Lord Athell Connington

It had been five years since the last Blackfyre war had ended, five years in which a great deal had happened in Westeros. There had been a plague that had wiped out half of King's Landing in one fell stroke, doing much of the Blackfyres work for them, though the King and Royal family remained unaffected. There had been a famine in the Reach, which had ended up killing Lord Tyrell and his wife and his children leaving his brother Ser Moryn as the new lord of Highgarden. The succession crisis in Casterly Rock had been resolved bloodlessly surprisingly, with Tion Lannister, the youngest grandson of Tybolt Lannister become the new Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West, rumours still abounded though that Tion's mother had slept with another man and that Tion was a bastard, however given that the lad was strongly built and skilled at arms some of these rumours were beginning to die down.

It was events such as these that had prevented any sort of formal document from being signed to actually formally acknowledge the rather fractious peace that now existed between the Iron Throne and the North. Athell knew from the letters his brother Ser Boremund had sent home that the King had grown very frustrated over the issue, and that now that the realm was relatively stable he felt confident enough to send through envoys to bring peace back in a formal setting. Athell knew he had been chosen as the envoy to head north, because of the fact that his mother the Lady Elaena was one of the few people that Daeron Stark would actually abide having in his home. His mother, who was famous for her marriages as much as for her time in the Maidenvault, had agreed to come with him as an envoy along with his aunt Rhaena, who had been serving as part of the most devout for the best party of sixty years now.

Athell had not expected to become Lord of Griffin's Roost, hell he had never been looked upon with much interest by either of his parents before now. Nestor had always been the heir, the one that both his father Artys and his mother had been proud of, the perfect heir and then the perfect lord, Nestor had done everything to ensure the prosperity of Griffin's Roost, but because of his preferences in bed, had never really married, had never considered settling down, something that had never truly been an issue when Boremund had still been his heir. Boremund though had always been headstrong, a fierce swordsman who had always been more suited to the battlefield than to the politics that came with being a lord, had joined the Kingsguard when the first opportunity had presented itself, and had gone onto distinguish himself. That had left Athell, the youngest of Lady Elaena's seven children to become Lord of Griffin's Roost, Athell had been four when his father died, and twelve when his mother had married once more to old Lord Lefford, he had married when he was twenty and now had two children, a daughter Serenei who was betrothed to the current heir to Storm's End and a son Medger who was squiring with Prince Aegon. Still he was forty years old and had never really shaken of the feeling of inadequacy that came with being the youngest and the least successful of children.

He had met his other siblings from his mother's previous marriage and her previous affair with Lord Alyn Velaryon, rather briefly. And frankly there had been times when he wondered if his mother had been wrong in thinking he was her son. He was not as martially skilled as Nestor, Boremund or Jon had been, nor was he as smart as Viserys was, if he was perfectly honest with himself he was just an average man who had managed to do reasonably well for himself.

He could not help the feelings of bitterness that often arose inside of him when he saw just how happy his mother was at getting to see his cousin Daeron Stark once more. He had never seen her smile like that at him; she had never ever once voiced any positive things at him. But now she was positively glowing with joy and happiness. It helped he supposed that Lord Lefford was long dead now, and that the Golden Tooth had passed onto a cousin who Athell knew for a fact his mother had been sleeping with before Lefford had died. Still there were feelings of bitterness inside of him about how much joy his mother was actually visibly displaying at seeing Daeron Stark once more.

Athell had heard much about his cousin, he had heard about the mischief his cousin had gotten up to with Daemon Blackfyre and the King when they had been children. He had heard about how much of a god Daeron was with a sword in his hand, and how he had charmed almost everyone he had met. There was a small part of Athell that truly wished to meet his cousin and see how much of the legend was true and how much was myth, there was another part of him that simply wanted to crawl into the nearest cave and hide. He had never been good speaking to men who preferred the martial arts to books, books were his escape from the hell his life had been, the insecurities, but a man like Daeron Stark would likely frown down upon him.

