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Chapter Text

Algirdas Baratheon (Jake Stormoen):  

Artos Stark (Álvaro Rico):  

Aegon Targaryen (Henry Cavill):  

Ashara Dayne (Liv Tyler):  

Eliana Stark (Isabelle Drummond):  

Willas Tyrell (Daniel Sharman):  

Garlan Tyrell (Eoin Macken):  

Daenerys Targaryen (Emilia Clarke):  

Bellanora Samas (Kylie Bunbury):  

Robar Royce (Max Irons):  

Chapter Text

Prologue I:

Maester Cressen (Oliver Ford Davies):   

It’s over. At long last, it is over, Cressen thought as he watched as Stannis ride with a contingent of soldiers, whilst leaving the remainder to guard Storm’s End and protect his younger brothers.  

 “Maester Cressen, where is Stannis going?” Renly asked as he and the youngest of the sons of Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont walked up the battlements to see him.  

 “He is going to King’s Landing now, Renly. Now that your brother is King, Stannis must swear fealty to him as our new King,” said Cressen, bending down to be face-to-face to the second-youngest of his charges.  

And pray that he rebuilds the realm well. Well, at least officially it will be him, but unofficially it will be whomever he chooses to be Hand.    

Cressen knew the Baratheon brothers well enough to know that Robert had little patience for the mundane matters of stewardships and ruling.  

He was born to be a warrior.   

He may have become a great warrior in killing Rhaegar Targaryen and crushing the great Targaryen dynasty underneath his boot, but he wasn’t born to rule.   

He may have become a good Lord Paramount of the Stormlands if he was well advised and had a good Lady wife.   

But, being a King?   

Never was there a man more ill-suited than he. But better he than the Mad King.   

 “Will we see Robert again?” Renly asked.  

 “Of course you will, my dear boy. Of course you will. But you must understand, being a King will not be easy for your brother. He will need the help of Stannis and the help of both of you if he is to become a good King,” said Cressen with a kindly smile.  

 “I will do all I can to help him rule well and be a good King, Maester,” said an eager Renly.  

Cressen beamed at how sweet he was.  

But what truly made him happy was seeing Renly happy again.  

However, the same couldn’t be said for Stannis and their youngest brother.  

When Robert was sent to Jon Arryn as his ward, that had left him to raise the other three sons of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana.  

Renly was a bright-eyed and joyful young boy, always so happy and always made friends with everyone he met.  

Stannis wasn’t an easy boy to raise, especially after the ship of Steffon and Cassana sank and they drowned off Shipbreaker Bay.  

Both Robert and Stannis bore witness to the terrible event and it affected them both, even if they hadn’t realised it.  

Robert, before he left for the Eyrie to foster under Jon Arryn, he turned to drinking, fighting, hunting and spending too much time with girls and women.  

Cressen was sad that he lost none of these habits from his time in the Vale or afterwards.  

And yet, Cressen recognised these as his ways of coping of losing his parents at so young an age.  

As for Stannis, he coped by abiding by to his duty, by the law and by honour.  

For he, these three things were absolute and he grew up to be a man whom would make no compromises.  

All so he could make his parents proud, Cressen felt, though Stannis would never admit to it or say otherwise.  

For that, and other things, Cressen treated Stannis as the son he never had, for he always turned to him for advice on everything.  

Whether it was talking with people, giving speeches to smallfolk or helping raise his younger brothers, he would always turn to Cressen.  

 “Now that Robert is King, will he destroy the Tyrells?” eagerly asked Algirdas.  

 “Not that I know of,” said Cressen as he turned to the youngest of his charges.  

 “The war is over; Robert has won and is King now. We don’t need to worry about that, brother,” said Renly.  

 “They’ve starved us for a whole year, Renly. They’re bad and as evil as the Mad King,” snapped Algirdas.  

Even at 5, Algirdas is a frightening boy.   

If he was the eldest of the Baratheon brothers, I think he would become a Lord Paramount that would be ruthless in times of war but pensive in times of peace.   

He may have even earned a place on the Small Council.   

Indeed, throughout the siege, every morning after a small morning meal, Algirdas would stand out on the walls and look down on the Tyrell besiegers with a look of deep loathing and would spout hatred before spending the whole day practicing fighting with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other.  

He never spent time making friends like Renly had done.  

 “Come, brother. Let’s get you some food and cheer you up,” said Renly, putting his arm around Algirdas and taking him back to the Round Tower.  

Poor Algirdas.   

He never knew his parents like his brothers do and even Renly remembers them.   

He has grown up as the only one out of the 150 onboard the Windproud that survived when it crashed during the storm.   

Only a babe, a few days old.   

Born during a treacherous storm at sea on Steffon and Cassana’s return voyage home from Essos.   

Many call him the Stormborn for being born during a storm and others say it was the Gods who saved him from the sinking which killed his parents.   

Others say that being a Baratheon born during a storm was a sign that he was destined for great things.   

I hope that is not his path in life. I only wish for him to be happy.   

Prologue II: 

Young Yohn ‘Bronze Yohn’ Royce (Ozan Dolunay):  

Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, stood in court in the throne room of the Red Keep to see his old friend return from Dorne.  

 “You return, Ned! Not alone, I see,” said the King, seated on the Iron Throne, gesturing to Ned’s wife, Ashara Dayne.  

King Robert.   

Gods, it feels so long ago that he, Ned, Kyle, Elbert, Brandon and I would annoy Lord Arryn with our antics on the training grounds at the Eyrie and in Harrenhal at the Tourney.   

But now they’re gone.   

Brandon. Elbert. And Kyle, Yohn thought as he looked down at his feet and remembered hearing the news of how Kyle, his younger brother, was murdered by order of the Mad King for no other crime than that of being a companion of Brandon Stark when he demanded that Rhaegar face him for kidnapping Lyanna Stark.  

 “Aye, Your Grace,” said a grim and quiet Ned.  

 “I’m so sorry, Ned. Lyanna was the most wonderful of women,” said the King mournfully.  

I met Lyanna only once.   

A wild and beautiful girl, indeed. But not even she was anything like Ned’s wife here right now, and, I guess, our soon-to-be Queen.   

 “Aye, she was,” said Ned sadly.  

 “A very sad time, Lord Stark. You have our deepest condolences,” said the uncrowned Queen, Cersei Lannister, whom was soon to wed the new King.  

She stood next to the King as he was seated on the Iron Throne.  

There can be no doubt she is beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Ashara Dayne.   

But I see how she smiles.   

It’s a mummer’s smile and well-trained also.   

And I see cruelty in her eyes, as green as wildfire.   

Robert will be no Mad King, but will she be a Mad Queen?   

 “Your Grace, if I may?” asked Tywin Lannister.  

 “Speak, my Lord,” said the King, gesturing with his large and muscular arm.  

 “What is to be done with Princess Elia and the Targaryen children?” asked Tywin Lannister.  

Do you intend to try and have them murdered again, Lord Lannister?  

I heard the story from Ned, how your men Clegane and Lorch tried to rape and murder them, defenceless women and children, before Ned, Howland, Mark, Willam, Jorah, Theo and Martyn killed them.   

Yohn noticed how the Kingsguard knights whom had sworn service to Robert, and had formerly served the Mad King, looked at Tywin with a dark fury.  

Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower, Oswell Whent and Barristan Selmy all reached for their swords, as if ready to cut down the Lord of Casterly Rock. 

Arthur Dayne’s magnificent greatsword, Dawn, glowed radiantly as the blade was half unsheathed.  

Their sworn brother, Jaime Lannister, stared with shock at his father for his words, but naturally did not reach for his sword. 

 “It would be best for the realm, my love, if something was done with them,” said Cersei Lannister, smiling poisonously at her soon-to-be-husband.  

I cannot believe that such a thing is even being discussed!  

We were supposed to have stopped such horrific crimes from being committed when we removed the Targaryens!  

 “They are infant children, Robert! Who have done NO wrong whatsoever! Are you so keen to bloody your hammer with the blood of innocents?” Ned demanded as he reached for his Valyrian Steel greatsword, Ice, whilst his men started to protectively surround Princess Elia, Princess Daenerys and Elia Martell’s children.  

Yohn was not surprised to hear that from Ned, even regarding the circumstances.  

The Targaryens murdered his brother and his Father and Rhaegar’s kidnapping of his sister ultimately led to her death.   

He is doing the right thing in not calling for their deaths like these cowardly Lannisters, but what will he do, if King Robert does order that they be murdered?   

 “What are you doing, Ned?” the King demanded.  

 “They will NOT be harmed. Not Princess Elia, Daenerys, Rhaenys or Aegon. They have committed no crimes,” Ned all but shouted with his frightful and thundering voice.  

Quiet Wolf indeed.   

He is frightful when he is furious.   

Ashara Stark, whom held their son Artos in her arms, looked fearfully at her husband for what the King may say or do.  

Yohn looked around and saw the Targaryen children and Martell Princess, under close guard of Ned’s closest friends and companions, including the two Crownlander knights whom swore to protect the Targaryen children.  

 “You would let them live? After what her husband did to your sister?!” he demanded as he pointed at Elia, who stood her ground and did not look away or look ashamed of something she was not responsible.  

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, like all Martells.    

 “After what her father did to your father and your brother?!” he continued as he pointed at Daenerys who lay in a bassinet being held by young Jory Cassel whilst Ashara Stark stood side-by-side with Elia Martell.  

 “And what fucking good does it do to punish the innocent for the crimes they were not responsible? Is an infant child responsible for the crimes of its father? Or are you ALL fucking stupid enough to think otherwise?!” Ned demanded as he looked around at the entire courtroom for those fools who dared to support action against the infant Targaryens and Elia Martell.  

 “And what if loyalists try to start a war in their name, Lord Stark? What is the lives of three children against many thousands of lives should such a war begin?” said Grand Maester Pycelle.  

You disgusting old shit piece of a worm, Yohn thought as he reached for his sheathed greatsword, Lamentation.  

Lamentation was the Valyrian Steel greatsword of House Royce, once thought to be lost in King’s Landing until it’s discovery during the search for wildfire left behind by the Mad King’s attempt to burn the city.  

Lamentation was wielded by Ser Willam Royce during the Storming of the Dragonpit in the year 130AC until it’s disappearance.  

Not even a day after it was in the hands of a Royce of Runestone again, Tywin Lannister tried to buy it from Yohn for 1 million Gold Dragons.  

An offer he blatantly refused, and he made it no secret his distaste for Tywin Lannister during the talk.  

 “I will take them with me. To Winterfell. I will raise the children as I would my own,” said Ned.  

 “You would raise them? After what their fathers have done to your family? Has your Dornish whore of a wife turned you to a Targaryen lickspittle?!” Robert demanded.  

There were some grins and laughs from the assembled nobles, notably Tywin Lannister smirked.  

Ser Arthur Dayne did not look kindly at him for how he addressed his sister, whilst Ned drew Ice, and the Kingsguard did not even draw their swords whilst Ned pointed Ice furiously at Robert, especially not Ser Arthur, nor Ser Barristan.  

 “You will NEVER EVER CALL her that again, Robert! NEVER!” Ned shouted with as a cold and frightening fury.  

His infuriated shout seemed to shake and silence the throne room and seemed to have even caught Tywin Lannister by surprise as he took a few steps away from Ned, blanching as he did so, as though Ned would explode in a fiery rage.  

Robert was astonished that Ned would point his sword at him and shout at him so.  

The entire throne room turned silent at Ned pointing his sword at Robert.  

At that moment, Yohn couldn’t decide which was more frightening; Ned armed with Ice or the power of Ned’s furious voice as he murderously glared at Robert, Cersei and Tywin, as if daring them to continue.  

 “They’re dragonspawn! They will destroy the realm if they are allowed to live!” Robert spat.  

 “They are infants, Robert! Daenerys is only a few weeks old! Where is the fucking logic in such murders?!” Ned spat out as his fingers curled around Ice’s pommel as the blade pierced the floor.  

 “Every moment that they live, hundreds of thousands of innocents across the realm are at risk from further war and bloodshed. So, what is the lives of three children?” calmly said Tywin Lannister. 

Oh, shut up, you Lannister fool.   

 “You’ve no right to talk about innocent lives being lost after how your fucking army sacked this city and raped and murdered defenceless smallfolk, you fucking coward!” Ned shouted as he pointed his finger accusingly at Tywin Lannister.  

Despite Tywin’s fury at Ned for daring to call him a fucking coward and voicing the crimes of his army, others began to voice their opinion.  

What angered Yohn was now there many in the court room who voiced their agreement with Tywin Lannister.  

Stormlanders, Rivermen, Westermen, Valemen - to Yohn’s disgust - and even Crownlanders and Reachmen.  

No Northerners, Dornishmen or Rivermen and Crownlander loyalist dared voice approval of such hideous acts.  

Ned shook his head in disgust as he faced the entire hall and spoke, and with every word, his powerful voice thundered across the throne room, heard by all.   

 “This may be because I am a barbaric and savage Northerner, but I would NEVER EVER harm defenceless and innocent women and children! And yet what do I see right now?  “Supposedly civilised southerners who look down on Northerners as savages with their talk of chivalry, honour and knightly virtues! 

 “With that in mind, by what so-called right do ANY of you have to tell me that the right thing to do is murder them?! 

 “By that so-called logic, myself and Robert should have been handed to the Mad King to murder to stop this war from starting!” 

Yohn grinned whilst many lickspittles who dared to agree with Tywin Lannister looked ashamed at being called out in such a way.  

Yohn caught eyes with his old friend as he looked around the throne room and both nodded at each other.  

I am with you, my friend.   

Yohn walked towards Ned and faced Robert.  

Only he joined Ned to support him.  

 “You too, Yohn? After what the Mad King did your brother?” demanded Robert in a disappointed tone.  

 “I am a knight, and when I took the knightly vows, I swore that I would defend the innocent. Since when has the murder of children been common practice?! And by what right does any so-called knight in this very throne room dare call for the blood of children?! Especially children who are too young to even know that they are Targaryens or what crimes their fathers have committed?! Gods, whether New or Old, would show absolute fury at such terrible and horrific acts of butchery!” Yohn snapped, refusing to acknowledge his old friend as his King, after this display.  

 “Even if it meant saving thousands of lives, you would let them live?” Tywin demanded as he turned to Yohn.   

Both Yohn and Ned turned angrily to face Tywin Lannister.  

 “Why so enraged, Lannister? Are your underclothes still in a twist because I refused to sell my sword to you?!” Yohn asked.  

A great shout of laughter from the Northerners, the Dornishmen and a few Valemen arose from his question whilst Tywin darkly glared at both he and Ned.  

 “They are fucking dragonspawn! They don’t deserve to live! It is because of their fucking family that thousands are dead! That my Lyanna is dead!” Robert shouted as he stood up and grabbed his hammer.  

Yohn reached for Lamentation, whilst Ned raised his hand to hold him back as he stood in front of him.  

Ned passed him Ice.  

As Yohn took hold of the immense greatsword, Ned fearlessly took a few steps forward.  

Ned, what are you doing? Robert is fucking unpredictable right now!  

 “Do it, Robert! But you’ll have to kill me first. Do it and become just like the Mad King and murder innocents and your own friends! Come on! Kill me first to get to them and know that SHE is watching you! Come on, you coward, KILL ME!” Ned shouted as he raised his arms in the air, far away from the handle of Ice.  

 “Get out of the way, Ned!” shouted Robert.  

 “No,” Ned spat.  

The entire throne room turned silent at the sound of Ned’s thundering voice daring Robert to swing his hammer at Ned.  

Even Yohn was surprised by Ned’s show of defiance against the man he once considered a brother in all but blood.  

But now when he saw Robert, all Yohn saw was a man broken in mind by losing Lyanna, the one woman he loved more than any other.  

Ned’s mentioning of Lyanna stayed his hand, and his hammer.  

Finally, Robert lowered his hammer.  

 “Fine! Seeing as Lord Stark sees fit to adopt the children of the family that has murdered his, they are exiled to Winterfell. Elia Martell, is exiled to Sunspear!” Robert shouted before he sat back down on the Iron Throne.  

Elia Martell stood her ground and walked towards Ned until she was standing at his side, still holding her infant son Aegon in her arms and with her daughter Rhaenys hanging onto her by the hems of her dress.  

 “No. Where my children go, I go,” furiously said Elia Martell, though thin and fragile, was not afraid to stand up to him.  

 “Fine! Freeze in Winterfell for all I care!” Robert bellowed.  

Ned whispered to Yohn as he turned around to Elia, her children and to his own wife, who held Daenerys.  

 “Thank you, Yohn,” said Ned as Yohn returned Ice to him.  

 “Good luck, Ned. You’ll always have my support, no matter what,” Yohn whispered back as he clapped his shoulder.  

 “Thank you, Lord Royce. And I am truly sorry for your brother,” said Elia Martell with a sad and exhausted resemblance of a smile.  

 “You are not to blame, Princess. Neither are your children,” said Yohn before he bowed his head.  

Ned grabbed Elia by her arm and escorted her back to the Northerners and to Ashara.  

They all walked towards the doors, whilst the Northerners kept hands on their swords in case of an attack.  

Before he left, Ned turned around to face Robert.  

 “What would Lyanna think of you if she could see you right now?” he calmly asked before turning back around to leave with the Northerners.  

Yohn faced Robert as he sat back down on the Iron Throne.  

He saw how that last question hurt Robert in ways that no sword or arrow could harm him.  

 “My love, such talk is treasonous. This cannot be left to go unpunished,” said Cersei Lannister.  

Yohn turned to Tywin, whom still glared at him for his taunt.  

 “No. Let them freeze in the North,” grumbled Robert.  

Yohn glanced at Jon Arryn, whom looked sad at how his wards almost came to blows.  

Good luck, Lord Arryn. You will need it if you are to be Robert’s Hand , Yohn thought as he returned to his place in the throne room alongside his friends Horton Redfort and Eon Hunter.  

Chapter Text

Algirdas I:  

 “Come on! Strike harder than that, Ser! You can do better than that!” Algirdas boomed as he swung his sword with one hand and his axe with his other.   

 “I’m going on easy on you, little fawn!” said Ser Cortnay.   

Algirdas laughed loudly before rushing toward Ser Cortnay, not considering how tall and strong he stood with his sword and shield ready to defend each strike.   

Algirdas thought not of the danger, nor of what blow he may land on him, only of the fight and of victory.   

He struck hard with his sword at the side of his kite-shaped shield before swinging his axe to the top, dragging it toward him and then striking his sword again at the shield.   

The blow forced Ser Cortnay to drop his shield and he struck at Algirdas with his sword.   

Algirdas parried the thrust with his sword and then swung his axe violently across, disarming him of his sword and then jumping up and kicking Ser Cortnay down.   

Ser Cortnay fell to the ground, coughing as he stood back up, grabbing his sword and shield as he did so.   

 “Gods, Algirdas, you’re truly something. Your brothers were either too used to brute force, too calculating or too uninterested when it came to fighting. But you, you’re too fast and too determined,” said Ser Cortnay.   

 “Yes, that sounds like me,” Algirdas replied with a grin as he wiped the sweat from his brow and handed his practice weapons to a servant.   

 “My Lord. Maester Cressen and Lady Catelyn summon you.”   

Algirdas turned around to see Rogar Wensington, Steward of Storm’s End, standing on the edge of the training yard, taking care to not get his fine brown leather boots in the mud of the training yard.   

 “My thanks, Rogar. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” said Algirdas before he took a cup of water from a servant and drank quickly.   

Soon after dressing out of his training leathers, Algirdas ran inside the Round Tower and as he walked inside the throne room and saw Maester Cressen, his goodsister and his niece talking amongst each other whilst Maester Cressen held a letter in his hand.   

 “You summoned for me?” Algirdas asked.   

The three turned to face him.   

Maester Cressen, the only father-figure he had ever known after his parents had drowned when he was only a few days old.   

His goodsister Catelyn, married to Stannis after the end of the rebellion which saw the eldest of his brothers crowned King.   

And his beloved niece Shireen, whom often looked up to Algirdas as a father-figure, when her father and other uncles were nearly always in King’s Landing.   

 “We did, Algirdas. A raven has come, from King’s Landing. It’s for you,” said Catelyn, extending her hand out and offering the letter.   

Algirdas reached out and took the letter.   

 “Uncle Algirdas! Can you take me onto the training yard later and fight with me?”   

Algirdas turned around to see his nephew Fortis running toward him.   

 “Not today, I’m afraid, little stag. Not unless your mother says so?” Algirdas wondered whilst ruffling Fortis’ hair before turning to face Catelyn.   

 “Fortis, we talked about this. You must attend your lessons with Maester Cressen,” said Catelyn.   

 “But lessons are boring, Mother! I want to fight with Uncle Algirdas!” he complained.   

 “Fortis, you’re 9! You need to pay attention in lessons,” said Shireen.   

 “At 9? I was already fighting and getting drunk at that age,” Algirdas remarked with a grin before turning to Fortis.   

Catelyn frowned at Algirdas for that comment.   

 “Mother, can I?” Fortis asked excitedly.   

 “No. I promise, that you will take further lessons with Ser Cortnay, but only when you pay attention to your lessons with Maester Cressen. Have I made myself clear?” Catelyn demanded.   

 Fortis nodded and said “I promise, Mother.”   

Algirdas winked cheekily at Fortis and patted him on the shoulder.   

 “Don’t worry, Fortis, my boy! One day, you and I will fight together in tourneys and perhaps one day march an army to Highgarden and show those flowery Reachmen the fury of House Baratheon!” Algirdas said.   

 “Yes, Uncle Algirdas! We’ll show the Tyrells up for starving Storm’s End!” Fortis replied proudly.   

Good lad.   

At least someone here knows who the true enemy of House Baratheon is.   

It’s not the fucking Targaryens, or what’s left of them in Essos or in the North.   

It’s the fucking Tyrells, and how that fat cunt Mace Tyrell starved us for a whole fucking year.   

I swore a long time ago that I would take revenge in the name of House Baratheon for what they did.   

And by the Seven, one day I fucking will.   

Algirdas turned back to his letter whilst Maester Cressen was walking to his solar with Fortis.   

 “You’re spending too much time with him,” said Catelyn as she started to leave the throne room.   

 “He’s a good lad. He needs to spend time with his family, when his father and other uncles are all in King’s Landing,” replied Algirdas.   

 “But you’re the one who has taught him to hate the Tyrells,” said Shireen.   

 “Don’t you, Shirry? After what they did to Storm’s End and to our house?” Algirdas asked.   

 “Uncle Renly and Uncle Robert don’t. And I wasn’t there, back then,” said Shireen.   

 “Well, I was. And they never paid the price nor apologised for what they did. One day, they should do exactly that.”  

And be on the receiving end of the Baratheon fury.   

Algirdas opened the letter.   

‘To Lord Algirdas of House Baratheon,  

Little brother! It’s been too long since we last saw you in the capital. Come to King’s Landing. Though Stannis still doesn’t want you to bring Cat, Shirry and Fortie with you. He wants his children brought up properly before they come to this fucking shit-stinking capital.   

Gods, just writing that makes me want to cry for how much I miss Storm’s End.   

Send a raven as soon as you are ready to travel and we’ll be glad to see you again, little brother!  

Yours sincerely,  

Your biggest and best looking brother!’  

Ah, Robert, you silly whoremonger, Algirdas thought with a grin as he remembered the last time he saw Robert, Stannis and Renly.   

He had last seen them at a tourney celebrating Shireen’s nameday in Storm’s End, four years ago, when she had turned ten and when Algirdas was eight and ten.   

 “What makes you laugh, Uncle Algirdas?” asked Shireen.   

Algirdas turned to her and shrugged.   

 “Ah, just stupid talk from your Uncle Robert, little one,” he said with a grin.   

 “Have you been invited to King’s Landing, Uncle?” Shireen asked keenly.   

 “I have. But I’m sorry to say, Shirry. Your father wants you and your brother properly raised before you set foot in that place,” said Algirdas with a sad shrug.   

 “But why? I’ve wanted to go to the capital for years!” Shireen exclaimed.   

 “I know. I know, Shirry. But, you have to understand, King’s Landing isn’t a nice place. Everywhere you look, there are ambitious lickspittles and fools pretend to be your friend, only to want to pinch your gold or steal power from another. Even when your father is the Master of Ships, your uncle is the Master of Laws or your other uncle is King, it’s no place for a beautiful young lady who doesn’t know about the game,” said Algirdas.   

 “But it’s not just about the game there, is it?”   

 “No. No, it isn’t. But, that’s what it’s like at court. Sure enough, there always be nice parties and feasts to attend and make friends amongst the other beautiful ladies at court and gossip about the handsome young lords and knights coming to the capital for the next tourney. Gods knows there’s enough with your Uncle Robert as King!”   

 “Shireen! It’s time for your lessons!” Catelyn called, with Septa Mordane standing next to her.   

 “Go on. Enjoy your lessons and learn about what ladies do and shouldn’t do,” Algirdas said with a grin and a japing tone of voice.   

 “Shut up, Uncle,” replied Shireen with a smirk at which Algirdas chuckled.   

Ashara I:  

After getting up from her empty bed, Ashara walked to Maester Gelimund’s solar and, as she had done for the past three moons, she asked the same question.   

 “Good morning, Maester. Has there been no ravens from Castle Black or from the Wall at all?”   

 “Not from Lord Stark, my Lady. Just from Maester Aemon. He writes that the Night’s Watch and the Northern army march to fight the last of the Army of the Dead at Skirling Pass.”   

He passed her the letter and she fearfully read the letter.   

‘ To Lady Ashara of House Stark,  

My Lady, your Lord husband leads the Northern army alongside Lord Commander Mormont towards Skirling Pass to fight the last of the Army of the Dead.   

Both are certain that this is the last army they shall face and that with their defeat and the destruction of the Night King, the world shall at last be safe from the Long Night.   

I also write to inform you that your sons, Lords Artos, Ulrick and Brandon and your daughter, the Lady Dyanna, are all safe and in good health.   

As are your wards; your nephew Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy and my great-great-great nephew Aegon.   

Yours sincerely,   

Maester Aemon Targaryen.’  

I must bring this news to Elia, Rhaenys, Daenerys and my children, was the first on Ashara’s mind as she thanked Maester Gelimund and walked downstairs to see her childhood friend Elia having breakfast with her daughter Rhaenys, Elia’s goodsister Daenerys and Ashara’s daughters Eliana, Serena and Arya, as well as Eliana’s friends Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel and Ashara and Ned’s youngest son Rickon.   

Arya was just settling back home having been a ward of the Mormonts of Bear Island.   

Standing close by Rhaenys and Daenerys were their sworn swords; Ser Alliser Thorne protecting Daenerys and Ser Jaremy Rykker protecting Rhaenys.   

 “Mother!” Serena called cheerfully.   

 “Serena. And how are all my dears this morning?” Ashara asked before she sat at her place at the high table.   

 “Glad to be back home from Bear Island, Mother,” replied Arya, whom had been Lord Jorah and Lady Lynesse Mormont’s ward for two years, just as her elder sister Dyanna had.   

 “Did you not enjoy being at Bear Island? I thought that you always wanted to be a warrior?” asked Daenerys.   

 “No, I enjoyed it. Though when Dacey, Alysane, Jorelle and Lyra all left to go and fight at the Wall and Beyond, I was stuck at Bear Island and with Lady Lynesse trying to turn me into a fancy lady like all Hightowers. Lyanna Mormont and I had so much fun going for rides around Bear Island and training on our own,” Arya answered, whom looked unimpressed when she mentioned Lynesse Mormont, but was happy when she mentioned Lyanna Mormont.   

I’ll never understand why she, a Hightower of Oldtown, accepted the proposal of a Mormont of Bear Island.  

Yes, he is a great warrior and knight and proved that so in Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion, but Bear Island is hardly a place that would impress the Hightowers.   

It’s only with Ned building the Cailin Canal and giving him the position of Admiral of the Western Fleet and that he gets his fair share of dividends from the trade of the Cailin Canal that Bear Island is richer than it used to be.   

Elia grinned at Arya’s choice words about Lynesse Mormont but then noticed the letter in Ashara’s hands.   

 “Ash, what is that? Is there news?” she asked.   

 “Yes,” said Ash before she passed the letter to her best friend.   

Elia worriedly read it, rightfully fearing for her only children.   

 “Mother? Aunt Elia? What is it?” asked Eliana.   

In spite of being no actual blood relation to her children, Elia was always referred to as Aunt Elia by Ashara and Ned’s children.   

