Both of those things were no longer within his control
and he'd be losing at least one of them very soon he'd wager. He feared just what Aemon
Targaryen carried in that bag, simply because he feared it may not be the tools to end his life,
but instead, ones to break his spirit. Given how the Dragonknight had treated Jaime's body,
Tywin feared he bore further examples of his desecration of his family's corpses. For he had
no doubt that other than Gerion and Joy, or Joanna in Dorne, Tywin himself was the very last
of his line.

Images of Myrcella's head or heart, of Cersei's golden hair, or of them having faced the
flames and being burned, now all came to Tywin's mind. So fearful was he of seeing such
things that he willed his eyes to close and yet found they would not. In the end, the gods were
good or as good to him as they'd ever been and it was simply tools of torture that were
removed from the leather sack. Tywin's relief was palpable and fleeting, as the reality of what
was to come was now revealed.

"Torgho Nudho would oft say to me that when you decide to kill a man, the time for talking
is done." Aemon Targaryen said loudly. "My sworn sword was a man of few words as those
of you who know him would attest. Me on the other hand, I have many words I need to speak
before this night is done."

Tywin looked on as Aemon brushed his hand over the numerous blades that he'd removed
from the sack. A look of almost pleasure on the Dragonknight's face when he did so.

"I've faced off against a Dothraki Horde. A lockstep legion. Fought from the Dothraki Sea to
Ibben. From the Mountains of the Morn to the Shadowlands. Through it all, by my side,
Torgho Nudho shielded my back and offered his counsel. I owe no debt greater than the one I
owe him for his service and you and your plans took the chance from me to tell him so."
Aemon looked at him and if Tywin was not tied in place then he may have turned away. "You
stole that chance from me with your actions, Tywin Lannister, and you brought down the
Dragon's Wroth upon your House for doing so."

The knife moved quickly, its blade was sharp and the blood leaked from Tywin's shoulder
almost before he felt the pain of the cut. It was not the last cut that Aemon made. As to
Tywin's horror, a name was soon carved into his chest and stomach, a name that he didn't
need a looking glass to see.

"In your final moments, I promised myself that you'd remember his name. Let all here bear
witness to the fate of those who would dare to take better men than they from this world. For
mark my words, Torgho Nudho was the very best of men. A man worth the entirety of your
House and line and so that's what your actions reaped. Your sons, your daughter, your
brothers and sister, nieces, nephews and grandchildren, even your cousins and those who
were fool enough to wed into your House, all have fallen because of what you dared to take
from this world." Aemon said as he sliced a blade down Tywin's arm causing him to scream
out in pain and watch as more of his blood spilled onto the ground.

Another cut came to the other arm, this one just as painful. Aemon then moved to change the
blade he wielded and then spoke some more.

"Your last remaining granddaughter will not be spared, Lannister. Your name will not be
spoken of how Torgho Nudho's will in the years to come. Men will speak of the resoluteness,
loyalty, friendship, and heart of Torgho Nudho. Of you, they will speak only in hushed
whispers"

This cut was on his leg and for the first time, Tywin noticed he was naked. The next cut
proved that even more so, as with a slice and then a tear, he felt himself be unmanned and
then he smelt fire as a torch was used to stem the blood flow from between his legs. He
screamed loudly and often, begged loudly for his life and even his death, and yet not once did
he pass out. Not even when the pain became unbearable and so he wondered how that was,
before remembering that he'd been fed some drink before he'd been brought out to face his
fate.

"They'll tell the tale of the Lion who dared to roar at a Dragon only to find that Dragons roar
loudest of all. The man who brought the Doom to his House. Whose actions cost his entire
family their lives and oh what songs they'll sing." Aemon said almost gleefully.

The cuts this time were much deeper. Tywin felt them as his stomach was opened and
whatever he had inside him now simply fell out. Around him, some men turned away, and
through eyes that he wished would close, Tywin saw that Aemon Targaryen was now as
covered in blood as he was. Though unfortunately for Tywin, it was the same blood. His.

There were no more cuts. No more words. Aemon moved to stand in front of him and his
dark grey eyes looked deeply into Tywin's green ones. He bore no smile and showed no
pleasure, Aemon simply looked at him as his lifeblood pooled on the ground between them.
Tywin knew then that this would be the last thing he saw before he breathed his last and so it
turned out to be. Though it seemed there were some words that Aemon wished for him and
him alone to hear before he did so.

"I loved them. Both of them. My great-uncle was the best man I've ever known and only
Torgho Nudho was close to being his equal. They should have known more days, known how
I felt about them. I curse myself for not ending you sooner, Lannister, as I curse you for
taking them from me. Yet I take comfort in knowing all I've taken from you for doing so. For
my great-uncle. For Torgho Nudho." Aemon said softly.

Darkness was all that followed and a moment later, Tywin Lannister roared no more.

The Conquest of Westeros LXI
The Fall of Casterly Rock.

After taking Lannisport, beating Prince Jaime Lannister one on one, and witnessing Gregor
Clegane's execution at the hands of House Stark, the Dragonknight then turned his attention
to Casterly Rock. Though some named the keep impregnable, the Dragonknight and those
with him very much did not. Not only had they taken so-called impregnable palaces and
fortresses before, but they had something that none in Westeros could call upon. Dragons.

With four dragons at his disposal, the Dragonknight used them against the Rock to their full
effect. It's said that one burst of flames from the Blood Wyrm ended the men atop the portion
of the wall that Genna Lannister had been standing on. That the lady, her husband, and their
remaining children all were caught up in that flame and that being kissed by fire was the last
kiss any of them knew. They were not to be the only flames that were to be released on the
defenders of Casterly Rock and the Blood Wyrm was not alone in doing so. The red dragon
soon joined by Darkfyre as they went about their deadly work. While Meraxes and Nightwing
ensured that no respite or escape was to be found by those who bore the sigil of the lion upon
their chests.

Using wildfire to burn through gates beyond the dragons' reach, the Dragonknight led the
men from the ground as they took the keep. Bearing Dark Sister, he even faced off against the
Old Lion in the most mismatched of battles. Princes, Princesses, and those who named
themselves kin by blood or marriage, all would have known the same fate and so some of
them chose it for themselves. Princess Cersei and her daughter Princess Myrcella were
among those who took their own lives before the Dragonknight could do so. Tywin Lannister
was not so fortunate and his death was a bloody one indeed. The Dragonknight made sure
that his great-uncle and Torgho Nudho were both remembered equally before he sent the Old
Lion from this world into the next.

As for Casterly Rock, it was placed under the stewardship of a new Warden of the West, and
its treasury was split between the Crown and Daario Naharis. The Dragonknight's Wroth was
only but half sated, however, and with the Lions dealt with, his eyes next turned to Dorne and
to its prince. That though is a tale for another day and so for now, this one will have to
suffice.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Chapter End Notes

I’m again sorry for the delays, but trying to find a balance between new working hours
and writing is taking longer than I hoped. Things should clear up soon, so I hope you
bear with me.
Up Next, Oberyn meets with Arianne and finds his brother to be a challenge to remove.
Aemon’s grief finally comes forth as he mourns Torgho Nudho for true. Rhaenys
struggles to help her husband before Dany and Aurane travel back to Essos, while
Harren Hoare gives Aemon a new target and enemy to focus on.

