Chapter Text
Rhaenys
Dear Everyone
Life in White Harbor is peaceful as usual. My lessons with the Lady Wylla proceed smoothly. She has yet to awaken her affinity for whatever element she possesses, but I believe we are close to a breakthrough. Or maybe not. I don’t know I’m not exactly a prodigy when it comes to teaching. Feel like I’m bumbling around half the time.
Guess we can mark something down that I’m not immediately good at. That and sword fighting with my left hand. It still feels odd and foreign but I can at least run some drills with it now. I’d much rather prefer my right but that’s still in its sling. I know Oberyn has probably muttered under his breath for me to stop complaining and deal with it.
Oberyn had as Rhaenys had noted.
Mother’s presence here has been a nice surprise. But then again is it really a surprise when Daemon told me she was coming? Her help with some tasks has been appreciated. Nymeria is also in better health. She’s not as pale and even takes a few laps around the guest wing. I think she’ll be back on her feet by next week with Tyene by her side. It will do nicely to see her back to full health.
Obara’s as prickly as ever. She takes to her task well but she doesn’t trust Asha. Not that I can blame her. Asha’s Ironborn, but she does seem to be truthful in the desire to see her brother once more and hasn’t caused trouble like she promised. So I’m inclined to help her since she’s kept her word.
Maybe Obara and Asha just need to do a quest together to get along? Daemon and her did a small one recently only a few miles North of White Harbor and came back happy.
I think they did more than just questing out there but who am I to judge? Actually, knowing Daemon they definitely did more. Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. The last three weeks have been peaceful. Or as peaceful as things can be when I actually keep my head down.
But where’s the fun in that?
“He’s definitely your student,” Ellaria muttered as Rhaenys continued reading the letter.
I jest of course. I already know dear Myriah has no doubt squeezed this letter tighter at those words.
Rhaenys had.
I am also aware that Arianne’s nameday is approaching. I am sending her a gift back with mother when she returns to the Water Gardens. I trust she will like it. I made sure to put extra care into it. Something personal for our resident princess. If not, well I know that it will make her somewhat mad and that will make me happy nonetheless.
To finish this letter I write that I miss you all dearly and it is my hope that my remaining tenure as an adventurer passes by in the blink of an eye. In the meantime, I shall proceed as I normally do with a hint more caution.
Love
Jon
“Certainly hasn’t lost his flair for the dramatic.” Oberyn shook his head.
‘He needs to be keeping his head down.’ Rhaenys growled inside her head. “At least he’s keeping out of trouble for the time being.”
“Keeping out of trouble?” Arianne snarked. “He’s getting me a present he’ll know I hate.”
“Out of trouble in the North.” Ellaria corrected. “Here, well he’s free to cause as much trouble as he wants.”
Rhaenys hid the pang of pain she felt in her chest. Her nameday had been moons ago yet Aemon seems to have not gotten her a gift. Mayhaps she deserved that cold shoulder. She had given him the same when he left.
But that was wrong, she had been wrong. While she still did not agree with her brother’s actions, hated them still in fact. Aemon was still her brother. In truth, he was the only family she had left.
Mother and father were both dead as well as Aegon. Daenerys and Viserys were somewhere in the East. Across the Narrow Sea and missing. No doubt hungry, alone, and scared. No doubt close to death with every waking moment. When the news that they were dead finally crossed the sea she would weep. She knew she would.
For then it truly would be her and Aemon left.
The letter in her hands was a balm to her wounded heart and also served to fester that wound as well. She was sorry, she truly was. All Rhaenys wanted was for Aemon to come back. Letters weren’t enough, she needed his presence.
She needed him back.
Rhaenys read the letter once more. At least he was safe for now. Teaching shouldn’t put him in any danger. Not like the danger he had been in with the cave. Even now she glances at her ring in fear that it will glow that ominous red again.
Though her brother seemed fond of this Wylla Manderly. Daughter of a great house in the North, second born to her older sister Wynafryd. The spare of the heir. Mayhaps excellent bait for Lord Wyman to ensnare her brother into serving his house and the North.
‘No.’ Rhaenys thought. ‘He belongs here.’
“Oberyn.” She heard Ellaria say. “Maybe you can give Jon some tips to help with his teaching?”