 “They march for Skirling Pass, to fight the last of the armies of the undead,” replied Elia.   

Who would have thought that the mad prophecies that Rhaegar became so obsessed with actually had some truth to them?   

But all that Rhaegar had done to fight them was all for naught.   

The war Beyond the Wall had been ongoing for nearly two years, when Ned led the armies of the North to Castle Black in response to the oncoming army of 100,000 wildlings approaching the Wall, led by the King Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder.   

But all of that changed, when Ned had seen the reason why they were coming to the Wall, not to invade and conquer the North, but to be safe from the undead.   

Ned showed this to Ashara and their family when he had brought two wights in cages from Castle Black to Winterfell.   

Just seeing the wights had given Ashara night terrors for weeks.   

Artos I:  

Artos rubbed his gloved hands together as he spied the Stark campsite ahead, eager to feast on the prey he had hunted with Brandon, Ulrick, Dyanna, Jon, Aegon and Theon in the edge of the forest.   

He saw Val, Jon’s lover, looking at them from near the camp’s edge.   

 “What have you southerners brought for dinner?”   

 “Deer and some hares,” Ulrick replied before he drank from wineskin.   

 “Got any wine in that, Ulrick? Our wine has fucking gone,” she said as Artos walked toward her, holding a deer carcass with both hands.   

 “Aye. Go on,” Ulrick replied before throwing it to her.   

 “Why, thank you, Lord Ulrick, Ser! What would I ever do without your southern kindness?” she asked in a high-pitched voice and a hand over her heart which reminded Artos of Eliana and Serena.   

Jon shook his head at his woman before walking to her and kissing her.   

 “Are you well, Jon?” she asked whilst stroking his hard and bearded face.   

 “Aye. The deer and hares didn’t bite,” he replied before showing her his catches.   

Artos was glad to feel the warmth of campfires as he walked past Val and Jon and made his way to the tent he shared with Ulrick, Brandon, Aegon, Jon and Theon, but Aegon had gone to spend time on his own, as he often did.   

Artos threw down his prey at the edge of the tent and wandered inside, snatching a hunting knife from the table.   

 “Gods, I’m fucking hungry,” Artos muttered as he brought his deer carcass inside and placed it on his table.   

 “I’ll be glad once this is all over and we can go back home to Winterfell,” Brandon said as he lay down on his bedroll.   

 “Just one more battle,” said Ulrick as he grabbed his shield and spun it around on the frozen ground.   

Artos pierced the lower body of the deer and began to eviscerate it from the bottom to the top, as he had been shown by Domeric Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort.   

 “Are you sure you’re not a Bolton as opposed to a Stark?” Theon jested as he threw down his four hares.   

 “Quite fucking sure. I don’t fucking like listening to screams when I’m back home, as opposed to liking the screams of the girls and women you take to bed when they see the size of your cock,” Artos replied with a grin before pulling the deer pelt off of it.   

Brandon and Ulrick began to light a small fire and Theon grabbed a spit whilst Artos chopped the deer into pieces and ripped out the organs before Theon impaled both front legs with the spit and placed it atop the fire.   

Artos grinned as he sighed whilst sitting down beside the fire alongside his younger brothers and his brother in all but blood.   

Gods, I love the smell of sizzling meat.   

 “Fuck, I can’t believe how much I miss home with being north of the Wall for so long,” said Theon.   

 “Which home, Theon? Pyke or Winterfell?” Brandon wondered.   

 “Both,” Theon replied.   

 “Well, when you do return home to Pyke, there’ll be no whores for you. Just salt wives for the choosing from the Free Cities and beyond,” Ulrick pointed out.   

 “Aye, something to really look forward to. The Summer Isles especially,” said Theon.   

 “Aye, I’m not surprised about that. I’ve heard it said that they consider fucking a way of worshipping their gods and that to be a whore is an important profession,” Artos jested at which they laughed.   

 “Aye, it is an important profession. That’s definitely the first place I’ll go to when I get home and become captain of my own ship. Spending time in my bed, their gods will look kindly on them for how much “worshipping” they’ll be doing in bed with me,” Theon replied.   

 “I wouldn’t be so sure, lads.”   

Artos turned around to see Aegon and Jon enter their tent.   

 “Why not?” Brandon asked.   

 “Heard from some rangers who’ve just heard the latest rumours from ‘round Westeros. The Summer Isles have been conquered by some Valyrian warlord from Lys who fancies himself as the next Aegon the Conqueror,” Aegon replied before drinking from his own wineskin.   

 “Stupid cunt better not outlaw all the good traditions and replace them with his own,” Theon muttered with annoyance.   

Artos’ ears were pricked when he heard the footsteps of someone running.   

It was Dyanna, who came running to their tent.   

 “Come quickly! Qhorin Halfhand and Uncle Benjen have just returned from scouting! The undead fuckers are coming.”   

She had said the last part with an eerie and fearful silence.   

Even after over a year of fighting the Armies of the Dead, at the Fist of the First Men, Frostfangs, Craster’s Keep, Hardhome, twice in the Haunted Forest and most recently at Thenn Valley, Artos was fearful of the undead that had plagued the North for centuries and millennia.   

Artos stood up and was about to take his prey off of the spit.   

 “You Starks. Allow me,” said Aegon with a sigh and shaking his head before he grabbed the spit with both hands and put it on the table without hurting his hands.   

 “Targaryen show off,” Theon muttered as he grabbed his favoured bow, a dragonbone bow he had bought from a Pentoshi merchant doing business in White Harbour.   

Both he and Dyanna, whom favoured the bow, had dragonbone bows, which they took everywhere with them.   

 “We’ll have to eat them later for supper,” Artos with annoyance, as he was could hear his stomach growling at the sight and smell of the meat.   

Artos led his siblings, Theon, Jon and Aegon to Father’s tent, where the Lords of the North, Free Folk commanders and officers of the Night’s Watch were already gathered.   

 “…and how many do they number?” asked Father as Artos stood alongside Smalljon Umber and Harrion Karstark.   

 “20,000, brother. Of that I am certain. And I saw him,” said Uncle Benjen.   

Him.   

Artos shivered as he remembered seeing the monster which Uncle Benjen spoke of.   

He had first seen him at the Craster’s Keep, where he had raised Craster and his newly born sons and turned them into White Walkers, after Jon and Val had gone there to kill Craster and rescue his daughter-wives.   

He saw him again at Hardhome where the had begun to evacuate less than 10,000 Free Folk from there before they were attacked by seemingly endless hordes of wights.   

And it was there where he had first killed a White Walker, by eviscerating it with a greatsword of dragonglass.   

Salvation had come for the realm when during excavations in the First Keep of Winterfell, a chamber had been discovered containing ingots of Valyrian Steel.   

A chamber built by Brandon the Builder, whom had been preparing for the day when the undead would rise again to threaten the living.   

 “They will be here by sunrise, Lord Stark,” said Qhorin Halfhand.   

Father nodded as he sighed and looked down at the map.   

 “Then they will come and find us ready for them. And we will fight to the end. Whether we live or die, we fight to protect the world from they whom would end all life across the world,” said Father as he looked up to face them all.   

Night’s Watch, Northerners and Free Folk.   

 “We’ve known that this day would come. We’ve known it for years now. But as long as we hold them back and kill the Night King, then we might be able to save the world. This will not be easy. Though we outnumber them 2-1, we all know full well of what magic the Night King can use,” Father continued.   

Artos nodded, remembering when at Thenn Valley, the Night King had summoned a blizzard to push them back just as they had gotten so close to him and killed over a dozen of his White Walkers and Val, Jorelle, Domeric, Torrhen, Theon and Dyanna aimed dragonglass arrows at the Night King.   

 “Prepare the Valley for battle. Sacrifice as many trees as we must for defences and for fire,” said Father.   

 “Aye, my Lord,” said the Lords of the North.   

Artos remained behind as they all left to carry out their orders.   

 “Are you well, Artos?” Father asked.   

 “Aye, I am, Father,” Artos replied with a nod.   

 “I am going to the Godswood nearby later to pray. Will you come with me?” he asked.   

 “Aye, I will,” said Artos.   

 Father hugged Artos and then all of his children before hugging Theon, Jon and Aegon.   

 “Whatever happens tomorrow, never forget that I love you all. Even if you are not my blood, I have always loved you as my own,” said Father with a sad smile.   

Chapter Text

Interlude I:  

Cley Cerwyn (Tom Varey):  

I need to be back home, not here.   

I miss Mother, Jonelle and even Maester Rhodri’s dull lessons.   

I need to be back and go hunting with Father again rather than being here, fighting these fucking monsters.   

Cley was excited to at the thought of fighting this final battle against the last of the Army of the Dead.  

And he let his memories of home flood his mind rather than focussing whilst sharpening his dragonglass axe on the grindstone.  

 “Any longer, and there’ll be nothing left on that axe!” he heard behind him.  

Cley broke away from his thoughts and turned to see Aegon and Artos walking toward him.  

Cley stood up and grabbed his shield with his left hand and held his battle axe with right hand.  

 “You Cerwyns and your axes,” Artos commented as he shook his head with a smirk.  

 “Don’t your mother’s family favour the sword as opposed to all other Dornishmen?” Cley asked.  

 “Aye, true enough,” Artos replied with a nod.  

 “Just out of interest, has your Lord Father let you hold his axe yet?” Aegon asked whilst eating a chunk of roasted meat.  

Ever since Valyrian Steel ingots were discovered in the First Keep of Winterfell, weapons had been forged for the Northern Lords and even for the Free Folk leaders whom swore fealty to Lord Stark and for the lands Beyond-the-Wall to answer to Winterfell.  

House Cerwyn had been awarded a great battle-axe which Father had named Vorpal.  

 “Aye. And I can’t fucking wait to one day take it into battle,” said Cley eagerly.  

 “Come, Cley. We’re going for a drink. What could be our last,” said Artos.  

Cley nodded and followed he and Aegon.  

For a long time when he was a boy, Cley had despised Aegon, his sister and his aunt for being Targaryens.  

Father had a particular hatred for Aegon’s grandfather and his father, for Rickard Stark was his childhood friend when Lord Medger Cerwyn was warded at Winterfell as a boy.  

But over the years, attending feasts at Winterfell and brawling and fighting in the training yard with Aegon, Cley saw past his Targaryen heritage.  

All other sons and heirs of Northern lords had.  

Especially when Aegon was raised as a Northerner, spoke like one and not like some fancy twat from down south and he worshipped the Old Gods and he often said that he had never set foot in a Sept.  

Cley followed them to Artos’ tent, where he sat beside Benfred and Brandon Tallhart and Dacey Mormont passed him a mug of Karhold Bronze.  

Smalljon belched loudly after drinking two mugs of Karhold Bronze.  

 “Our last battle up here, North of the Wall. That’d be fucking nice. That the war can end and we all can return home,” commented Harrion Karstark.  

 “Life will be so fucking strange when we all go back home,” Aegon commented before finishing the last of his tankard.  

 “Aye, it will be. First thing I do when I get back home, is be drunk for a whole fucking week and wake up with at least two whores in my bed!” Asher Forrester commented before belching louder than Smalljon.  

 “Only two? I’m surprised, Forrester! I thought from your stories that you’d have a small army of whores fighting over getting into your bed!” Jorelle commented.  

 “No, Jorelle. That’s me you’re getting confused with!” Theon boasted.  

 “Fuck off, squid! How about I pull down my breeches and show you who’s got the biggest cock north of the Wall?!” Smalljon bellowed.  

 “Bold fucking words from a fucking Umber!” said Rickard Ryswell before he slipped from his stool, spilling half of his tankard over his armour.  

 “Come on them, Ryswell! You big stallion! Let’s see your horse cock!” said Smalljon.  

 “I wouldn’t be so sure, Smalljon! The Ryswells only get their cocks out for their horses!” said Aegon.  

 “Alright, then Targaryen. Let’s see your cock, big dragon boy, and see if it’s worth boasting about!” said Roose Ryswell.  

 “You’ve upset him, Aegon! The Ryswells don’t get their cocks out for their horses! They spread their legs for their horses!” Smalljon added.  

 “I’d rather see yours, Smalljon, so I can cut it off!” said Domeric.  

 “Oh, Dom. You’re a man after my heart,” Lyra commented whilst holding her hand over heart dramatically as though she was a soft, southern lady.  

Cley was laughing with everyone else at the banter between them before a loud warhorn could be heard.  

 “Night’s Watch,” said Rodrik Forrester, instantly recognising the sound.  

Each man and woman in the tent reached for their sheathed weapon.  

A second could be heard.  

Cley took a deep breath as he tightened the grip on his axe.  

And then he heard the third.  

Old Gods, watch over us today as we fight to save the world from the monsters that would destroy it.   

Cley finished his drink and ran out of the tent and looked around for the household men of House Cerwyn.  

He saw Father climbing onto his horse before being handed Vorpal by his squire.  

 “Cley!” Father bellowed.  

Cley ran to Father’s side, gripping his hand as he got to him.  

 “Are you ready?”  

 “Aye, Father. I’m ready. To show these undead fuckers that they should have stayed dead,” Cley replied fervently.  

Father patted him proudly on the shoulder.  

 “Good lad. Honed and Ready ,” he said as held Vorpal up high.  

 “ Honed and Ready ,” Cley repeated as he held up his own axe.  

Cley led half of the footmen of House Cerwyn to the frontline, in the pass between the two high mountains, where the undead would be forced to fight them on.  

Cley looked up at the mountains, where at different levels, there were dozens of groups of archers from Houses Bolton, Tallhart, Stark, Glenmore, Forrester and Karstark, all commanded by Dyanna, Theon, Bran Tallhart and Ethan Forrester.  

As Cley ran to the frontline, where in front were lines of sharpened stakes and trenches dug in front of the stakes.  

Cley took a deep breath as he looked at the horizon and saw an enormous horde of undead, all spread out, with absolutely no organisation at all.  

All were sprinting towards them and with undead mammoths and giants behind them.  

Cley looked at his axe of dragonglass and kissed the blade.  

Cut down as many of those bony fuckers as we come across.   

I want to go back home, hug Mother and Jonelle and one day wed a pretty girl and have children.   

I thought life a joke because I am heir to House Cerwyn before marching north.   

Never again.   

 “Steady, lads,” Cley said to his men at either side of him, whom showed their fear as they could all hear the fearsome screeches of the charging undead.  

 “Hold your ground, men and women of the North! We stand here at the edge of the world to save all whom live from the walking dead. So long as you stand your ground, they will not win! If I am to die here, I will die fighting! What of you?! Will you run? Will you flee back to your kin?! The kin who will become like them because you didn’t fight?!” shouted Lord Stark.  

 “No!” Cley proudly shouted as he took deep breaths.  

 “Stand your ground then! And when night falls, I swear to you all, they will all be naught but fucking piles of bones and ice! Fight with me, sons and daughters of the North and let’s end this war with a Northern victory!” Lord Stark boomed as he rode before them on horseback.  

Cley roared and cheered as he lifted his axe up.  

 “Now, my Lord!” Theon called from the mountain.  

 “Open fire!” Lord Stark ordered.  

The archers fired numerous volleys on the charging Army of the Dead.  

Cley nodded with a grin as he saw dozens of undead soldiers, giants and mammoths collapse from the arrows.  

 “Again! Light the scum up!” Lord Stark commanded.  

And in reply, the archers fired with flaming arrows and Cley’s grin widened into a large smile when he saw what looked like hundreds of undead falling to flaming arrows.  

And that’s just the warmup, you fucking undead!   

As wights ran past or ran over burning weights, they too caught fire and were falling dead also.  

But as they burned, the giant wights and mammoth wights charged past.  

Cley turned to see Father ride alongside Lord Stark to join the cavalry.  

Good luck, Father.   

Cley turned his head back to the battle when he heard the roaring screech of giants and mammoths.  

Cley took two spears, with dragonglass spearheads and he threw one at an oncoming mammoth.  

The spear was lodged into its enormous skull. 

He threw his second at a giant at its side.  

The spear hit it in its chest.  

The giant fell to its knees whilst the mammoth exploded into pieces.  

The giant also exploded whilst more charged toward them.  

Cley roared and was the first to break rank.  

He sliced his axe across at a giant armed with a massive club.  

The giant hadn’t seen Cley until it was too late.  

His axe had sliced into its hip and then he slammed the head into its groin.  

The giant screeched loudly and horribly before it exploded.  

Cley was glad when he saw Artos, Smalljon, Ulrick, Brandon, Harrion, Eddard, Torrhen, Aegon, Dacey, Alysane, Jorelle and Lyra joining the fighting, slashing and smashing into wights, giants and mammoths.  

Cley felt his heart sink to see a giant riding atop a mammoth and smashing its club onto a group of Night’s Watch brothers and then onto a group of men of House Hornwood men-at-arms.  

Cley ran towards this foe, slicing at the mammoth before it could swing its enormous tusks at him.  

He missed its leg, and the mammoth turned its dark and lifeless eyes to him.  

Cley dodged back before it could swing its head and impale him with its tusks.  

Cley threw his shield at it and then roared as he grabbed his axe with both hands and leapt up toward it.  

The mammoth swung its tusks at his shield, shattering it to pieces.  

But it didn’t move in time to avoid Cley when he buried his axe into its skull, just above its eyes.  

The mammoth exploded.  

Cley was pushed back, landing on the ground, arse first, reminding him of the blizzard at Thenn Valley.  

Cley groaned as he stood back up.   

He looked at his arms to see numerous gashes on it.  

He stood back up to see the giant that had mounted it was just starting to stand up.  

Cley groaned with pain as he forced himself to stand back up.  

Fuck, that fucking hurts, he thought as he stared at the giant, who had its back turned to him.  

Cley ran at it and sliced his axe at its spine three times.  

The giant collapsed onto its knees before Cley finished it off by smashing his axe across into its face.  

The giant exploded and as it exploded, Cley saw what looked like dozens of White Walkers approaching them.  

No.   

Not fucking them!   

 “The Night King must be running out of foot soldiers now!” Sigorn Thenn shouted.  

 “Back! We have to get back! Now!” Artos commanded before he threw a dragonglass spear at a White Walker, impaling it in the stomach.  

Cley ran back, following Lyra and Ulrick, whom had just smashed two wights down with his axe.  

Cley panted as they retreated further into the valley, just as their archers were unleashing volleys of dragonglass arrows and fire arrows onto them.  

Cley was glad to see several White Walkers die.  

He grinned when he heard the familiar warhorn of the North ahead of the undead, just behind them.  

The White Walkers turned behind in confusion.  

 “Not quite what you expected, is it?” Dormund Giantsbane asked with a laugh.  

The White Walkers turned back to face them.  

Lord Stark’s plan will destroy them here.   

It must.   

This is not the fucking end of us nor is it the end of the world.   

Aegon I:  

A second White Walker charged at Aegon with a spear.  

Aegon blocked his thrust with Blackfyre once and then twice before drawing a dragonglass dagger from his belt.  

It sliced at the dagger to disarm him, but as it disarmed him, Aegon chopped Blackfyre onto it, eviscerating it.  

The White Walker exploded before Aegon picked up his dragonglass dagger and threw it at the spine of one running up the mountain towards their archers.  

It exploded just as Theon was aiming an arrow at it.  

 “Thanks Aegon! Saved me an arrow!”  

 “Just keep shooting at these fucking monsters, Theon! And you won’t hear no complaints from me!” Aegon yelled back before another White Walker charged at him with a battle axe, one as big as Cley’s.  

Aegon dodged its first swipe at him and then Aegon struck Blackfyre onto it.  

It blocked Blackfyre, but Aegon grinned when he saw the fear in its cruel and dead icy blue eyes.  

Aye, that’s right, you icy fucker!   

This is Valyrian Steel!   

One of the few things in the world that can destroy you cunts!   

They clanged their weapons together, both were pushing their weapons toward the other.  

The White Walker’s brows twisted in fury as it pushed its axe toward Aegon, turning his grin into a fearful grimace.  

Aegon tried to push the axe to the side.  

The White Walker responded by punching him hard in the chest.  

Aegon collapsed to the ground.  

Aegon couldn’t feel Blackfyre in his hands.  

He looked to his side, but then he looked up.  

The White Walker stood above him, it’s axe raised in the air.  

Suddenly, it exploded.  

Aegon panted as he spotted an arrow of dragonglass amongst its icy shards.  

 “Just looking out for you, winged lizard!” he heard from the hills.  

 “Glad to have you watching out for me, squid!” Aegon shouted before grabbing Blackfyre and standing back up, glad to rejoin the battle.  

Aegon sliced Blackfyre onto a White Walker armed with a greatsword.  

It blocked the blow, but had the familiar fearful glare in its eyes when they fell onto the Valyrian Steel sword of both House Targaryen and then the rebellious House Blackfyre.  

It swung its own sword at Aegon, which he narrowly dodged.  

The second blow it swung at him, Aegon shivered when he felt the sharp touch of ice on his arm.  

He looked down and saw that it had cut him from his elbow to his wrist.  

It sliced down onto Aegon, which he blocked and then forced the sword to the side.  

As the White Walker tried to regain its balance, Aegon sliced across its belly.  

The White Walker exploded as Aegon panted through his teeth as he felt the pain in his arm.  

Another crossed paths with him and tried to impale him with a spear.  

Aegon grabbed the spear with one hand as it narrowly avoided his rib cage.  

And with his other hand, he eviscerated it from its groin to its neck with Blackfyre.  

The White Walker exploded, and as it exploded, Aegon could feel the icy touch of its spear disappear from his other hand.  

Two more came at him, one with an axe and the other with a hammer.  

The one with an axe chopped across with its axe and Aegon blocked it with Blackfyre, making sure that its axe hooked onto the blade, giving Aegon the chance he realised that needed.  

He stabbed it with the blade as he pushed it toward the White Walker.  

He pulled it out before it exploded before facing the one with the hammer.  

You favour the hammer, like the man whom killed my cunt of a father, he thought with a scowl.  

It swung at him once, he dodged the blow by jumping back.  

The next blow, it smashed down onto him.  

Aegon blocked the blow and then sidestepped, nearly slicing onto its leg as he did so.  

The White Walker turned to him and smashed its hammer across at him.  

He blocked the blow and then swung Blackfyre across, slicing its throat.  

The White Walker exploded.  

As it exploded, Aegon looked around at the many White Walkers they still had to fight.  

How many more of these icy fuckers are there?!   

Where the fuck is the fucking Night King?!   

As if to answer his inner question, he heard a frightened voice behind him.  

 “Fucking hells! It’s him! The fucking Night King!” screamed Brandon Dustin after he cleaved a White Walker with his axe.  

Aegon turned around to see what looked like thirty more White Walkers joining the fray, and behind them, standing two feet taller than each of them, was the Lord of the Undead.  

Aegon took a deep breath before he charged towards the first of the oncoming White Walkers.  

 “Taste my fire and blood, fucking monsters!” Aegon shouted before slicing Blackfyre across at one armed with a sword.  

It easily blocked his blow, and tried to slice its own blow at Aegon’s neck.  

Aegon somersaulted backwards, missing his neck, but cutting his forehead.  

Fucking cunt!   

Aegon’s anger forced him to stand back up and hold Blackfyre with both hands as it charged at him.  

He blocked its first thrust and then at its second, it tried to slice down at him with an overhead blow.  

Aegon dodged the blow and swung Blackfyre across, slicing at its belly.  

Just as he caught his breath, it exploded.  

As he held Blackfyre up, ready to fight the next, he looked at how all of the White Walkers stared at him.  

Including the Night King.  

 “Come on! Which of you is the next to die forever?! Come and fucking die! Or do you fucking fear me?!”  

As if to answer his question, another came charging at him with a large axe.  

And as it charged toward him, the others came charging, just as Aegon’s friends; Artos, Ulrick, Bran, Dyanna, Jon, Theon, Smalljon, Harrion, Torrhen, Eddard, Dacey, Alysane, Jorelle, Lyra, Brandon Dustin, Owen, Robin, Donnel, Sigorn, Dormund, Toregg, Val, Brandon Tallhart, Benfred, Cley, Domeric, Roose, Rickard and Roger came charging down, screaming their battle cries and shouting the words of their respective houses.  

Aegon blocked a blow from this White Walker and it swung at him again, before revealing a dagger at its side.  

Aegon rained Blackfyre down onto it.  

It fearfully blocked Blackfyre with its axe, but then Aegon turned his eyes to its dagger.  

It thrusted towards Aegon’s chest.  

Aegon yelled as he moved his chest out of the way, only for the dagger to cut at his upper body, cutting just above his abdominal muscles.  

Aegon grunted furiously as he swung Blackfyre across, slicing at the White Walker’s hand.  

His blow had cut off its hand.  

The White Walker stared at its stump in shock before Aegon ferociously yelled as he eviscerated it. 

As he panted, he pierced Blackfyre into the frozen ground.  

He leant on it, taking deep breaths as he looked at the numerous places he had been wounded since the battle began.  

How much fucking longer will this take?!   

But suddenly, he felt a bone-chilling presence standing in front of him.  

He looked up in shock to see the Night King standing in front of him, holding up its great falx.  

 “It’s all fucking over, you fucking cunt. You’ve fucking lost,” Aegon spat as he tasted blood pouring down his lips and nose.  

It pointed its falx at him and gestured at the ground between them.  

Aegon pulled Blackfyre out of the ground and pointed it at him.  

Aegon sliced across at it, but it easily blocked the blow and swung Blackfyre across, taking Aegon with it.  

Aegon stood back up as he pulled Blackfyre out of the ground, and as he did so, he saw the Night King take up a spear from one of his dead foot soldiers.  

He turned to him, glaring at him with his fearful icy eyes.  

He gripped the spear and threw it at Aegon.  

Aegon jumped aside the moment he saw him lift the spear to throw it, somersaulting across in the snowy rocks.  

He looked up to see the spear pierce into a large rock and the rock cracked and fell to pieces.  

Aegon looked up and stood back up, leaning on Blackfyre as he did so.  

He swung it across at the Night King, whom quickly and easily blocked each blow with skill and speed like none Aegon had ever seen.  

Aegon sliced down, and he blocked it, with Blackfyre clanging onto the centre of his icy falx.  

The Night King bounced it off of his falx and with the back of his falx, hit it onto Aegon’s wounded side before slicing him from his left shoulder to the middle of his abdominal muscles.  

Aegon fell to the ground, groaning as he did so.  

The Night King pressed the blade of his falx against his bloodied face.  

No.   

No!   

Not like this!   

Aegon reached up and grabbed the falx with one hand, forcing it aside.  

He grabbed Blackfyre with his other hand and stood back up, yelling as he swung it down onto the Night King.  

The Night King blocked his blows and as Aegon swung to his side, the Night King blocked with the back of his falx and then sliced the blade across Aegon’s shoulder.  

Aegon gritted his teeth, determined to not scream, show pain or fear as he sliced again at the Night King.  

He swung Blackfyre at him again, and as they pressed their weapons against each other, Aegon dodged his fist when he saw him try to punch his wounded chest.  

Aegon used this as a chance and sliced Blackfyre onto his shoulder.  

The Night King stared in shock that his weapon harmed him.  

 “Do you feel it, monster? The pain?” Aegon asked, grinning before he spat blood pouring out of his mouth.  

The Night King stood upright and readied his falx to chop down onto Aegon.  

 “I’ll take that as an aye, fuck-face,” Aegon said with a chuckle.  

The Night King smashed his falx down onto Aegon.  

He only managed to block the blade, but as he did so, he punched him in the side.  

And as he lowered his guard, the Night King sliced him from his shoulder to his sternum.  

Aegon groaned as he fell to his knees.  

Gods, that punch felt like a fucking battering ram!   

He looked looked at his wounds, and felt that the next was going to be his last.  

No. I’m not fucking dying like this!   

Aegon looked up at the Night King as he swung his falx to his shoulder, as if readying himself to chop his head off.  

 “Oh, no you don’t.”  

As if to tell him the opposite, the Night King swung his falx across.  

Aegon blocked the swing with Blackfyre and then grabbed the falx with his left hand.  

He then released his grip on Blackfyre with his right hand and grabbed the falx with his right hand also.  

With his last remaining strength, he shoved the blade of the falx onto the ground and then reached for Blackfyre.  

He sliced Blackfyre down onto the Night King.  

He panted as he realised that he hadn’t blocked nor dodged the blow.  

He had eviscerated him.  

This is for Uncle Brynden, Aegon thought as he thrusted Blackfyre into his heart.  

 “I told you it’s fucking over, didn’t I?” Aegon snapped as he stared at his icy eyes.  