They had been at Moat Cailin for three days, resting from their tiring journey north, and Athell had met Jon Royce of Shadow Point, the man whom many in the south thought of as a traitor, for abandoning the throne and fighting for the heathen Starks against the loyal Boltons. Athell had met Domeric Bolton once or twice at court, and personally he thought Royce had made the right choice. Edwyle Stark the Lord of Moat Cailin was currently in Winterfell, but his wife and baby, a boy named Rickard were in Moat Cailin as well, his wife was from Skagos and was very, very shy and quiet.

Athell shook his head to clear his thoughts as the massive stone walls of Winterfell came into sight, the banners of the Starks were flapping in the air as they came closer. They were escorted to the Great Hall where the king greeted them and bid them rest for a bit before they spoke of why they had come so far. The feast that evening was pleasant; a rich affair of foods and drink was on offer, though Athell did have to wonder where his cousin got all of it from. The next day was when the business of the trip was actually discussed. Athell felt nervous as he entered the Great Hall with the whole of the northern court in attendance.

"Lord Connington, I believe you have brought terms from Maekar Targaryen, with which we shall seal this peace. I would hear them now." Daeron Stark said his voice hard as iron.

Athell swallowed nervously. "I have Your Grace. His Grace, King Maekar of House Targaryen, the first of his name, has bid me to come and present the following terms to you and to the north in order to better ensure the peace of the realm. His Grace states that for the peace to last for a long time and be considered seriously, the Ironborn under Lord Rodrick Greyjoy must cease their raiding of the lands south of the neck and that any prisoners still held by either side will be returned and exchanged."

There was some murmuring but it all stopped when Daeron Stark opened his mouth. "And what would we get in return for abiding by this?"

Athell swallowed once more and then said. "If you agree to these terms Your Grace, then Beron Stark's remains shall be returned to the north, and the Royal Fleet shall stop its raiding of ships coming from White Harbour."

Daeron Stark spoke then his voice hard as iron once more. "That is all well and good, I see no reason to object to those terms. However, I have one small item to add to it. I want it known that Westeros is at peace formally and legitimately, and that if either side acts to break this peace, then this treaty shall be declared null and void."

Athell tensed up at that and looked at his mother before saying. "That is acceptable Your Grace. I shall add it to the treaty I have here."

"There will be no need Lord Connington; I have already had two copies of the treaty with this last titbit added on." The Winter Dragon replied.

Athell was stunned, how did the man have the treaty already, he looked at his mother and she merely shrugged. Sighing he said. "Very well then, shall we proceed to sign the document then Your Grace?"

The Winter Dragon smiled, stood up and walked down to where Athell was standing, and in front of the whole of the northern court, and the envoys that had come with Athell, the treaty bringing the peace to Westeros once more was signed and sealed. Peace was now formally recognised, no blood had been shed. After the signing of the treaty, Athell spent another two weeks in Winterfell and the north, he spent much of that time within Winterfell's great library, reading books he had only heard of in stories and such, his mother and aunt spent a lot of time with Daeron Stark, reminiscing about old times and making plans for the future.

His cousin found him in the library, his eyes dropping shut over the tome of some book on dragonlore. "My aunt tells me you have a penchant for reading Lord Connington." Daeron Stark's voice snaps him out of his reverie and he shoots up. "Please, don't get up on my account. I trust all has been to your liking?"

Athell is silent for a moment and then he replies. "Yes Your Grace, very much so. You have a very impressive library here, better than that of the Red Keep."

Daeron smiles slightly then. "Aye, my first wife was an avid reader, so I got these books for her to read. My son Jonnel likes to read here as well from time to time."

"Are you okay Your Grace? Do you need me for some specific reason?" Athell asks hesitantly, he had not expected his cousin to come and seek him out.

Daeron Stark laughed softly then and said. "I merely came to see if you were enjoying your time here my lord. We are cousins after all, and though I have not met any of my aunt's other children apart from Jon Waters, I wished to make sure you were comfortable here. I believe you will be returning south soon enough?"

"I will Your Grace, King Maekar expects the treaty to be handed to him in person, and my wife and children are sorely missed." Athell replies.