The Prince was quick to shake his head. “My style wouldn’t mesh well with Lady Wylla. I’ve trained Augmenters to push their bodies to the limits and take equal if not more punishment to said bodies. She’s a Conjurer, she’s meant to stay back and rain spells down on Mana Beasts and people alike while being protected by said Augmenters.”
“Always knew he was a brute,” Arianne muttered.
After a few more errant words of conversation, Oberyn told Rhaenys it was time for more training. She kept her complaints to herself and nodded. Only asking for a small moment to return the letter to her chambers.
Oberyn allowed her to and she set off. Making sure she was quick as to not draw his ire for being late. If there was one thing her uncle hated it was tardiness. Without Daemon or the fighting members of the Sand Snakes that left only her to be trained.
Part of her missed Tyene and Obara. But she felt a lot better about Aemon adventuring with them around along with Daemon. She didn’t trust the Ironborn though. Asha Greyjoy was the daughter of the man who started the Greyjoy rebellion in the first place. How can the daughter of an oath breaker be any better than the oath breaker itself?
She entered her chamber and grabbed the little box she kept hidden under her bed. Inside were all the other letters he had written. From the first one after he passed his rank examination to the one she held in her hand now.
‘A-rank on his first try.’ She remembered putting the letter away. ‘Good job Aemon. Maybe the next time we see each other you’ll be S-rank.’
Once the letter was put away she grabbed her spear and rushed out of her chambers. She knew that Aemon would always be stronger than her. But perhaps once he came back he could see that he didn’t need to push himself so hard to protect her.
Maybe then the two could rebuild their relationship. She’d apologize and things would go back to normal. He didn’t even have to accept it. All that matters to her is that he would be back.
Back with her where he belonged.
….
Aemon
Aemon smiled as he inspected the dresses and gowns he had gotten made for Rhaenys. The seamstress had done a wonderful job. Which meant she earned every gold dragon he was paying her. Aemon assumed that since she was Wyman Manderly’s personal seamstress she had lots of experience making gowns and dresses amongst other things.
They were made of Myrish silk, soft and smooth to the touch, and were a light blazing yellow. Bright yellow Aemon might add. With the sun and spear of House Martell stitched in the middle of each one.
“These are amazing Ella,” Aemon said as he grabbed it between his fingers. “Soft too, she’ll like that.”
Off to the side stood the seamstress and his mother. Ella was an older woman, older than his mother by at least a decade. Her once honey colored hair was turned gray and her black eyes were dulling. Yet she still seemed to know her way around a needle.
“Thank you.” The older woman said. “Knowing these dresses and gowns are good enough for the Princess of Dorne makes me feel honored.”
‘Wonder how she would react with them going to a Dragon Princess.’ Aemon wondered. “Oh, I just know she will love these.”
Ashara stepped forward and gave them a once-over while Aemon moved forward to pay the woman. The pouch of coin he was carrying around was enough to feed and clothe the woman for five years, more if she was frugal.
“Thank you my-thank you, Jon.”
Aemon fought back a smirk at her near slip of the tongue. When he had first started staying here everyone called him a lord. Multiple times he had to remind them that he wasn’t a lord, only a bastard. He didn’t need any titles of respect. They only needed to call him Jon. That was his “name” after all.
Only Daemon really called him a lord and that was only when he was escorting Wylla to her lessons.
“Have these packaged and ready to go when I leave by the end of the week,” Ashara said, making her way back. “Amazing work.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Ella said with a small bow. “And it will be done.”
Aemon and Ashara exited the small shop close to the castle and began to make their way back. It was a short walk but a calm and peaceful one. Aemon enjoyed it as the days with his mother visiting would soon come to an end.
“So, after I’m gone, what will be your plans?” His mother asked.
“Teach.” Aemon shrugged. “Then when the time comes travel with Lord Manderly and the rest of his retinue to Winterfell. There…well…you know.”
“I do.” Ashara nodded. “Do you believe you are ready?”
“No.” He answered. “But I don’t really have a choice. I asked for this, can’t exactly back down now. Besides, it’s better I meet him sooner rather than later.”
Eddard Stark, the man who claimed himself as Aemon’s father to keep him safe. His carefully crafted identity was in part because of him. No one would believe the honorable Eddard Stark, a man so renowned for his honor to be protecting a secret Targaryen Prince.