The Night King stared him hard in his eyes.  

I’m not afraid of you anymore, you icy fucker!   

Finally, the Night King exploded.  

The force of the explosion pushed Aegon back, with Blackfyre in his hands as he landed on his back.  

Everywhere around him, Aegon could hear familiar explosions.  

Is it done?   

Is it truly over?   

Have we won?   

 “Aegon! Aegon!”  

Aegon smiled when he heard the familiar sound of Ulrick’s voice.  

Ulrick came running over with Artos, Harrion, Smalljon, Theon, Dacey, Rodrik and Domeric.  

 “You did it! You did it, you fucking mad dragon!” Harrion commented.  

 “Aye,” Aegon muttered before coughing blood and struggling to keep his eyes open.  

No, I’m not dying like this.   

 “Pick him up! Come on!” Ulrick shouted.  

Ulrick picked him up by his left arm, whilst his right arm was picked up by Smalljon and his legs were picked up by Dacey and Harrion.  

 “Come on. Just breathe, Aegon! You can do this! We’re going to get you back to Castle Black and to your old and ancient uncle,” Aegon heard Rodrik say before he finally closed his eyes. 

Chapter Text

Eliana I:  

 “Sister! They’re coming back!” Eliana heard outside her chamber.   

She turned around to see Arya rushing around with excitement.   

Thank the Gods they return.   

It’s been over a year since I last saw Father, Artos, Brandon, Ulrick, Dyanna, Jon, Theon.  

And Aegon.   

She stood from her chair and followed Arya to the feasting hall and then onto the courtyard.   

Eliana was elated to see Father ride through the gates of the Great Keep of Winterfell.   

Followed closely behind by her brothers, her cousin, her sister and Father’s wards, Theon and Aegon.   

But when she saw Aegon, she felt her heart sink to see him covered with bandages over his face.  

Mother greeted Father as he climbed down from his horse.   

 “Ned,” she said, running to him and hugging him.   

 “Ash,” he replied, holding her fiercely before running his hands through her hair and kissing her.   

Eliana ran up to Artos and then to her twin, Brandon, and Ulrick, whilst Dyanna was being hugged by their youngest sister, Arya, whom had long looked up to Dyanna.   

 “Thank the Gods you are all back home!” Eliana said when she hugged Brandon.   

 “Not the Gods you should be thanking, sister. It’s Aegon,” he replied gruffly.   

 “Did he…?”  

 “Aye, he did. But the monster wounded him many times,” said Ulrick.   

 “Come now, Rhaenys, don’t swarm your brother. Let him breathe,” said Father when he noticed Rhaenys hugging her brother hard.   

Whilst Rhaenys did just that, nothing stopped Aunt Elia from crying as she held and hugged Aegon.   

 “Mother, I’m alright,” Aegon tried to assure her, whilst blushing as though he was embarrassed.   

 “Ulrick. Bran. Help Aegon to Maester Gelimund,” Father ordered.   

Both her brothers walked to Aegon.   

 “I’m fine, I can walk there myself,” Aegon told them.   

 “Not with those wounds all over you, fool. You heard Father,” Bran snapped before both he and Ulrick dragged Aegon to Maester Gelimund.   

 “What happened to him?” Rhaenys asked Artos.   

Eliana, Aunt Elia and Daenerys turned to Artos as he looked at Aegon walking inside.   

 “He fought several White Walkers before he came to face the Night King. We were all fighting White Walkers to be able to help. But even then, he managed to kill him. But those monsters cut him on his face, chest, shoulder and arm at least five times. Maester Aemon has skill like no other Maester and saved him. He says that he’ll be fine once he has plenty of rest,” said Artos.   

Aunt Elia and Rhaenys ran after Aegon as Ulrick and Brandon were taking him to Maester Gelimund.   

Eliana and Daenerys ran after them.   

When they reached Maester Gelimund’s solar, she saw Aegon shirtless and sitting on Maester Gelimund’s table, with numerous wounds across his body.   

Eliana saw wounds on both arms, his abdominal muscles, his upper body, his shoulders and a couple on his face.   

There were a few gashes and numerous bruises on his legs and arms, but nothing that compared to the two large wounds that were carved from his upper body to his sternum.   

How did you survive such wounds?   

Eliana felt tears in her eyes when she saw the wounds.   

Aegon’s hard gaze which was hardened around her brothers, softened when he saw Eliana.   

He shyly turned away from her.   

 “Come on. You’re not helping by standing there,” said Bran before he and Ulrick started to push everyone out of the solar until Maester Gelimund was alone with Aegon.   

Eliana sat outside of Maester Gelimund’s chambers alongside Rhaenys and Aunt Elia.   

Until Mother and Father joined them.   

 “Has Maester Gelimund said anything?” Father asked.   

Eliana looked up when she heard two pairs footsteps approach the door.   

She stood up as the door opened.   

 “My Lord. My Lady,” said Maester Gelimund.   

 “How do they look?” Father asked.   

 “Well, Maester Aemon is incredibly skilled for an old and blind man. He will live. I’ve given him some concoctions to prevent any infection and some mead to dull the pain. As long as he avoids the training yard for the next few weeks, he will heal,” he assured them.   

Thank the Gods.   

Algirdas II:  

Gods, how do my brothers put up with this disgusting place?   

I honestly found Lordsport more pleasant smelling than this fucking city during the Greyjoy Rebellion, Algirdas thought as he remembered the days when he was Stannis’ squire during the days of the Greyjoy Rebellion, his first war.  

Algirdas often prayed that it wouldn’t be his last war.   

At the Red Keep, he was escorted inside by Ser Oswell Whent to Robert’s solar.   

 “And where are my brothers Stannis and Renly, Ser Oswell?” he asked his escort.   

 “They are attending a session of the Small Council, my Lord,” replied Ser Oswell.   

And if they are at the Small Council, why is Robert not there?   

Gods, I love my brothers, but Robert was never born nor raised to be a king.   

Looking around, Algirdas spied the numerous Lannister banners that hung alongside the banners of House Baratheon.   

Cersei, the spiteful bitch as always, still thinking that the Lannisters are better than everyone else?   

If that’s the case, how come the Lannisters were crushed by the Targaryens at the Field of Fire and subjugated in the first place, unlike the Martells of Sunspear and Dorne as a whole?   

He also saw a couple of banners which were decorated with the Lannister lion one side and the Baratheon stag on the other.   

Joffrey’s personal banner, Algirdas thought as he remembered the true reason why Stannis didn’t want to bring his children to the capital.   

If that little cunt could skin and harm kittens for pleasure and beats his own brother and sister, what would he do to my beloved niece and nephew if they were here?!   

And what would Cersei do?   

Not a single thing if it meant two less claimants to the Iron Throne in the way of her perfect Joffrey.   

They arrived at Robert’s solar and Ser Oswell knocked on the door.   

 “Your Grace, Lord Algirdas is here,” said Ser Oswell.   

 “Bring him in already, Oswell! The little stag!” Robert boomed whilst slurping.   

Are you drunk already, brother?   

It’s not even dinner time yet!   

Ser Oswell opened the door and Algirdas saw his older brother sat behind his desk and putting a bottle of Arbor Gold aside.   

Arbor Gold?  

The wine of House Redwyne?   

The same house which blockaded Storm’s End whilst you were fighting and taking glory at Summerhall, Stoney Sept and the Trident?  

 “Brother! And look at you! As handsome as Renly and you look like a warrior as I did when I was your age!” Robert bellowed before standing up.   

As he did so, he reached out with his large arm and grabbed Algirdas’ arm and gripped it.   

 “And almost as muscular as I was when I was six and ten! Won’t be long before you’re fighting in tourneys!” he said before patting him on the shoulder.   

 “Oh, I don’t think so, brother. Tourneys are dull and boring. I’d much rather make my name as a sellsword and fight all around the world,” Algirdas replied.   

 “There are times when I would have wanted the same rather than being King! But, let’s not talk about that.”   

 “What shall we talk about then? Where you got the wine?”   

 “Oh, Arbor Gold. Some fine wine that is. Drink?”   

 “No, thanks, brother. I prefer some Dornish Red, Fairmarket Burgundy or even something from home in the Stormlands such as Mistwood Grey,” replied Algirdas.   

Robert shook his head with annoyance.   

 “I see that you still hate all things Tyrell and of the Reach,” Robert commented.   

 “Don’t you? After everything they did to Storm’s End and to our family?”  

 “They were commanded to do so by the Targaryen cunts,” replied Robert with a dismissive hand gesture.   

 “They were commanded to capture Storm’s End. But Mace Tyrell, the fucking slothful coward that he is, decided to starve it into submission rather than capture it as a true warrior should,” Algirdas snapped.   

I was only 4, Robert, when it began and I was 5 when it ended.   

Stannis went out of his way to feed Renly and I what little things he could.   

He fed us before he fed himself.   

All whilst you were more interested in fighting to free your lady love from her Targaryen captors.   

 “What is that wine anyways? A bribe from Mace Tyrell to wed Joffrey to the Rose of Highgarden?” Algirdas scoffed.   

 “Wouldn’t surprise me. But the next time he comes around to ask for it, I’ll tell him to piss off. I’m saving that offer for the Starks,” he replied.   

 “For Ned Stark’s eldest girl? You haven’t seen the man since the Greyjoy Rebellion and even then, he refused to even speak to you. He only spoke to you through Jon Arryn to take on Theon Greyjoy as his ward,” said Algirdas.   

 “I thought that he would get rid of Aerys’ and Rhaegar’s dragonspawn by then, but he still has not to this day,” Robert replied, whose face was turning red, as though he couldn’t wait to kill them.   

 “Now, tell me. How are they?”   

Algirdas didn’t need to ask for clarification as to whom he was speaking of as he calmed down from mention of the Targaryens.   

 “They are well. I found them all and brought them to Storm’s End. Six of them are strong lads and I’m training them to be knights and a seventh wants to be a blacksmith and another three are studying before going on to train at the Citadel.   

 “Two of the girls are becoming Septas, and the rest of the girls are learning to be handmaidens or healers,” Algirdas replied.   

 “And the rest?” Robert asked with a nod.   

 “Still babes at the breast or are little children. I’ve done what I can for them, in spite of Catelyn’s distaste for having bastards in her home,” Algirdas replied.   

There was a knock on the door.   

 “The Hand of the King, the Master of Ships and the Master of Laws are here, Your Grace,” said Ser Oswell.   

 “Bring them in, Oswell!” Robert called.   

The door opened as Algirdas turned around to see Robert’s foster father, and Algirdas two brothers, Stannis and Renly.   

 Algirdas stood up as Robert said “And look who decided to join us here!”   

 “Brother,” Renly said softly before Algirdas hugged him.   

 “Puny as always, Renly! Why is that?” Algirdas wondered with a chuckle before turning to Stannis.   

 “Brother. Your children miss you back home in Storm’s End, as does your lady wife and dear old Maester Cressen,” Algirdas commented.   

 “I told Catelyn that I will visit home when I am next able to,” Stannis commented before shaking hands with Algirdas.   

 “How are Fortis and Shireen? Why did you not bring them with you?” Robert asked.   

Algirdas and Stannis shared a brief glance before the four men sat down opposite Robert.   

 “Fortis is eager to train to be a knight one day and Shireen is attentively learning in her lessons. She’ll make a brilliant Lady one day,” Algirdas replied.   

 “Good, but why didn’t you bring them with you? Too many fucking Lannisters here! You should bring some more Baratheons here!”   

 “Whose fault is that, brother? You’re the one who shares a bed with a Lannister,” Renly commented.   

As well as one with many other women.   

Not that I’m complaining, I love my Baratheon bastard nephews and nieces dearly.   

 “They still have a lot to learn about their futures, Robert. I would have my son and my daughter come to the capital when they are a man and a woman respectively,” said Stannis.   

 “Bah, fine. Now, what was going on in the Small Council? Has there been news of Viserys Targaryen?” asked Robert.   

 “Just that he has taken up residence in Pentos with some wealthy cheesemonger, brother. That and that he has been given a name by those he meets. Viserys the Beggar King,” replied Renly.   

 “Fitting,” Algirdas chuckled whilst Robert grumbled.   

 “Ned sent a raven to the Small Council, Robert. After fighting a war against wildlings in the North, he has now managed to conquer the lands Beyond-the-Wall and subjugated the wildlings. He merely asks for formal permission to annex Beyond-the-Wall and to build castles, towns and ports across it,” said Jon Arryn.   

Robert grumbled once more.   

 “First he takes on the dragonspawn as wards, next he builds the Cailin Canal, then he builds a fleet for the North, builds one for his Dornish friends, builds and restores castles, towns and ports across the North, builds Valyrian Roads across the North, now he wants to annex the lands north of the Wall? Does his fucking ambition know no end?!”   

I hardly see why the Cailin Canal is something to complain about, other than the toll merchants have to pay..   

 “Are all of those bad things?” Renly asked.  

 “They are when he sends ravens to the Small Council and not to me personally! We haven’t spoken since the end of the rebellion when he chose the fucking dragonspawn over doing the right thing! And I haven’t seen him since the taking of Pyke!”   

 “There was something else, Robert. We received a raven from the Night’s Watch. Lord Commander Mormont writes that with the wildling threat largely ended and no clear threats from Beyond-the-Wall, the Night’s Watch have a lack of an enemy to fight. Ned Stark recommended that their new purpose could be to have a base in each Kingdom to deal with threats such as banditry and broken men,” said Stannis.   

 “Fine. Implement it. Give them a ruined castle in each Kingdom, except for the North. They can keep the Wall as their base in the North,” said Robert before he turned his head back to Algirdas.   

 “Now, I sent for you brother, because I think that you deserve to be a lord with your own holding.”   

Lord of a holding? Me?  

 “Algirdas Baratheon, I would name you Lord of Summerhall.”   

Lord of Summerhall? Yes, that sounds good.   

However…  

 “Brother, Summerhall is magnificent. But isn’t the place still in ruins still from when it was set ablaze nearly 40 years ago?”   

 “Don’t be so fucking ungrateful, brother,” snapped Robert.   

 “He speaks true, though, brother. The castle is in ruins and even when the Mad King was in power, he couldn’t be bothered with restoring it,” Renly pointed out.   

 “Fine. Tell Littlefinger to send some loans,” said Robert with a wave of his hand.   

 “No. If I am to be it’s lord, I’ll provide for my home and my people in my own way, not through whoremongering milksops such as Littlefinger,” said Algirdas.   

And I’ll bring all of Robert’s bastards with me to Summerhall.   

Yes, I’m sure Catelyn will be glad to see the last of them.   

Chapter Text

Ashara II:  

Ashara sat with Ned at breakfast and as they ate, she saw Aegon sit down and join them.   

 “Aegon, what did Maester Gelimund say?” asked Elia.   

 “That all is well and that I can go back to the training yard,” Aegon replied before drinking from a tankard of Barrowton beer.   

Ulrick and Brandon both cheered whilst Theon patted him on the back.   

 “Good, we’ve been missing you on the yard, Aegon. Shall we go for a ride in the Wolfswood afterward to celebrate?” Artos asked.   

 “Aye. I need to breathe the fresh air of the Wolfswood again. It always just feels so freeing,” Aegon replied with a relieved smile.   

 “Can I join you on the training yard?” Arya asked keenly.   

 “Arya, do you remember what I told you?” Ashara asked.   

 “But, Mother! The lessons are dull!” Arya complained.   

 “Tell you what, Arya. Attend your lessons this morning and then you can join us when we come back from our Wolfswood ride,” suggested Ulrick whilst glancing at Ashara.   

Ashara nodded at this compromise.   

 “But, Arya, if you do not attend, I shall know about it,” Ashara warned.   

 “I will attend my lessons, Mother. I promise,” said Arya with a nod.   

Good, Ashara thought before Maester Gelimund joined them with two letters in his hand.   

 “My Lord, my Lady. Two ravens, one from Castle Black and the other from King’s Landing,” he said.   

Elia shivered when King’s Landing was mentioned.   

Ever since she, Aegon, Rhaenys and Daenerys had come North, at the mere mention of what was once the home of House Targaryen, Elia feared that the unpredictable Robert Baratheon would demand their heads.   

Ned promised them from the moment they left King’s Landing all those years ago that he would always protect them and never ever let them come to any harm.   

The same could not be said of the nobility of the North, some of whom lost friends and kin to the Targaryens.  

But growing up in the North, Rhaenys and Aegon had earned their respect, especially after Aegon’s killing of the Night King.  

Ned opened the letter from Castle Black.   

He smiled when he finished reading it.   

 “Good news, my love?” Ashara asked.   

 “Aye, Ash. Mance Rayder says that all is well and that they have chosen twelve suitable places across the lands Beyond-the-Wall to build settlements, most of them at the coast,” Ned explained.   

 “Twelve doesn’t seem enough for less than 80,000 Free Folk, Father,” said Dyanna.   

 “No, it isn’t enough, but you have to bear in mind, Dyanna, that many Free Folk are settling in the lands just south of the Wall. And in the Gift. Which reminds me, Jon,” said Ned before sitting up to face Jon, the only known son of Ned’s brother Brandon.   

Ned had entrusted the name of his mother only to Jon and to Ashara: Barbrey Ryswell, husband of Willam Dustin, Lord of Barrowton, whom was Brandon’s last conquest before he was had first left for Riverrun to wed Catelyn Tully.   

 “Jon Arryn has accepted my request for you to be named a Lord. Before the war began, I had ordered for a castle to be built in the Gift, called Snowhelm. And the works are complete. You are to be its Lord and head of House Rystark,” Ned said before passing him a document of lordship and another of legitimisation.   

Jon, seated where he was, stared at both documents with heavy breathing.   

 “Uncle, I…” Jon could barely say.   

 “Breathe, Jon, breathe,” said Ashara with a smile.   

Jon reread both documents before he stood up and walked to Ned.   

 “Thank you, Uncle. Thank you,” he said tearfully whilst hugging Ned.   

 “It’s what you deserve, Jon. Just promise that you’ll visit us often,” Ned said before patting his shoulder.   

Their children, Theon, Daenerys, Aegon and Rhaenys all had begun to congratulate Jon whilst Ned nodded to both Ashara and to Elia.   

Elia often joined them to advise on certain subjects, as she had done when Ned had begun works to build the Cailin Canal, to restore the ruins of Moat Cailin, Wolf’s Den and Ryder Hall and to build mines in the hills and mountains around the North.   

 “What is it, my love?” Ashara asked Ned.   

 “The letter from King’s Landing. Jon Arryn says that we are permitted to annex the lands Beyond-the-Wall, and that the Night’s Watch are permitted to do as I had suggested, but he has said that Robert is still upset that I haven’t taken the time to try and make peace with him.”   

Robert just proves that he is a lesser man to you for not admitting that he is in the wrong for what he tried to do in the throne room all those years ago.   

 “Is there any mention of my children or Daenerys in the letter?” Elia asked fearfully.   

 “Yes, at first, he mentions that Robert was hoping that sooner or later I would “see sense” and exile you all from Winterfell and the North,” Ned replied whilst shaking his head, spiteful of Robert.   

It’s easy to forget that not everyone is as wise or as smart as you, Ashara often told herself when confronted with the idiocy of others.   

 “At first? There was more?” Elia asked with worry.   

Ned took a deep breath before nodding.   

 “Aye, he writes that he managed to convince Robert that the best way to ensure that neither Daenerys, Rhaenys or Aegon are threats, is for the former two to be wed,” Ned grimly replied.   

Elia took a deep breath as she heard this.   

 “What?”   

 “Robert wants Daenerys to wed Jon Arryn’s son and heir, Harrold Arryn. And he wants Rhaenys to wed Artos,” Ned replied before passing the letter to Elia.   

Elia anxiously read the letter and took deep breaths as she read the entire letter, as if checking to ensure that there was no clear threat to her children.   

 “And what of Aegon?” Ashara asked.   

 “He said that Robert wants to see him in person one day soon. But I am going to write that Aegon WILL NOT be going to King’s Landing in the near fucking future,” Ned replied before taking the letter from his former foster father.   

It never surprised Ashara how far Ned was willing to go just to protect Elia, Aegon, Rhaenys and Daenerys after he slew Tywin Lannister’s murdering thugs when they tried to murder Elia, Queen Rhaella and their children.   

And to think, when I first fell for him at Harrenhal, so many of my friends told me that I could do better than the second son of a Lord Paramount.   

But Ned is one of the best and most honourable men in the realm, he would never betray me for another woman, nor did he hate that I was not a maiden when we first fucked.   

And he loves each and every one of our children.   

He is brave, honourable and more chivalric than most southern knights and would never ever boast of his accomplishments.    

 “This Harrold Arryn, what is there to know about him?” Elia asked.   

 “I’ve heard it said that he is a young, handsome, reckless and brave knight. He is a year younger than Daenerys and is skilled with both a lance and a sword. With Jon Arryn as his father, I am in no doubt that he has been raised to be a good and honourable young man,” Ned replied.   

 “I promised Rhaella that I would care for her only daughter as she lay on her deathbed. I want to meet Harrold Arryn before they are to wed,” Elia said.   

 “Aye, of course,” Ned replied with an uneasy smile as he took a piece of parchment and a quill and ink pot.   

 “And what of Rhaenys?” Ashara asked.   

 “Ever since they were old enough to understand, I promised each of our children that I would never force them to wed someone they didn’t want to and that they should marry out of love as we had done,” Ned said bashfully as he looked at Jon Arryn’s letter one last time.   

 “Artos is a good and honourable boy. He’ll be a good husband to Rhaenys,” Elia said with a nod.   

 “We should tell them now,” Ashara said.   

Daenerys I:  

Daenerys followed Rhaenys, Eliana, Serena, Arya, Jeyne and Beth to the lower balcony overlooking the training yard.   

She was happy to see her nephew Aegon was recovered from his wounds of fighting the Night King.   

Aegon, Artos, Ulrick, Brandon, Dyanna and Theon all seemed to be glad to be back in Winterfell, but Daenerys could always see that they seemed sad.   

And no matter how she, Eliana and Rhaenys tried to get them to open up, they would shake them off.   

 Dyanna had explained their aloofness by saying “Dany, the simple fact is that you weren’t there, so you wouldn’t understand.”   

Daenerys turned to Ser Alliser for an explanation.   

 “Why do they seem so reluctant to talk about what it is that troubles them, Ser Alliser?”   

 The grizzled knight grimaced and said “Princess, I may not have been at the Wall, but I do know from my own experiences of fighting, that what they saw and did, especially with the enemies they fought, that it has hardened them and it haunts their minds and may give them night terrors.   

 “They wouldn’t know how best to describe what it is they are going through, Princess. And if anyone whom hadn’t seen or done the same as they, how could they possibly explain to them what it was that troubled them, when they had a hard time dealing with it?”   

Amongst each other, they seemed happier, which Daenerys was glad to see.   

Aegon and Artos often duelled together with the same weapons, with greatswords.   

Though Artos was the stronger of the two, Aegon was faster.   

Theon and Dyanna often contested whom was the better archer.   

Whilst Ulrick and Brandon fought each other to the amusement of the ladies watching.   

Jon was spending his last time with them training before he was to pack his things for his new home of Snowhelm.   

Daenerys’ thoughts of her nephew were interrupted when she heard her foster mother speak.   

 “Dany! Rhae! Artos! Come!”   

Daenerys stood up and looked at Aunt Ashara, whom was the most beautiful woman Daenerys had ever met.   

Even after giving birth to eight beautiful children, Ashara Dayne had lost none of her legendary beauty.   

It made Daenerys happy at seeing her and Uncle Eddard so happy and so in love with each other, making Daenerys hope that she might have the same thing when she would one day marry.   

Daenerys left her friends and walked with Rhaenys, her niece, in spite of Rhaenys being three years older than she.   

Artos put his greatsword aside and Jon stepped up to spar with Aegon.   

 “Come on, Jon! Show him the might of the Rystarks!” Ulrick shouted to Jon as Jon took up his bastard sword and shield.   

Artos joined Rhaenys and Daenerys.   

When she saw how they lovingly looked at each other, Daenerys lightly shook her head.   

She, Aegon and Eliana were the only ones whom knew of Rhaenys and Artos and they would often meet in secret in certain chambers of the First Keep.   

They had been doing so ever since Artos had turned four and ten, and had grown into a handsome young man whom many young maidens of Winterfell gave misty-eyed looks at, including Jeyne and Beth on occasion.   

 “What could this be about?” Rhaenys wondered.   

 “Hope it’s no marriage offers for me from other houses,” said Artos as he crossed his large, muscular and scarred arms.   

 “Why, Artos? Do you not want to be married to a beautiful Northern Lady? Not like Alys Karstark? One of the Mormont or Manderly sisters? Or even Mira Forrester?” Daenerys asked teasingly.   

 “Gods, Dany. Mira Forrester has spent too long down south in the Reach. As for Alys Karstark, she’s betrothed to Daryn Hornwood. The Manderly girls worship the Seven and are probably all fancy and ladylike. And the Mormont lassies, they love fighting more than they would ever enjoy being Lady of Winterfell,” Artos replied.   

 “Maybe your parents want you to shave that ugly beard you seem to be growing?” Rhaenys suggested as she stroked his hairy stubble.   

 “Why his beard? Does it annoy you when you’re in bed together?” Daenerys asked.   

Both her niece and her niece’s lover turned to Daenerys.   

 “A little louder, why not, Aunt Daenerys?” Rhaenys whispered.   

 “Sorry,” Daenerys replied.   

They joined Artos parents and Daenerys’ goodsister in Uncle Eddard’s solar.   

 “Please, be seated,” Uncle Eddard said.   

Artos, Daenerys and Rhaenys all sat down, facing Uncle Eddard, Aunt Ashara and Elia.   

 “Daenerys and Rhaenys. We’ve received a raven from King’s Landing. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but King Robert commands that you both are to marry,” said Uncle Eddard sorrowfully.   

I’m to marry?   

She saw from the corner of her eye, Artos was tightening his fists at the news that Rhaenys was to wed another man.   

Daenerys took a deep breath as she thought of what would await her, with whomever her husband was to be.   

But there must be a way out of this?   

I don’t want to leave.   

Winterfell is my home!   

 “I am to wed, Uncle Ned?” Rhaenys asked worriedly, and Daenerys saw tears forming in her eyes.   

 “Aye. Rhaenys, you are to wed Artos,” said Uncle Eddard.   

What?!   

Daenerys looked at the two.   

Artos seemed to be on the edge of an incoming fury.   

And Rhaenys was on the verge of tears.   

 “I don’t think we have to worry about those two. They’ve been in love for a long time,” said Aunt Ashara with a smile.   

The whole room turned to Aunt Ashara.   

 “Ash?” asked Elia.   

 “Last week, I was inspecting the First Keep and there was a guest’s chamber which had both Rhaenys’ star-adorning necklace and a scrape from a man’s tunic. I didn’t see whose it was until I saw Artos on the training yard that day.”   

Artos looked down on his feet in embarrassment, his cheeks were both blushing.   

Whereas Rhaenys reached for his hand and held it.   

 “And how long has this gone on, Rhaenys?” Elia asked.   

 “For five years, Mother,” Rhaenys replied unashamedly.   

 “We’ll speak with you two later. Now, Dany,” said Uncle Eddard.   

Yes, who am I to wed?   

 “You are to wed Ser Harrold Arryn, heir to the Eyrie and the Vale.”   

An Arryn?  

Not just any Arryn, but the heir to the Vale?  

 “What is there to know about him?” Daenerys nervously asked.   

 “We do not know much about him, unfortunately. But, I promise that you will not wed him until we have met the young man in person. I will not let you wed someone who will not treat you as you should be treated,” Uncle Eddard said with a warm smile.   

Chapter Text

Artos II:  

That night after being told that he and Rhaenys were to wed, Artos had gone to the Heart Tree of the Godswood and prayed and gave thanks to the Old Gods for allowing them to marry.   

He had been in love with Rhaenys since he was 7 and it was only when he had turned four and ten on his nameday that she had told him that she felt the same way.   

He was glad to wed her, because he didn’t like how numerous Northern Lords tried to impress him with their daughters or granddaughters, such as Wynafryd and Wylla Manderly, Eddara Tallhart or even Jonelle Cerwyn, whom was ten years older than he.   

His parents had even received ravens from numerous southern lords offering a daughter to Artos and even the despicable Walder Frey of the Twins offering this daughter or that daughter for him.   

But both he and Rhaenys were saddened for Daenerys, whom was to marry a man she didn’t know and would have to live in a place that wasn’t home.   