A Dragon's Tears and a Viper's Bite.
Chapter Summary

Oberyn meets with Arianne and finds his brother to be a challenge to remove. Aemon’s
grief finally comes forth as he mourns Torgho Nudho for true. Rhaenys struggles to help
her husband before Dany and Aurane travel back to Essos, while Harren Hoare gives
Aemon a new target and enemy to focus on.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Rhaenys.

Aemon had said he'd grieve for Torgho Nudho only after he'd avenged him and her husband
had lived up to his words. The Dragonknight had retreated almost the instant that Tywin
Lannister breathed his last and had left only Aemon remaining. While others mayhap didn't
see it as clearly as she did, it was there for all to see. The differences were stark once you
knew what to look for.

Rhaenys witnessed a mummery as Aemon somehow held back the tears that she knew he was
close to shedding. She and those there listened to the words he spoke as he talked of feasts
and celebrations. While one look into Aemon's dark grey eyes was more than enough to tell
her that he would celebrate not. Yet, it wasn't until he made his way to the Blood Wyrm and
took to the sky that Rhaenys knew just how truly broken her husband now was. A wave of
her hand and her own mounting of her dragon were the only signals she gave to those with
her that things were not as well as they may seem.

It took Meraxes some time to find Aemon and Gaelithox. For the closer they flew to them the
more it was clear that just as the Dragonknight had departed, so too had the Blood Wyrm. In
the sky above the sea, atop his dragon, Aemon sobbed like a babe and Rhaenys felt her own
tears fall as he did so. Through sheer force of will and with a loud roar from Meraxes,
somehow she got Gaelithox to seek a place to land and once they'd done so, it was her and
not Aemon who was first off their dragon's back.

"Aems…" she called out and to her shock, he practically fell off the red dragon and crashed
to the ground. Rhaenys was now concerned for his physical as well as his emotional wellbeing.

A nod of his head showed that he had hurt himself not. While the feel of him almost
collapsing against her when she took him in her arms, was enough to show just how much he
was hurting. Though the loud heart-wrenching sobs that came from him as she held him tight,
would prove that so. Rhaenys hoped beyond hope that the words she whispered to him and
the comfort she tried to give him with her embrace were what he truly needed.

How long they stood like that, she knew not. Her neck was wet from the tears Aemon had
shed and yet it bothered her not. A dryness in her throat from the sheer amount of words
she'd whispered in her husband's ear, was ignored for now. All Rhaenys' concerns were for
Aemon's well-being and not her own. It was he who was truly hurting and her job was to
alleviate that hurt as best she could. As Aemon had always done with her own.

"Aems…"

Rhaenys worried even more about her husband when he moved away from her. Aemon
wiped the tears from his eyes before moving to the edge of the cliff that she now saw they'd
landed on. The roar that came from him was as loud as any that the dragons had ever loosed.
A roar not of anger or warning but one filled with more anguish than Rhaenys had ever
believed a man could know.

Moving slowly toward where he stood, Rhaenys worried that he was beyond her reach. That
the grief that Aemon had tried to hide within himself was one he'd never recover from. The
loss not only of their great uncle but of his sworn sword was more than Aemon could bear.
Still, she again embraced him and felt his own arms go tightly around her. No more tears
were shed and Aemon simply held her for some time. Her husband again broke from their
embrace and yet this time he did so while reaching out for her hand at the same time.

"Thank you."
"Aems?"
"For not leaving me alone with this."

"You are not alone, Aems. You're never alone." Rhaenys said determinedly and she was
happy enough to see the small nod of her husband's head. Her words were accepted and
welcomed she believed.

With Aemon's hand in her own, they stood and looked out over the Summer Sea. The sun
setting in the distance and its glow almost made it seem as if it was Essos and not Westeros
they were looking out over. Rhaenys moved closer to her husband and rested her head on his
shoulder, Aemon then moving his hand from hers so that he could wrap his arm around her
back as she did so.

Again they stood there for some time. Silently, reflectively she'd wager in Aemon's case. Her
husband's thoughts were on the man he'd just avenged while Rhaenys' own were only on
Aemon himself. Behind them, two dragons stood watch, and were she to turn her head, then
Rhaenys would no doubt see Meraxes offer Gaelithox a dragon's comfort. The red dragon's
emotions and Aemon's being so in tune that he too would be hurting as much as her husband
was.

"Come, no doubt Dany will be worrying about us," Aemon said breaking the silence.
"We can stay, Aems. As long as you…."

A soft kiss was her husband's only reply. Rhaenys welcomed the feel of his lips on her own
and the promise that she felt in that kiss even more so. Together they moved to the dragons
and as they reached them, Aemon stopped her and turned her to face him. Another kiss was
her reward once he'd done so.

"I'd be lost without you, Rhae. I'd have lost myself…I…."
"I'm with you, Aems. Always."

Her words earned her a true smile and yet another kiss. This one was longer than the other
two and even more filled with promises of what was to come. Their flight back to Casterly
Rock was far less hurried and fraught with worries or concerns. Almost, but not quite, a
pleasure flight. Meraxes and Gaelithox taking the time to fly slowly. Rhaenys used the time
to stare at her husband and to try and make sure that he was feeling as well as he claimed to
be.

Upon landing, they walked together and Rhaenys was unsurprised to see Dany and Aurane
hurry their way. A smile from her and a nod from Aemon was enough to tell them both that
all was well. Or as well as it would be for some time to come. Rhaenys knew that Aemon
was far from over the loss of Torgho Nudho and would grieve him much over the next few
days. Something that was proved as true as she feared that night and on the nights to come.

They feasted their victory in Tywin Lannister's Great Hall. The great and the good all bore
witness as Daario was officially named Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock.
Aemon later told her that they'd take half the wealth of the Lannisters and Daario would be
left with the other half. As he did that Daario had been reporting back to their father ever
since he'd arrived here. Rhaenys was surprised that her husband could be so forgiving in the
face of such a betrayal.

"He served me well and while he's lost my trust mayhap forever, he deserves a reward for all
he's done."
"Would it not be best to give him a lesser reward, Aems?"
"Mayhap, but who else can I reward, Rhae? Aurane is needed where he is and Thoros seeks
no reward in this world and only one in the next."
"He betrayed you," she said firmly and angrily.
"Men betray and his was understandable and done for the right reasons."
"How so?"
"Father wished to know that I was following my mother's plans for me. To know too I was
safe and well. I may have mine own issues with all he's done, but on this, I can find little
fault."
"That's not like you, Aems," she said worriedly and she became even more so when she heard
him sigh.
"Had Torgho Nudho not fallen, then I'd have simply sent Daario back to Essos. I'd have
forgiven him not and in truth I still haven't. Yet, I need capable men, men I can trust to at
least do as I ask them. I need the Second Sons and without Daario, they are far lesser than
they could be…..and I need faces around me I know, Rhae. I need to be able to look at faces I
know….for each time I turn my head I see only the one who no longer stands by my side."

It was the only conversation they had on the West and its governance. Rhaenys instead had
one private one with Daario where she made her feelings on his betrayal clear. A warning that
may not have carried the same weight as the one that Aemon had no doubt given him, but
one that was meant just as truly.