Aemon wanted to meet the man who would so readily sacrifice such a thing. All to keep a child whom he had only met once safe. A man who hadn’t seen him grow up. Hadn’t seen him learn to crawl, walk, and speak. A man he was told wept when he died and apparently did the same in joy when he had been found alive.
Such a man seemed to hold so much love in his heart that Aemon wondered how it would be to meet such a man, his cousins. The wife would no doubt take offense to him. But why did she matter? He was a Quadra-Elemental mage and she was only wedded to his uncle because the Riverlands’ armies were needed.
It was one of necessity and not love.
“Well, just be ready for anything Jon. Ned was…well after the war he wasn’t exactly the same.”
After your birth mother’s death, she had wanted to say but obviously didn’t.
“I know,” Aemon answered. But the truth was he hoped it wouldn’t go that way. Not that he would let anyone know that side of him however. “Well if things don’t go well. I can always wander around the North killing Mana Beasts and completing quests.”
“At least you won’t be alone in doing so,” Ashara added with some measure of relief.
If things didn’t go the way he expected he could always be a wandering bastard for the remainder of his adventurer journey. He held back a chuckle to himself. Wouldn’t that be a sight? A wandering bastard helping the small folk.
Something in his mind clicked and Aemon laughed, drawing a raised eyebrow from his mother.
“What’s so funny?” She asked.
“I thought of a name for my party.” He chuckled. Ashara looked at him with intrigue and he answered. “The Wandering Bastards. I think it has a nice ring to it.”
Ashara clicked her tongue. “Sounds a little too crude. And Asha isn’t a bastard.”
“She’s Ironborn.” Aemon pointed out. “I bet if I ask her she’ll tell me Greenlanders see all Ironborn as bastards.”
Besides if his letters find Gendry and Mya that’d be two more bastards he’d add to his party. That was if they accepted his offer after all. But he had a feeling they would. The allure of being friends with him and no doubt the benefits it entailed.
A quite frankly cocky and arrogant way of looking at it. But then again if it got them to stick around he would leverage it. He needed allies, those he could trust.
Though that trust might be broken if he ever did make a bid for the throne. He wondered if they would follow him into war or if they would hate him for lying to them.
Aemon pushed those thoughts away. Those were all what-ifs and possibilities that may never come to pass. If Aemon was honest with himself he wasn’t sure that making a claim for the Iron Throne was the best idea.
Would that truly keep Rhaenys safe?
Or maybe he should look at other ways to handle things. Tywin Lannister was the man who ordered the deaths of his older brother and stepmother. He was the man currently hunting down his sister and what remained of his family across the sea.
Maybe he could solve everything by just killing Tywin Lannister. The man would be well protected, obviously. But Dawn’s Ballad was sharp and he already knew three who would follow him in said mission.
Maybe he could chip away at Tywin’s protection. He heard the Mountain was a leal supporter of the man. He was the one who murdered Aegon and Ellia after all. Should he kill him it would send a message to Tywin that he wasn’t safe from retribution.
But from what he had heard about the Mountain. He would need to be a lot stronger before he made any moves. That suited him just fine. After all, the more time he had to plan the more time he could account for any errors or mishaps that could happen.
When the mother and son entered the courtyard they stopped in the middle.
“Well, I need to get going for Wylla’s lesson. I’ll see you for dinner?” Aemon asked. His face was smiling. Portraying nothing of what he had been thinking only moments earlier.
His mother nodded. “Always.” Aemon turned to leave but his mother called for him. “Jon, remember. Try to keep your expectations tempered when meeting with your father.”
Aemon paused for only a moment before nodding. “I will, mother. Tell everyone I miss them when you go back home.”
“I will.” She said approaching her son and cupping his cheeks before leaning down and kissing the top of his head. “You just stay alive to make sure you can. Even if you’re hurt. Just make it back home and everything will be alright. Mother will make you better.”
Aemon smiled and leaned in to hug his mother. She readily returned the gesture and the two stayed like that for only a moment before Aemon pulled away.
He gave his mother a smile and wondered how many times he’d be able to do such a thing. But none of that showed on his face. Just the smirk Oberyn always told him to keep on his face before their relationship imploded.
Dornishmen were proud and didn’t let themselves succumb to the sorrow and nerves in their heart.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Aemon said. Then he was off. Heading toward his classroom where lessons with Wylla would continue.