Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, plot, or anything else of the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF series.

This was just something that popped into my head, and it kind of wrote itself, I was having trouble with the Silver Stag, so I decided to do this instead.

" Rhaegar was a great man, but in the end, he hid in Dorne for most of the rebellion, emerging only for the battle of the Trident. While the other brother, Aemon, rode out to meet Robert. Aemon was the true last dragon, not Rhaegar."

-Thoughts of Ser Barristan Selmy

"Your Grace, the army is ready to march."

Aemon stirred from his pondering, the Prince was clad in black enamel plate, astride a destrier decorated with trappings of his personal sigil, two three headed dragons. His helmet, a simple greathelm painted red with wings sprouting from the sides, sat in his left hand while his right gripped the reins. His head snapped up to the knight of the Kingsguard who had approached him.

"Very well Ser Jaime, we had better get moving. Baratheon won't keep waiting."

The long file of men bearing the Royal banner moved with speed, for Stoney Sept, where the rebel leader was alleged to be hiding, was only a few hours march away. We must hurry, if we are to put down the rebellion now, though maybe Lord Connington has already found him.The latest Hand of the King, the best friend of his older brother, had force marched ahead of the Prince's force with a third of their men, some ten thousand, with the intention of capturing the rebel before the Royalist force arrived to reinforce the town against the approaching combined armies of the houses Stark, Arryn, and Tully. But where is Lord Tywin, where are the men of the Westerlands?

Aemon had dispatched envoys west via the Gold Road in an effort to bring his goodfather into the war, hoping that the swelling stomach of his daughter might sway his support toward the crown. Cersei had obviously resented being fobbed off to the King's second son, but they had developed love toward one another over the thought of their child growing inside of her. They had spent ample time together since their marriage, strolling the gardens of the Red Keep, riding through the Kingswood. It was her favor he bore during the tourney of Harrenhal, a red cloth stitched with golden lions that had eyes the same shade of violet as his. He had wistfully returned it after Ser Barristan had left him lying in the dust. It was returned to him as he prepared to leave the Red Keep. "Come back to me, our cub needs a father". Her last words to him before he left the capital still lingered in his thoughts.

With Ser Jaime Lannister beside him, Aemon Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall, rode forth to seek battle with Robert Baratheon at Stoney Sept.

When they entered the town, there was intense fighting in the streets, Lord Connington had been searching for two whole days when he stumbled upon Robert Baratheon in a whorehouse. Aemon rode through the gates with his great helm on his head, his men flooding in behind him. They were all screaming battlecries such as "KING'S LANDING" "AERYS" and "SUMMERHALL" The knights in Aemon's vanguard had smashed into the chaos, turning the tide of the battle. Connington's men, caught unawares by the Stormlanders, now charged again into the fray with after seeing the new forces enter. The bells of the sept for which the town gained its name tolled as the battle raged. Aemon was still riding, his sword flashing in the sun, his horse knocking aside Baratheon men. He turned to his men and shouted "Make safe the city!" when he was knocked from the saddle. Luckily, his war horse panicked, splinters from his kite shield piercing it's flank. The thrashing beast was the only thing that saved Aemon from the wrath of Robert Baratheon's warhammer. Aemon dived for his sword as the rebel lord swung his hammer. The shield caught it, and his last protection was knocked away as he fell to the ground. Aemon began the crawl backwards until he reached his sword.

Robert advanced, a fire in his eyes. "Where is she!? Where is your pissant of a brother!?"

Aemon didn't respond, instead leaping forward, poised to stab the hulking Baratheon. Robert knocked the blade aside, and jabbed into Aemon's stomach, knocking the breath from the Prince. His helmet was knocked off in the fall, one of the dragon wings snapping off as it tumbled to the ground. Baratheon advanced again, warhammer raised. "Where is the bastard!" Again, Aemon did not grant an answer. By this time, Robert had evidently grown tired of asking, for he hefted up the warhammer, and prepared to crush Aemon...until he was knocked off his feet by a charging Jaime Lannister. Two of Robert's men dragged their leader away as the young lion took on four of their comrades at the same time, dispatching them with ease as Aemon recovered his helmet and sword.

Watching Robert Baratheon flee down the street infuriated Aemon, for his fighting blood was up, and he could not stand to see the rebellion carry on with Robert. "A horse! A horse!" He cried, and one of his archers brought a captured horse to him.

The Baratheon forces had been driven out of the city, and were being routed northward across the fields surrounding it. Aemon and his men pursued them, with the Prince leading his cavalry, they split Robert's force in three pieces, while one part was in full retreat, two remained separated. These two forces were fighting the Royalists as they withdrew at a slow pace toward the ridge where Robert had evidently rallied his men.

A great cheer went up as first the left group, then the right, were shattered and ran north ward. Aemon took the time to sort his men back into order, telling Lord Connington; "We go no further past that ridgeline, not until we know where the other rebels are." The lords and their captains galloped to an fro in an effort to reorganize the army when Ser Jaime cried "Look to the ridge! Banners!"

The first rebel banners had begun to reach the summit of the ridge, the direwolf of house Stark, the falcon and moon of house Arryn, and the trout of house Tully. Aemon froze as thousands of men emerged into view. "By all the Gods, Rhaegar, what have you done?"

The Prince snapped back into awareness "Lord Connington, get the foot back into the city. Ser Jaime, form the cavalry for a charge."

The two men galloped off to carry out their orders, Ser Jaime crying; "Reform the line! Reform the line!"

The Royalist cavalry formed into a wedge, and with Ser Jaime at his side, Aemon shouted to them; "We meet them head on! For the Gods and King Aerys, we meet them head on!"

Aemon pointed his sword forward; "Sound the charge!" With horns sounding, men yelling at the top of their lungs, Aemon, son of Aerys, and Jaime, son of Tywin, led six thousand men toward the might of the North, Riverlands, and Vale.

During the charge, it seemed to Aemon as though time had slowed, he took this time as he thundered across the field, to whisper to himself, "I'm sorry Cersei, our child will never know their father, but they will know that he died well, with a sword in his hand."

Now I leave it too the readers to decide whether I should continue with this story, and whether Aemon should live by the skin of his teeth, or die like a hero.

The choice is yours.