With the West dealt with, their eyes now looked to Dorne and Rhaenys told her husband of
what she'd sent Oberyn to do. Aemon allowed her uncle the time to see his plans through.
Her husband was happy for now to give Oberyn a chance to save Dorne and her mother's
House from the fate the Lannisters had suffered. Though Rhaenys was certain that Aemon's
patience was not infinite and that had he not been grieving, it would have been even less so.

When talk turned to Dany's departure, Rhaenys chuckled as her husband did as she'd told her
aunt he would. Aemon refused to allow Dany to fly alone and Aurane was quickly drafted in
to be her flying companion. She liked not that it would be from here and not from Harrenhal
that they would say their goodbyes. Nor that those goodbyes and the departure of their aunt
were to be immediate. Yet, in the end, Rhaenys went with her husband's wishes and looked
forward to their own return to Harrenhal. As she did to some time spent just with each other.
Something that Aemon had told her he too wished for. Neither of them knew that events
would once again force them to change their plans and require the Dragonknight's attention.

The Conquest of Westeros LXII
The Rise of the Khaleessi.

It is said that amongst the Dothraki, a woman's place is an oft-confusing one. When married
to their Khals, they may hold some power. Later should they become part of the Dosh
Khaleen, their counsel is often sought and much valued. However, other than that, a woman's
role is to birth children and little else. None ever wielded true power and the idea of the
Dothraki ever following a Khaleessi and not a Khal is not something any would ever dare
consider.

So had someone said that in time they'd cut their braids and bow before a woman, few would
have paid those words any mind whatsoever. Had those same people said that the woman
they followed would wed no Khal nor ever be a part of the Dosh Khaleen, then few would
have even bothered to listen. Yet, on that fateful day when Princess Daenerys left Westeros
behind and atop Nightwing flew back to Volantis, the fate of the Dothraki was changed
evermore.

Khal Drogo may have named himself the Khal of Khals and amongst his people, he may have
been considered the greatest single warrior the Dothraki had ever known. However, when
facing off against a Dragonrider, he was but was merely a man. He may have wished to
conquer all and to bring the dragons low To fulfill the prophecy that those who followed the

Great Stallion had sought realized for all their lives. Prophecy however is a fickle bitch and
oft open to misinterpretation.

Valar Morghulis was a saying known to all who named Essos their home and one when
translated means All Men Must Die. Always it was answered with the same two words, Valar
Dohaeris, All Men Must Serve. Though never once by the Dragon Princess, whose own
answer spoke the truth just as plainly as she herself always did.

"But we are not men." Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Khaleessi of the Great Grass Sea.

A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Westeros/Essos 301 AC.
Aurane Velaryon.

He'd not wished to go. Not that he had no desire to travel with the princess or that he believed
she should travel alone. Instead, it was simply because he knew from the moment that
Aemon had taken Tywin Lannister's life, the full weight of Torgho Nudho's loss would come
bearing down on his brother by choice. So Aurane had wished to be there to help shoulder
that weight.

While he knew full well that none could manage to help Aemon through the grief and pain he
now far more truly felt than Rhaenys could, he'd wished to be there regardless. Yet, first
Rhaenys and then Aemon himself had spoken to him and told him that he was to accompany
Dany on her return to the Empire. That he was to fly first to Harrenhal and then to Dragon's
Landing. To plan out the quickest route and to while make haste, not to overly hurry either.

"Take some time with your family, brother. With mine own. No doubt my father will be keen to
hear from your own lips how the conquest has gone and no man can do better than you to
explain the things I've done and why I've done them."
"And you?" he asked worriedly.

"Will be here eagerly awaiting your safe return, brother."

So despite his own feelings, Aurane had done as he'd been bid. Not before speaking to
Thoros, however. Daario too, even if the man had lost not only much of Aemon's goodwill
and favor because of his actions but his own as well. Both he and even Aemon himself could
understand the why of what Daario did what he did. Neither of them could ever truly forgive
him for it. A betrayal was a betrayal no matter how you looked at it, after all.

With Thoros, Aurane just asked him to look out for his prince. Knowing full well that no
further words would be needed. The Red Priest while not as close to Aemon as Torgho
Nudho had been, was close enough to know just what his prince was going through. Or so
Thoros had said when he and Aurane had spoken. Aurane though was not sure if any of them
truly understood just how affected Aemon truly was by the loss of his sworn shield. Still, he
took comfort in the fact that Thoros would be there while he could not. As he did then in
flying with the princess herself. Dany refused to allow it to be anything less than another
adventure.

After leaving Harrenhal and then showing Dany how much Dragon's Landing had come on.
As well as his future plans for it. It was talk of his future and the bride that Aemon and he
had agreed on that their conversations turned to. At night, after they'd flown as far as they
wished to and once they'd eaten, he and the princess would sit by the fire and talk of
betrothals and marriage. Dany almost seemed to be eager for one of her own if Aurane was
judging her mood correctly.

"It bothers you not?" Dany asked, the fire burning brightly between them both. Its glow now
gave the princess an even more ethereal look than normal.
"Had his heart not been so taken by your aunt, then who would have decided Aemon's bride,
Dany?"
"Rhaegar."
"Rhaegar," he confirmed. "Mine own would have not been a choice I'd have gotten to make
either, would it not?" he asked and she shook her head. "I'd never given much thought to
marriage, truth be told."

Dany looked at him curiously and he wondered if like him, she at one point may have felt
that their families may have sought a match between them. He knew that his father had once
dreamed of such. Though it may have been Monford and not him that he'd have suggested. It

may have been through Aurane that their House had regained the favor they'd lost, yet the
truth of his birth was a stain nonetheless. One that he may not have been allowed to get rid of
was it not for his relationship with his brother by choice.

"Aurane?" Dany questioned.
"Forgive me, thinking of days long passed." he chuckled, hoping she knew not what he was
truly thinking of. Friends were all they could ever have been and at times he saw her as a
little sister just as he knew Aemon did too.
"But a Westerosi, Aurane." Dany's voice rang out, and Aurane wondered if he had missed her
speaking once again.
"Westeros is my home, Dany. It's there I'm to live and there I will one day die. There is where
any children I may be blessed with will be born. No woman of the Empire would be suitable
to be my bride, not if I want those sworn to me to think me more than an interloper."
"And Margaery Tyrell?"
"Rhaenys' choice, Aemon's too. And I can think of no greater or truer recommendation than
one given by them both." Aurane said firmly and truthfully.
Thus far he'd spent little time in the lady's company, but he'd found her interesting and
intriguing enough to wish to spend more. Attractive enough too, he'd not lie. For the woman
was truly a beauty.
"Did your niece or nephew speak to you of the lady's kidnapping, Dany?" he asked after a
moment. Dany shook her head. "Randyll Tarly and men of Faith attacked Highgarden and
sought to take those there as their prisoners. Lord Tyrell was killed in the fighting and was it
not for Thoros and the Flames of the Dragon, then…." he trailed off, finding himself
surprised that he felt both anger and concern over the words he was now about to speak.
"Aurane."
"Forgive me, princess, my mind races from me at times."
"And you were ever too slow to catch up to it from what I can remember." Dany japed,
earning her a true laugh from him in return. He'd missed her mischievous side and had seen it
only briefly since she'd come to Westeros.
"None of us were ever able to keep up with a certain princess of the blood. As well you
know," he said, Dany shrugging before she laughed truly too.
"The story, Aurane," Dany said as seriously as she could manage it. Her stern expression only
lasted but a moment before she again burst into laughter.