A raven had been sent to the Eyrie, inviting Ser Harrold Arryn to Winterfell for Artos and Rhaenys’ wedding, so that they could see for themselves, just what sort of man Ser Harrold was.   

 “I will not marry Daenerys off to a man whom will not treat her well,” Father had said.   

At least there is that.   

Dany deserves better than some arrogant and stupid southern lordling whom thinks because he is a petty knight that he can do whatever he likes.   

But whilst Ser Harrold had accepted the invitation to Winterfell, there were guests whom were coming to the wedding without invitation.   

When Mother and Father had brought Artos, his siblings, Aegon, Rhaenys, Daenerys and Theon to his solar, he read out a reply from Jon Arryn.   

 “He says that Ser Harrold shall come to the wedding, alongside a select group of his closest friends. But, Jon Arryn also writes that a few representatives from King’s Landing are also coming, Lannister representatives and Baratheon representatives,” Father explained.   

Fucking southern scum.   

If they do anything to harm Rhaenys, Daenerys, Aegon or Aunt Elia, then I will chop their fucking heads off and send them back to King’s Landing!   

 “Why do they come?” Aunt Elia asked with worry.   

 “They come because Robert wants to find out as much as he can about your children and Daenerys. And possibly as a warning to them,” Mother suggested.   

 “If they try anything, the only parts of them that will return to King’s Landing will be their heads,” said Ulrick.   

 “Even if they are unwelcome, they come by royal command. By all means, do not show them courtesy nor respect, but once they are gifted bread and salt, that means they are our guests and they are under my protection,” Father sternly reminded Ulrick.   

 “Aye, Father,” said Ulrick.   

 “Can’t we just tell them to leave when they arrive at the gates?” Arya asked.   

 “I’m afraid not, Arya. If we do, King’s Landing may grow paranoid and make threats towards Winterfell,” said Father.   

Fucking southerners.   

We may not be allowed to kill them, but if they so much as make ANY threat towards Rhae, Aegon or Dany, I will fucking batter them bloody.   

Maybe I’ll divert their route home to the Dreadfort and ask Domeric to show them some old-fashioned Bolton hospitality?   

Yes, that’s a good idea.   

They had been preparing for a whole moon for the wedding, and Father, Mother, Artos and Rhaeny had been sending ravens to all corners of the North, inviting the bannermen to the wedding, Uncle Arthur, Uncle Arron, cousin Edric, Aunt Allyria and Uncle Beric Dondarrion, cousins Semyon and Eyla, Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand and their daughters, Prince Doran and Princess Mellario and their daughter and sons.   

Even the Free Folk commanders had come for the wedding, due to many of them wanting to see Winterfell for the first time and some, including Mance Rayder, wanted to see what a “southern wedding looks like”.   

Due to Aunt Elia and her children living in Winterfell, the North and Dorne enjoyed a beneficial alliance, in which the North gifted many of its improvements to Dorne such as the secrets to Valyrian Roads, a few Valyrian Steel swords, aqueducts and had even gifted a fleet to Dorne.  

In exchange, the Dornish sent wines, fruits, olives and spices to the North.   

Three days before the wedding, the bannermen of the North and the Free Folk had all come to Winterfell and were staying in the First Keep.   

The first of the bannermen to arrive was in fact Jon, newly married to Val, whom was heavy with child.   

 “Can’t wait to see your little Rystarks running around,” Artos told Jon when Val showed them the bump in her belly.   

But the day before the wedding, as Jon Arryn had said, representatives from King’s Landing had come.   

Artos stood with Father, Mother, Ulrick and Brandon in the courtyard as they arrived.   

When they rode into the courtyard, Artos’ face twisted in fury when he saw the manticore banner of House Lorch.   

They dare to fucking insult Rhae, Aegon, Dany and Aunt Elia by sending a relation of one of the scum whom tried to murder them?!   

From the Stormlands, Artos saw the banner of a scrolled parchment.   

House Swygert of Springbeech.   

Mother was particularly furious to see the banner of House Lorch entering Winterfell.   

The nobles dismounted from their horses and walked to Father.   

 “My Lord Stark, I am Rogar of House Swygert and Lord of Springbeech,” said Lord Swygert, a middle aged man whom was short and pimply and Artos was certain that he could smell perfume coming from him.   

Are the only women you have in your bed whores?   

Not fucking surprising, you ugly cunt.   

 “And I am Ser Lorent of House Lorch,” said the other.   

Ah yes, the cousin of one of the fucking cowards whom tried to murder Rhae when she was just a little girl.   

I’ll take special pleasure in doing to you what Father did to your cousin.   

Father merely nodded and turned to a servant standing by the steps to the Great Keep.   

The servant offered bread and salt, which they accepted with hand gestures.   

 “Now, where is the bride?” Lorch asked creepily.   

 “Take a care not to abuse my hospitality, Ser,” Father snapped furiously.   

His glare and him raising his voice at their unwelcome guests unnerved Lorch, whilst Swygert faced Father.   

 “My Lord, we wish not to insult you or your noble house, nor to abuse your hospitality in your own home. But we have orders from His Grace, the King, and we are to see the Targaryens,” said Swygert.   

Artos clenched his fists and was ready to beat them both bloody if they tried to harm Rhaenys.   

Lorch noticed and turned to Artos.   

 “Ah, this must be the little wolf marrying the wingless dragon,” he commented with an unsettling grin, which reminded Artos of Craster before Jon had sliced his head off.   

Little? I’m a head taller than you, fucking pig-face.  

 “And you’re the kin of the pathetic insect that tried to murder little children,” Artos snapped.   

Ulrick and Brandon grinned at Artos’ remand whilst Lorch glared angrily at Artos.   

 “Ser Lorent. Come,” said Swygert, whom grabbed Lorch by his shoulder before he turned back to Father.   

 “Lord Stark, His Grace does command that we see the young Targaryens.”   

 “You will see them at the wedding tomorrow, or not at all,” Father said sternly with crossed arms.   

 “Of course, of course, Lord Stark,” said Swygert before a servant escorted the two men to their quarters.   

 “We should be fucking putting them in the sewers,” said Ulrick.   

 “No, that’s cruel…for the sewer rats. The sewer rats feast on our shit everyday, but to put those twats in the sewers, that’s cruel for the wee rats,” said Brandon.   

Eliana II:  

Eliana had been looking out from Serena’s balcony window with Serena, Dyanna, Arya, Jeyne, Beth, Daenerys and Rhaenys at the King’s Landing representatives arriving in the courtyard of the Great Keep of Winterfell.   

 “Fucking southern pricks,” Dyanna commented.   

 “Dyanna!” Jeyne exclaimed.   

Dyanna turned to her with a raised brow.   

 “You’ve been ogling at the lads on the training yard for five years now and you’re surprised by the words I use?”   

 “I expect that from boys and men, not from ladies,” Jeyne explained.   

 “Expect it from warriors. Not all boys and men are warriors, just look at Maester Gelimund,” Dyanna pointed out.   

 “Will they try anything?” Serena wondered.   

 “In Winterfell, where they are anything but welcome? They’d be stupid to try,” Eliana replied.   

 “But King Robert might let them get away with it? Or Tywin Lannister?” Arya asked.   

 “Both of them have no influence in the North. Nor have they ever had any Northern friends at all since Robert became King,” Eliana explained.   

Artos would slaughter Lorch, Swygert and their men if they dared try and lift a finger against Rhae.   

Eliana was certain that whilst they were not welcome, they would not be so stupid as to try and harm any of the Targaryens in a place where they had no friends nor allies.   

Eliana left Serena’s chambers and walked downstairs and saw Aegon speaking with Aunt Elia.   

How is he?   

Knowing that these scum are here and one is kin to one of Tywin Lannister’s murderers?  

For as long as she remembered, Eliana noticed certain things about Aegon that others hadn’t noticed.   

He would get upset if too many were talking to him at once.   

He rarely changed his facial expressions, even when he was happy.   

Though he liked the peace and quiet, the only people he spent any time with were Eliana’s brothers, his sister, his mother, Theon and his closest friends amongst the sons and heirs of the Lords of the North.   

 “Will I have to meet them, Mother?” Aegon asked.   

 “I’m afraid so. But whatever they say to you, don’t let it get to you. Fools used to call your father the Last Dragon. They are wrong, Aegon. You, your sister and your aunt are the last dragons. And nothing will ever take that from you,” she said sweetly before hugging him.   

Aegon, Eliana noticed, rarely would get close with anyone.   

Whilst Brandon and Ulrick would often go to brothels whilst being led on by Theon, neither Artos nor Aegon would do so.   

Artos, because of his love for Rhaenys.   

And Aegon, because she could see that he just didn’t feel comfortable when Theon tried to bring him along.   

 “El!” Eliana heard behind her.   

Eliana turned to see Rhae standing with Serena, Dany, Jeyne and Beth whilst Dyanna and Arya were apart from them.   

 “You said that you were going to help me with my dress?”   

 “Aye, I will. But are you not coming Dyanna? Arya?”   

 “Are you sure you want my help with making a dress? Or Arya’s help, sister?” Dyanna asked with a smirk as she crossed her arms.   

 “Sewing is boring,” Arya muttered.   

 “Come on, little sister. Let’s go and draw some targets for us to shoot at. Maybe some lions, manticores, hounds and stags?” Dyanna suggested with her arm around Arya’s shoulders.   

Whilst Dyanna favoured being a warrior and using a bow and a sword and shield, she told Mother and Father that she was ready to be a lady and wed their heir to a Northern house.   

Arya, on the other hand, had no wish at all to be a lady and wanted to be a warrior.   

Dyanna, in spite of growing up as a lady, was the only one Arya would look up to amongst the family, other than the Mormont sisters.   

Eliana, Serena, Jeyne, Beth, Daenerys and Rhaenys had sewn a black dress decorated with an ice dragon on the front and with grey direwolves at the back.   

Dyanna’s only contribution was lending a white spear-tooth lion pelt that she had hunted Beyond-the-Wall, which she cut up so that half of it could be worn over the shoulders.   

 “At last you and Artos can wed. You two spent so long in the First Keep, that I’m surprised no one else had found out before,” Dany commented.   

 “Aye, it’s good. I can’t wait to bed him as husband and wife,” Rhaenys replied with a salacious grin.   

 “Don’t talk about my brother like that!” said Serena.   

 “That’s not very ladylike,” Jeyne commented.   

But she’s not a lady. She’s a Targaryen Princess, Eliana thought.   

Soon after completing the dress, Eliana looked around for Aegon to see if he was alright, for Rhaenys and Daenerys both seemed to holding it in well.   

Knowing Aegon as she did, she knew that she would find him in the training yard, which had seemed to be one of the few things he enjoyed.   

Another thing about him that she noticed was that he had only a few hobbies that interested him, even repetitive things, but it was those that he enjoyed the most and achieved some sense of comfort out of them.   

She saw him slicing at four practice dummies as though he was fighting four men at once.   

 “Well well well. A little dragon, so far away from home.”   

Eliana looked to see Lorent Lorch sneering as he walked onto the training yard.   

Aegon turned to him, clutching his practice sword hard as though resisting the temptation to slam it onto his face.   

 “What’s wrong? No words to say? Has your tongue frozen?” he asked with a creepy chuckle.   

Aegon glared darkly at him with a single raised brow.   

 “Did your host tell you of how my cousin nearly killed you and your sister and could have had so much fun with your whore mother after your father had abandoned for Lord Stark’s whore sister?”   

 “Bold words from a man who is about to suffer,” Aegon snapped.   

 “At last he speaks! Thank the Gods!” Lorch said with a cackle.   

 “But how can you harm me? Lord Stark has already given me and my men bread and salt. But then again, what do dragons know of hospitality? Didn’t Lord Stark tell you of how your grandfather burned Rickard Stark and strangled Brandon Stark?”   

 “Lord Tywin would shower with me gold if I put an end to you and your family. It would be a mercy for all of Westeros,” he said as he walked closer to him.   

Normally when people walked toward Aegon, he would walk away, not wanting to be too close to others he wasn’t close to.   

But Aegon stood his ground, holding his practice sword up.   

 “And it would be a mercy if I reunited you with your cousin, just how Lord Stark killed him,” Aegon snapped.   

 “Just be on your best behaviour, boy. If I was to write to Lord Tywin and the King that you had been a treasonous little boy and threatening to usurp His Grace, well, not even Lord Stark would save you.”   

Lorch walked up to Aegon until he was a hand-breadth away from him.   

 “You’re standing dangerously close to fire, arse-face. Either fuck off, or you’ll burn,” Aegon threatened menacingly as he no longer stood idly, but walked toward Lorch, whom begun to back away from him.   

Aegon II:  

Just as Mother said, I am a dragon, I’m no fucking weakling nor will I back away from fucking cowardly scum like you or your cousin.   

Aegon was ready to slam the blade of his practice sword onto Lorch’s ugly head and crack his skull open and piss on his corpse and his blood and brains poured out of his skull.   

Until a voice broke the tension between the two.   

 “What’s going on here?”   

Aegon looked up to see one of the few people whom was always kind to him and whom he felt understood him.   

Why did I threaten him as such?   

What if she saw and heard all of what I said?   

 “Just following His Grace’s command to ensure that the Targaryens are of no threat to the realm, my Lady,” Lorch replied when he saw Eliana.   

Aegon hated how he looked at Eliana and at her dress.   

Keep looking and I’ll carve your fucking eyes out.   

 “I think that’s enough, don’t you, Ser Lorent?” Eliana asked before she gestured to the Keep.   

 “Of course, my Lady. Of course,” he said.   

He leeringly looking at Aegon one last time before walking away.   

When he left, Eliana turned back to Aegon.   

 “Are you alright?”   

 “I’m fine,” Aegon tried to say in a dismissive way.   

 “Aegon, I heard what he said. I’ll tell my Father.”   

 “Don’t, Eliana. It won’t matter if you do. Robert won’t give a damn about what he said over the word of one of his fucking lickspittles,” Aegon replied as he turned back to the practice dummies.   

 “Aegon.”   

The urgency in her voice had more authority this time.   

Because of which, Aegon turned back around to face her.   

 “Don’t let them get to you. One of these days, Robert will come to Winterfell and want to see you, Rhae and Dany. You cannot let them get to you,” she said as she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.   

Aegon nodded with a slight smile in gratitude.   

 “Thank you,” he whispered with a short nod.   

 “Do you want me to stay or do you want to be alone?”   

Why is it only you whom has noticed that there are always times when I just want to be alone and not talk to anyone?  

 “Aye, just leave me be, please,” he said.   

Eliana smiled sweetly at him before walking back inside the Great Keep.   

Aegon put his practice sword aside and walked out of the Great Keep.   

I need a drink, Aegon thought before he started to walk to the only tavern in the Winter City he went to when he wanted to be alone.   

Aegon looked up at the signpost of the Staggering Stark, which had an image painted on it of a direwolf holding a bottle of wine in its mouth.   

It was what first drew him to the tavern when he was looking around for a tavern where he might somewhere to be away from the rest of the world.   

Aegon entered the tavern and saw the barkeep, Wulfric, passing a mug of beer to an off duty soldier.   

Aegon sat down at the bar.   

 “Ah, Aegon. Your usual?” he asked with a friendly smile.   

 “Aye, thanks,” Aegon replied before passing two silver stags to him.   

Wulfric took the silver and came back with a tankard of Karhold Bronze and a platter of grilled chicken breast and roasted lamb.   

Aegon took his platter and tankard to a table in the corner of the tavern.   

It was the same table he always sat at when he ate and drank there.   

He saw on his usual chair was a small chunk of bread.   

He kicked it off of the chair whilst he placed his platter and tankard down.   

He drank a little before eating the chicken.   

Whilst eating the chicken, he looked up when the door opened.   

He saw two southerners dressed in furs and red underclothes.   

He could tell that they were southerners from how they hugged their furs and how they talked when they paid for drinks.   

He looked around the the tavern to see if there were any other southerners.   

He spotted one sitting at a table at the opposite corner of the tavern.   

He saw that he was a southerner from just how sun-kissed his skin was.   

But he wasn’t Dornish like Mother, Uncle Oberyn, Uncle Doran or his cousins.   

However some of the clothes he wore reminded him of the clothes that Aunt Mellario wore when they had come to Winterfell to see Mother, Rhaenys and Aegon.   

The lone southerner seated at the table often glanced between the two southerners at the bar and then at Aegon.   

When he did glance at Aegon, Aegon noticed his red hair and his large and scraggly beard.   

Don’t often come across gingers.   

Only gingers I’ve come across are Tormund Giantsbane, Jon’s dead lover Ygritte and a few other Free Folk whom are kissed-by-fire.   

After finishing his lamb and his drink, Aegon stood up and walked with his platter and his tankard back to Wulfric.   

 “Thanks as always, Wulfric,” said Aegon.   

 “My pleasure, lad. You sleep well, lad. Goodnight.”   

 “Aye, goodnight,” Aegon replied with a nod before walking to the door.   

But as he did so, he felt eyes on him.   

He didn’t know if it was either the ginger southerner or the ones at the bar.   

Gods, I need a fucking piss.   

Aegon looked around and saw the log piles at the back of the Stumbling Stark, where in the past he would chop up logs to feed the fires in the Stumbling Stark.   

He walked to the back of the piles and pulled his breeches down.   

As he began to piss, he could hear footsteps on snow behind him.   

Two pairs of them.   

Did Lorch send you cunts to kill me?   

Aegon continued to piss whilst reaching for a dagger tucked in his jerkin’s inside pocket, it was a six and tenth nameday gift from Uncle Oberyn and it had a dragon’s head pommel.   

Aegon pulled his breeches back up and tightened them with his belt, but as he tightened the belt, the footsteps behind him came closer.   

 “Enjoy your last piss?” rasped a southern voice.   

 “Enjoy your last drink?” Aegon asked before he whipped around and turned to see the two southerners from the bar.   

He grabbed the one closest to him by his shoulder and stabbed him twice in the upper body and then once in his belly.   

He collapsed to the ground, the dagger in his hand fell from his grasp as he landed on his back.   

He looked up at the second one, whom took a step back from Aegon.   

 “I’ll leave and I will forget I ever saw you.”   

 “Who the fuck sent you two headless cocks?” Aegon demanded.   

 “No one sent us,” he said, holding his hands up.   

Including the hand which was holding a falchion.   

 “Then why are you holding a falchion and why was your friend holding onto a dagger, you stupid cunt?” Aegon snapped.   

This time, he held the falchion as he would a sword and took a step toward Aegon.   

 “King Robert will cover me with gold when I return with your…”   

His speech was interrupted suddenly when he collapsed to the ground, head-first, and with a dagger sticking out of his spine.   

Aegon looked up to see a middle aged man walk toward him.   

When he saw his face clearly in the moonlight, Aegon recognised him as the ginger southerner who looked at him in the Stumbling Stark.   

 “Who are you?” Aegon asked.  

 “The man who saved your life,” he replied.   

 “I was doing fine without your help. Thanks for saving me, but who are you and why did you kill him?”   

 “Because you have done no wrong,” he said before pulling his dagger out of the corpse of the second assassin.   

 “Tell that to Robert Baratheon and to my Uncle Viserys,” Aegon replied as he stood up to face him.   

 “Aegon Targaryen,” he said.   

It wasn’t a question, it was confirmation.   

 “Aye. And you are?” Aegon asked again.   

 “Me? I’m Griff.”   

 “Griff. So, Griff, what’s a southerner dressed like someone who’s been in the Free Cities doing here in Winterfell?”   

 “What makes you say that I am a southerner or that I’ve been to the Free Cities?”   

 “The garb you wear looks like the garb I’ve seen Pentoshi and Lysene merchants wear in the markets here in the Winter City and in White Harbour. My Aunt Mellario often wears it also. And you look and sound like a southerner,” Aegon replied.   

 “You are a southerner also,” said Griff.   

No. I’m no fucking southerner.   

 “Come, let’s away. Before they are noticed,” he said before grabbing him by his shoulder.   

He dragged him away from the back of the tavern until they were standing at the Brandon’s Spring.   

Brandon’s Spring was a natural spring which was now used as a fountain and it was believed by some to possess healing powers.   

Aegon took a handful of water from the Spring and drank.   

Whether it heals or not, it does taste good.   

Both Aegon and Griff cleaned the blood from their daggers and their hands using the water.   

 “Thank you, Griff,” Aegon said.   

 “Glad to help, Aegon,” he said with a friendly smile, looking at him whilst sheathing his dagger.   

 “So who were those men?” he asked.   

 “Men of Lorent Lorch whom visit for my sister’s wedding to Artos Stark,” Aegon replied.   

 “Wed by Robert Baratheon’s command?” he asked, with a slight scowl on his face.   

 “Aye, though for a long time, those two have been in love, so, if it was to be anyone, I’m glad it was Artos,” Aegon replied.   

Aegon didn’t know why, but he felt as though he could trust Griff.   

 “And what brings you here? Are you a sellsword?”   

 “Not anymore.”   

 “But you used to be?” Aegon asked.   

 “Yes. After the Rebellion, I left Westeros and had gone to Pentos and had served in the Golden Company for ten years,” he explained.   

 “What brings you back to Westeros?” Aegon wondered as the two sat down.   

 “I just want to see the old country one last time. I’m not welcome in my old home by old enemies I made. I have no wish to endanger my family if I came back home. So, for now, I’m just travelling to see the parts of Westeros that I never got the chance to see before I left for Essos,” he explained.   

 “Is this your first time in the North?” asked Aegon.   

 “It is. Winterfell is warmer than I thought it would be, and more beautiful,” he admitted.   

 “Aye. It’s a beautiful place. Couldn’t ask for a better place to call home,” said Aegon.   

That seemed to take Griff by surprise.   

 “Winterfell is home, is it?”   

 “Where else would home be? King’s Landing? Dragonstone? Uncle Ned had more reason than any other to hate my family. But he didn’t, he took me in and raised me, my sister and my aunt as his own children. No other family would have done that, especially not southern families,” Aegon replied with scorn in his voice directed at the southerners.   

Griff nodded in understanding before Aegon looked at the Great Keep in the distance.   

 “I should be getting back,” said Aegon.   

 “Thanks again, Griff,” said Aegon.   

 “I’m glad to help, Aegon,” he said with a friendly smile before offering his hand.   

Aegon shook his hand.   

 “Are you staying in Winterfell or are you leaving soon?”   

 “We’ll see. Perhaps you’ll see me in the Stumbling Stark,” he replied with a smile.   

Chapter Text

Interlude II:

Rhaenys Targaryen (Charithra Chandran):   

This should be the happiest day of my life, to finally wed Artos.   

But it just has to be fucking ruined, all because of fucking Robert Baratheon, fucking Tywin Lannister and their fucking lickspittles.  

And they add insult to injury when they send the cousin of one of the men whom tried to murder Mother, Aegon, Grandmother and me.   

Though she did not have her father to give her away for her wedding, as the tradition would dictate in Northern weddings before the Old Gods, Mother was more than happy to give her away.  

Ser Jaremy vowed that he would be by her side during the procession and the wedding.  

Ever since the arrival of the King’s Landing representatives, both he and Ser Alliser had become extra vigilant of she, Mother, Aegon and Aunt Daenerys.  

Rhaenys stood in her chambers and looked at her reflection in the mirror.  

This is the day I’ve waited for for years.   

To marry Artos and spend the rest of our lives together, she thought as she looked down at the ring he had given her, a gold and silver ring with a Targaryen dragon of black pearls and a Stark direwolf of diamonds encrusted on the top.  

There was a knock on the door.  

 “Princess Rhaenys, your mother wonders if you are ready?” Ser Jaremy asked.  

 “I’m just finished, Ser Jaremy,” she replied before putting an amethyst hairnet which cousin Arianne had gifted her in advance to wear for the wedding.  

Rhaenys took a deep breath and walked to the door and opened it.  

 “How do I look, Ser Jaremy?” she asked.  

He turned to her and beamed with pride as though he was a proud father.  

 “You look like a true Targaryen Princess. Artos Stark is a truly fortunate young man,” he replied.  

We both are fortunate. To have each other.   

Mother was wrapping a bear cloak pelt around her shoulders before she turned to see Rhaenys.  

 “Oh, Rhae. Gods. By the Mother Rhoyne, you are truly the most beautiful Princess in all of the Seven Kingdoms,” she said with a beautiful smile.  

She leant in and kissed Rhaenys gently on her forehead before holding Rhaenys’ hand.  

 “Come, let’s not keep them waiting too long.”  

Together, the three left the Great Keep and walked into the Winterfell Godwood, where Rhaenys looked on the right side to see Uncle Oberyn, Uncle Doran, Aunt Mellario, Aunt Ellaria and all of their children, her cousins, Aunt Daenerys and Aegon.  

Behind them were various nobles and young nobles of Dorne.  

And on the right side, were Uncle Eddard, Aunt Ashara, Eliana, Dyanna, Brandon, Serena, Ulrick, Rickon, Arya, Jon and Val.  

And behind them were all Lords and Ladies of the North and their families.  

Also there were the leaders of the Free Folk, whom had been busy establishing themselves as Lords, or Magnars as they called themselves, Beyond-the-Wall and establishing noble houses and family sigils.  

But at the back were the King’s Landing representatives, Lorch and Swygert.  

When Ser Jaremy laid eyes on them, he reached for his sword and kept his hand on it whilst walking past them and glaring furiously at them.  

 “Ser Jaremy, if it ever comes to violence here, be sure to kill Lorch first,” Mother whispered.  

 “It would be my pleasure, my Princess,” he replied.  

I would like to see that.   

And to send his head to Tywin Lannister.   

Rhaenys beamed when she saw Artos standing before the Heart Tree.  

Gods, he does look fine.   

I can’t wait to take off my dress and for us to fuck as husband and wife.   

We are going to spend SO much time in bed for the next weeks and moons, she thought whilst licking her lips.  

Uncle Eddard stood next to Artos as Rhaenys and Mother walked toward them.  

 “Who comes before the Old Gods this day?” Uncle Eddard asked.  

 “Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, a woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Old Gods. Who comes to claim her?” asked Mother.  

 As he took a step forward, Artos replied “Artos of the House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?”  

 “Elia of House Martell, her mother,” said Mother before stepping back to join Uncle Oberyn and Uncle Doran.  

 “Princess Rhaenys, do you take this man?” asked Uncle Eddard.  

 “I take this man,” said Rhaenys with a loving smile as she stepped toward Artos and held his hands.  

She felt her heart beat really fast when she saw how he smiled at her.  

 “You may now cloak the bride under your protection,” said Uncle Eddard before he stepped back to stand with Ashara.  

Artos gently unfastened her Targaryen embroidered cloak whilst Rhaenys bent her head down slightly to make it easier for him.  

Not realising that she didn’t need to, for he was over a foot taller than she.  

He placed a bridal white cloak over her head decorated with a three-headed dragon and a direwolf.  

She stood straight as they held hands again and were about to say the vows.  

 “I am his and he is mine.”  

 “I am hers and she is mine.”  

Artos lifted his hands to her face and cupped it before kneeling down to kiss her.  

Gods, I love the feel of his lips on my lips, she thought as her tongue fought with his.  

 “I love you, Artos Stark,” she whispered as they broke from the kiss.  

 “And I love you, Rhaenys Targaryen,” he whispered back.  

 “No no no. I’m Rhaenys Stark now. And I always will be,” she replied with a giggly smile as they held hands again and led the procession back inside the Great Keep whilst all around them cheered and clapped.  

Inside the feasting hall, Rhaenys and Artos were sat at the high table whilst family and guests brought their own gifts.  

Uncle Doran had gifted a priceless book, a copy of the illuminated Lives of Four Kings, an incredibly rare book.  

Uncle Oberyn had gifted a three-headed dragon brooch for Rhaenys and a direwolf brooch for Artos.  

Aunt Daenerys had gifted a diamond necklace with a ruby-encrusted dragon head as the centre piece.  

Aegon had gifted a dagger with a dragon’s head on the pommel and two more dragon heads on the cross guard.  

Mother had gifted a bracelet with a three-headed dragon breathing fire on it, rubies for the fire and black pearls for the dragon, which she said was gifted to her by Grandmother Rhaella when she married Father.  

Arianne, Quentyn, Trystane, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella had gifted a few Dornish dresses which Arianne had salaciously said “I had sewn myself,” before winking at Rhaenys.  

Of course you did, Ari.   

Uncle Eddard and Aunt Ashara had gifted a pair of riding saddles, with dragons and direwolves engraved on the leather.  

