Chapter 8: A Dragon's Flames

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 one-sided 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.

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

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it. He will don't worry.

Classicxd: The dynamic in Dorne are different too, Rhaenys and Aemon are seeking to take their crown and make them kneel, where in canon they'd be more likely to, here it's slightly more difficult.

Mr2legit: We'll see a bit of that when they see what Gaelithox has done.

Zyrus: Aemon is arrogant yes, I've modeled him a bit on the Roman Generals and how they looked at those they faced. It's not so much that he's been given everything he wants, he's not that kind of spoiled prince, I think you may be reading him wrongly. Basically, the Valyrian Empire is like ten times the size of the North, to him they're no larger than Qarth, militarily, economically, culturally, they're below or seen to be below the Empire. He has respect based on the fact that they're his mother's family and you're also not taking into account that had Rickard allowed him to visit then he may have gone with a different attitude. The North is not some superpower despite what people may think of it, Torrhen knelt because he realized this. Ballista for lack of a better way of putting it is bollocks when it comes to dragons. GRRM made it very clear that it was a lucky shot that took Meraxes down.

In their history, other than other dragons and when they were chained up there are few times when a dragon was taken from the sky. Here Westeros has never even seen one close up, so they've no idea how to even consider taking one down. You also need to remember that while Dorne killed the dragon it led to the Dragon's Wroth.

Aemon is a bit like Jaime looking down on Robb Stark as a swordsman, he knows he can beat them and has yet to face anyone who's beaten him. That's arrogance yes but it's deserved arrogance, and you only become more humble when someone humbles you. It wasn't Harren no, but it did come from their side.

Callmearthur: I don't know if I'll do the Harrenhal thing simply because it's been done, as you see here the Bloody Gate is no more, and it won't be the last one, but I'm not sure if I'll do Harrenhal.

Guadalupe de Jes: Aemon humillará a algunas personas antes de que termine esto, te lo garantizo.

Jaimerey: TDC, como ves, está de nuevo en marcha. TWK tuvo una actualización esta semana y la próxima vence en 3 semanas. Mi objetivo es HSH para este lunes o el próximo y DSSS dentro de un par de semanas.

Celexys: We're at brutality now, the next couple of chapters there will be blood.

Dunk: We don't have much to go on with Brandon other than what we have and his impetuousness/Wolf's Blood is his thing. Ned is the voice of reason and so we'll see.

Cat adapted far more here, she's still kind of a follower of the seven but not as fierce, the difference in her status compared to Ned's and Rickard being alive, Ned not going to the Vale, etc. Where in canon she was a LP's daughter, Ned had gone to the Vale and he was feeling guilty about Jon, here none of that applies and so she's changed a lot. I hope to show a good part of her in a while. I only showed a brief glimpse at Aemon with his cousins, and I want to show Robb properly in a bit. The marriage will begin to become a thing, the more Aemon is successful almost if that makes sense. The Tully's were always on board with rebelling, the BF just moved here because of Rickard's death. You may be right about Doran, but again with everything, it's events that change perceptions, and what Aemon has just done will change some. We'll see some of the political aspects in the Vale next, a kind of follow-on from the earlier look.

Guest: So glad to hear that, it's funny because I was considering the AU aspect of it and this is the most of that in a way, it's forced me to do more research and to consider things based on things that haven't happened here that would in canon, such as who would be alive. It's good practice for my next huge story, a time travel AU where Jon is sent back to various periods in Targ history to change things so that the future it ready for the threat to come. I'm like six months into just plotting on that one lol. You figured it out, well done. He was never going to fall for it, Sun Tzu really is the baseline for battle thinking.

Vwchick: It may take more time for that to happen, but all is not lost.

Keb: So glad you liked it, here we got a little more of the same.

Wrhnd: In chapter 5 the reason is explained. Basically, Argella and Orys fell in love, When Aegon and his sister-wives left Dragonstone he remained because of her. When the battle came between him and Argilliac, his men betrayed him and Argella and Orys married. They took the name Baratheon because he was a bastard but had been named Baratheon by Aegon before he left.

Xan Merrick: As you see my friend, Rhaenys thinks the same way lol. Ghost and the Direwolves will play a role here, we can't have a Jon with a Ghost. Marwyn would lose his shit lol. I think Brandon knew that about himself in canon too, I always imagine him as another Robert in a way.