Stark nods then and says. "Aye, I can understand that. Well I shall leave you to your reading. When you see Maekar next, tell him I say hello." With that the Winter Dragon walks out of the library leaving Athell to his books and his thoughts.

When he does eventually leave, it is without his mother and aunt, both of whom wish to spend the rest of their days away from the south and the politics that infests the court. That they wish to spend it with Stark and not with him, stings slightly, but he understands there is something about the man that attracts people and speaks of charisma and strength. Before he heads south though his mother hugs him firmly and whispers. "Be safe sweetling. I love you and am so very proud of you."

Athell thinks about those words for the whole journey back, and once he returns to Griffin's Roost after giving the King the treaty, he wonders if perhaps it would be better for his family and for his people if the next time war rolled around he remained out of it all. He will not fight his kin after all.

Prince Aegon Targaryen

All he ever felt now was tiredness. The intrigues of court and council and his father's diminishing health were beginning to wear on him. Much had happened over the past six years since the war had ended. There had been the plague that had wiped out half of King's Landing and most of the court and council itself, though the fact that Aegon, his father and his family had all survived it was more of a miracle and pure chance than a sign from the gods, still the amount of time it had taken for the city to recover from the plague had been staggering. Aegon had not been present for the Great Spring Sickness, but his sisters had told him all about the bodies being burnt in the Dragon Pit, and such things happened once more during the aftermath of the plague, the stench had been gagging and Aegon still had nightmares about it even now.

There had been other concerns as well; the famine that had taken out half the Reach had destroyed a significant part of the crown's revenues and coin reserve. Lord Tyrell and his children had all died during the famine and the man's brother Moryn had become Lord of Highgarden. The man was an oaf, and yet somehow things were beginning to look up for the Reach and as such the crown as well, the dependence that they had on the area was most worrying for both Aegon and his father, and yet there was nothing they could do about it, the Stormlands were still a ruin from the war, the crownlands were without much due to the plague, the Westerlands had been in chaos until very recently.

There had also been the rewarding of those who had done good service during the previous war. Many men had become knights or come into land confiscated from rebel houses or houses that had died out during the war. One man who had benefitted the most was Mern Dragonbane, the archer who had ruined the Blackfyre campaign by getting two arrows to knock out Aegon Blackfyre, causing the northern forces to flee. He had been granted lands in the Reach and made a Lord, a high elevation for a man who had once been a mere poacher, but a loyal man nonetheless.

The Lannisters, gods that had been one huge headache, they had sat out of the war due to a succession struggle, a struggle that had last for ten years. Eventually settled when Aegon's own father had gotten involved. Tion Lannister, the eldest son of Tybolt Lannister's fourth son was made the Lord of the Rock and Warden of the South. The lad was seventeen, strong and skilled at arms and well liked in the Westerlands, and so it seemed like there would be peace in that part of the kingdom, at least if another war broke out. Lannister had wed Myrcella Reyne in order to make sure the Reynes were tied to the Rock and thus could not think about rebelling again.

News from their sources across the narrow sea reported that the Golden Company was engaged in a conflict in Slaver's Bay between the various slaver cities, last they had heard they were fighting for Yunkai. Reports on Aegon's older brother, Aerion, had made him out to be Bittersteel's right hand man, and apparently much saner than he had been when he had actually lived in Westeros. Though it was perfectly possible that he might have become saner, Aegon doubted that it was little more than an act, Aerion had pretended to be sane around their father all the time, and yet had been cruel and derogatory to Aegon and his siblings when no one was there to stop him. He felt sorry for his brother's wife and children, and also slightly concerned.

King Maekar was not a young man, and his health was not what is used to be, it had taken a turn for the worse after Aegon's mother had died from the plague. Still the question of who would actually succeed Maekar as king was an issue that haunted Aegon's every movement. His eldest brother Daeron had died of a pox some years ago, but had left behind a feeble witted daughter named Myriah, the girl was but five years old and yet Aegon had seen people already trying to wheedle their way into her good graces, as her guardian he had put an end to it rather abruptly. There were those who whispered about Aerion potentially becoming King, but that was something that Aegon feared and knew his father was not so keen on happening, after all Aerion was a traitor. Up until very recently that had left Aemon as the next potential heir despite his vows, however, the working of the citadel had put paid to that.