Dyanna had gifted a cloak of a pure white winter-bear pelt for a cloak, which she proudly said “Hunted it myself in the Haunted Forest.”  

Theon had gifted an ironwood bow all of the way from House Forrester’s seat of Ironrath.  

Eliana, Serena and Arya had gifted a silver direwolf-engraved bracelet like Arianne’s one of a snake.  

Ulrick, Brandon and Rickon had gifted a large escutcheon, near as tall as Arya, which they said “Be a true test of your strength, brother.”  

Gifts from the bannermen of the North, Dorne and Beyond-the-Wall ranged from jewellery, books, clothing, goblets, weapons and armour until Mance Rayder.  

Mance Rayder had brought a large crate saying “Took long time to bring this to Winterfell from my new home of Frostford.”  

 “What is it, Lord Rayder?” asked Rhaenys.  

 “Oh, a gift I’m sure would be very welcome for the Starks of Winterfell, Princess,” he replied.  

The crate was opened and inside was a frightening sight.  

Many guests not of the North shrieked at the sight of an enormous direwolf, one almost as large as a horse.  

 “This is Alba. She is named for the Old Tongue word for Hope. Which House Stark gave the Free Folk during the war, including your brother Aegon, Princess. And so, I thought it right that House Stark should have a direwolf in Winterfell.”  

Rhaenys held her breath until she realised that the direwolf, Alba, was calm and the only hostile action she had done was steal an entire roasted chicken from the high table.  

The mood was lightened by this when all guests laughed at Alba’s theft.  

 “Did you bring her here to steal food, Lord Rayder?” asked Artos.  

 “No, young Stark. If you look close at her belly, do you notice anything?”  

Rhaenys and Artos looked down and saw how enlarged her belly was.  

 “She’s carrying wolf cubs,” said Artos.  

 “Aye. Be interesting if a pack of Starks had their own pack of direwolves,” remarked the former King Beyond-the-Wall with a chuckle.  

Algirdas III:  

 “Uncle, Summerhall is so beautiful,” Shireen commented as she rode with Algirdas and inspected the castle that was once a summer estate for House Targaryen and often awarded to second sons of Targaryen Kings.  

 “Yes, even in its ruined state, it truly is magnificent,” Algirdas said proudly as they came back to the main gate, where banners were being set up, a black flag with a charging yellow stag and a purple thunderstorm in the background.  

 “House Baratheon of Summerhall’s sigil?” asked Shireen.  

 “Yes. I did talk with your Uncle Robert about creating my own house and having its own name. Otherwise there are just too many Baratheons in the world,” replied Algirdas.  

 “And what did Uncle Robert say?” she asked.  

 “He’d think about it. But right now, my new and established house may have a place to call home, but I have almost no funds,” he explained.  

 “No funds?” asked Shireen.  

 “Yes. What little gold I did have, I spent putting up my banners and clearing the rubble and ruins inside the main part of the castle itself. But there is still so much to be cleared out. I’d need a King’s ransom to clear it all and hire servants and guardsmen,” he replied.  

 “Why not ask for gold from Uncle Robert? He is the King,” said Shireen.  

 “Uncle Robert is many things, but a wealthy man, he is not. He spends exorbitant amounts of coin on great feasts, tourneys, food, wine and whores. And his Master of Coin, is a vulture, whom I would prefer to stay far away from,” said Algirdas.  

 “Why? Who is he?” asked Shireen.  

 “Lord Petyr Baelish, a childhood friend of your mother’s,” he explained.  

 “Well, if he is an old friend of Mother’s, surely he would be glad to help,” suggested Shireen.  

 “You would think that. However, he is a man who owns most of the brothels in King’s Landing. Several of your cousins were born in them,” Algirdas explained.  

 “Uncle Robert is a strange man,” Shireen commented.  

Algirdas laughed.  

 “He is. But if you met his wife, you would see why. Your Aunt Cersei may be one of the most beautiful women in the world, but she is cruel and makes my blood boil when she talks of how superior she thinks House Lannister is to all other houses,” he replied.  

 “So, what will you do to afford the necessary costs, Uncle?” asked Shireen.  

 “I’ve been giving some serious thought to becoming a sellsword. Not for the rest of my life. Just to make enough coin to afford all that is needed,” Algirdas replied.  

 “A sellsword?” Shireen asked.  

 “I know. I can just imagine your father saying how I would bring shame to House Baratheon if I did that.”  

 “House Baratheon is already disgraced by what Uncle Robert does to pass the time as King,” Shireen commented.  

 “Amongst other things. But, Shirry, the main reason why I asked you to come here, was I had a proposal to offer,” he said.  

 “What do you mean, Uncle?” she asked.  

 “Like I said, I just want to be a sellsword for long enough that I can make enough coin to provide for Summerhall and pretty the whole place up. Maybe even have a town and a few villages built in the surrounding lands. But, I need someone I trust to ensure it is all being done properly and for them to not run away with what coin I send,” Algirdas explained.  

Shireen stopped her horse.  

 “You want me to run things here, Uncle? To ensure all is being done to the way you want it?” she asked.  

 “I know this seems like an enormous task. But, I wouldn’t ask of it you if I didn’t think you could do it or if I could trust you. You’re excelling in all of your lessons with Maester Cressen and this could be brilliant for you. On the day that you wed and become Lady of some house, you will have this experience in restoring Summerhall to its former glory. And I would always give you a share of whatever coin I make.”  

Shireen looked from Summerhall and then back to Algirdas before looking at Summerhall again.  

 “Mother would think that I should be doing more lessons,” she replied.  

 “You’ve done all the lessons you need to do. You are five and ten, you are a woman ready to be a Lady. I understand if you don’t want to do this…” 

 “No. I’ll do it, Uncle,” she replied, facing him again.  

 “Truly?”  

 “Yes, Uncle. But the shares you send me better be plentiful,” she replied.  

 “I’ll send you a fifth of whatever shares I make and that is a promise,” he said before extending his hand.  

She shook his hand.  

 “Now, who tells Mother?”  

 “I will. Just as soon as I make preparations for my sellsword company.”  

 “Sellsword company? Not only do you want to be a sellsword, you want to command your own company?” Shireen asked incredulously.  

 “Well, if I am to do this, I should make the best of it and choose for whom I fight and whom I go to battle against,” he replied.  

Chapter Text

Bellanora I:  

 “This has become an age of Valyrian warlords creating kingdoms out of the lands peaceful peoples,” said Zhallaro as he and Bellanora looked out from the balcony of her family’s estate and onto the construction site of Agarys Rogare’s palace, which he had already named Dragonspyre.   

 Bellanora turned to her friend and asked “But what is there that we can do? Rogare has 20,000 men and is a battle-hardened warlord. Though, he does at least have no dragons like Aegon the Conqueror.”   

 “We could hire a sellsword army from Essos. We could all send gold to Essos and hire the Golden Company or the Second Sons to come and throw out this invader from our lands,” said Zhallaro.   

But before Bellanora could reply, she heard the voices of Mother and Father behind her.   

 “Are you going to spend all day looking out at that Valyrian tyrant’s palace?” Mother asked.   

I do it to remind myself that our way of life is being ended by some foreigner whom now thinks himself our lord and master.   

 “The scum is desecrating our temples and mocking the Gods. If we do not do something, he will end our way of life, as our ancestors have lived for thousands of years,” said Zhallaro.   

 “He has 20,000 men in Walano alone. And Houses Qhoqua, Rolan, Zholo and Saaqu have all sworn fealty to him, my spies in Omburu have told me,” said Father.   

Fucking traitors.   

The Summer Isles haven’t been united into one country ever since the Slavers Wars and before that, the Years of Shame.   

This should be a good thing, to end the wars and the exiling of noble families and houses.   

And yet, when foreigners who know nothing of us and our way of life and think that their ways are the only ones which matter, that is when we must do something.   

 “So what are we to do? Murder Rogare?” asked Bellanora.   

 “No, my dear. He is one man. And he is of a noble family from all the way in Lys and they send him resources, coin and men whenever he needs it. If we were to kill him, another of his family would come and take his place,” said Mother.   

 “And there’s no telling what they would do to avenge him. Do you remember when Ballaras Choqu challenged him to a duel? He cut him down, slaughtered his family and gifted his family’s estate to one of his generals,” said Father.   

It had been a year since the Summer Isles had been conquered by Agarys Rogare, a Lysene Valyrian warlord and since then, rather than embrace the traditions and culture of his conquered subjects as Aegon the Conqueror had done in Westeros, he was enforcing his own laws and culture onto the Summer Isles.   

And now, to ensure his authority was never questioned, he was having a great palace built in Lotus Point, the largest city in the Summer Isles.   

Gods, save our lands and our people.   

This cannot be our fate, to be so subjugated by a foreigner whom hates us and hates our ways of life, Bellanora thought as she had gone to her chambers and prayed to the Gods for help.   

Only a few moons before Rogare had invaded, Bellanora had returned home from the Temple of Love in Lotus Point, the largest of all such Temples in the Summer Isles.   

But now, the temples were being desecrated and the worship of their gods was being outlawed and the only gods whom Rogare would be permit to be worshipped were the Valyrian dragon gods.   

What if Zhallaro is right?   

What if the way to free us from Rogare’s tyranny is to send for a sellsword army?   

But what if Rogare pays them more than we could offer?   

Bellanora cried as she lay in bed, wondering how the world could come to this and that her lands and her people were being subjugated like this.   

Robar I:  

Gods, this is boring, Robar thought as his squire, Galladon Grafton, took off his breastplate.   

There was I thinking that with Harrold away to Winterfell, I might actually win this tourney and that it would all feel glorious.   

But Robar was bored, he had had enough of tourneys and jousts and irritated with annoying shows of chivalry and honour to try and impress Vale ladies or ladies of visiting kingdoms.   

I need to do something.   

I need to fight in a war.   

Waymar had the right of it, to join the Night’s Watch.   

Though I don’t like the cold of Northern winters from all my time with Father visiting Winterfell, I need to do something.   

 “Fine jousting out there, my son,” Father said with a proud smile as he entered Robar’s tent.   

 “Thank you, Father. Just fortunate that Harrold wasn’t here,” Robar replied as Galladon placed his gauntlets and greaves aside.   

 “But, I sense that you’re disappointed?” Father asked.   

 “No, not disappointed, Father. Just eager for something to do that doesn’t include riding in tourneys and trying to impress ladies as many knights do,” Robar replied as Andar joined them.   

 “Brother! When did you get back?” Robar asked as he stood up to hug his older brother and heir to Runestone.   

 “Just now. Harrold was upset to have missed the tourney and to knock you flat down on your arse, Robar,” Andar said with a grin before patting his shoulder.   

 “Come on, Andar, give your brother some time to settle down. He just won a tourney for the first time in five years,” said Father.   

Ever since Harrold started winning them all , Robar thought.   

 “Maybe if Harrold starts travelling around the Crownlands, Riverlands and Reach in search of tourneys and maybe even cross lances with Loras Tyrell, then maybe you can win all of the tourneys at home in the Vale,” Andar suggested.   

 “Did you see Waymar whilst you were in Winterfell?” asked Robar.   

 “No. But I did get a raven from him soon after we arrived for the wedding. He said that now the Night’s Watch has been reformed to deal with bandits and broken men across the Seven Kingdoms and shall have a castle and a presence in each Kingdom. He has been named second-in-command of the Night’s Watch force in the Vale,” Andar explained.   

 “Good lad. I shall look forward to seeing him and hearing all about it when he arrives back home in the Vale,” Father said with a proud nod.   

 “What castle will they get in the Vale?” asked Robar.   

 “It’d have to be a ruined one and with no lord ruling it or a ruined castle on the lands of a lord whom has no wish to keep it,” said Father.   

 “Do we return home to Runestone soon, Father?” asked Andar.   

 “We do. Now that the tourney here in Ironoaks is ended, we can return home and prepare to greet your brother when he comes. And await the wedding of the heir to the Vale to one of the last Targaryens,” Father replied.   

One of the four last Targaryens, being married to the heir to the Vale, Robar thought.   

Cousin Myranda, Ysilla and just about every beautiful maiden girl of the Vale was broken-hearted when they heard the news that Harrold is being wed to Daenerys Targaryen.   

It’ll be interesting to see what she is like and if she has any of the madness that plagued her father or her brother.   

Just as long as that madness doesn’t pass on into House Arryn.   

 “But, Robar, you shouldn’t have to worry about having a lack of adventure or being bored in tourneys such as this,” said Father.   

 “Why not, Father?” asked Andar.   

 “This morning, I heard a rumour from our host, Lady Waynwood. The Hill Tribes are assembling and it seems that they are gathering into an army,” said Father.   

The Hill Tribes?   

Putting aside all of their differences and gathering into an army?   

That’s never happened before in all history of the Vale, so why is it happening now?   

 “Do we know whom leads them, Father?” asked Andar.   

 “As I said, it was a mere rumour from Lady Waynwood’s mouth. That, and the name Dorolf,” he replied.   

Chapter Text

Algirdas IV:  

Algirdas was summoned to the palace of Prince Tregar Oromollen of Pentos, and was eager to make a reputation as a sellsword, now that he had come to Pentos with a sellsword force of 1,000 men, including his nephews Tymond Hill, Gendry, Tolas and Robin Waters, Marq Rivers, Torwyn Pyke, and Edric Storm.  

Tymond was the child of Robert and a Lannisport whore Robert had taken a fancy to when visiting Casterly Rock soon after his wedding to Cersei.  

Marq was the son of a Frey girl Robert met during a tourney in Riverrun.  

Robin and Gendry were sons of smallfolk women from King’s Landing.  

Torwyn was the son of an Iron Islander girl, whose father was formerly a shipwright in King's Landing.  

Edric was the son of a handmaiden to a Florent Lady.  

And Tolas was the son of the famous Summer Isles whore, Chataya, when she had lain with Robert, soon after arriving in King’s Landing for the first time in the last days of the Rebellion.  

Of all of them, whilst Gendry was the strongest, he preferred being a blacksmith as opposed to a warrior or a knight.  

Edric and Marq both had an education due to their mothers being of noble background.  

Torwyn was the one whom was most like his father, in that he enjoyed drinking, fighting and whoring.  

Tymond, Marq, Edric and Tolas were all eager to become knights and to make a reputation as knights, Tolas even spoke of entering the Kingsguard one day.  

Whereas Robin and Torwyn wanted nothing more than a life of adventure, fighting, feasting and whoring.  

And so, he brought Tolas, Tymond, Edric, Marq, Torwyn and Robin with him when they arrived at the Prince’s Palace.  

 “What a palace. Not even the Red Keep can compare with this,” Robin exclaimed as they looked at the marble floors, brick columns with gold and gemstones engraved in each of them.  

 “Fancy being Prince of Pentos, brother? I have heard it said that once a year, the Prince carries out a ritual where he fucks two maidens. The Pentoshi believe that this ensures that they remain prosperous,” Edric said.  

 “Sounds good. It’d be better to be Prince of Pentos than being King of the Seven Kingdoms,” Torwyn muttered.  

 “I don’t think so. I heard from a few Pentoshi tavern keepers that whilst the Prince does have a fine life, if Pentos suffers a famine or loses a war, the smallfolk place all blame on the Prince and have every right to kill the poor cunt,” explained Edric.  

 “Huh. Well that’s not nice,” said Torwyn.  

 “Still think being Prince of Pentos sounds nicer than being King of the Seven Kingdoms, brother?” Tolas asked with his arm around Torwyn’s back.  

 “Lads, quiet. The Prince comes,” said Algirdas.  

The Prince was a large and overweight man, reminding him of Robert.  

But not even Robert wore the clothes that this Prince wore.  

He wore fancy eastern clothing with gemstones and gold imagery on it.  

There was even Valyrian glyphs written all in gold on his sleeves.  

Seems like the sort of thing that Cersei might wear, Algirdas thought with a raised brow.  

 “You stand in the presence of His Grace, Tregar, Prince of Pentos and Lord of the greatest of all Free Cities,” said a herald standing by his prince’s side.  

Algirdas bowed before him, his actions were mirrored by his nephews.  

 “Your Grace, I, Lord Algirdas Baratheon, am proud to answer your invitation and to come personally to your wondrous palace,” Algirdas said.  

 “Welcome to Pentos, Lord Baratheon. I trust that you have been well received here in Pentos?”  

 “We have, Your Grace. It truly is a beautiful city, certainly more so than the capital of Westeros,” said Algirdas.  

 “Truly? Pentos is as beautiful as King’s Landing?” asked the Prince.  

 “Well, truthfully Your Grace, King’s Landing stinks from there being a lack of sewers and the city being far too populated than the city’s government can manage,” Algirdas replied.  

 “Hmm. Yet another reason why I am proud to be of Pentos,” said the Prince with a grin.  

 “But, to business. I am sure that you are aware that war has broken out with our neighbouring city of Braavos,” he said.  

 “The news has carried throughout the city, Your Grace,” Algirdas replied with a nod.  

 “Pentos, in the past, has never won a great victory against Braavos. I intend to change that, which is why I have been preparing for the eventuality of war. Braavos marches an army of 35,000 men on Pentos. Pentos commands near 30,000. 

 “However, my spies have learnt that a small Braavosi army of 3,000 marches now toward the Velvet Mountains to secure the mountains for when their great army comes to attack. I want to hire you and Storm Company to crush them and prevent them from securing the Velvet Mountains. I am willing to offer 50,000 Gelessas.”  

Algirdas bowed his head and thought about this.  

We have 1,000 men, mostly sellswords and lads eager for glory, gold and adventure.   

But, against a Braavosi army three times our number?   

We’ll have to be clever about this, and fight on our terms, not on theirs.   

 “We’ll be glad to take this contract, Your Grace,” Algirdas replied.  

Leaving the Prince’s Palace with the gold, they headed back to their campsite on the outskirts of the city.  

 “What’s a Gelessa, Uncle?” asked Tymond.  

 “It comes from Valyrian, for gold coin. And if our treasurer, Arodos, speaks true, then 50,000 Gelessas would be worth 25,000 Gold Dragons,” said Algirdas.  

 “Who decides the worth of a country’s currency, Uncle?” asked Edric.  

 “The Iron Bank of Braavos.”  

Algirdas turned around to see Storm Company’s paymaster and treasurer, a Pentoshi whom used to work at the Iron Bank for five years, Arodos Pahrion.  

 “How much did the Prince pay us, my Lord?” asked Arodos.  

 “50,000. Will that be good?” asked Algirdas.  

 “It should be,” said Arodos with a nod as the servants whom came with the carts of gold unloaded the chests from them, drawing a lot of excitement from all men of Storm Company.  

 “So, what’s the contract?” asked Bronn, Algirdas’ second in command, as he came swaggering over.  

 “The Braavosi march an army towards the Velvet Mountains, 3,000 men. To prepare for when the main Braavosi army marches on Pentos,” Algirdas explained.  

 “3,000 men. We have 1,000 men. We’ll be fucked before we can even get to those mountains,” said Arodos.  

 “No. Not if we play this by our own rules and not theirs,” said Algirdas.  

 “What rules are these, Uncle?” asked Marq.  

 “The rules to win,” said Bronn.  

Ashara III:  

All in Winterfell were glad to see the last of Lorch and Swygert, both of whom were regarded with dislike everywhere they went.  

But with Artos and Rhaenys now married, Ashara was happy.  

For years when they were children, Ashara and Elia talked about one day sharing a grandchild, and now Ashara’s eldest son was wed to Rhaenys, whom Ashara had known since she was born.  

It was a wonderful wedding and Ashara was glad of the opportunity to see her old friends from Dorne and to see her brother Arron, his only son Edric, and their sister Allyria, newly married to Lord Beric Dondarrion.  

A week after the festivities of the wedding, Ashara finished breakfast with her family and had gone to Ned’s solar, where she found him looking at a letter.  

 “Ned, is all well?” she asked as she walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders.  

 “Aye, Ash. Aye, all is well,” he said with a beaming smile as she sat down next to him and put her arm around his shoulder.  

He held up the letter and passed it to her.  

‘To Lord Eddard of House Stark,  

All is complete Beyond-the-Wall, my Lord. The settlements of your new bannermen are complete. The Free Folk, though hard and unfamiliar to our customs, have shown that they are indeed quick to adapt.   

The mammoths that we’ve brought have sped construction considerably of the castles.   

The castles will never be as grand or as magnificent as the Great Keep of Winterfell, it is true.   

They look more akin to somewhere such as Last Hearth.   

We now await your reply from King’s Landing for consent to formally establish the new noble houses of the North.   

Yours sincerely,   

Ser Wendel of House Manderly.’  

 “Ser Wendel has indeed been busy,” Ashara commented.  

 “Aye, he has. And to great effect. Now, there should be peace between the southern half of the North and the northern half. Though it will take time to heal wounds between the peoples, the fact that we fought a common enemy together, proves that it is not impossible to make friends with them,” said Ned.  

 Ned turned to her and asked “And how is Mance Rayder’s gift adapting to life in Winterfell?” 

 “Farlen said that she is close to giving birth. Either tomorrow or the day after,” said Ashara.  

 “Direwolf cubs, growing up here alongside our children. Who would have thought?” Ned asked.  

 “It’s symbolic. It’s good that Starks have direwolves, when our sigil is a direwolf,” she said.  

 “Aye,” Ned said with a nod before standing up and holding Ashara’s hand.  

They walked together to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where Brandon, Dyanna and Ulrick were teaching Rickon how to fight whilst Arya was learning from Ser Rodrik.  

 “Now that Artos is wed, the Northern Lords will look to us to marry off our children to theirs,” Ashara said.  

 “Aye. Dyanna has shown interest in marrying Domeric Bolton,” Ned commented.  

 “And during the wedding dance, I noticed Serena dancing numerous times with the Karstark brothers,” Ashara added.  

 “Serena and the Karstark brothers? The youngest, Torrhen, is nearly two years older than she is and, like all Karstarks, enjoys nothing more than to fight, feast and drink,” said Ned.  

 “It would be good for relations with the Karstarks. Some of them dislike how we have welcomed the Free Folk south of the Wall. A marriage with House Stark may help heal relations,” Ashara pointed out.  

 “But of course, we mention this to the children,” said Ned.  

 “Of course. Of course,” said Ashara.  

I will never marry off my children into a loveless marriage and with someone they do not love.   

Not after what happened between Elia and fucking Rhaegar.   

The only good things to happen from their marriage were Rhaenys and Aegon.   

Ashara saw Elia talking with Daenerys and trying to comfort her with the thought of leaving home and marrying Harrold Arryn.  

During the wedding, Ashara, Ned and Elia had met Harrold Arryn, whom had come accompanied by his closest friends; Andar Royce, Albar Royce and Jasper Redfort.  

He seemed a good young man; handsome, proud and not overly boastful or one whom would do false acts of chivalry.  

But Ashara had heard from an old friend from the Vale, Lady Jennis of House Hunter, whom said that Harrold had a bastard daughter, called Alys Stone, from a tavern wench.  

She questioned him of this when they met in Ned’s solar.  

 “I heard a rumour, Ser Harrold, that you have a baseborn daughter. Is this true?” she asked.  

He sighed through his nose as he looked down at his hands resting on his knees briefly before looking back up.  

 “Yes, that is true, my Lady. Though I was drunk with wine and victory after winning my first tourney when I fathered her, I will never regret it. I love my little daughter and will until the day I die,” he replied.  

I admire your integrity, but my only concern is whether or not you are a good husband to Daenerys.   

If you are, then good.   

But if you are not, then I will do all I can to ensure that the two of you are never wed.   

Chapter Text

Artos III:  

 “It is good to see Winterfell again,” said Artos as he and Rhaenys could see the heights of the Great Keep from where he, Rhaenys and Ser Jaremy were riding at a gentle pace.   

 “Aye. Though it was nice to see Jon and Val. Brandon is such an adorable little boy,” Rhaenys said with a beaming smile.   

 “Aye. Does it make you wonder what our children will look like?” asked Artos.   

 “Our children will be beautiful, Artos. And I will love every last one of them, no matter what,” Rhaenys replied before leaning in and kissing Artos.   

Aye, same.   

Our children will be beautiful.   

Riding through the gates and into the Great Keep, Artos and Rhaenys were warmly greeted by Mother, Father and Aunt Elia.   

 “How were Jon and Val?” asked Father as they stepped inside the feasting hall.   

 “Aye, they were good. Their wee boy is a handsome lad, just like his father. They named him Brandon,” said Artos.   

Father beamed at hearing the name of his great nephew.   

 “And what’s it like at Snowhelm?” Mother asked.   

 “It’s a fine place to call home. It’s small but Jon was meeting with artisans and builders to discuss building it larger,” Artos replied.   

After eating with Rhaenys, Artos walked onto the training yard and saw Ulrick and Brandon sparring with Dyanna and Aegon.   

Artos took his greatsword with his right hand and with his left hand he took his escutcheon, gifted to him on his wedding.  

 “Aegon! How about a spar?” Artos asked.   

Aegon turned to face him and swung his sword around a few times.   

 “Aye, goodbrother. Let’s see how you fare,” Aegon replied with a grin.   

Aegon struck down onto his escutcheon and Artos skilfully blocked it before swinging it across, almost disarming Aegon before striking down with his own sword.   

Aegon dodged the blow and sliced his sword across at his great shield and then again at his sword.   

Artos slammed his sword against Aegon’s, pushing into his sword.   

The two pushed into each other with the other’s sword before Aegon broke the stalemate by slamming his sword onto Artos’ shield.   

Artos let him thrust toward him, only to block it with his shield and then he swung his shield against Aegon’s sword.   

This time, Aegon was disarmed.   

 “Next time, think about using a shield, or a second sword. You do have Dark Sister,” Artos said before swinging across at Aegon.   

Aegon dodged the blow and took a handful of snow and threw it at Artos’ face.   

Aegon used this to run towards his sword and grabbed it and swung powerfully at Artos’ shield.   

Artos dropped his shield and faced Aegon, on equal terms and with no shields.   

Aegon sliced at him with an overhead slice and Artos blocked it and forced his sword across and smashed it down onto Aegon’s sword.   

 “No, Stark, I’ll always fight with a greatsword, never a longsword,” Aegon said as their swords kissed again in midair.   

 “Your mistake then, Targaryen,” Artos replied before twisting around and slamming his sword onto Aegon.   

Aegon just managed to block, but then he swung across at Artos, narrowly missing him.   

The two stood facing each other, waiting for the other to make the next move.   

 “Artos!”   

The two goodbrothers looked up to see Mother shouting at Artos from the entrance back inside the Great Keep.   

 “It’s Rhaenys! Come quickly!” she shouted.   

What’s going on?   

Is Rhaenys alright?!  

Artos threw down his sword, as did Aegon, and they ran towards Mother, following her inside and both sprinted upstairs into Maester Gelimund’s solar.   

There, Artos panted as he looked at Rhaenys, sitting down next to Maester Gelimund’s desk.   

 “Rhaenys, my love, what’s wrong?” Artos asked, running to her side.   

She beamed as she held his hand and then placed his hand on her belly.   

 “You’re going to be a father, Artos,” she said before lifting his hand up and kissing it.   

 “Truly?” he asked.   

Gods, we were only talking about having beautiful children just this morning!   

He turned to Maester Gelimund.   

 “Maester, do you know how long?”   

 “Aye, my Lord. I’d say seven or eight moons,” he replied.   

Artos hugged Rhaenys before kissing her on the forehead and then on her lips.   

 “I love you so much, Rhaenys. And we’re going to have such a beautiful sons and daughters,” he said.   

 “Do you not mind? Whether it’s a boy or a girl?” she asked.   

 “No. Not at all,” he replied before kissing her again.   

 “Sister, it’s too soon for me to be an uncle,” Aegon said with a chuckle as he walked toward them and hugged Rhaenys.   

 “Congratulations.”   

 “Thank you, brother. I hope that you will be spoiling your nephew or niece and teaching them how to fight as they grow up?” asked Rhaenys.   

 “Of course I will. Of course I will,” said Aegon with a proud smile.   

Aunt Elia, Mother and Father joined them and Artos stood up and Aunt Elia walked to him.   

 “I don’t know why, but I feel too young to be a grandmother,” she said.   

 “That’s because you are. But, you will have such beautiful grandchildren, Mother,” said Rhaenys.   

 “I know. I know, my beautiful little dragon,” said Aunt Elia before hugging Rhaenys.   

Willas I:  

Willas sat with Grandmother Olenna in her personal chambers which overlook the Palatial Keep’s gardens.   

