Hi guys! I knew this took a while, but that's because it's a 4000 word chapter, and also because I wanted to make sure to read all your reviews. There's a bit of a… oh, I can't even say it. Just read on.

Also, this story now has over 200 reviews, and in one month, over a staggering 2000 views! That's absolutely insane, I can't thank you all enough for the support, attention, and critique this story has got.

Many of you have expressed concern in my storytelling, and I do thank you for that – it is seriously invaluable. Sometimes when you tell me you don't want something to happen, I won't do it purely because no-one will want to read it and I won't want to write it because of that, but on the other hand, sometimes I will write things you may not like. But, hopefully, you'll come to see why they're necessary. Whether it's to form a moral of the story, to show a massive contrast to the show or to simply just move the story along…

Just know that when you express concern, I am always listening, and if there's grounds to it, I always look at the entire storyline and consider changing it because that's how much your opinions mean to me guys.

Anyhoo, go and enjoy the wedding!

Aeron Targaryen – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

I looked over to Lady Theadosia, who sat in the chair by the fire, sipping from a cup of wine, eying my jerkin. She was dressed in similar colours to me, her hair worn down like a true Northern Lady.

"The Dreadfort?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Markas Stark has proven to be quite the military commander."

"My father's wife often spoke of his prowess." I turned away from Theadosia, "but in my opinion, it doesn't take much to repel the Ironborn…"

"Though the Southern armies struggled to do so." Theadosia curled her lip slightly. I couldn't help but smile and chuckle – it was true what they said about the Northern girls. They didn't favour small talk.

"What do you think?" I opened my arms, showing her the cushioned velvet doublet.

"Very handsome." She smiled, standing up. "I'm sure your pretty fool will swoon all over you."

"That 'pretty fool' is to be my wife. And your queen." I poured myself a glass of wine.

"Aegon had two wives." Theadosia pointed out. It was true, Theadosia had a certain… allure to her. There was something utterly intoxicating about a woman whose eyes resembled a strange, wild beast. Us Dragons were drawn to it – only we could tame the most dangerous creatures known to man.

"I'm no conqueror." I debated. "Not yet."

"So, what do you intend to do about it?"

"About what?"

"The Starks."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "First you say you will not ask a king to fight your battles. Now you ask to me to act?" Thea flicked her tongue over her teeth, the corner of her lip curling as she sipped more wine. "Besides…" I turned to examine myself in the mirror, "I have more important matters to deal with."

"Such as the pretty-"

"Such as my traitorous sister." Visenya… the whore. She was unwed, and upon news of Viserys meeting his death at Storm's End, she was sure to continue his doomed rebellion. But, with the Stormlands and the North in array, and the Reach and the Westerlands in support of me, she could only turn to the Riverlords and the Lords of the Vale. "No doubt she plots against me."

"Of course," Theadosia nodded, "So why not go to Dragonstone and burn her in her keep?"

"Dragonstone is mine." I stated. "I will not destroy the home my ancestors built. It will belong to Laena, if she remains loyal."

"Laena?" Theadosia scoffed.

"She destroyed Winterfell." I informed her. "You have quite a bit to thank her for."

"I'll remember to do so at your impending nuptials." Theadosia set down her cup of wine, "That reminds me…" She took my glass and placed it on the table as well, "There was more to the ravenscroll." She raised the small piece of parchment, "My father has found me a match."

I took the scroll from her, reading it.

…The honourable Lord Balien, son of Bale, of House Flint, has approached me for your hand in marriage. I find it a suitable match, and have accepted. Upon your return, you shall be wed to him…

"Congratulations are in order." I stated. "This Balien…"

"Loyal to my father, and therefore, to you." She promised me.

I nodded. "Good. Well, I'm afraid after seeing this wedding, you will demand one of equal standing."

Theadosia smirked once more. "I'm not so easily won by gold and pretty dresses." She informed me. "Balien is boring."

"Is he not honourable?"

"Yes, yes, he's honourable and noble and all sorts…" Theadosia sighed, "I'm sure living with him and bearing his children shall be utterly dismal."