Aurane waited until she'd calmed somewhat and then began to speak on Margaery's kidnap
by Randyll Tarly. He told the tale exactly how Aemon had spoken it to him. How during her
actual rescue, Margaery had shown great fortitude and had not simply been a damsel in
distress as some ladies were wont to be. Margaery Tyrell had shown a strength of will that
had much impressed the Dragonknight. So much so that during their ride back to Highgarden,
Aemon spent a lot of it in conversation with the lady. That as much as Rhaenys' wishes had
then been the reason why he'd agreed to the match.

"She has a true strength in her, brother. Is far more formidable than she may at first seem.
Yet, if it's not what you wish, I'll speak no more of it."

Finishing the story, Aurane somehow kept a smile from his face. His brother by choice had
still in the end given him the final say on his future bride. Aemon had told him his own
wishes, Rhaenys' wishes, yet never would those wishes be forced upon him. It was more than
even his own family would do for him and yet another reason why Aurane's place had always
been by the Dragonknight's side.

"You believe you can find love with the girl, Aurane?" Dany asked. Her romantic nature was
truly on show now.
"I do," he said, to a truly beaming smile from the princess. One that she wore even when she
turned in for the night. Her words to him as she did so were more than enough to bring his
own smile to his face as well.
"Good, for few men deserve to know love as much as you."

It took them three days to reach Pentos. Two of those were spent sleeping by the dragons and
only one was indoors. So when they were offered refreshments, a bath, and a soft bed by the
governor, they accepted Dany's cousin's offer most gratefully. They ate good food that night
and were given much in the way of supplies for their flight the next morning. Then not long
after the sun had risen, they were in the sky once more.

Another three days and they were in Lys, again spending the night as guests of the Governor.
Aurane was happy to spend time with Daeron again and thinking fondly of the forming of his
and Darkfyre's bond here just moons earlier. Dany too much enjoyed seeing the Dragon
Nursery again and in the end, they spent two nights rather than the one he'd planned. Bathing,
relaxing, and readying themselves for the last part of their flight and their arrival in Volantis
itself.

It was on the night before they did so that Dany expressed some concerns. Aurane doing his
best to relieve her of them. Her brothers and Goodsisters would be more than delighted to see
her upon her return. As too would her nephew and Goodniece. As for her other niece and
nephew, none would be more pleased than Visery's children to see their favorite aunt once
more.

"Their only aunt." Dany sighed.
"Still their favorite." he retorted, before sticking his tongue out at her and making her laugh.

As they readied themselves for their bed, Dany expressed her true concerns. Firstly about
Aemon and Rhaenys, which Aurane quickly relieved her of. Then about her future and what
that may look like. A betrothal that she both longed for and feared at the same time. One that
Aemon had expressed his own preference for just before Aurane and he had parted.

"Haegon, Aurane. Were it to be up to me, I can see no man truer than mine cousin to stand by
Dany's side."
"Would he make her happy, Aemon?"
"I believe he would and the Dany you're returning to Volantis with is not the same one that
arrived here. She's a true Dragonlord now, Aurane." Aemon said proudly. "And whereas
before it may fall to me, Aegon, Viserys, my father, or one of the many of us that would do all
we could to see her happy, now, she needs none but herself to see that is so."
"You truly believe she's come on that much?" he asked, not doubtfully but curious.
"My aunt is fierce, Aurane. Forged in fire and blood and there are few in my House who can
truly say that. She's fought a battle on a foreign land against a foe that found themselves no
match for the fire that burns within her. I've no doubt that whatever trials and tribulations
she's to face from here on, are ones that will find themselves mere annoyances and
inconveniences to her. As for the man who earns her heart, there will be few men as fortunate
as he."

Aurane now told her that as they readied to go to sleep. How much her nephew thought of
her and how proud he was of all she'd done. He heard her sob softly as she turned in for the
night for true. Though in the morning there were no tears shed or no sign that any had been.
Once again they broke their fast and took to the sky, this time finding their flight to be a far
shorter one. Volantis welcomed back two dragons and their flight was soon joined by other
dragons. One of which made Aurane wonder if he should not say some of what Aemon had

spoken of regarding his and Dany's cousin. Something he resolved he would, but only to the
High Emperor himself.

The Summer Sea 301 AC.
Oberyn.

He'd gone back and forth on his plans. Both for their practicality and because of doubts about
how successful they would be. Removing his brother from power was not a thing that Oberyn
had ever believed he'd one day contemplate. Let alone something that he'd one day actually
be the one to see realized. Yet, for Dorne and House Martell to survive, Doran must be
removed, of this, there was no doubt.

His niece had made it so very clear to him and even had she not, events in the West would
have driven that point home just as much as Rhaenys' words had. The raven that had awaited
him at Starfall had been more than enough to prove that so. Oberyn still shuddering when he
thought about what the Dragonknight had done to House Lannister. Men, women, children, it
had mattered not as all had found themselves face to face with an unforgiving man.

"I cannot allow that to be my kin's fate."

The alliance his brother had forged had been torn asunder with ease. Not only had the
Lannister and Dornish armies both been easily defeated, but the Rock itself had been taken
with nary a bead of sweat being spilled. It Like Harrenhal, had found itself no match for the
man who wished to make it his. As too had Westeros if truth be told. That alone was enough
to give Oberyn visions of Sunspear or the Water Gardens falling to the Dragonknight and his
men.

It had made Oberyn reflect on the words that Rhaenys had spoken to him and Doran so many
moons earlier. How confident she had been in her husband's ability to bring Westeros to its
knees. Oberyn was somewhat angered now that they hadn't done as she'd bid them and
looked to the rest of Westeros before Dorne had pulled on the dragon's tail. His mind turned
to thoughts that now could never be. Thoughts of how had they done so, they could now
kneel and be welcomed with good grace. Rather than for all intents and purposes be forced to
their knees.

Oberyn's words and the actions he may be forced to take if those words went unheeded, were
now the only things that would stop that kneeling from costing even more Dornish blood.
Though knowing his brother how he did, Oberyn worried that Doran would not only see his
actions as a betrayal but would doubt the veracity of the warnings he came with. For he knew
not whether his brother's spies would as of yet have told Doran the truth of his failed
campaign.

Did Doran know that their army had been routed?
That some of their Lords had already lost their lives while others were now the
Dragonknight's prisoners?
Was he aware that Quentyn now rested in a cell in Storm's End and was not marching to join
with allies that were no more?
That the West, Lannisport, and the Rock were all now parts of the Kingdoms his niece and
her husband were forging?
Had he heard that the Old Lion, the Lion Prince, and every male and female Lannister now
breathed no more?
Or was his brother oblivious to it all and still carried the mistaken belief that the fool's war
he'd sought to wage was not over before it had ever truly begun?

They were questions he had no answers to as of yet. Nor did he know if he could actually
raise his sword against Doran when push came to shove. His nights atop his bed in his cabin
had not yet resolved that clearly in his heart and mind thus far. Though when his doubts truly
came it was images of Ellaria, his girls, of his niece and nephew, and of Dorne untouched by
flames that offered him the strength he so very much needed.