 “What news is there from King’s Landing?” asked Willas as he leant on his crutch whilst one of Grandmother’s guards pulled a chair out for him beside Grandmother.   

 “Not much, unfortunately. Left and Right, go,” said Grandmother.   

Her two guards nodded and muttered “Milady,” before leaving.   

 “So, what news is there that we do know of?” asked Willas.   

 “Well, it’s all going off in the North and the Vale. Rhaenys Targaryen is wed to Artos Stark, heir to Winterfell. And Daenerys Targaryen is to wed Harrold Arryn, heir to the Eyrie,” she replied.   

Rhaenys Targaryen wed to the heir to House Stark.   

I remember Mother telling me how after Randyll Tarly defeated Robert Baratheon at Ashford, Mad King Aerys said that a royal marriage between Rhaenys and I was possible, once Storm’s End had been taken.   

And not even after a year of starving the seat of House Baratheon, did the Targaryen dynasty fall.   

 “Will this in any way affect House Tyrell’s influence or our plans for Margaery?” asked Willas.   

 “No. In fact, though this was by royal command, it may open up a possibility for House Tyrell to be allied with House Baratheon, in more ways than one,” said Grandmother.   

 “Eddard Stark’s isolation from his boyhood friend Robert helps in that regard,” Willas added.   

 “Precisely. The Northerners have allied themselves to Dorne in recent years, no doubt in thanks to Eddard Stark being married to a Dornishwoman,” said Grandmother.   

 “And thanks to Loras’ dalliances with Renly Baratheon, Robert Baratheon may be open to a marriage match between Prince Joffrey and Margaery,” said Grandmother.   

 “Perhaps, though Robert’s other brothers may think differently on that,” said Willas.   

 “Stannis? Ha, the man is a bore whom never smiles and there is no love lost between he and Robert. He may hate House Tyrell, but Robert will never listen to him,” said Grandmother.   

 “It’s not Stannis I worry about, Grandmother, at least not in this regard. It’s the youngest of Robert’s brothers. Algirdas,” said Willas.   

 “Algirdas? Why do you worry about him?” asked Grandmother.   

 “He was a boy of five when the Siege of Storm’s End was lifted. He has made it no secret of how much he hates us for it. And, admittedly, I’ve been afraid of coming across him ever since I had met the former blacksmith to Storm’s End, Donal Noye.”   

 “He told me, before venturing to Castle Black, that he could describe the Baratheon brothers as though they were metals.   

 “He described Robert as steel, stronger than all others, but leave it on a rack for too long, and it will rust.  

 “Stannis, he called hard black iron, which breaks before it bends.   

 “Renly, he described as copper, the prettiest of metals, but useless in a fight.”   

Grandmother smirked at these descriptions.   

 “And what did he describe Algirdas as?”   

 “As Valyrian Steel. Forever sharp, forever strong and forever dangerous. Unyielding and always leaves a mark wherever it goes.”   

 “A blacksmith’s words are hardly something to go by,” said Grandmother.   

 “Perhaps not, but it’s something we should consider when he now leads an army of sellswords in Essos and they are called Storm Company. Given a few years when it increases in size, he could prove to be a threat to Highgarden and to House Tyrell,” Willas said.   

Father would say that I’m being paranoid and that the Reach’s armies number 100,000 in times of war.   

But I know that someone who hates a house as much as someone such as Algirdas Baratheon, will make him an incredibly dangerous foe.   

One whom would stop at nothing to take revenge on House Tyrell.   

Grandmother hummed before there was a knock on the door.   

 “Grandmother? Brother?”   

 “Do come in, dear,” said Grandmother with a beaming smile for Margaery as she entered.   

Margaery sat down next to Willas and looked up to Grandmother.   

 “We’ve just received a raven from one of my spies in King’s Landing. Because of rifts between King Robert and his old and dear friend, Eddard Stark, he has considered marrying Prince Joffrey to Eddard Stark’s eldest daughter, Eliana.”   

Margaery had been raised by Father and Grandmother to be one of the prettiest and most beautiful maidens in the realm and to be a sharp and cunning weapon in House Tyrell’s armoury.   

 “Oh. Well, what do we know about Eliana Stark?”   

 “Not much, unfortunately. Stories say that she is a very beautiful young maiden, she is often referred to as the Star of the North. Having met her mother a long time ago, I’m inclined to believe those stories,” said Grandmother.   

Ah yes, Ashara Dayne.   

The famous Star of Dorne and one of the most beautiful women in the realm, whom fell for and married a grizzly and hard Northerner.   

 “Will she be a threat to our plans?” asked Margaery.   

 “Hopefully not, so long as Eddard Stark keeps himself and the North isolated from the south and not to bother himself with the intrigues of King’s Landing,” said Willas.   

Though Eddard Stark is a hard and ferocious man by all accounts, to scare King Robert, Tywin Lannister and dozens of nobles in the throne room with just his terrifying and thundering voice, Willas thought as he remembered the story from Uncle Baelor how he staunchly defended Elia Martell, Aegon, Rhaenys and Daenerys Targaryen, in spite of all that Mad King Aerys and Rhaegar had done to his own family.   

 “When there is next a great tourney in King’s Landing, your brother Garlan shall go to King’s Landing alongside Loras and see for themselves the situation in the capital and what sort of man the Crown Prince is and the best way to win his heart. Anything to gain an advantage over any other noble family that would bring their daughter to the capital to woo the Crown Prince,” said Grandmother.   

Garlan I:  

 “You may bring the bride under your protection,” said Septon Malborel.   

Garlan did just that, and he unfastened his own cloak, embroidered with the golden rose of House Tyrell.   

He unfastened Leonnette’s cloak with the sigil and colours of House Fossoway.   

With a warm and gentle smile, he wrapped his cloak around Leonnette.   

 “My Lords and Ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of husband and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”   

Garlan reached for Leonnette’s hands and as they held, Septon Malborel tied a ribbon around them.   

 “Let it be known that Garlan Tyrell and Leonnette Fossoway are one heart, one flesh and one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”   

Septon Malborel then began to unravel the ribbon whilst Garlan looked from the corner of his eye at Mother, Father, Grandmother, Willas, Loras and Margaery seated in the front row watching the wedding with beaming smiles.   

 “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.”   

He turned from all gathered in the Sept and looked to Garlan and Leonnette.    

 “Look upon each other and say the words.”   

 “Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger,” they said together.   

 “I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days,” said Garlan.   

 “I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days,” said Leonnette.   

Garlan turned to his family, Leonnette’s family and all gathered nobility of the Reach.   

 “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” said Garlan before turning to Leonnette.   

He leant in and kissed her.   

Gods, this is the best day of my life.   

I don’t know why knights think that winning tourneys or being knighted is better than this.   

There is nothing better than to wed the love of your life.   

Whilst all gathered clapped and cheered for them, Garlan and Leonnette walked down the Sept together and back to the Palatial Keep for the wedding feast.   

There, Lords and Ladies from all around the Reach gifted them gifts from jewellery and clothing for Leonnette, to weapons and armour pieces for Garlan, and finely-made goblets and wine-cups.   

But it was Father’s gift which had truly taken Garlan by surprise.   

 “Garlan, my dear boy, it makes me so happy to see you so happy and to be wed to such a lovely girl as Leonnette,” Father said proudly.   

 “You are too kind, Lord Tyrell,” said Leonnette.   

 “Nonsense, my dear. But, I would be honoured if you were to just refer to me as your goodfather,” said Father with a beaming smile before he kissed Leonnette’s hand.   

 “I would consider it an honour to do such a thing and to be wed into your noble house,” said Leonnette.   

 “Well, yes and no,” said Father.   

What?   

 “Father, what do you mean?” asked Garlan.   

Father drew a piece of parchment from his belt and passed it to Garlan.   

 “My wedding gift to you both,” said Father with a beaming smile.   

By the Gods…  

Garlan couldn’t quite believe what he was reading as he laid out on the high table for he and Leonnette to read it.   

Leonnette gasped as she read it.   

A deed of lordship?   

To be Lord of Whitegrove?  

Signed by the King?  

Gods…  

Garlan looked back up at Father after he had finished reading it.   

 “Father… I-I… I’m at a loss for words,” Garlan tried to say.   

 “Say none, my boy. None are needed. Just promise that the two of you will be happy at Whitegrove and that you’ll visit your old father and dear mother at Highgarden often and that you’ll introduce us to our future grandchildren,” said Father with a proud smile.   

 “Of course, Father,” said Garlan as he stood up before leaning across the table and hugging Father.   

Whilst Garlan sat back down and reread the deed of lordship, he looked back up at Father whom was talking with Grandmother and with Willas.   

Poor Willas.   

He is the heir to Highgarden and yet no one wishes to wed him.   

He is one of the sweetest and kindest men I’ve ever met.   

He deserves to be married to a woman such as that.   

The day after the wedding, Garlan was invited by Father, Mother, Willas and Grandmother to Father’s solar.   

Garlan was allowed inside by both of Grandmother’s guards, whom she had named Left and Right.   

 “You sent for me?” Garlan asked when he saw his parents.   

 “Yes, come, Garlan,” said Mother.   

Garlan sat beside Willas whilst Father, Mother and Grandmother were sat behind Father’s desk.   

 “Is there a problem?” asked Garlan.   

 “No, none at all, my dear boy. But, for House Tyrell’s future standing with the crown, we have made the decision to advance our plans with Margaery,” said Father.   

Father, you know how much I hate the game of thrones.   

No good ever comes of it.   

In the end, the ones it affects most are the innocent smallfolk whom get caught in the middle of struggles of power between warring houses and all caused by intrigue.   

 “Willas and your Grandmother have come up with a plan, which you are a part of, Garlan,” said Mother.   

 “What plan? But, you should know that I have no head for intrigues or for the game,” said Garlan.   

 “No, fear not. We know that, Garlan. This is merely just a scouting mission, if you like,” said Father.   

Trust Father to word statements as though this was a war, Garlan thought with a smirk.   

 “Knowing full well King Robert’s appetites for tourneys, he will undoubtedly host a grand one at King’s Landing, not some petty one. And when he does, every noble vulture in Westeros will have their eyes on the capital and on the Crown Prince. We will need you to see if Margaery will have any competition and what the situation is in the Red Keep and anyone we should beware of. Nothing serious, you understand. Merely just seeing things the way things are,” said Willas.   

Chapter Text

Aegon III:  

Whilst all of the Great Keep was excited for the birth of Artos and Rhaenys’ first child, Aegon had overheard Uncle Eddard and Aunt Ashara talking of encouraging the rest of their children to marry with the children of Northern nobility, in particular, Ulrick, whom was soon to be named Lord of Moat Cailin.   

Brandon, though was offered the lordship of Wolf’s Den, had declined, saying that he wanted to one day be a knight of the Kingsguard.   

And so, Rickon, at the age of 9, was told that he would one day be Lord of Wolf’s Den.   

 “ Lord Manderly would want a marriage between Rickon and one of his granddaughters when he does become Lord of Wolf’s Den ,” Uncle Eddard told Aunt Ashara.   

 “ I’ve met both girls and they are both delightful little ladies. It would have to be Wylla, the youngest of the two, for Wynafryd is to one day be Lady of White Harbour ,” said Aunt Ashara.  

Often unintentionally, Aegon overheard what was being said by others, because he had good hearing and because he was quiet.   

But what does that mean for me?  

Rhaenys will one day be Lady of Winterfell and Aunt Daenerys is soon to wed Harrold Arryn and will one day be Lady of the Eyrie.   

Am I destined to remain in Winterfell forever?   

But whilst Aegon was uncertain about his future, he was also sad by the idea that Eliana would one day wed the heir to a Northern house, or even the heir to a Lord Paramountcy.   

Aegon had been in love with Eliana for as long as he could remember, and loved that she was always so kind and caring toward him and that she knew things about him that no one had ever noticed about him.   

When he was a boy and smallfolk around Winterfell or the children of Northern houses would berate and belittle him for his Targaryen heritage, Eliana was one of the few people whom was always kind to him and never treated him as though he was an outsider.   

Outside of his own family and his Stark friends and Theon, Eliana was one of the few people that he absolutely trusted.   

Aegon walked to Mother’s chambers, just after spending a few hours on the training yard alongside Artos.  

He saw Mother was making a prayer wheel.   

 “Mother,” said Artos.   

She looked up and beamed when she saw Aegon.   

 “Hello, Aegon. Come and sit,” she gestured to her bed before she resumed with making the prayer wheel.   

Aegon did as he was invited and sat next to her.   

 “Is that for Rhaenys or her child?”   

 “For Rhaenys. Mothers make these only for their children, so sadly not for their grandchildren,” said Mother before she gently put it down on her bedside table.   

 “But it is of the Old Gods, to make those,” said Aegon.   

 “It is. But the Old Gods have been good to us since we came to Winterfell. I prayed to the Seven many times during the Rebellion, for me, for you and for your sister to be safe. When they came to the Red Keep that day, I was so scared, until Ned saved us.   

 “After saving us, I prayed to the Old Gods in the Red Keep’s Godswood and after praying there, Ned protected us and brought us safely to Winterfell and has kept us safe ever since. Though this isn’t Sunspear or King’s Landing, I am happy here, with you and your sister,” said Mother as she reached for Aegon and gently rubbed his back.   

 “Is everything alright, Aegon?” she asked as she placed the prayer wheel down.   

Aegon shyly shook his head, afraid to say the words out loud he had come to tell her.   

 “What is it?” she asked with worry.   

 “I love Eliana. I’ve been in love with her for years and I cannot stop thinking about her,” Aegon explained, blushing as he said it.   

 “Oh, Aegon,” she said before hugging him.   

You make it seem like this is a good thing.   

How is it when she’s the most beautiful maiden lady of the North and will soon have heirs to Northern houses fighting for her hand?   

 “Does she know?” Mother asked.   

 “No. I just… I just don’t know what sort of future there would be for us if there was a chance we wed,” said Aegon.   

 “Aegon, there is more to life than ruling anything from a house to a keep or even a castle. There is love and there is family,” said Mother.   

 “If Robert Baratheon had his way, he would have me killed so that no more Targaryens can threaten his perfect reign,” Aegon pointed out sulkily.   

 “Ned has kept us safe here for when you were as young as 1. Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise,” said Elia before she pulled him in for a hug.   

 “Everything will be alright, Aegon. I promise,” she whispered.   

 “I know, Mother. I know,” Aegon whispered back.   

 Aegon left the Great Keep and decided to go to the Staggering Stark for dinner and when he arrived there, he was glad to see Griff seated at a table.   

 “Didn’t think you’d still be here, Griff?” Aegon said as he walked toward him.   

Griff looked up at him and smiled as Aegon sat down with his platter of roasted lamb and fish and a tankard of mead.   

 “Ah, Winterfell has become an interesting place as of late. With the last of the Targaryens here,” said Griff.  

 “I prefer it when there’s no interesting things taking place,” said Aegon.   

 “Why is that?”   

 “I like the peace and quiet,” shrugged Aegon before he drank from his tankard.   

 “That’s a nice sword you’ve got there. What is it?” Griff suddenly asked.   

Aegon looked down at his side and saw that he had noticed Blackfyre.   

 “It’s called Blackfyre, the sword of my family and a little later of House Blackfyre,” replied Aegon.   

Whatever he was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.   

 “Blackfyre? How do you have that?” he asked.   

 “I was gifted it, by a mysterious man far north of the Wall. He gave it to me when we were north of the wall and fighting the wildlings and…all such,” Aegon replied.   

He wouldn’t believe me if I told him it was Brynden Rivers.   

Gods, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t met him with my own eyes.   

I pray that Uncle Brynden has found peace.   

 “Do you have Dark Sister also?” he asked.   

 “As a matter of fact, I do. But Blackfyre, I prefer to use that. I like to fight with a greatsword as opposed to a longsword and a shield,” replied Aegon.   

 “So, what do you do with Dark Sister?” he asked.   

 “Well, in the battles I’ve fought, I kept it as a secondary weapon,” Aegon replied.   

 “Have you fought in many battles?”   

 “10.”   

After finishing lunch, Aegon said goodbye to Griff.   

 “How much longer do plan on staying in Winterfell?”   

 “We’ll see. If there is something that’s worth my interest anywhere else in Westeros,” replied Griff.   

Aegon left to return to the Great Keep and walked to the Godswood.   

He sat in front of the Heart Tree, where Uncle Ned would often sit for praying and for the peace and quiet.   

He looked at the face on the Heart Tree and remembered Rhaenys telling him how when she was 5, she read a book of funny poems to it to try and make the face smile.   

When he returned to the Great Keep, he climbed into bed, but as he did so, he felt his mind drift to the Godswood.   

“Where am I?”   

Aegon looked around and found himself back in the Godswood.   

 “Aegon.”   

He turned around and looked for who said that.   

Standing next to the Heart Tree was a man with long and flowing silver hair and violet eyes like his own.   

He wore a doublet with the sigil of House Targaryen on it.   

His face was beautifully handsome, though his saddened face brightened when he faced Aegon.   

He was tall, almost as tall as Artos.   

His long and elegant fingers were bent, as though they were used to playing an instrument.   

“Son.”  

 “Father?” asked Aegon.   

He nodded with a saddened smile.   

Aegon looked around and at the Godswood.   

 “Why are you here?” Aegon demanded.   

 “I wanted to speak to you. To see you in person. To see the man you had become,” he replied, walking toward him, his hand extended toward Aegon.   

Aegon backed away.   

 “Well, now you’ve seen me. The son you abandoned with just ONE Kingsguard, whom was my age if not younger, when you told him to “protect” Mother, Rhaenys and I.   

 “All whilst you had three of the best Kingsguard hold a girl younger than Aunt Daenerys against her will!”   

Father frowned and his amethyst-violet eyes glistened when Aegon spoke.   

 “I-I-I never held her against her will. She loved me,” he said.   

 “Did you love her? Did you love Mother? Did you love Rhaenys? Did you love me?! Or were we all just pawns in the fucking prophecies you were so obsessed with and didn’t give a fuck about the fate of Westeros?!”   

 “I never wanted the rebellion to happen or for our family to be overthrown!”   

 “Well, that’s your fucking fault for not thinking about the consequences of your fucking actions! If she did love you and went with you willingly, why the fuck did you not tell her to send letters to her family and let the, know she was safe?!   

 “No one forced you to take Lyanna Stark! You did that, willingly. No one forced you to humiliate Mother in front of the realm again and again and again. You did that, willingly. And you left Mother, Rhaenys and I with only Jaime Lannister, who slew your fucking mad father rather than protect us from Tywin Lannister!   

 “Had it not been for the brother of the girl you wanted to use as a broodmare for your fucking beloved prophecy, we would all have been butchered!”   

 “I thought that I was saving the world!”   

 “Was that the excuse you were telling yourself before you went to sleep each night? That it was all for the realm? That it would take three dragons to save the world? A Visenya to join your Aegon and Rhaenys?! Was any of this worth it, Father?”   

Father calmed down when he saw how Aegon stood unrelentingly and without fault or tears, whilst he was crying.   

 “I’m proud of you, Aegon. I thought that I was the Prince that was Promised. But it was always you. You saved the world from the monsters in the prophecies you speak so horribly of.”   

 “And let me guess, if you were King, you would have come to the North’s help when the Armies of the Dead marched on the Wall? Or would have you been obsessed with reading more prophecies that you and all scholars of the world barely understand?”   

 “You talk like a Northerner.”   

 “That’s because I am one,” said Aegon.   

 “No. You are a Targaryen. You will always be a Targaryen,” said Father.   

 “I am a Targaryen, but I am of the North. Why would I want to have anything to do with the fucking south when they all wish me, Rhaenys, Aunt Daenerys and Mother dead, when we’ve never done a fucking thing to harm them?!   

 “No southerner stood by Uncle Ned when Robert Baratheon wanted to kill me. He alone stood his ground and protected us from the Baratheons and Lannisters. And all you can talk about is how you are proud of me.”   

 “You are my son, Aegon. You may hate me now, but I will always love you. I know I did wrong in how I approached the prophecy of the Long Night. But I did what I thought was right. If I could change it all, I would. And I would always have been by your mother’s side.”   

 “I’m sure she would feel honoured to hear that from you, you lying and unfaithful cunt,” Aegon snapped before turning around.   

 “Be wary, Aegon, my son. Another is coming.”  

Aegon gasped as he woke up.   

What the fuck?   

What the fuck was that?   

Was that truly Father?   

Was he always that fucking stupid?   

Aegon reached for his bedside table and drank from his pitcher of water.   

Gods, I needed that.   

But, why now?   

Why was he haunting my dreams now?  

Ashara IV:  

It had been a year since the end of the War of the Long Night.   

And since then, Ashara and Ned had received ravens from Beyond-the-Wall, that all was well and that the castles, towns and ports had been completed and that dirt and rock roads had been built to connect them to each other and to the Wall.   

Though the castles built were little more than motte and baileys of wood and stone, the Free Folk all knew them to be safer and warmer than living in tents in cold forests and mountains or even in caves.   

As well as building these settlements, when visiting White Harbour with Ned, they had met Lord Wyman Manderly, whom introduced them to a Yitish merchant whom sold seeds for a Yitish food capable of growing in even the coldest of climates, called rice.   

Since first using it in glass gardens built Beyond-the-Wall, there was an abundance of rice for the Free Folk living north of the Wall, whom had previously survived on nothing but meat from hunted animals.   

But returning home to Winterfell after a visit to the settlements of Frostford, Mead’s Meadow, Thundercrest, Icehaven, Snowsberth, Oakenhall, Bronzecliff, Winter’s Moot and Branditon, Ashara was glad to see Ned was proud and happy that the North would never again fear about wildling raids or the dead rising to trouble the living.   

 “How is everything Beyond-the-Wall, my love?” asked Ashara.   

 “All is good. It’ll be a long time before the most hardy and most stubborn Free Folk move beyond the living outside and living as nomads. But, this is a start from which we can improve,” Ned replied.   

Then he turned to face Ashara with a beaming smile.   

 “The rice they’ve been growing has been saving hundreds of lives who have been surviving on meat for all of their lives,” he said.   

Good. And with access to the sea and merchant ships sailing that far north, they will have plentiful access to good food from as far south as the Reach.   

 “Now, how has it been here? How are the children faring with their new charges?” he asked as he sat down with her.   

Alba had given birth to eight direwolf cubs, and each of their children had adopted one.   

Artos had named his Grey Wind.   

Eliana had named hers Lady.   

Brandon named his Summer.   

Dyanna named hers Sharpe.   

Ulrick named his Frostclaw.   

Serena named hers Silver.  

Arya named hers Nymeria.   

Rickon named his Shaggydog.   

 “Artos, Brandon, Dyanna and Ulrick take theirs hunting. Eliana and Serena take them for walks in the Wolfswood with Rhaenys and Daenerys. Arya gets up to all kinds of mischief with Nymeria. And Rickon and Shaggydog are often exploring around the First Keep and the Crypts.”   

Ned beamed as he heard about their children.   

Ashara lay her head down on Ned’s lap whilst he told her about his meetings with various Free Folk Magnars.   

 “Tormund Giantsbane wasn’t satisfied with the walls on his home of Mead’s Meadow until it was designed as such that he wasn’t able to climb it personally,” Ned reminisced.   

 Ashara chuckled and asked “Is he a skilled climber, Tormund Giantsbane?”   

 “Oh, aye. He’s climbed the Wall 50 times and once climbed it from top to bottom with myself at the top just to prove it,” Ned replied.   

 “Have we had any ravens since I have been gone?” Ned asked.   

 “Well, we have had a few. Since the Valyrian Roads have been completed, a few Lords Paramount have asked for the roads to be built in their homelands,” said Ashara.   

 “How did they know of them?” asked Ned, whom was frowning as he said it.   

It reminded Ashara of when they had first started to build them across the North and Elia had suggested offering for them to be built across all of Westeros.   

The efforts in building the roads and then the Cailin Canal were hastened with the use of mammoths and giants.   

 “We have to work hard to build them, so why should they take advantage of the work we have done for the North?” Ned had rhetorically asked.   

 “Merchants and travellers no doubt. And then there is Lorch and Swygert whom undoubtedly gave their reports to their liege lords and Robert,” Ashara reasoned.   

 “Whom asked for Valyrian Roads?” asked Ned.   

 “Jon Arryn. Hoster Tully. Tywin Lannister. And Doran,” said Ashara.   

Ned nodded as he thought about this.   

 “Aye, for the Arryns, Martells and Tullys. Aye, we can build them for Dorne, the Riverlands and the Vale, and let their completion serve as an example for the rest of Westeros to follow. But never for fucking Tywin Lannister,” said Ned.   

Quite fucking right. I would never ever want for the North to have any business dealings with the fucking Lannisters.   

 “I’ll send a raven to Doran to expect the road builders from the North and to prepare map roads in anticipation of their arrival. We’ll build the Roads for Dorne first, as they’ll be the most difficult. I’ll write to Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully for them to prepare the same for when they come,” said Ned before Ashara pointed at where the letters were.   

Ned crumpled the letter from Casterly Rock and threw it into the fireplace.   

Chapter Text

Algirdas V  

 “Look at them. All that heavy and expensive armour can’t be doing them that many favours,” Bronn pointed out.   

Algirdas grinned as he looked at the small Braavosi army of 3,000 men.   

 “And on hills and mountains such as these, it would only be too easy to turn their numbers against them,” said Algirdas.   

 “Will we attack then, Uncle?” asked Tolas.   

 “We will. But the men are all to take off heavy armour. It will weigh them down in an attack such at this,” said Algirdas.   

 “Some of our men will be killed if we do,” said Marq.   

 “Good. It will cull out the weak from the strong,” remarked Bronn.   

Whilst Marq and Edric looked at Bronn in shock, Algirdas shook his head at his second.   

 “Come, let’s get a move on,” Algirdas said.   

They climbed down from their viewpoint and ran back to their camp.   

Two days after reaching the Velvet Mountains before the Braavosis had arrived, they had spotted them march towards a gorge, the shortest route through the the Mountains without using the road.   

The shortest, but not the safest.   

Algirdas put his chainmail and leathers on and sheathed his bastard sword and his battle axe.   

This is it.   

This is the battle that will either make me or break me.   

Whatever happens after today, my life will never be the same as it was when I once was living comfortably back home in the Stormlands.   

Algirdas saw Bronn draw his sword and he walked alongside Algirdas as they were joined by his nephews.   

 “Are you all ready?” asked Algirdas.   

 “Yes, Uncle,” said Tolas and Tymond dutifully.   

 “Ready to kill and make some coin,” said Torwyn.   

 “Let’s kill us some Braavosis,” added Robin.   

 “I’m ready, Uncle,” said Edric.   

 “Here and now,” said Marq as he drew his sword.   

Bronn just snorted at his nephews as they tried to look hard.   

 “Killing this lot will toughen them up,” said Bronn.   

 “And if it doesn’t?” asked Algirdas.   

 “Then, they’re fucked,” he replied.   

They led the army of 1,000 men to march silently through the rocky terrain and onto the top of the gorge.   

As they reached the top, Algirdas saw the Braavosis had halted their march and were beginning to rest.   

 “Don’t they look tired,” said Algirdas as he looked at them from his Myrish Spyglass.   

 “All that marching would have wearied them out and made them thirsty,” said Bronn.   

 “Well, look at all that water below them. That’s a stream of the Little Rhoyne. We should push them down and let them have a swim,” said Algirdas as he drew both his sword and his axe.   

Algirdas turned to Marq and clearly nodded to him.   

He nodded back and quietly started ordering for the archers to make ready.  

 “Fire as many volleys as you can before we get down to fight them. Stop firing once we reach that rock in the centre there,” said Algirdas as he pointed at a large rock sticking out on the banking as it went down onto the gorge’s pathway.   

 “Now, Uncle?” asked Marq.   

 “Now,” Algirdas confirmed.   

 “Fire!” Marq commanded.   

Algirdas stood up alongside Bronn and the archers began to fire a few volleys down onto the Braavosis.   

 “With me now!” Algirdas shouted.   

Algirdas yelled as he charged down the banking and down towards the surprised and exhausted Braavosis.   

Many Braavosis were shot dead by the arrows before Algirdas reached the large rock.   

Algirdas saw two captains shouting orders to their men directly in front of him.   

He ran directly toward them and stabbed one and beheaded the other.   

He shoulder-tackled a soldier down and stabbed him before burying his axe into the skull of another.   

Hundreds of Braavosis were had already been killed before they had even gotten down to fight them, Algirdas saw as he looked around for more enemies to fight.   