How she spoke… with such ice in her voice when talking about her own children. She was truly of the North.

The door opened and in hobbled the proud and honourable Oroville Tyrell.

"Father," I smiled, holding out my arms, "I was worried that you had been away so long."

"Damned Braavosi…" Oroville muttered, "uncivilized swine." His eyes fell on Theadosia, "Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not realize that you had company."

"An ally from the North, Father." I turned towards Theadosia. "My Lady, may I introduce my soon-to-be father, Lord Oroville of House Tyrell, Liege Lord of the Reach."

"A pleasure, My Lord." Lady Theadosia curtsied.

"Such a beauty, Lady…?"

"May I present Lady Theadosia of House Bolton, soon-to-be Wardens of the North."

"I was not aware we had allies in the North…" Oroville looked to me, slightly puzzled.

"Not yet. And that will soon change. The North is the biggest kingdom in the Realm. For too long have they been neglected and forgotten. Soon, we shall embrace them and the Seven Kingdoms shall know peace."

"Which war is that?" Theadosia cocked her head to the side. "The War in the North? Or the War of Dragons?"

"You speak to your King, wench-" Oroville growled.

"It's perfectly alright, father," I chuckled, "Lady Theadosia is of the North. I've found her bold nature quite refreshing." I turned to Oroville. "Regardless, I do not wish to be late to my own wedding. I believe I've kept my Rose waiting long enough."

"Of course, Your Grace." Oroville bowed.

"Your Grace." Lady Theadosia curtsied, and moved out of the room, while Oroville lingered.

"Is something wrong, father?"

"I did not wish to say in front of the Bolton girl…" Oroville checked to see that Lady Theadosia had left the room, "in Braavos… there was an incident."

"An incident?"

"Indeed. Ser Baldinar Baratheon… he was murdered."

I didn't know how to react to this. Rather, I did, but I found it extremely hard not to smile. I had only meant to send him away for a time. But for him to meet his death… how fortuitous. "This is awful… what grave news to receive on the day of my wedding."

"I know, Your Grace." Oroville sighed, "I believe it was the doing of a drunkard sellsword."

"I'm sure the Braavosi City Watch will find the culprit." I nodded. "The Iron Bank received the payment, though?"

"They did, Your Grace. For the first time in living memory, the Crown is not in debt."

"Then we shall endeavour to see things do not change. Father," I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "I wish for you to accompany Laena, Delyth and I to the Sept tomorrow."

"To the Sept?" Oroville frowned. "Whatever for?"

I found it so hard not to tell him – Gods, I wanted to see his face. "You shall find out later. Now, let us not tarry. I have a wife to marry."

"And I'd rather call no other man son."

Delyth Tyrell – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

The wedding was so beautiful. My dress cost twenty thousand gold dragons to stitch and seam. Gods, it was the finest gown I'd ever seen. Gold and white and silver and rose-coloured gems. I was not just a princess as I'd once dreamed of being. I was now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Aeron had gone to fetch me my wedding present. Gods, he was beautiful. His face must've been carved from marble… those violet eyes that looked into me as if they were full of stars and worlds inside. I hoped my children would have his eyes… like Aelyx the Valiant – he was as beautiful as he was courageous, and was also half Targaryen. I was certain my children would be every bit as noble as their father.

Mother and I had planned the entire wedding. The ornate silver dragonheads entwined in gold rose vines that sat on every table, the hilts of the knives had the same ornate vines winding around them, and the canopy we sat beneath had roses shipped from Highgarden as well as twilight tulips and red lemons from the mountains of Dorne.

On the table beside me, sat my mother and father. Mother was beaming and laughing as the band of minstrels played a merry song. They'd just finished playing The Knight of Thorns, a song my new husband had commissioned in honour of my father. It was one of the few times I'd seen him smile.