By the time they passed Salt Shore, Oberyn was as ready as he could ever be to do what
needed to be done. For the next two days, he stood alone on deck and spoke only to his
daughters or Ser Daemon when he did so. He'd wished them far from here, both for their
safety and so they'd remain untainted by whatever actions he took. Yet his girls and his
former squire had refused to allow him to travel alone. Something he now welcomed where
earlier he'd very much not. Calling out to all four of them, Oberyn looked to the Summer Sea
and to the coastline, Lemonwood off in the distance and Sunspear not too far beyond it.

"Should your cousins refuse to accept my words…"
"Then they are to be taken prisoner and to suffer no harm," Obara said firmly.

"Indeed. Spill only the blood you need to spill and should the Lannister girl fall under your
sword…."

He left it at that. Oberyn sought not the young girl's death and yet he believed that death was
all that awaited her. Rhaenys had said it was the fate that awaited all Lannisters. So unless the
blood he'd shed in the West had been enough for him, the Dragonknight would take the girl's
head at some point in the future. Or mayhap Aemon Targaryen had an even worse fate in
mind for Joanna Lannister. If so, then Oberyn knowing his nephew as he did, would wager
that Trystane would offer to stand as the girl's champion.

'And death would be his only reward for doing so.'

So while they'd not go out of their way to bring about the girl's end, should the chance arise,
he'd not be averse to finding out it had happened. Something that he was now coming more
and more around to with his brother too. For while Arianne would pout, shout, and threaten,
Doran actually had the power to follow through on his words. Oberyn now wondered if it
came to it, would his brother order his death or the death of his girls and he was almost
certain that he would. Power and the loss of it was a powerful motivator and not something
that his brother would give up easily.

"You take no chances. Drop not your guard and at my signal…"
"We fight as the daughters of the Red Viper that we are," Nymeria said and despite the nature
of what he was to do, Oberyn smiled a full and true smile.

He turned to each of them. Moved to them one after the other and placed a soft kiss on each
of their foreheads. Turning to Daemon, he embraced him as if he were a son and not his
former squire. Then Oberyn bid them all to get some rest and to be ready for the morrow and
whatever it brought to them. After spending a few more moments alone and offering up
prayers to his mother and father to forgive him for what he may be forced to do, Oberyn soon
sought his own bed.

Sunspear.

They had been welcomed back without any true ceremony. Watched far more carefully than
he had ever remembered any doing when it came to him or his girls. Upon arriving at the Old

Palace, bread and salt were offered for the first time and Oberyn knew then that his reasons
for being here were somewhat known. How that was so, he knew not, but it changed his plans
almost completely.

There could be no words spoken now. Not yet. Instead, he'd need to take the Old Palace for
himself and he hoped now that Arianne had been somewhat lax in who she chose for her
protection. A few moments were all he had to find out if that was so and when he saw the
men, he almost smiled. Calling the captain to him, Oberyn did so under the pretense of being
angered about being asked to accept Guest Right. His true intent, however, was to see if Aron
was on his side or not. Something a nod of the man's head soon made clear.

"How many can I count on?" he whispered.
"Half, my prince."
"You know why this needs to be done?"
"So Dorne turns not into the West, my prince." Aron shuddered.

There were no more words spoken. Instead, Oberyn watched as Aron called his men to him
and then the fight began for true. Oberyn used a sword rather than a spear at first. Though
very soon he was wielding the spear of a long-dead guardsman. Prepared though the guards
may have been for something, they were very much not ready for what Oberyn, his girls, and
their men brought to them. Nor had they considered that some among their number would
turn their cloaks on them either.

An hour, two at most and the Old Palace was under their control. Oberyn was bloodied but
unhurt as were his girls and Ser Daemon. It took him far too long to find where Arianne was
hiding. His niece looked at him fearfully and angrily when he finally reached her. As for
Trystane and Joanna, Oberyn had been right about his nephew and how he'd react regarding
the girl. Only the promise of her life being spared had been enough to get him to drop his
sword and escape being injured or worse.

"Why uncle?" Arianne spat as she was led from the cellar. "Why betray Dorne so? Why turn
on your House and family?"
"I'm doing this for our House, Ari. For our family."

His niece listened to him not and so Oberyn set about securing the Old Palace before then
turning his attention to the Water Gardens and Doran. Unlike Arianne's poor attempt to hold
the Old Palace, his brother would be far more prepared for an attack. Merely the fact that
Arianne had feared one was proof enough of that. Yet if he could bring his niece around, then
there was still a way that didn't require more men than he had to call upon. So Oberyn sent
Nymeria and Tyene to do just that while he did the same in regards to Trystane and his wife.

He hated to be the one to tell the young girl what had happened to her family. As he did being
the man who provoked such fear in her eyes as he saw once he'd done so. When Trystane
begged him to stand for her, Oberyn almost committed himself to doing so. Instead, he
simply said that he'd speak to Rhaenys about Joanna and the fact that she was married to
Trystane would weigh heavily when it came to deciding her fate. Words he was unsure were
true and yet words that offered some comfort all the same.

At the Hour of the Wolf, Arianne was finally ready to listen to him. Oberyn met with his
niece alone and told her exactly why he'd done what he'd done. A few moments of
conversation with her was all it took for him to realize something. Despite his niece being the
true heir and rightful ruler of Dorne once his brother had been deposed, Arianne could not
rule if Oberyn wished to remain here. His niece was a snake just as he was and while she may
seem accepting, in truth she was very much not. Nor would she ever forgive him for his
actions.

It left him with a quandary that was beyond his ability to resolve. One that he needed Ellaria's
counsel before he could even truly begin to contemplate. Exile or taking up the mantle of
Prince of Dorne. They were his only two choices in truth. To rule or to run. Oberyn had never
wished for the former and never in his life had he even considered the latter. Yet long after
the raven Arianne had written to her father had been sent, it was but those two choices that
presented themselves to him.

"Leave Dorne forevermore, or rule it and usurp my niece. By the gods how has it come to
this."

Casterly Rock 301 AC.
Willas Tyrell.

For all the flames that the dragons had loosed on Casterly Rock, the keep itself remained
more than functional. A gate needed to be remade and some walls would require some work
to bring them back to where they once were, yet that in essence was all the damage that had
been done. It had left Willas and those with him astounded. For looking at the Blood Wyrm
as the red dragon went about its work, he'd known not what he expected to find afterward.

So dumbfounded was he by what he saw, that he turned to one of the men who'd fought side
by side with the Dragonknight more than once. A man who knew better than most the power
of fire. Thoros of Myr was the leader of the Flames of the Dragon, a red priest from Myr. He
was the man too who had saved Highgarden from falling to Randyll Tarly and for that alone,
he was a man that Willas was most grateful to know. Now, speaking to him about the dragons
and the damage or lack of it that they'd one, he was a man that Willas found almost as
fascinating as the one he followed.