He saw Bronn backstab one soldier, throw a dagger at another before slicing the throat of another as he came at him with a spear.   

He grabbed the spear and threw it at a horseman whom was trying to rally his men.   

The spear had it the horse and whilst the horse was killed, the horseman fell from the horse and over two hundred feet down into the water.   

Algirdas cut through numerous Braavosi soldiers, stabbing and cutting with his axe and slicing and chopping with his axe.   

Just as he came running toward a group of archers, he saw Marq leading the rest of the army down the hill.   

Good lad! Now we will break the bastards for good!   

Algirdas cut down an archer whom was aiming at one of his men.   

He beheaded another just as he had reached for an arrow from his quiver.   

Tolas joined him and sliced down the remaining three in quick succession.   

Now he is a very skilled fighter.   

Perhaps one day he will fulfil his dream of being a Kingsguard knight.   

Better he than scum like Meryn Trant or Boros Blount.   

They are Cersei’s creatures in the Kingsguard, nothing at all like Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy or Oswell Whent.   

Algirdas dodged a spearman as he tried to impale him.   

He cut down his sword onto his spear, chopping it in half.   

He swung his axe around, beheading him before he could reach for his sheathed shortsword.   

Algirdas looked around after killing him.   

The Braavosis were defeated.   

Only a few were still alive and fighting whilst a few less than 200 had fled back the way they came, throwing down their weapons and armour as they ran.   

I would keep your weapons on you as you run.   

You may run into bandits or Dothraki on your way home, Algirdas thought with amusement.   

Algirdas grinned as Storm Company cheered.   

 “We’ve done it! We’ve fucking won!” Edric cheered as he lifted high his sword and shield and cheered.   

 “Fucking cowards! Come back and fight me, you fucking shits!” Torwyn yelled as he raised his large hammer.   

Storm Company’s first victory.   

And it will not be our last.   

Bellanora II:  

 “It’s beautiful, you can’t deny,” Zhallaro admitted, looking at Dragonspyre from where they stood.   

But a cruel tyrant sleeps on silk beds inside there, one who will destroy our people.   

And for what?!   

To create a new Valyria?!   

Bellanora stood with her closest friends; Zhallaro, Sallonas Qaada and Rala Zaaqu, looking at the now completed Dragonspyre.   

 “What next? Will he want us to speak Valyrian and for us to never speak our language ever again?” asked Rala, Bellanora’s best friend from childhood and then they went to the Temple of Love together.   

I’d sooner not speak at all than speak a language not my own that’s forced onto us.   

 “Wouldn’t surprise me. Has your father said anything of what he is doing?” asked Sallanos, knowing that Rala’s father, Jalol, was the most outspoken Summer Isles nobleman against Agarys Rogare and his conquest and rule over the Summer Isles.   

 “He has sent letters across the sea to Westeros, to that long exiled fool, Jalabhar Xho, for help,” replied Rala.   

 “Jalabhar Xho. The man has been bitter for years being exiled from the Red Flower Valley. Why should he want to help us? He’d probably come back to readily serve Rogare,” said Zhallaro.   

 “And he’s been in Westeros for so long, he’s probably more Westerosi than he is of the Summer Isles,” Bellanora pointed out.  

His own fault for being so weak as to be exiled in the first place.   

 “So what is to be done? We start a rebellion?” asked Sallanos.   

 “No, not yet,” said Bellanora.   

 “But, Bella, the people are crying for war and for these Valyrian, Lysene and sellsword scum to leave our homes and for us to be free once again. It’s not as if the Westerosi will come to our aid in the future,” said Rala.   

 “I want to be free of them too. But we cannot begin a rebellion now,” said Bellanora.   

 “All men and women of the Isles are hardened by the battles fought here,” Zhallaro added.   

 “Battles? Those are little more than games of people hitting at each other with wooden spears and shields and the defeated only face exile. This is actual war of which we speak, where our enemies have steel and kill,” Bellanora pointed out.   

War on the Summer Isles was ritualised by the priests, and only they could choose the time and days when these battles and wars took place.   

Such conflicts were often between two houses quarrelling over land.   

The battles would often be less than a day, resembling the melee tourneys that take place in Westeros as opposed to the fighting pits in Slaver’s Bay.   

The victors would gain what they wanted out of the conflict whilst the defeated would be exiled.   

Most exiled had fled to the Free Cities or to Westeros where many would be sellswords or sellsails.   

 “So what can be done? Because sooner or later, a war will start,” said Sallonas.   

 “The time isn’t right, cousin. You know that better than I. We are not ready for war. And we need allies if we are to defeat Rogare and crush him for good,” said Bellanora.   

 “She’s right, you know.”  

Bellanora and her friends turned around to see Bellanora’s older brother Xharo.   

A tall and muscular man.   

Looking at him now, Bellanora noticed he was far more scarred than she remembered of him.   

There was a large scar across his arm from his wrist to his elbow, as though done by a spear.   

And on his face, there was a scar from his eyebrow to the top of his forehead, just touching his dark curling hair.   

She had last seen him two years ago, when he had returned briefly from fighting Dothraki near Tyrosh.   

 “Brother! What are you doing back here?” Bellanora asked as she hugged her brother.   

 “I came as soon as I had heard the news,” said Xharo.   

 “Are you still with the Second Sons?” asked Sallanos as he shook hands with his cousin.   

 “I am not. Our new commander, Mero, is a lazy fool and would probably serve Rogare given the chance,” said Xharo.   

 “So, what do you say? Can we defeat Rogare if we were to rise in rebellion?” eagerly asked Zhallaro.   

 “No,” said Xharo as he shook his head and scratched an itch in his short beard.   

 “I saw for myself the situation of Rogare’s strength and his forces when we arrived,” said Xharo.   

 “We?” asked Rala.   

 “Myself and twenty others of the Summer Isles come to save our homeland,” explained Xharo before he continued.   

 “Rogare is clever. He has a strong navy of 50 warships. They are not fast or wieldy like our own swan ships, true. But they are strong and are warships that can ram and fire ballistae at our ships.   

 “And he has an army of experienced soldiers, all armed with steel swords, spears, axes and arrows. We have no such thing here,” said Xharo.   

 “If there is to be war soon, then we must first be organised. No war such as the one you are all dreaming of was planned yesterday and fought tomorrow. We must gather plans, spy on the enemy, see what supplies and equipment they have and maintain the army to fight them and throw them out. And like my sister said, we cannot fight this war on our own. We need help.”   

Daenerys II:  

Daenerys was sewing the first of two dresses for her wedding to Harrold Arryn.   

The first was for when she first arrived in the Vale and was received by he, his parents Jon and Lysa Arryn and the Lords and Ladies of the Vale.   

And the second was the wedding dress.   

She was being helped by Eliana, Rhaenys, Serena, Jeyne and Beth.   

 “What sort of images should we have on the dress for when she arrives in the Eyrie?” Serena asked.   

 “Dragons and wolves?” Beth suggested.   

 “No, why not dragons and falcons? If she is to wed the future Lord of the Eyrie,” added Jeyne.   

No. Elia said that Rhaenys, Aegon and I are the last dragons of Westeros.   

Viserys may be a Targaryen, but he has been in Pentos for so long that he will never gain an army and take back King’s Landing, in spite of all of his claims that he is the rightful heir and not Aegon.   

For as long as Daenerys could remember, she would receive ravens from across the Narrow Sea from her brother Viserys.   

But whilst he sent letters to her, neither their niece and nephew Rhaenys and Aegon ever received letters.   

As she grew older, Daenerys understood more about Viserys from his letters, which promised her that he would ‘ free you from the savages whom imprison you in the North ,’ and that when the time came for him to ‘ take my rightful place on the Iron Throne, we will be wed and you will be my Queen .’  

He would also tell her to write to him which noble families would support him the moment he landed in Westeros with an army.   

And every letter she received, she would show them to Elia, Ashara and Eddard.   

Both Elia and Aunt Ashara told her that her father planned for Viserys and Daenerys to wed whilst Mother was carrying her.   

They also told her how he obsessively told Viserys about the “importance” of House Targaryen having pure Valyrian bloodlines.   

This was why he had never once sent letters to Rhaenys and Aegon, whom he had often referred to as ‘ Dornish halfbreeds .’  

 “Dragons, just dragons on my dress,” said Daenerys.   

 “Are you sure, Dany? Some Lords of the Vale may think that you want to overthrow Robert Baratheon?” Eliana asked with worry.   

Robert Baratheon was never referred to as the King amongst them, after how he had attempted to murder Daenerys, Rhaenys and Aegon when they were all still children, for no reason other than whom their fathers were and being Targaryens.   

 “I am a Targaryen and I won’t be frightened into submission by stags or lions. If I cannot be brave at my own wedding to show the world who I am, then how will I be able to do that for the rest of my life?” Daenerys asked.   

 “You’d be taking a great risk, Dany. There are some in the Vale whom hate House Targaryen because of your father,” said Serena with worry.   

 “I know, Serena. But, I won’t show them I am afraid.”   

I am a dragon.   

I’m not a mad and murdering coward like my father.   

And I’m certainly not a stupid idiot like either of my brothers.   

I will be like Mother, and be brave in the face all hardships, Daenerys thought as she remembered all of the stories Elia and Aunt Ashara had told her about Queen Rhaella.   

And then she thought about what Serena said, about how their were Vale Lords whom hated House Targaryen for the losses of family during the rebellion.   

The only ones she had met in person were Bronze Yohn Royce and his three sons, Andar, Robar and Waymar, and daughter, Ysilla, when they had visited Winterfell, for Bronze Yohn was an old and dear friend of Uncle Eddard.   

And Elia told Daenerys how when Uncle Eddard defended them in the throne room that day, whilst Northern Lords stood by him, none confronted the King as he had done.   

Except for the Lord of Runestone.   

But whilst he had helped Eddard defend them when they were children, when he had first come to Winterfell, when he had first seen Daenerys, Rhaenys and Aegon, he was unsure of them, until he knew them better and saw that they were indeed unlike their fathers.   

Daenerys was pleased with the finished first dress when she wore it for them to see.   

It was a mix of white and blue on the front and a greying colour on the back.   

And held together by a silver cloak fastener, she wore a black cloak with a ruby-red three headed dragon emblazoned on it.   

Daenerys loved it as she looked at herself in the mirror.   

 “What do you think?” Daenerys asked her niece and friends.   

 “It’s beautiful. It looks truly beautiful,” Eliana said with a beaming smile.   

 “Aye, it looks amazing. You look like a true Targaryen princess,” Jeyne said with an admiring smile.   

Yes. Yes, I’m a Targaryen princess.   

I am of the North and of House Targaryen.   

And none in the North, the Vale or the south will ever see weakness in me.   

Because it had taken a long time, Daenerys had decided on the wedding dress.   

 “We’ll get started on it tomorrow. We deserve a rest and soon it will be dinner,” said Daenerys.   

 “Are you sure, Dany? We could get a good start on it now,” Beth offered.   

 “We have only just finished her dress for when she is met by the Arryns, Beth!” Rhaenys pointed out.   

As they left Daenerys’ chambers, Daenerys asked Rhaenys to stay behind.   

 “Rhae, can you stay for a moment?”   

 “Of course, Aunt,” she replied.   

Rhaenys sat next to Daenerys on Daenerys’ bed.   

Gods, how do I ask this?  

 “What is it like?”   

 “What’s what like? Marrying?”   

 “No. Being with the man you love?”   

Rhaenys lay down on the bed and sighed as she looked up at the ceiling.   

Daenerys lay down next to her.   

 “It’s wonderful. Especially now, when we no longer have to hide what we feel for each other. When I first started to feel for him and we started to fuck, everything just always felt so perfect and so right.”  

She started to beam and her eyes glistened like diamonds as she spoke about Artos.   

 “Even just talking about it makes me happy. Whenever we talk, even now, or when he just puts his arms around me, I always just feel so happy and so safe. If I had ever had a bad day, he would always be there to make me feel like the world is not such a terrible place and to remind me that he would always love me.”  

That’s a lot.   

Rhaenys sat up and looked at Daenerys.   

 “Aunt Dany, what I’m saying is that love isn’t what the storybooks or tales talk of. It’s being with someone who doesn’t love you only for your beauty or what you’re like in bed. It’s being with someone who cares for you, listens to what you have to say, values your opinion and understands you. It’s about being with someone who loves you for who you are and not whom the other wants you to be.”   

Daenerys thought about this before sitting up to face Rhaenys.   

 “How did you know when you felt for Artos?”   

 “When he returned from his trip around the North and his brief time as a ward of Last Hearth. I had always known that he had felt for me, but when I saw him return, I just felt as though I couldn’t breathe around him. And when I wasn’t around him, I wanted to be and would daydream about wedding him.”   

 “I then decided to be adventurous and when we were dancing at Uncle Ned’s nameday feast, I sneakily put a piece of parchment in his doublet pocket telling him to come to the First Keep. As well as the parchment, I also added a pair of my perfumed underclothes,” Rhaenys said with a grin.   

Daenerys couldn’t help but giggle at her audacity.   

Gods, in spite of being a Targaryen, she clearly does have Dornish blood in her.   

And she is too much like her cousin Arianne.   

Daenerys then realised something about that night.   

 “Was that why you were walking slowly the next morning?” Daenerys asked.   

 Rhaenys giggled and said “Aye. Gods, that was one of the best nights of my life, even if it did hurt to walk later.”   

She paused and then looked seriously at Daenerys.   

 “I discovered that I truly love him when I had told Arianne on my nameday feast about him. And she asked if I would share him with her for her stay. We have shared men and women in the past, but when she asked me of Artos, I immediately said no. Because I know that I’ll never have another man or woman in my bed. Only Artos.”   

Daenerys looked at the dress they had finished making that night.   

 “Will I be able to have that with Harrold Arryn?”   

 “From what I saw of him when he visited Winterfell for the wedding, he is certainly a handsome lad. But even if there isn’t love, as long as he is good to you and never brings scandal to the Eyrie that would dishonour you, then that is enough.  

 “But when you are wed and you go to the Eyrie, see for yourself what sort of man he is. Learn what you can about him, tell him about yourself and build up your marriage, brick by brick.”   

Chapter Text

Algirdas VI:  

Returning to Pentos, the people all rejoiced.   

Even though the war was ongoing, this was the first great victory which Pentos had achieved ever since the wars with Braavos had begun, centuries ago.   

And Algirdas was certain that it wouldn’t be the last victory, achieved thanks to the efforts of Storm Company.   

 “It’s nice that they show us gratitude. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s fucking ingrates,” said Tymond as he looked around.   

 “You’ll get plenty of them when you see more of the nobility of Westeros, of the Free Cities and all around the world, Ty,” Algirdas said.   

 “But when Storm Company fights for these nobles, then surely they should show a bit of gratitude, Uncle?” asked Tolas.   

 “You would think that, but having said that, would you prefer that those nobles pay you good coin or to profusely thanked for your bravery in defeating said enemies?” asked Algirdas, whilst looking at all of his nephews as he road with them, Bronn and Arodos toward the Prince’s Palace.   

They all agreed that it was better to be paid than to be thanked, which Bronn guffawed at.  

 “Once the Prince pays us good for smashing those Braavosis, then you boys can decide whether it’s better to be paid than to be thanked. Coin is coin, no matter who you work for and once you make your fortune, then you can demand gratitude from the ingrates you used to work for,” said Bronn.   

Algirdas expected to have a small reception at the Prince’s Palace and for him to pay them what they had earned.   

But he was expecting, nay, hoping that the Prince would pay more for the Company to fight for Pentos again against the full might of the Braavosi army for when it entered onto Pentoshi lands.   

And at the courtyard of the Prince’s Palace, Algirdas saw the Prince surrounded by his wife, his numerous children and numerous Pentoshi nobles and generals observing their arrival.   

Algirdas was the first to dismount from his horse and he bowed to the Prince, and was followed by Arodos, Bronn and Algirdas’ nephews.   

 “Lord Algirdas, all of Pentos owes you thanks for your timely victory against the army that would dare to cross into Pentos and whom would have sought to raid and murder our people,” said the Prince to the benefit of those around him, who clapped at his speech.   

 “And in gratitude, you are to be paid your rightful due,” he said before clapping his hands.   

Algirdas turned around to see a few dozen slaves bringing large chests to the centre of the courtyard.   

Each chest was opened and Algirdas smiled at seeing the Pentoshi sunshine reflected off of the silver and gold coins.   

Just what the Company needs to bring more men into our ranks and to make a greater reputation for ourselves.   

 “But, I would offer you more coin, Lord Algirdas,” said the Prince as he and Algirdas met face-to-face.   

I knew it.   

 “What would you have of me, my Prince?” asked Algirdas.   

 “Your victory has become a great inspiration for my people, who have only known defeat to Braavos. But this victory has given much needed morale to all of Pentos. If Storm Company was to fight alongside my army and to defeat the Braavosi army as it crosses into Pentos, I will reward Storm Company with 250,000 Gelessas.”   

250,000?! That’s got to be at least 100,000 Gold Dragons!   

Even more coin, as well as what we’ve just been paid, will make us stronger and more desirable by all the rulers of Essos, Algirdas thought as he glanced from the Prince, then to the chests of coin and then back to the Prince of Pentos.   

 “I accept, my Prince,” said Algirdas.   

Aegon IV:  

I can do this, I can do this, Aegon thought as he paced up and down his chamber floors, thinking about what he wanted to ask.   

No.   

What he NEEDED to ask.   

I may not be King or Crown Prince or any Prince of House Targaryen, but I have no intention to die a faceless warrior, forgotten by history, he thought as he drank from a cup of water at his bedside table.   

He took a deep breath as he put the cup down and then turned to the door.   

He walked to the door and closed it behind him as he headed for Uncle Ned’s solar.   

He stared at the door, listening out for any sign of Uncle Eddard or Aunt Ashara inside.   

He could hear them talking.   

 “… what has Lord Manderly said?” asked Aunt Ashara.   

 “ He says that he is delighted by the idea and he will be glad to welcome Rickon to White Harbour and he would be glad to have him squire for Ser Wylis,” said Uncle Eddard.   

Continuing planning Rickon’s future as Lord of Wolf’s Den and future husband of Lord Manderly’s granddaughter Wylla, Aegon thought as he remembered meeting both Wynafryd and Wylla Manderly at a feast in White Harbour.  

Wynafryd was beautiful and a very skilled dancer and very softly spoken, reminding him of Eliana.   

Whereas Wylla was loud mouthed, unafraid to swear and tough, reminding him of Arya.   

I’m sure little Rickon will be a better husband to her than any potential husband.   

At least she wouldn’t be marrying a man old enough to be her father, or even worse, a fucking Frey, Aegon thought as he remembered the last time he had met some Freys, when a delegation of them had come to Winterfell, enquiring to Uncle Ned about Artos marrying a girl of House Frey.   

Aegon took a few steps closer to the door before he inhaled a breath of cool Northern air passing through the windows.   

Come on, you can do this, Aegon.   

You’ve faced off Free Folk, mammoths and giants in three battles and wights and White Walkers in eight battles.   

You can muster up the courage to speak to the man whose been the only father you’ve ever known and a woman whose been a second mother to you.   

He exhaled finally as he reached out and knocked on the door.   

 “Enter,” said Uncle Eddard.   

Aegon opened the door and took a step inside.   

 “Hello, Aegon. Is everything alright?” sweetly asked Aunt Ashara with a kind smile.   

 “Aye, all is fine, Uncle Ned, Aunt Ash. I just wanted to ask a question,” he said.  

 “Sit down, Aegon,” said Aunt Ashara, gesturing to a chair on the opposite side of Uncle Ned’s desk.   

He sat down and faced them, nervously, for even though he had known them his whole life and had always treated him like a son, he was always uncomfortable with facing people and looking them in the eye, for it just made him feel nervous.   

 “Rhaenys is wed to Artos and Aunt Daenerys is soon to wed Harrold Arryn. And now I wanted to know, what will the future hold for me?” he asked, facing the slight gap between them, whilst not looking them in the eye, he could look at both of them and focus on the opened window behind them.   

Uncle Eddard grimaced as he looked from his lady wife and then to Aegon.   

 “It’s not an easy answer, I’m afraid, Aegon. You see, under normal circumstances, I might have been able to award you a keep or even a castle, that you may re-establish House Targaryen, but in the North, or even create a house outside of House Targaryen. But Robert has shown nothing but hostility for you, your sister, your aunt and your mother.”  

What does this mean, then?  

 “It all depends on you, Aegon, my dear. Whether it is staying in Winterfell and having a place in court, perhaps becoming an officer in the Household Guards, or even going to the Wall and joining the Night’s Watch,” said Aunt Ashara.   

Maybe I should go with Aunt Daenerys to the Eyrie when she weds Harrold Arryn?  

No, she will have Ser Alliser protecting her.   

Or should I stay in Winterfell, to be with Mother and Rhaenys and be an uncle to Rhaenys’ children with Artos?   

Or should I seize my own destiny and join the Brothers of the Night’s Watch?   

 “Thank you, Uncle Ned, Aunt Ash,” said Aegon with a nod, feeling as though there were no other options for him.   

 “Aegon,” Uncle Eddard called.   

Aegon turned back around to face Uncle Eddard.   

 “I’m sorry, lad. I know that this isn’t what you should have. You deserve far better than this after all you have done,” said Uncle Eddard.   

Aegon just nodded before taking his leave and closing the door behind him.   

He walked to the balcony overlooking the training yard, where he could see Ser Rodrik training Arya and Rickon both.   

He smiled at seeing that before looking down to see Artos hugging Rhaenys and seeing her rest her head on his lap whilst running her hands through his hair reaching down to his shoulders.   

Why did I expect any different, Aegon thought as he glanced at the Starks all around the courtyard.   

They all have their futures planned for them.   

But where does this leave me?   

An exile with no future and nothing to inherit?   

Interlude III:  

Tymond Hill (Mark Ryder):  

What was Uncle Algirdas thinking?  

Storm Company and the Pentoshi army take on the might of Braavos, perhaps the wealthiest and most powerful of the Free Cities?!  

Tymond, though eager for glory and to one day become a knight, alongside his brother Tolas, still wanted to live to be a knight first.   

Tymond drank from a wine cup with his brothers whilst Uncle Algirdas and Bronn were planning with the Pentoshi generals.   

 “Those Pentoshi generals should be fucking listening to Uncle Algirdas if they want to win this war,” said Torwyn.   

 “Why, brother? You think that we’ve got a chance against the Braavosis?” asked Marq.   

 “We stand a better chance with Uncle Algirdas in command, or at least making the plans. There’s no way that the Pentoshi army can last against the Braavosi army, if the ones we fought at Velvet Mountains are any indication,” Torwyn explained.   

Tymond glanced around at the Pentoshi soldiers nearest to them.   

All looked badly trained, and some of them looked exhausted from just wearing their armour, whether it was leather, chainmail or lamellar.   

Tymond then turned his eyes to Storm Company, now grown from a force of 1,000 sellswords to now 1,800 after the victory at the Velvet Mountains.   

Many of whom were young Pentoshi men looking to make their fortunes, or to simply escape from the lives they had led back home.   

Tymond then turned to the commander’s tent, where he could see the Pentoshi generals and nobles leave alongside Algirdas and Bronn, whom were walking to Tymond and his brothers.   

 “Brothers. Uncle Algirdas,” said Tymond.   

They all stood up to face their youngest uncle as he joined them.   

 “Well, my boys, these Pentoshi cheesemongers seem to possess a brain after all. They’ve agreed to the plans which Bronn and I suggested,” said Uncle Algirdas.   

Excellent!   

Now we stand a greater chance of victory, just as Torwyn had said, Tymond thought as they walked to their own tent, where the other gathered officers of Storm Company had assembled.   

 “So, what is the plan, my Lord?” asked a Pentoshi officer, called Naridos.   

Uncle Algirdas gestured to the map on his desk and then explained, whilst using pieces from a cyvasse board to demonstrate.   

 “We shall make them think we are attacking them at the mountains near Ghoyan Drohe. But whilst they attack, we shall capture their campsite and burn our own.   

 “Whilst they figure out what went wrong, we shall march slowly toward them, and have a team of engineers divert the water in the nearby streams so that their troops can’t get any water from the nearby streams or river.”  

 “And as we march toward them, they will respond with a large scale attack. We’ll counter it with archers, and whilst they are facing the brunt of our archers, the Pentoshi cavalry shall position itself on the right flank whilst Storm Company attacks on the left flank. And with their backs to the mountains and their other sides covered by us, they will have no fucking chance of escape.”   

Tymond and his brothers liked the plan.   

And strangely enough, Bronn liked it.   

 He described it as “a plan which will just break the Braavosis and crush their army in one quick slice, and without them the wiser.”   

If that uncouth sellsword likes the plan, then it must be a good plan, and one that will succeed, Tymond thought optimistically.   

The next day, they had begun the plan, with the Pentoshi cavalry of 3,000 tricking the Braavosi army into giving chase, away from their campsite.   

Whilst they marched after them, it was Storm Company which took the camp first, killing a few guards whilst doing so.   

After capturing it, Tymond looked ahead at the Braavosi army with Edric.   

 “They don’t look too happy. I wonder why?” Edric wondered sarcastically.   

Tymond grinned as the Braavosi army had turned around and began to march back to the campsite, just as Tymond was drinking water from his waterskin.   

 “Don’t drink fucking water, brother. Have some wine. Courtesy of the Braavosi generals.”  

Tymond and Edric turned around to see Robin bringing a large goblet of wine and a tray with wine cups.   

The six brothers each took a cup and Tymond made a toast.   

 “To Storm Company and yet another victory,” said Robin before they all cheered and drank.   

Tymond turned back to the approaching Braavosi army before he turned to see the Pentoshi generals looking ahead whilst seated on their horses.   

 “Reform!” a bunch of Pentoshi officers began to order whilst Storm Company was ordered to march to the flank.   

Tymond looked around as he climbed onto his horse and spotted less than a hundred men riding for what the locals called Hill Caraxes, where the River Rhoyne connected into various streams around the area.   

It was so named after the Valyrian God of the sea and of water and provided much needed water for various villages in the region.   

 “Will they do what is required of them? It will fucking difficult, to change the course of a river,” wondered Edric.   

 “Tywin Lannister did the same thing during the Siege of Castamere to flood and drown all of the Reynes,” said Tymond, remembering the story from Mother and how Mother’s own father was a Redcloak of Lannisport whom had fought in the conflict.   

 “True, but that was in a siege of a castle where Tywin had all of the time in the world. And this is a battle taking place right now,” said Edric.   

 “Don’t worry, Ed. Many of the engineers going up there worked for the Northerners to build the Cailin Canal,” said Robin.   

Good, then we have little to fear, Tymond thought as he saw them reach the top of Hill Caraxes.   

They rode for the flank and as they reached a flanking point where they had a good view of the battlefield, Tymond saw how Pentoshi archers and peltasts were unleashing numerous volleys on the charging Braavosis, forcing them back, only briefly.   

But just as they marched to a few nearby streams, they looked around in confusion.   

 “The engineers have succeeded. They must be so fucking thirsty right now,” said Torwyn with a grin as he spun his large axe around in his hand.   

The Braavosis turned back to face the Pentoshi army and charged once more.   

This time, as they charged, Tymond noticed how desperately they charged at the Pentoshis.   

They know that they are critically low on water.   

They will either win or lose with this charge on the Pentoshi positions.   

The moment that their infantry clashed with the Pentoshi infantry, Uncle Algirdas gave the order.   

 “Swords and lances! Swords and lances! Get ready, lads!”   

Uncle Algirdas drew his sword and his axe whilst Tymond kept his sword at his side and held his lance and shield at the ready as he rode alongside his brothers.   

 “Charge! Ride for glory, gold and all rewards you could ever want! Storm Company!” Uncle Algirdas yelled as he raised both his sword and his axe.   

 “Storm Company!” Tymond yelled as he raised his lance up and cheered alongside his brothers and the rest of the Company.   

The distance between Storm Company and the Braavosis became smaller and smaller as Tymond pointed his lance at the nearest Pentoshi infantry, just as they realised that Storm Company was almost upon them.   

Officers were shouting at their men to ready to face them, but Tymond grinned as he could almost taste the panic and fear in the air.   

Nothing can save you from Storm Company, Tymond thought with pride before his lance impaled the first two men, one standing directly behind the other.   

Tymond drew his sword and cut the throat of a Braavosi officer whilst the two impaled by his lance collapsed to the ground.   

Tymond stabbed an officer on horseback as he tried to issue commands to his men.   