On the other table, sat Laena and my own sister, Ashriel. Aeron had told me she was different since Viserys had left. She was dead-eyed, and stared into the distance, with Ser Howland Swann standing by her side. It was so gracious of Aeron to have one of his own Kingsguard to protect Ashriel from any fanatics that may brand her a traitor.

I wondered why she didn't want to talk to me, however. We had been close as children, but now… she didn't even look at me. She just stared out across the Blackwater.

"My Lords," Aeron walked in front of the tables, Ser Mikal following him closely, "My Ladies." He smiled, his voice resonating like a symphony across the gardens. "I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate the joining of House Tyrell and House Targaryen." Everyone applauded my dragon, and I felt my cheeks flush. "I'm glad I was able to bring you sunshine on those blessed day!" Everyone laughed with my beautiful dragon. "But what I gave my wife today is not just a wedding present." Several members of the City Watch rolled a cart with a tarp draped over it. "It is a celebration of our child!"

My mother turned towards me, mouth open in disbelief. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me, smiling and covering her mouth as her eyes began to water. The nobles began to applaud once more and father walked towards Aeron, grabbing his forearm and chuckling lightly as Aeron embraced my father, beaming brightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mother asked me.

"Aeron wanted it to be a surprise…" I chuckled, wiping away a tear with a finger.

Aeron held up a hand to silence the crowds. "Thank you… but now I present my wife with a gift." He grabbed the tarp and pulled it off the wagon, revealing a young boy in rags. Dark black hair, skinny and utterly terrified. "May I present the treasonous Ryleigh of House Baratheon?"

The crowds booed at the traitor, throwing apples and oranges and lemons at the oathbreaker. If it was any other boy, perhaps I would've had some semblance of pity. But not him. Not a traitor to my Dragon, my Kingdom and my unborn child.

"Unlock the cage." Aeron ordered. The guards did so. "Now…" Aeron walked to the side, "our little Lordling looks hungry." He smiled, taking an orange from our table and pelting it at the young buck. The other lords began to join in until the small Ryleigh fell to the floor, curling up into a ball.

Ashriel Tyrell – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

Things didn't… work anymore. They didn't make sense. Like a tapestry that didn't have enough wool. Or, like the shards of glass being put back together, and the window it forms is too big to fit in the castle wall. No… not castle wall. Stones… battlements. Battlements?

People were around… lots of people. I recognized one – His wife. Little, dark-haired and doe-eyed. She looked over to me. Why

Wait… Tyrell. That was my name. That was still my name. But… back in the dark, with the rats and the dirt, what good was a name? Did it clothe me from the cold? Did it ward off the rats that picked at my bread? Did it protect me from His visits?

I didn't protest the last time. I didn't struggle. I didn't think he liked that, but I was here in the light now. With music and food. Was I allowed to eat it? I tried to think back to a time before His touch but… no. There couldn't have been a time before that. There were dreams of a man before Him… silver-haired and violet-eyed like Him, but… different. Gentle, if such a thing ever existed.

But no, that could not be true. Everything that happened before… it didn't happen to me. I didn't exist before the Black Cells. I was something different- no… I was still her… but I wasn't quite me yet.

What I would be would be different. I'd be stronger. Strong enough to withstand Him. Strong enough to withstand anything.

The petals of a rose may wither and die, but the thorns never will stop growing strong.

Theadosia Bolton – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

Aeron walked over to me, as he always did, in something of a saunter, satisfied with himself. Whenever I saw him, I couldn't help but wonder if he would catch fire. I wanted to shove a spit down his throat and roast him like a hog, just to see his pretty clothes burn.

"You bought your pretty fool a buck." I commented.

"Something to mark our reign." Aeron looked at the boy curling up on the floor. He would've squealed if I flayed him. Would he eventually become numb, his spirit broken when I finished on his chest? Or would he reach a new realm of pain and suffering?

"I plan to leave soon." I informed Aeron. "I have my own wedding to attend."

"Of course, My Lady." Aeron nodded, reaching beneath his doublet and pulling out a key on a string, handing it to me.

"What's this?"

"Just a present." He smiled. "In the cells."