"My prince wished not to destroy this keep, Lord Willas. Had he done so then you'd have seen
the true might of the Blood Wyrm. Something our friends in the Vale can attest to."
"I heard about the Bloody Gate, I had thought…" Willas began only to be interrupted by a
true and full laugh from the older man.
"My prince is well aware of the value of a place such as this. While there are some who
would no doubt say that the message sent by destroying it would be a most powerful one,
they'd not be men my prince would listen to."
"Are there any such?" he asked, wondering about Lannisport and what Aemon Targaryen had
done there. Happy enough to speak his words how he did and that Thoros seemed to accept
them how they were meant and not how they may sound. Willas had no desire for his words to
sound treasonous or to seem ungrateful. After what the Dragonknight had done for his
House, that would be the last thing he'd ever dare to be.
"My prince seeks counsel often, Lord Willas. Mine own, Daario Naharis', Aurane's, and his
wife's more than any. But Ser Arthur too and I'd wager even Ser Barristan's from time to
time. Yet, we follow the Dragonknight because we believe in him completely."

Later as he spoke to others, Willas began to see it more along the same lines. Daario Naharis
had since been gifted the Rock and named as Warden of the West. Willas had held some hope
that it may be his future Goodbrother that would be named as the thoughts of Aurane and
Margaery ruling here had been ones that he most welcomed. Yet, it was a new city and port
that were to be the homes of his sister and future Goodbrother. Dragon's Landing as it was to
be named and Willas at first understood it not. Or he did not until he again spoke to another
of Aemon Targaryen's men, this one the newly named Warden of the West.

"Trade, my prince understands the value of it far better than most." Daario Naharis said
after Willas had asked him about his new keep. The Commander of the Second Sons had been
more than able to see through why Willas was questioning him so. Knowing from his first
words that he wondered about Aurane and Margaery most of all.
"Trade?"
"I know little of it nor does Thoros, Aurane however. While the Dragonknight knows more
about war than any man I've ever met, Aurane I'd wager knows as much about trade as any.
Who better than he to rule over the Seven Kingdom's trading centers? Over their trade with
the Empire? Where better to do so than at the closest point to Essos itself?"
"So Aurane is building a trading center?" he asked.
"No, Aurane is building a city the likes of which none of you Westerosi have ever known. A
city that will one day rival any of those in Essos, other than Volantis."
"A monumental undertaking," Willas said disbelievingly.
"Which is why it falls to Aurane and not Thoros or I."

After speaking to the Starks, he found they would mainly use White Harbor as they always
had. Then to Denys Arryn who said the Vale had Gulltown. Willas wondered if there was
some folly behind the Dragonknight's thinking. He found he wished he had his grandmother
here so she could steer him right and yet it would be days, weeks, or moons until he was back
home in Highgarden and could avail of her counsel. Instead, he had to rely on his own and so
he took to looking at maps and it was there he saw what he needed. Or to be more precise it
was there and it was after his future Goodbrother and the Princess had left for Essos that
Willas found his answers.

Not only would Dragon's Landing be where all trading routes would converge, but it being
held by Aurane Velaryon and run in league with the king and queen, it would be made to be
so. Who would the Empire deal with more fully and truly than their own after all? With trade
came coin and with coin came people. Willas looked at the map and almost saw the city come
to life. In time it could rival any city in Westeros. Not even Oldtown and Lannisport would be
its match. His sister and her future husband would one day run the only city in Westeros that
could be likened to one on Essos.

Not only would Margaery's future marriage leave her in a far better position to be prosperous,
but it would make it more likely for his future niece or nephew to one day be joined to the
House of the Dragon. The rise his grandmother had so longed for, would or could be one that
took them even further than she had dared to dream. It was thoughts such as these that took
away any remaining doubts he had about the Dragonknight's actions. Willas finally saw that

to be allied to the man was a boon unlike any he'd ever known. While to be in the path of his
wrath and fury was a place where only fools should dare to tread.

Little did he know when he came to that realization that there were still more fools in
Westeros who sought to pull on the dragon's tail. True enough he knew of Dorne and yet he
believed that war had already been won. The Dornish army had been crushed by Stannis
Baratheon and by Aurane Velaryon atop Darkfyre. So it was only a matter of time until
Doran Martell knelt willingly or faced a dragon's flames. Yet, he, the Starks, Denys Arryn,
and even the Dragonknight's men were all left stunned when Harren Hoare arrived. The
former Prince of the Iron Islands was seeking out the Dragonknight's aid and arrived to
request an audience with Aemon Targaryen. An audience that none of them had been allowed
since Tywin Lannister drew his last breath.

"They have my mother, my sister." Harren pleaded to the Blackfish. Ser Brynden looked at
the man sympathetically and yet offered him no words of comfort or respite. "Do any of you
care?" Harren shouted loudly to no reply. Or at least not one initially.

Willas felt for the man, truly he did. Iron Born, he may be, but Willas himself knew what it
felt like to have a sister held hostage. Yet, he was in no position to offer the man any help
whatsoever and none of the others seemed willing to do so. A lone voice calling out in the
end to say that he'd see his sister and mother to safety and the Iron Islands back in the hands
of their rightful ruler. That voice belonged to the one man whom Willas and every one of
them believed capable of doing so.

"Come, Lord Harren, there is much we need to discuss, starting with this what was it you
called him?" Aemon Targaryen asked.
"The Crow's Eye, your grace," Harren said as he followed after the Dragonknight relieved.

Water Gardens 301 AC.
Doran.

He held the raven scroll in his hand. Doran was both relieved by the words it contained and
angered by them in equal measures. A part of him had wished not to believe that Oberyn
would dare do such a thing. Despite his brother's arguments against the alliance he'd made
and the war Dorne was about to fight, Oberyn would eventually come around. Family had
always meant everything to them both and yet in the end, Oberyn had abandoned his.

'As had you'

Doran was easily able to quieten the voice in his head. His sister's words were ones he'd
heard more and more since he'd agreed the deal with the Lannisters. Elia too was someone
who had disappointed him greatly. Writing his own words out, he handed the scroll to the
Maester and turned to Areo once Caelotte had left them alone. His sworn sword looked at
him with eager eyes as Doran then told him of Arianne's success and of what he now bid his
daughter to do.

Would that his illness allowed him to travel to Sunspear. Or that he had no need to look
Oberyn in the eye and ask him to his face why he'd betrayed him. Alas, neither were things
he held any power over and so he'd bid Arianne to have Oberyn brought to the Water
Gardens. There, he'd hear the words from Oberyn's own lips and once he had, Doran would
then decide his brother's fate. It was not something he looked forward to or even truly knew
his own mind about.

Could he sentence his brother to death for his treason?
Would his cells be strong enough to hold him?
Was he soon to be forced into becoming a Kinslayer?

The answers to those questions were ones that Doran now sought and found little comfort in
asking as he did in the long wait until Oberyn was brought to him. Arianne took no chances
and made sure that when his brother arrived at his gates, he did so under heavy guard. This at
least brought a satisfied smirk to his face. His daughter understood just how dangerous her
uncle truly was and so she had taken the much-needed precautions with Oberyn because of it.

Both because he actually found he needed some time to ready himself and to punish Oberyn
just a little, Doran made his brother wait before he had him brought before him. Oberyn was
already chained and bound as he was pushed to the ground in front of Doran and Areo. His
brother looked chastened not and Doran was annoyed somewhat by this. Oberyn had come to
Dorne and tried to instigate a coup against him and yet it was he who looked at Doran with
unrestrained anger.

