Chapter 2: The Wolf and the Dragon

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, blood-red 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.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed: 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.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Xan Merrick: Glad you enjoyed it, my friend.

Nagiten: Glad you're liking it, it's how I write, I've got a few chapters of this already done and I'm just sitting on it so I thought I'd get it out there.

Emeraldduke: Very happy you think so.

Creativo: Realmente no funciona en el contexto, ya que realmente necesitas un dragón para conquistar.

Celexys: I hope to make it an exciting one.

Guest: Thanks so much. As you see from the above the Dragonknight is an exclusive and unique thing, I've got a whole set of lore about what they can do, how they can do it, and the things they've done which over time we'll see more of both through Aemon and through those who came before him. The Targ history/lore will be a little different here and events will be given a twist because of it, for example, the Dance/Blackfyre Rebellions are much different here. I've been wanting to do a Jon/Rhaenys for a while and I've got a fair chunk of this already written. So far the update schedule is each Friday until the world is established and I think we're looking four/five more chapters at least after this one that will be weekly. Once it is, I'll decide the true schedule for it then.

Divine Ray: I know, I partly went with Baratheon for the name because we know the characters so well, Bobby B and Stannis, Renly, etc. I have an in lore explanation for the why of it which we'll see when we get to the Stormlands but short story Orys didn't travel east with Aegon and his sister wives and The Last Strom happened here but slightly different since there was no Rhaenys/Meraxes in the battle, but we'll see it later on.

Guest: As I've answered above there is an in-lore reason for why House Baratheon exists here. You're pretty spot on about the rest of the makeup of the seven kingdoms though, but I wanted House Baratheon rather than House Durrandon and since I'm messing with lore and have an explanation for how t happened, which I'll show, I felt I could do so.

Ymere: Aemon will at times be angst-ridden but I didn't want to stretch out the Rhaenys leaving part too long as it would become a bit much, we're still a couple of chapters from her arrival but she's on her way. In terms of the Lore, I know I've got a lot to do and between Marwyn's little notes, characters reflecting on the past, present, and future, and events taking place that will reference more of the same I hope to fill in all the gaps. This chapter is the first of the basic template so I'm interested to see if it works how I hope it does.

Keb: He's more defined and grown when we meet him and has more of the canon feelings than most of my other leads, so at times he'll seem more Jonish for lack of a better word. Glad you like the Marwyn intro, his little snippets will be a feature of things.

Dunk: So glad you think so. To answer your questions, we'll see Rhaegar's reasoning for both past and present events as we go, it will be explained why he married both Lyanna and Elia and also why he's willing to let Aemon go too. The canon and lore will be changed because of the circumstances and I hope to explain it as we go, I'll try and keep a lot of the names the same, and canon events will happen in a fashion but will be different. Without saying too much, something like the Dance of Dragons is very much different here but did take place. All kingdoms are separate and we'll see the makeup of each of them and I hope the above gave a glimpse into The North/RL. In terms of the Baratheons, it'll be explained more as we go but Orys didn't travel east, he stayed in Westeros and so a version of The Last Strom happened and House Baratheon is formed. I hope the makeup of this chapter gives an idea of how I intend to show the difference and explain the lore and the makeup of each Kingdom.

Politically, the Empire works almost like the Roman Empire with Volantis at its heart and major cities controlled by governors. There are more Targs than simply the Imperial family and more dragons than just the ones that Rhaegar and his immediate family control. In the Seven Kingdoms, it's pretty much how it was pre-conquest. But as I said over the next few chapters we'll see the makeup more clearly. On Rhaegar all I'll say is that he's not a bad guy or a dick and he's playing chess while around him people are playing checkers. The first few updates until the world is established will be each Friday and once it is, I'll then firm up a full schedule for this.

I thought about it with Dany, but I find it hard to do a single two-person romance arc and I don't feel up to doing a three-person one, yet.

Xand007: Thank you, my friend. I really hope to get people interested in this as it's a bit different and the lore/history will be a big spin on things. Stay safe and well my friend.