Laena Targaryen – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

In the reflection of the gilded cup of wine, I could distinctly make out the scorched side of my face. It filled me with horror, with dread. After Winterfell… maybe I was the monster I looked to be. As if some sick, twisted part of me had finally emerged.

I turned to Ashriel, who still stared out across the Blackwater.

"Ashriel?" I croaked, but she didn't turn to face me. I placed my hand over hers, leaning closer under the watchful eye of Ser Howland Swann. "Ashriel, are you okay?" Once again, Ashriel didn't move She simply remained sitting still, looking at the water. Perhaps she wished she was underneath. Perhaps she was still angry at me for forsaking her to Aeron…

The bastard had become a King, and now had an heir in his wife's belly. Half-Tyrell, half-Targaryen. Just like Aelyx the Valiant. I could see my future… kept under guard in the Red Keep, watching that little prince or princess running around, repeating songs about how their father defeated the oathbreaker Viserys…

But that wasn't what happened. No-one knew how grotesque and awful Aeron really was. That is, no-one but Ashriel and my twin siblings.

Aeron approached me, sipping from his cup of wine. "Sister," he placed his cup on the table, "We haven't spoken since you returned."

"Is there much to say, Your Grace?"

"Only that I thought you'd be pleased to know who else I found at Storm's End." He had a satisfied smirk as he pulled at the cuffs of his doublet. "Have a guess."

"Who?"
"Guess!" he gave a throaty chuckle, turning to Ashriel with a smile.

"Prin-" I caught myself, "I mean, Lady Haylise?"

"Of course. And her traitorous husband." Aeron turned to Ashriel, leaning in closely and speaking in barely more than a whisper. "I told him if he surrendered, I'd give you your freedom. Then I killed him as he tried to escape." Ashriel's face slowly turned to face Aeron, though she did not change her stone-y expression. It was as if she were a wooden doll. "He and his dragon lie at the bottom of the-"

Aeron quickly stopped talking as he flickered his eyes over to me. I looked to see my fingers had wrapped around the gilded knife, my nails digging into the skin of my palm. Aeron waved a hand to Ser Howland, and straightened up, leaning on the table as he drank from his cup of wine, turning away from me and presenting his neck.

He was toying with me. If I tried to strike, I'd be cut down… and if I didn't, he'd know I was a coward. But I had already betrayed Ashriel. I was already a coward.

I released the knife and my hand slid back down onto my lap. Aeron finished his wine, putting his goblet on the table as he shook his head.

"You're a coward Laena. You always were. But hold a knife like that again, and you'll join your brothers."

Mikko – The Drowned Town, Braavos

I had bought turtle stew from downstairs with the coins Helesa had given me. It looked strange… baby turtles bobbing up and down in the blue-green liquid. A half-loaf of bread under my arm, I opened the door, and nearly dropped the bowls of stew onto the floor.

Sitting up on the bed, arms supporting him, was Finn Snow, pale-faced drowsy, though his eyes were wide and set on his wolfshead knife on the table. Helesa crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee as she tried to look in his eyes.

"…then he brought you here…" Helesa looked over to me. "He's awake."

"I see." I stated, setting the stew down on the table and walking over to Finn Snow. Back in the Khalasar, they would've called Helesa's medicines witchcraft. "Is that still you, Finn Snow?"

"I'm not quite sure." Finn said quietly, his eyes looking up to me. "He stabbed me. Hilario. Belos left me for…" he turned away from me, his throat catching. "They left me for dead."

"No," Helesa looked towards me, confused, "no, they wouldn't do that…"

"They said I have a killer's heart. That I'll destroy Braavos…" Finn's hands gripped the wooden frame of the bed. It saddened me greatly to say this, but it was true. Finn Snow was a killer. A villain. A scoundrel. "I thought they'd killed me…"

"A simple mix of tonics." Helesa stated. "The blade was covered in Manticore Venom. But sorcery thickened the poison – delayed the effects."