"Did you think I'd not be aware of what you may do?" Doran snarled. "That I'd not take
precautions to prevent you from doing so?" Oberyn sneered at him in reply and Doran bid
Areo to remove the gag from his mouth.
"I knew." Oberyn spat.
"Why Oberyn?" he asked, his voice sounding as hurt as he truly was by his brother's action.
"Why betray me? Why betray Dorne?"

There was no answer for a few moments. The silence almost became unbearable until it was
not. Hearing the sound of fighting, Doran turned his head but momentarily while Areo moved
and readied his ax. Neither of them managed to do so as quickly as the man in front of them.
By the time the knife was placed at his throat, it was done. His men had been beaten, killed,
or had surrendered and the Water Gardens, as he was soon to find so to was Sunspear, now
fell under the command of a different Martell.

"Unhand my prince!" Areo shouted, his large ax ready to be swung.
"Drop to your knees and offer your surrender or today Dorne will mourn two princes, Hotah,"
Oberyn replied, his knife now actually cutting into the skin at Doran's throat. "I am ready to
die for my House, my family, my country, I doubt my brother truly is."

A nod of Doran's head was enough to make his sworn shield see sense. Areo had been beaten
without a true fight for the first time in his life. Doran found that he'd never get the answer to
a question he'd asked but once in his life. That he'd go to his gods without knowing which
was the better man, his brother or his sworn shield.

"Our army was broken, brother," Oberyn said as men that Doran now knew answered not to
him but to his brother, moved to secure Areo and the Water Gardens even more truly.
"You lie." Doran snapped back. The knife was finally removed from his neck and his brother
now holding a spear in his hands.
"Would that was so, brother." Oberyn sighed.

Doran listened in disbelief as Oberyn spoke of the Dornish army being obliterated. First by
subterfuge and a sneak attack which had taken most of its leaders from it. Then in a battle
against the Men of the Storm and a dragon that they were ill-prepared and ill-equipped for. To
his great relief, Quentyn had been taken as a prisoner and had not lost his life. Given what he
was then told about the fate of the Lannisters, that relief only grew exponentially.

All of them. Each and every last one of them had been sent to their gods. Men, women, or
children, it had mattered not. None of them had been spared from the Dragonknight's Wroth.
While Doran tried to dismiss Oberyn's words that this too was the fate that was to befall
Dorne. It was something he found far harder to do than he had when he'd made his agreement
with Tywin Lannister. The truth of the Dragonknight had finally been laid bare before him
and Doran cursed himself for not paying his niece's words more mind.

"When the time comes and you kneel before my brother, remember that you had a chance to
gain so much because you were my kin. Think of what a united Westeros would truly mean,
uncle. What benefits it would bring to Dorne if instead of antagonistic relations with the
Kingdom of the Reach or the Storm, your relations were as friendly as those with the Empire
itself. Think on what it would mean to be kin to the queen of not one kingdom, but seven
joined as one. Then think what it means to be an enemy of that queen."

Later as he sat as a prisoner in his own chambers and contemplated his and his children's
fates, Doran thought long and hard on those words. His niece had offered him a place at her
table. A seat that would be far higher than any but the Wolves. Doran had refused to bend the
knee and yet, in the end, he'd been forced to kneel regardless. The Dragonknight had broken
Dorne and in time he'd see that they all bowed. His only small comfort was that his people
remained unburned and thanks to his brother's actions, so would they. It was little comfort in
truth.

Three days later, Doran found himself journeying to Sunspear. He may not have felt up to the
travel when it was his choice to make, but that was no longer true. Oberyn would never leave
him far from his sight while the rule of Dorne was still in question and so it would be in
Sunspear where his and his children's fates would be resolved. Doran wondered if he'd finally
get to see the Dragonknight in the flesh. If it would be Aemon Targaryen who sentenced him
or would it be something that his niece would do herself.

He found he much hoped it was to be the latter and that the Dragonknight's gaze would never
fall upon him. For those whom the man had named his enemy never fared well when that
ended up being their inevitable fate. As Tywin Lannister would attest to, were he alive to do
so.

"Let it be Elia's child and not Lyanna's, give me that and I'll ask for no more," Doran
whispered as the gates of Sunspear came into view.

Lannisport 301 AC.
Aemon.

He'd been too young when his mother had died. Too worried when his grand uncle had been
murdered and too focussed on vengeance upon learning of Torgho Nudho's death. For days,
weeks, close to a moon, his thoughts had been filled with nothing but the deaths of Lions. As
he'd told Rhaenys, Dany, Aurane, and others, he'd grieve for his sworn shield once he'd
avenged him. So that's what he had done. Little knowing just how true his despair would be
when the time came to do so.

Aemon had shed more tears in the last few days than he had in the entirety of his life up to
then. He'd found himself incapable of any true rational thought and had been thankful that
he'd decided the fate of the Westerlands already. Other than telling Dany and Aurane that
they should take the time to gather their things and head for Volantis, Aemon had made not
one decision in more than a week. He barely even remembered saying his goodbyes to his
aunt or his brother by choice when they'd left.

Had it not been for Rhaenys being with him every step of the way, then Aemon knew not if
he'd ever find a way out of the pit he'd fallen into. His wife's words, her touches, and how she
allowed him to wallow while not sink completely, had been most welcomed. Still, at times he
needed solace and solitude too and Rhaenys had given him both when he'd asked for it. She'd
spoken to his uncles, to Willas Tyrell and Denys Arryn, to Daario and Thoros, and told them
that he was well and was busy making plans for Dorne. Something that Aemon had not even
once turned his mind to.

"Another war without you by my side, old friend," he whispered over the burned earth they'd
placed Torgho Nudho's pyre on.

Other than being with his wife or alone with his grief, Aemon spoke only to the Unsullied.
Torgho Timpa, Aemon believed, welcomed that he now mourned their former leader and did
so as fervently as he did. The depth of Aemon's feelings for one of their own had endeared
him even more to the men who'd once followed Torgho Nudho's every command. That
Aemon now showed faith in their chosen leader, helped with that too, and yet that was not his
reason for speaking to them.

Aurane, Daario, and Thoros may have been friends with Torgho Nudho, the Unsullied, were
his true brothers. Each of them was bonded with the other in a way that few ever could be.
They alone understood just how truly Torgho Nudho would be missed and Aemon felt a
kinship with them because of it. He would never be as close to Torgho Timpa as he had been
to his sworn shield, yet he'd treat the man with the same amount of respect as if he were. It
was the least he could do to honor the life of a man he'd forever remain in debt to.

"A debt I hope to repay to you in the next world, old friend," Aemon said softly.

Today, he stood atop the roof of one of the largest buildings in Lannisport. Rhaenys still slept
and Aemon had left a note on his pillow so she worried over him not. There was something
in the air. Something which almost demanded that he come here and welcome in the day as
he was now doing. Aemon at first thinking it was Gaelithox and Meraxes who did so, or that
it was Ghost who wished for him to be here. The white wolf had been who had woken him
and brought him to the roof after all. Yet, it soon became clear it was something else that had
led him to the roof at this exact moment. Something he had longed for even though he knew
it not.