As he withdrew his sword, the officer collapsed from his horse and fell and landed on top of a spearman trying to reach Tymond.   

Tymond sliced the throat of another Pentoshi before he could witness how the impact of the Company and of the Braavosi cavalry was making all of the difference to the Braavosi numbers.   

It wasn’t long, however, before remnants of the Braavosi army began to flee.   

Tymond roared and cheered along with his brothers and uncle as Uncle Algirdas raised both his bloodied weapons in the sky and cheered with the rest of them.   

Chapter Text

Artos IV:  

 “Mother! Aegon! Artos!”   

Artos and Aegon had to be held back by Father, Ulrick, Bran and Theon as they stood outside of Maester Gelimund’s chambers.   

Only moments before they could have lunch, Rhaenys’ water broke and she screamed as Artos carried her to the solar of the Maester of Winterfell.   

I need to be by her side, Artos furiously thought as Theon and Ulrick held him back.   

 “Maester Gelimund is with her, she will be alright,” Ulrick said.   

But Artos ignored him and all others around him.   

The only thing he could focus on was Rhaenys as she struggled and screamed for him, for her brother and for her mother.   

 “ You’re almost there, my Lady! You must keep going! I can see the head !”   

Artos struggled from the grip of his younger brother and his best friend at hearing Maester Gelimund’s words.   

He could feel tears swim down his face and sting his eyes as he heard Rhaenys cry and say how hard it was for her to breathe.   

At last he wrenched himself free when all heads turned to the door at the sound of a child crying.   

Artos opened the door and rushed to Rhaenys’ side, followed closely behind by Aegon.   

 “Rhaenys! Rhaenys!” Aegon almost yelled.   

 “Rhaenys. My love. We’re here, we’re all here,” Artos whispered gently as he stood by her side as she lay on Maester Gelimund’s examination table.   

Rhaenys lifted her head up weakly to see Artos and Aegon and then Aunt Elia.   

Artos helped her sit up and then gave her a cup of water.   

She thirstily drank it and cried tears of joy as she hugged Artos, Aegon and Aunt Elia.  

The hug was broken when Maester Gelimund spoke.   

 “My Lord Artos. My Lady Rhaenys. You have a handsome baby boy.”   

A son?  

 “Is he alright, Maester? Is he well?” asked Rhaenys.   

 “Aye, he is, my Lady,” said Maester Gelimund as he finished cleaning him and wrapping him in a towel.   

He passed their son to Rhaenys, whom beamed at their son as she held him closely.   

 “Hello. Hello, my handsome little boy,” she whispered with a gorgeous smile, reminding Artos of Aunt Elia’s captivating and enchanting smile, capable of cheering up even the saddest of people.   

Artos kissed Rhaenys’ sweating head and then the forehead of their son before he looked down at their son.   

 “My Lady, I must examine you now, to see if you are in good health,” said Maester Gelimund.  

Artos turned to Maester Gelimund in puzzlement, before both Mother and Aunt Elia grabbed him.   

 “This must be done,” Mother whispered to him as Rhaenys passed their son to him and they left Maester Gelimund and Rhaenys alone once again.   

Father closed the door behind them as Artos gently held his son in his large and muscular arms.   

 “You are the most handsome little boy in the world, aren’t you?” he whispered to the boy whom had fallen fast asleep.   

Artos kissed his forehead and gently hugged him, taking care to listen to his breathing.   

Then he passed him to Mother, whom beamed as she whispered to him and showed him to Father and Aunt Elia.   

 “I feel too young to be a grandmother,” Aunt Elia commented as she held her grandson.   

 “Have you and Rhaenys chosen a name for the newest Stark?” Father asked with an overjoyed smile.   

 “Aye, we had decided on Rickard if it was a boy and Lyarra if it was a girl,” Artos replied.   

But at the mere mention of Grandmother Lyarra, Artos turned to face the door, fearing for Rhaenys, after suddenly remembering how Grandmother Lyarra had died giving birth to Uncle Benjen and how Queen Rhaella had died giving birth to Daenerys.   

 “She’ll be alright, Artos,” Ulrick assured him as he patted him on the back.   

Please, Gods, keep her well and keep her safe.   

I love her so so much and I cannot raise our son alone.   

Rickard needs his mother.   

Maester Gelimund opened the doors to his solar, Artos counted each footstep with bated breath as he waited for news.   

 “She is well, my Lords,” he said with a smile.   

 “Are you sure, Maester? Nothing at all?” asked Aunt Elia with worry.   

 “I am, my Princess. She should be alright as soon as she has had plenty of sleep and food and water,” said Maester Gelimund.   

Artos meanwhile, took Rickard in his arms and walked with him to her side.   

 “Are you well?” he asked with worry.   

 “Aye, I am,” she replied before noticing him holding their son.   

 “Oh, Rickard. My little Rickard,” she said with a beaming smile before he passed her their son.   

She held him close to her chest and covered his head with kisses before Artos hugged her and kissed her forehead.   

 “We have such a beautiful little boy, just as we said we would,” said Artos.   

 “Yes, yes we do,” said Rhaenys before she kissed Artos on the lips.   

Algirdas VII:  

To say that the feast at the Prince’s Palace was over extravagant, was an understatement.   

It would take a lot more money for Robert or for the Lannisters to be able to even try to replicate something on this scale, Algirdas thought as he looked around at the many Pentoshi generals, nobles, merchants, priests and politicians and their families as they celebrated the Treaty of Norvos.   

The Treaty of Norvos came after the Battle of Ghoyan Drohe and the defeat of the Braavosis to Pentos.   

The Treaty demanded the reparation of 10 million gold Gelessas and the nullification of previous treaties that Braavos had enforced upon Pentos centuries before in previous wars.   

Prince Tregaron intended for this to the stepping stone for Pentos’ power and influence to grow further and further, and without Braavos interfering.   

But for Storm Company, Algirdas was glad.   

For the victory had allowed the Company to take a fair share of the spoils after the great victory and also many more men of Pentos and other Free Cities and even sellswords from across the Narrow Sea in Westeros had chosen to join the Company.   

Will the Company soon become a force to rival even the Golden Company , Algirdas thought ambitiously as he drank with his nephews.   

 “How are you finding this all?” he asked them.   

 “Fucking amazing, Uncle, all of this. I’ve never seen such a thing before in my life. Especially not in King’s Landing,” said Tolas.   

 “Perhaps we will see more of this, whenever Storm Company has been given a new contract by another powerful and wealthy nation,” suggested Marq.   

 “Oh, that would be glorious. So, what are you lads spending your share of the coin on?” Algirdas asked, now that Prince Tregar had paid them what was promised.  

 “Some new armour and a better sword, Uncle,” replied Edric.   

As he looked around, Algirdas noticed an absentee.  

 “Where’s Torwyn?” he asked.   

Robin pointed at one of the main doors leading onto the courtyard.   

Algirdas saw Torwyn grinning as he was holding the hands of two whores and leading them inside.   

Gods, he is just like his father for his taste in battle, drinking and whoring, Algirdas thought with a grin before he listened to the rest of his nephews on what they would spend their coin on.   

Algirdas had already told Arodos to send his shares of the payments to the Iron Bank of Braavos and have it converted into Westerosi currency before sending it on to Storm’s End.   

He had recently received a raven from Shireen that with the first shipment of coin he had sent, a barracks, smith and stable were in the process of being built and refurbishments around the keep itself were underway.   

And with the payment from our first battle with Braavos and now the final payment, she should have enough coin to finish all refurbishments around the keep and begin building the first few villages around the castle.   

And then, perhaps the walls can be rebuilt and improved upon.   

And finally, hire good people capable of running my household.   

But Algirdas’ thoughts were interrupted when he felt a tap on his shoulder.   

 “Uncle,” said Tymond.   

 “Hmm?” asked Algirdas.   

 “See that silver-haired Valyrian over there? I think he wants to start a fight. Probably had too much to drink,” he said.   

Algirdas looked at the silver-haired Valyrian as Tymond described him as, and just from looking at him, Algirdas knew whom he was.   

Well, I’ll be damned.   

 “I know exactly who that is.”  

 “What? Who is it, Uncle?” asked Tolas.   

 “That, my boys, is Viserys Targaryen. One of the last Targaryens in the world,” said Algirdas.   

 “How do you know that that’s him?” asked Edric.   

 “When I was last in King’s Landing, last rumour of him was that he was being sheltered in Pentos by some Pentoshi Magister called Illyrio. And, if you look at how he is dressed, his sword has a three-headed dragon on the pommel and the crossguard. And what sigil do you see on his doublet, Robin?” asked Algirdas.   

 “A three-headed red dragon on a black doublet, Uncle,” Robin replied as he sipped his wine.   

 “Does he know that we are Baratheons?” asked Edric.   

As if to answer Edric’s question, Algirdas heard a whining shout loud.   

 “Algirdas Baratheon!”   

Algirdas turned to the man he pointed out to his nephews, whom was trying to be calmed down by a large and overweight man wearing rich Pentoshi garb.   

His host in Pentos, Algirdas surmised as he faced the Targaryen claimant.   

 “Your brother murdered my brother! I will have my justice, in the name of House Targaryen! For a dragon will always burn its foes!” he yelled.   

What sort of fucking idiot challenges someone in the middle of a feast, when we are all guests of our host here?!  

The Prince of Pentos, no less!   

Algirdas took a few steps toward Viserys Targaryen.   

 “I would be glad to fight you on any other day, little dragon, but we are both guests of His Grace, Prince Tregar, so let us leave the hatred and blood aside for another day and not betray the hospitality of our host, shall we not?” Algirdas replied, as he turned to Viserys’ friend.   

Calm him down before the Prince has him arrested, he wanted to say as he glared at the fat merchant.   

 “Quite right. Your Grace, we are guests here. We cannot do anything rash…” he tried to say diplomatically.   

 “I AM THE DRAGON! And you will die, like the coward and traitor that you are! Like your brother is!” he snapped as he drew his sword and pointed it at Algirdas.   

All guests of the Prince turned to the scene in shock as Viserys Targaryen pointed his sword at Algirdas, whom was only a few feet away from the point of his sword.   

There was a deafening silence in the gardens whilst the Prince’s Unsullied guards all levelled spears and a few began to walk toward Viserys Targaryen.   

What the fuck do I do, Algirdas thought before he noticed the table nearest to him.   

 “Put that down, you drunken lizard, before you hurt yourself, or before Prince Tregar has your balls cut off,” Algirdas threatened darkly, whilst walking to the table.   

To all around, including Viserys, he made sure that they saw him put his wine cup down.   

But what they didn’t see, was when his fingers reached for a fork and he tucked it inside the sleeve of his doublet.   

 “I am the dragon and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I do not fear anyone, least of all pathetic stags such as you,” he snarled.   

 “It was a stag that killed your brother and it was a lion that killed your father. And it is direwolves raising your sister, niece and nephew,” Algirdas replied with a grin as he raised his right hand slightly so that the fork would be tucked at his elbow, and that all he had to do, was straighten his arm and the fork would fall to his wrist and he could grab it if needed.   

Viserys yelled out pathetically as he sliced his sword across at Algirdas throat.  

Algirdas ducked underneath the blow and he straightened his arm and felt the fork leave his elbow.   

He grabbed it as it reached the cuff and he grabbed Viserys by his shoulder with his left hand and with his right, he stabbed Viserys in the chest.   

Viserys stared in shock at him whilst Algirdas twisted the fork around, causing his sword to fall onto the marble floor.  

He spat blood all over Algirdas’ face before he looked down at where he had just stabbed him.   

Viserys coughed blood and choked on it as Algirdas drew the fork out of his belly and he collapsed to his knees.   

Algirdas dropped the fork whilst Viserys finally choked his last.   

Chapter Text

Ashara V:  

Dead? Gods, Ashara thought as she put the letter down.   

 “Grave news, my Lady,” said Maester Gelimund.   

 “Indeed, Maester. Indeed. Gather our household, my children, Elia, Daenerys and Elia’s children into the solar. We’ll speak more later,” said Ashara.   

 “Yes, my Lady. And Lord Stark?”   

 “I will bring the news to him,” she said before she left Maester Gelimund’s solar.   

Ashara worried for Ned and for Elia at the news that had just arrived from Maester Gelimund as she spotted two of her children sparring on the training yard.    

 “Where is your father?” she had asked Ulrick as he and Dyanna had reached a stalemate in their duel, for whilst Ulrick was stronger and harder, Dyanna was faster and very quick at reacting with her shield.   

 “He is in the Godswood, Mother,” said Dyanna.   

Ashara walked to the Godswood and found Ned seated underneath the Heart Tree.   

She was glad that with the end of the War of the Long Night, there was no more deserters of the Night’s Watch to execute.   

For even if it was his duty, she never again wanted to fear for her husband or her children in times of war.   

But now her fear was not because of war, but because of the dreaded game of thrones she had learnt to play when she served as Elia’s lady-in-waiting in the Red Keep all those years ago.   

She was glad that she hadn’t needed to play the game ever since marrying Ned and living in Winterfell with him and their family.   

But now, the situation was dire, and she knew that it would affect her, Ned, Elia and their children.   

 “Ned,” she said as she came closer, whilst Ned looked down at the water below the Heart Tree.   

He looked up with a beaming smile at her as she came to sit down beside him.   

 “Ash,” he said as she sat down and he leant in to kiss her on the lips.   

She reached up and held his face with both hands and held the kiss.   

Even after nearly twenty years of marriage, Ashara’s love for her husband had never changed from when they first began to court at Harrenhal.   

She loved everything about Ned, from his quiet nature, his care towards his subjects, the iron will to always do what was right, no matter what it cost, his disdain for boasting of his actions, his never-ending love for her and their family and his beautiful grey eyes.   

She never liked how people would always dismiss him, back from when he was just a second son of a Lord Paramount and even when he did become Lord Paramount of the North after the rebellion’s end, nobles of the south thought little of the Lord of Winterfell, as though he was a barbaric savage.   

But Ashara loved living in the North.   

She loved having her husband and children beside her in Winterfell.   

She loved the people of the Winterfell and meeting them in her tours around the Winter City alongside Ned and their children.   

She was proud of all that she and Ned had accomplished since they first began to rule Winterfell and the North together.  

And she loved it especially when Ned had built a bathhouse specially for her from her love of warm baths.   

And it was a trait shared by her, Elia, Daenerys, Aegon, Rhaenys, Dyanna and Arya.   

 “How are you? And how are the children?” he asked.   

 “They are all well. As is our grandson,” she replied with a smile.   

 “A grandson,” he said with a happy sigh.   

 “Never did I think I would be a grandfather at seven and thirty,” he exclaimed with a grin.   

Ashara smiled, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t answered the first question as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders.   

 “And, how are you?” he asked.   

Damn.   

Well, it must be done, she thought.   

 “I am so sorry, my love,” she said as she held both of his hands with her left hand and reached for his face hand with her right hand.   

 “What is it? Tell me,” he said with worry.   

 “Jon Arryn is dead,” she replied.   

His grey eyes changed from their bright shine to a dull and saddened gaze as he turned to the water of the Heart Tree.   

 “H-Ho-How? How could he?” he finally asked.  

 “I am so sorry,” she said once again before kissing his cheek and hugging him.   

He hugged back as she could feel his tears fall from his eyes and land on her shoulder.   

 “It’s okay, Ned. It’s okay,” she whispered as she rubbed his back before kissing his head.   

 “How did he die?” he asked as they broke from the hug and Ashara kissed him again and caressed his cheek.   

 “The raven said a fever,” she replied.   

 “Raven? Whom was it from?” he asked.   

 “Robert,” she replied.   

Ned ran his hands through his long hair as he rested his back against the Heart Tree.   

 “I may not have known him well, but he was always a kind man,” said Ashara.   

 “He was more than that. He turned a quiet and easily frightened little boy into the man whom is your husband,” he replied as he held onto her hands tightly.   

 “There was more.”   

Ned turned to her apprehensively.   

 “More? What do you mean?” he asked worriedly.   

 “Robert rides for Winterfell, with his entire royal party,” she explained.   

With Robert coming all of the way here, it won’t be just to share in their grief over the man whom was their foster father.   

 “All of this way? With the entire royal party,” Ned said, repeating her words with sorrow, knowing full well what Robert would say.   

 “If he asks, I will say no. My place is here, in Winterfell. With you, our children, our grandchild and our people,” said Ned.   

 “I know, Ned. I know it is. Our place will always be here. But Robert, he may become paranoid. He may just think that your refusal means that you plot against him to put the Targaryens on the throne,” she said.   

 “He’s not stupid, he won’t think that, Ash,” he replied.   

 “Perhaps he wouldn’t. But the Lannisters and players of the game around him might just persuade him of that,” she explained.   

After all, he did think that it was because of me that you protect Elia, her children and Daenerys.   

Interlude IV:  

Serena Stark (Anna Popplewell):  

Serena smiled as she finished sewing the last part of Daenerys’ wedding dress.   

 “All done, Dany!” Serena said with excitement before she found her cup of Summer Isles pineapple juice, her favourite drink.   

Serena preferred to drink fruit juices and would only drink wine, beer or mead at feasts or special occasions.   

Dany looked at where Serena had just finished.   

 “That’s beautiful, Serena. Well done,” said Dany as she held it up to the light pouring in from the window.   

 “Well, try it on, Dany,” Jeyne eagerly insisted.   

They helped Dany put the dress on, and it was just as Daenerys had wanted it.   

More silver than it was white, and with images of dragons on the back and front of the dress and with falcons also embroidered alongside the dragons.   

As she looked at herself in the mirror, Daenerys smiled at how she looked.   

Gods, she is so beautiful, Serena thought.   

Serena, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Eliana, Jeyne and Beth’s efforts in making Daenerys’ wedding dress were halted when Rhaenys had given birth to Serena’s nephew, Rickard.   

And even after the birth, they had spent a long time helping Rhaenys and caring for Rickard whenever Artos and Rhaenys went for a ride together in the Wolfswood or for when they would go with Mother and Father and visit a bannerman.   

 “Gods, you look so beautiful, Daenerys,” said Eliana with admiration.   

 “Thank you, El. Thank you, everyone,” Daenerys said with a beaming smile before hugging her niece and her friends.   

There was a knock on the door.   

 “Princesses? My Ladies? Lord and Lady Stark summon you all to their solar,” said Ser Alliser.   

 “Oh. Thank you, Ser Alliser, but did they say why?” asked Daenerys.   

 “They did not, my Princess. Only that it was very important that you all come at once,” he replied.   

Serena stood up with her eldest sister and her goodsister whilst Daenerys was helped out of her wedding dress by Jeyne and Beth.   

Once Daenerys dressed into her original dress, they walked together to Father and Mother’s solar, where Dyanna, Arya, Artos, Brandon, Ulrick, Rickon, Aegon and Theon already were there.   

Seated beside Mother and Father were Aunt Elia, Maester Gelimund and Beth’s father, Ser Rodrik, and Jeyne’s father, Vayon.   

What could this be about that all of us are here?   

Has something happened?   

Is there another war?   

Please, Gods, don’t let there be another war.   

I don’t want Father, my brothers, Dyanna, Theon and Aegon to all have to go to war again, Serena wondered with fearful anticipation.   

 “You should all be seated for this. This is all very important,” said Father.   

Serena sat in between Daenerys and Eliana as she glanced at Ulrick, her twin.   

He shrugged his shoulders when he saw her.   

Serena’s fears increased when she saw Aunt Elia and how she attempted a brave face, but she could see the fear on her face.   

Serena was quick at reading people’s expressions and facial movements.   

 “My former foster father and Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, has died,” Father said, pausing whilst he took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, which Serena recognised as what he’s usually did when he was taking time to say something that upset him.   

Gods, poor Father.   

He would always tell us stories of how kind Jon Arryn was when raising him.   

Wait, if he is dead, does that mean that Harrold Arryn is now Lord of the Eyrie?  

 “Father, I am so sorry,” said Eliana sweetly.   

 “Thank you, Eli,” said Father with a pained smile.   

Mother held Father’s hand until he continued speaking.   

 “But now, King Robert, Queen Cersei and the royal procession ride for Winterfell. According to a raven from our friends in the Riverlands, they just passed through Castle Darry’s lands,” said Father.   

The Baratheons and Lannisters are coming here?!   

Gods, what if they try to harm Rhaenys, Aegon, Daenerys and Aunt Elia?!   

Aegon was looking up at Father as he spoke, but at the mention of the two houses which wanted him, his sister, his aunt and his mother dead, he frowned furiously as he fixed his gaze on his hands, as though envisioning them stabbing all whom dared to harm his family.   

 “But, Father? Why would they come all this way? Surely King Robert would want to choose another Hand of the King?” asked Serena.   

Mother smiled when she turned to Serena.  

 “You have the right of it, Serena. We think that that is why they come to Winterfell, so that our “king” will choose your father to be Hand of the King,” said Mother, though her sarcasm at how she pronounced “king” was easily noticed.   

 “He won’t try and harm us, will he?” Daenerys asked with worry as her hands shook.   

 “He would not dare to, Dany. I promise to you. Even with every Lannister and Baratheon in the North, I swear that none of you shall be harmed,” Father promised.   

 “But in the meantime, even with the arrival of an unwelcome visit, we must make Winterfell as presentable as possible for them. There are still a great many in the south whom think of the North as a land of barbarians and savages. We shall not give them the satisfaction of proving that lie true,” said Mother.   

 “All but Eliana, Dyanna, Serena, Arya, Brandon, Ulrick and Rickon stay. There is one other matter I would discuss,” said Father.   

Everyone else but the Starks left, leaving Serena wondering why Father had them stay.   

But then she realised what it could mean when she noticed a few opened letters on Father’s desk, ones with the sigils of Houses Manderly and Bolton.  

 “Rickon and Ulrick; the arrangements have all been completed and Ulrick, as soon as you are wed to Jeyne, you shall both take your places as Lord and Lady of House Kelstark of Moat Cailin,” said Mother before she passed him a document to him.   

Serena smiled as Ulrick was passed this document, confirming that he was now a lord and with his own house and seat.   

I can’t wait for their wedding, they’ve been waiting for this day for so long, Serena thought as she remembered the ring Ulrick had bought to propose to Jeyne Poole with.   

 “Father, Mother. Thank you, so much,” he said with a beaming smile.   

Serena beamed for her twin as she was the first to congratulate and hug him before the others could.   

 “And am I to be Lord of Wolf’s Den, Father?” asked Rickon.   

 “You are, Rickon. You are. Once you are of age at five and ten. But first, Lord Manderly has agreed to foster you at White Harbour and for you to serve as squire to his son and heir, Ser Wylis,” said Father before patting him on the shoulder.   

And give him the chance of meeting Wylla Manderly, Serena realised.   

And then Father turned to Dyanna.   

 “We informed Lord Bolton that you had accepted the proposal by Domeric and he has agreed for your wedding to take place here in Winterfell one moon from now,” he said.   

Given how they both shared a love for archery and for horse riding, Serena understood how her elder sister and the heir to the Dreadfort had begun to enjoy each other’s company when they began to court during the War of the Long Night.   

And then Mother turned to Serena.   

 “Now, is there any whom has caught your eye, Serena? Now, you needn’t be afraid or try and come up with a random name to please us. We just want to know if any Northern lord has wanted to court you.”   

Serena blushed as she thought of him and his charming smile and way of making her feel at ease.   

 “Well, there is one, Mother,” she replied.   

 “Oh, and whom could that be?” Mother asked with a teasing smile.   

 “Brandon Dustin,” she admitted.   

 “Does he feel the same way?” asked Father.   

 “He does, Father. We have often talked of what it would be like if we had wed and lived at Barrowton,” said Serena, hoping that she wouldn’t get Bran in trouble.   

 “We’ll send a raven to Willam Dustin this evening. As for you, Eliana. Is there anyone you would want to be wed to?” asked Father.   

Serena was glad that they were asking if they would want to be wed and whom they would want to wed.    

She loved hearing the stories of how Mother and Father had met from them, Uncle Benjen, Uncle Arthur and Aunt Elia.   

And she loved that they were happy and that they married out of love, not because it was arranged between their own parents and that they wanted the same for their children.   

 “Not yet, Father,” said Eliana.   

Eliana is so beautiful, it’s unreal.   

But there must be someone whom has caught her eye.   

She is called the Star of the North and I’ve seen how Smalljon Umber, the Karstark brothers and the Ryswell brothers would often trip over each other trying to ask her for her hand during a dance at a feast, thought Serena.   

Chapter Text

Daenerys III:  

First I am to wed Harrold Arryn and be away from the only home I’ve ever known.   

And now, we are to wed when the Baratheons and Lannisters are coming here, to Winterfell?   

Daenerys was afraid of what the visit by King Robert would mean for her, her nephew and niece and her goodsister as they prepared for the arrival of Harrold Arryn.   

With the death of his father, Harrold Arryn was now Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East.   

And he was expected to arrive with his mother, Lysa Tully, and select members of the Vale nobility, from Houses Royce of Runestone, Royce of the Bloody Gate, Waynwood, Redfort, Belmore, Grafton, Lynderly, Templeton, Coldwater, Corbray, Hunter and Sunderland.   

Daenerys had already met the Royces of Runestone when Bronze Yohn Royce had visited Winterfell on occasions with his sons Andar, Robar, Waymar and his daughter Ysilla.   

And now, not only was she leaving Winterfell, but so were Dyanna, Ulrick, Serena and Rickon.   

Daenerys was sat in her chambers on the day that the Arryns and the nobility of the Vale were to arrive in Winterfell.   

She had heard many stories about her betrothed since the day she had been told by Uncle Ned that she was to marry him by order of King Robert.   

She had heard that he was one of the most handsome men in the Seven Kingdoms.   

That he was as good a jouster as Loras Tyrell and as skilled a swordsman as Bronze Yohn Royce.   

But then there were the stories that didn’t talk of how handsome he was or his skill as expected of a knight.   

There was the story of him having a child out of wedlock, a bastard daughter with a tavern wench, a girl called Alys Stone.   

She hadn’t met him the day he and a few of his friends from the Vale had come in attendance to represent House Arryn at Artos and Rhaenys’ wedding.   

She had been too nervous to meet him and was more interested in being by her niece and representing House Targaryen than wanting to meet her betrothed.   

She heard a knock on the door.   

 “Princess? Might I enter?” asked Ser Alliser.   

 “Aye, please, Ser Alliser,” she replied.   

Ser Alliser opened the door and smiled sadly as he saw her and then sat beside her on her bed.   

 “I was to inform you that the Arryns and Valemen are here,” he said.   

She nodded whilst looking down at the bracelet, decorated with silver and amethyst dragons, gifted to her on her tenth nameday by Elia, saying that Rhaella had given it to her to give to Daenerys.   

Ever since, Daenerys would keep it, not merely as a parting gift from Mother, but as a source of comfort and of strength whenever she was unhappy.   

 “Mother called me her little dragoness and Elia said that Rhaenys, Aegon and I are the last dragons, Ser Alliser. But now, I just feel so frightened. Of being married to a man I don’t know and to live in a place I have never been before,” she said.   

Ser Alliser smiled before he put his hand on her shoulder.   

 “Your mother was perhaps the bravest and hardiest woman to ever be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess. And she was also one of the kindest, and she loved you. Even as she held you with her last dying breath, she loved and cared for you. And I swore to her that I would protect you,” he said.   

 “She, more than any other great Targaryen knight, Prince or King, was more deserving to call herself a dragon. And she lives on in you, Princess. I see that now, and I have always seen it in you.”   

 “Never forget that you are a dragon, Princess, nor that your mother watches over you. Even if you cannot see her, she is by your side and in that bracelet,” said Ser Alliser.   

 “And I will always be at your side, Princess. And if this Arryn boy dares harm you, I will gladly kill him,” he replied.   

Daenerys giggled before she hugged Ser Alliser.   

 “Thank you, Ser Alliser,” she said.   

 “Always, my Princess. Now, shall we go before we are missed?” he asked.   

They left her chambers, and Daenerys felt more confident as she walked through the Great Keep and into the courtyard, where she stood next to Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys, whilst Uncle Eddard and Aunt Ashara stood at the front, ready to greet Harrold Arryn and Lysa Tully.   

Daenerys shivered, even as she clasped her hands underneath her winter bear fur cloak.   

But even as she tried to warm herself, she knew that the shivers weren’t from the cold wind, but rather from the sound of numerous horses approaching the gates of the Great Keep.   

The gates were opened and the first to ride through were horsemen holding the blue banners with a white falcon and moon of House Arryn.