"Why?" Finn looked up at her. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know… maybe they wanted you to know-"

"He's not asking about the witchcraft." I informed Helesa. I knew that look Finn Snow had on his face. Confusion, disgust, and great sorrow. When I had refused to pillage and plunder with my Khalasar, my braid had been cut. I had been left behind while they travelled on. I knew what it felt like to be betrayed. And I knew what could stop him being a mindless killer.

"Helesa," I said quietly, "give us time."

Helesa looked back to Finn, furrowing her brow. She kissed him gently on the forehead and stood up. "I'll find you a new shirt…" She muttered before exiting the room. I picked up a chair and sat down opposite Finn Snow.

"You were betrayed. But you survived."

"But if I hadn't…"

"But you did. Finn…" I stroked my beard, trying to find the words, "how many men have you killed?" Finn was silent. "Have you even stopped to count?" Finn clenched his jaw. "You have tried to overcome every problem you encountered with the edge of a blade. You never even seemed to care about this."

"Alright, Mikko," Finn exhaled, "I know."

"Finn Snow…" I sighed, "I left you at the Iron Bank because I've killed men before. In anger, for gold, for women… it changes you. You are so young… if you kill men, you must kill for a purpose."

"I thought I did…"

"Something beyond greed and riches. Because I have stood by you, I have fought for you, I have saved you from death. I will continue to do so if you are worthy of fighting for. But if you stay your course, you will find that you walk it alone." Finn nodded. "Have I been unfair to you?"

"No." Finn said finally. "No, you haven't." Finn hung his head.

"So… what do we do about Belos and Hilario?"

I eyed Finn carefully, watching his eyes move across the floor carefully as he stroked the stubble that lined his jaw. It filled me with sadness, but also a flicker of hope: this was the most Finn had ever thought about killing someone.

"This isn't over."

"Are you sure?"

"They tried to kill me, Mikko. My friends – the first friends I had since I left home. What do you think they'll do to me when they find out I survived?"

It was true. They may try to kill Finn Snow again. And justice required them to die for attempting to murder him, no matter their motive.

"This is the last time." I informed him. "Swear this to me. Swear we will only kill for a greater cause."

"I swear. After this… I'll never be a sellsword again."

I nodded. Finn was a man of his word, I knew that much. It was the small part of honour he boasted of. I held out a forearm. "Then let us find the traitors."

Finn gripped my forearm.

Theadosia Bolton – The Black Cells, The Red Keep, King's Landing, Braavos

I opened the cellar door, entering the Black Dungeons. It was so different to the Dreadfort: full of grotesque contraptions and tools. Incompetent fools… Raff and I were the tools. We didn't need any contraptions… just our blades.

And our blades were sharp.

I came to the door Aeron had told me about, and fitted the key in the slot, twisting it around with a heavy clunk, then another before I pulled it back. The torchlight illuminated the small creature that was chained to the wall, still letting out little roars and growls as it tried to lunge at me.

Dark hair, dark eyes… I recognized the boy. The youngest Stark boy…

A smile crept up on my face. Not because I had a chance of avenging my family, and not because I hated the Starks… I just loved how wild this little wolf was. How much he would struggle against me. That was the most satisfying part… watching that moment when hope flees their eyes. Watching them react as I explored their body… I was flipping a coin. On one side, there was pain and torment, on the other, pleasure and euphoria. I'd mingle the two together until they didn't know which was which.

His dark little eyes… I wanted to cut out the iris of his eye and place it in a small box, if only to look at it without his incessant blinking. The same tone as mine, only infinitely darker.

"Lord Stark." I curtsied, lifting up my dress and pulling my flaying blade out of the sheathe on my thigh. "I'm sure we'll come to be great friends. But first," I moved towards his little body, bending over to cut his shirt open, "let's see if the North is really in your blood…"

So… another plot twist. Please leave a review saying what you thought. One of the more dull weddings… a bit of a red-herring for all of you.

Please leave a review – another massive thank you to all of you, and the next chapter is on Dragonstone as well as in King's Landing and is titled 'The Claws of Rats'.