'Another enemy to vanquish'

Aemon looked out on the bay and watched the ship with the golden kraken sails draw ever
closer to the docks. He needed not to look to the dragons or to Ghost to know that what he
sought was aboard that ship. So, moving more quickly from the room than he had when
walking to it, Aemon made his way to his chambers. Entering the room as quietly as he
could, he almost chuckled to himself when Rhaenys awoke at that very moment. His wife
looked at him worriedly and Aemon offered her a wry smile to let her know he was well.

"Aems?"
"Some morning air, Rhae," he said softly, moving to change his clothing. "We have a visitor
from the Iron Islands, I…"
"Aems?"
"There is something on that ship for me, Rhae. Something I need," he said after a moment,
his wife looking at him and nodding as she went to move from the bed.
"Stay abed for a little longer. It would do our allies good to see me be the one welcoming our
visitor alone, would it not?"

"I wish to be beside you, Aemon, as well you know," Rhaenys said determinedly.

He moved to the bed and kissed her truly and fully. Aemon whispered words in her ear that
told her more of his mindset. Rhaenys still argued with him and showed her worries ever
more fully, yet in the end, she eventually agreed with him. So with one final kiss, for the
morning at least, Aemon grabbed his sword and walked from the room, Ser Barristan joining
him as he did so. Sandor Clegane met them before they reached the doors to the Great Hall
and Aemon bid the man to follow too.

While he'd not yet even considered replacing Torgho Nudho as a sworn shield, and he had in
Barristan and Arthur two men who were skilled enough to mayhap do so, Aemon now felt
that it may be the scarred Hound that he'd name. Why that was, he knew not, so he had
decided almost on the spur of the moment to test the man out somewhat. Whether or not he'd
had this idea before and remembered it not, or it was a new one, really made little difference.
Aemon's mind was almost made up and once it was, little would change it.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, their visitor had arrived and Aemon heard his pleas.
None but he answered them and once he did, he took his seat at the high Table. Aemon was
joined there by his uncles, Lord Willas Tyrell, Lord Denys Arryn, and others. It was the man
beside him who spoke to him first, something which surprised Aemon greatly.

"You are well, your grace?" Lord Willas asked concernedly. His words caused both Aemon's
uncles to look his way.
"I am, Lord Willas," Aemon replied, no doubt or waver in his voice as he did so.

The truth was still much different mayhap, but a few moments of conversation with those
present was soon interrupted by a cough from Harren Hoare. Aemon quickly noticed the
relieved look on the young man's face when he looked his way. So he quietened the
conversations around him with a raised hand. Once there was true silence, then and only then
did he bid Harren continue.

"Your grace, I've come to beseech you and beg for your aid," Harren said even before he was
introduced. Aemon again quieted down any conversation as he looked at the now kneeling
former prince.
"And what is it you would have me aid you in, Lord Harren?" Aemon asked curiously.

For the next few moments, Aemon, his uncles, Lord Willas, and Lord Denys Arryn as well as
Thoros and Torgho Timpa, all listened as Harren told his tale of woe. The young man had
found himself surrounded by traitors and his mother and sister had been taken prisoner. When
he spoke of the Greyjoys, Aemon found himself almost empathizing with the man. Harren's
hatred and vitriol were something that Aemon could truly relate to after all.

Looking at the others in the room, Aemon could tell that they wished him to aid the man not.
His uncles had dealt with the Iron Born more than any others there and the North had
suffered much from their attempts at reaving. Few ships sailed from the western side of the
North because of it, or so his uncle Ned had told him. While to others, it was simply the
nature of the Iron Born themselves and almost some glee at the idea that they were now
fighting amongst themselves.

For Aemon, however, it was what that fighting may lead to which concerned him most. To
what a new ruler of the Iron Islands may consider themselves to be. Was it for just that alone,
then he'd have offered his aid to the young man. The need inside him to fight some more and
the idea of another enemy to vanquish before he truly looked to Dorne, was more than
enough to tip the scales in Harren's favor. Aemon now rose to his feet and bid the young man
to join him and speak more truly on the Greyjoys and those who now followed them.

By the end of the day, he'd sent for Daario and had bid Harren to draw as many maps of the
Iron Islands, their keeps, what defenses they may rely on, and where they may be at their
weakest, as he could. For the next two days, Aemon stayed locked away in his chambers
once more, this time for reasons other than the grief he'd felt over Torgho Nudho's death. It
was plans for conquest and those of rescue that he turned his mind to and he found that his
mind welcomed both most truly.

His uncles wished to play their part and so they would. Both Lord Willas and Lord Denys
offered their men and had their offers accepted. Yet Aemon knew full well it would be his
own that won the battle to come. Daario and his Second Sons had already been sent on ahead
to land secretly on Pyke, while he and the Blood Wyrm would take flight once their ships set
sail. Harren's words about how the Crow's Eye had actually sent him to seek him out, were
ones that Aemon took note of. The man was either a fool or had some plan that Harren knew
not of and yet in the end, it mattered not.

"My Sword and My Dragon have failed me not thus far and no Kraken or Mad Man will ever
find them lacking," Aemon said as he readied to say his goodbyes to the West and once again

sought to bring naught but Fire and Blood to those he named as enemies.

Torgho Nudho may be dead and forever would he mourn him, however, his sworn shield
would have expected nothing less of him. His words were now ones that Aemon thought
back happily on.

"I and the Prince end those we name as enemies, it is what we were born to do."

The Conquest of Westeros LXIII
The Dragonknight's Mourning.

A week, more or less, that's how long Aemon Targaryen mourned for his truest and most Leal
protector. Tears were shed and appearances were few and far between as the Dragonknight
came to terms with Torgho Nudho's loss. Those around him worried much about Aemon's
well-being and yet other than his wife, few were allowed even a moment in his company. The
Dragonknight's mourning was to be a private thing. As in truth was the depth of the
Dragonknight's true feelings regarding his sworn sword.

Had it not been for the arrival of the former prince of the Iron Islands, then who can say if
that grief would have lasted longer. Mayhap it was always to take a week and no longer, or
mayhap the gods that the Dragonknight believed in not, saw fit to intervene in his fate once
more. Whatever the truth of things, a week and a week only did the mourning last. Then, as it
had always been, it was with thoughts of war, battles to come, and enemies to vanquish that
the Dragonknight turned his mind to once again.

Whether or not the Greyjoys had always sought to turn on those who ruled over them, who
can tell. Had Harren the Black lived, then mayhap it would have never come to pass. Or
mayhap they had always intended to wait until it was time for the prince to take his father's
place. In the end, it mattered not, for it was not the prince of the Iron Islands that had ever
been the true obstacle to their rise. That honor instead fell to the Dragonknight and the
Blood Wyrm.

Timing can be key when it comes to battles and campaigns, or so the Dragonknight was oft
heard to say. Choose the best moment to press your attack or the worst moment in regard to
your enemies, could swing a battle or campaign one way or the other. Never would this be

proved truer than with the battle between the Greyjoys and the Dragonknight. For never
before had an enemy picked a worst moment to pull on the dragon's tail.

A history of the conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: Dany is reunited with family and says her goodbyes to Aurane. Aurane makes
a request to an Emperor and speaks to his family before heading back to Westeros. A
fleet sails to the Iron Islands as a dragon leads the way and Aemon faces off against a
mad man with a plan.

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