Winterfell's maester, Grand Maester Tywin had died of old age in his sleep in the early months of 230 A.L. and there had been much debate over whom the citadel would chose, and whilst they had known that Aemon was in contention for the spot no one had actually thought the citadel would chose him. That they had was seen as an insult to the royal family, and it was, the Targaryen hold on power was not what it could be Aegon knew, and with Aemon was the Grand Maester of the North, it seemed the traitor Daeron Stark now held yet another chip over his father. The members of the council had discussed perhaps pressuring the citadel into changing its decision, and Aegon had seriously agreed with them. Aemon had however, come to court and told them all that they were not to interfere with the Citadel's choice, he was a maester made to serve whomever he was sent to serve, and as such he would do as bid even if he did not wish to.

Along with that drama, Aegon had become a father once more. Rhae had given birth to twins but a few moons ago, a boy whom they had named Aelix and a girl whom they had named Rhaelle. They now had four children, Duncan who was ten years old and causing all kinds of havoc, Jaehaerys who was eight years old but was very frail and a constant cause of worry and concern to both his parents, and now Aelix and Rhaelle who were both still babes and yet Aegon knew they would go onto achieve great things he could feel it in his bones. His sister Daella had also had another child; she had wed Lord Markus Celtigar some ten years ago, and had so far had three children with him, this current one being her third. Two boys and a girl, the boys Aeron and Baelon were thick as thieves with Aegon's own children and the third child was a girl a babe the same age as Aelix and Rhaelle, whom Daella had named after their mother Lyselle.

Aegon stretched and then got up from his chair and looked briefly at the bed where Rhae was still sleeping thank the gods. It was late, very late and yet his father had summoned him to his solar to discuss some matter of grave import, and so he walked to the door and opened it as quietly as possible before closing just as softly. He nodded to Ser Boremund Connington of the Kingsguard who remained guarding the room, Ser Gwayne Gaunt followed Aegon silent as a shadow, relieving Ser Steffon Storm of his duty when they came to the king's solar.

King Maekar had his head bent over some letter or the other, though he looked up when Aegon entered the room. His eyes were sunken with bags underneath them, he truly did seem quite tired, and though Aegon knew his father would not appreciate it if he told him that. "You asked for me father." he said instead.

"Yes, yes. Sit down." The king said pointing to a chair just in front of him. Aegon sat down, and waited for his father to continue speaking. After a long moment of silence Maekar spoke his voice laced with tiredness. "How are Rhae and the children doing?"

"They are doing well father. They're sleeping just now." Aegon replied. "Is all well father?"

His father was silent for a long time and then said. "What? Oh yes, yes everything is fine sorry lad. A letter came from your sister today that I was reading. It seems her husband has found more hidden treasure within the family vaults, and wonders if he would be able to sell them off to raise more money."

"And are these heirlooms ours are his?" Aegon asked.

"His, no that is not why I have asked you here. As you know the council was severly hit by the plague, and as such the other members have continued to drop like flies. And with Daeron dead, and his daughter lacking in some of the more basic understandings of life, that leaves Aerion and yourself as my heirs." The king replied.

"What of Aemon father?" Aegon asked.

His father sighed then. "What of Aemon Aegon? He has decided his own fate, and I can do nothing about it now without breaking the treaty and the peace, and that I will not do. No, Aerion and yourself are now my heirs. However, Aerion is now Bittersteel's puppet, whether he be sane now or not, I know the man Aegor Rivers is, should Aerion succeed me as king, Bittersteel will use him and then put the Blackfyres on the throne. I cannot have that. Stone tells me that already people are plotting to have me killed you as well, I want you to send Rhae and the children to Summerhall, where they will be under the protection of the Baratheons and the Fells and those who are undyingly loyal to us."

"You wish for me to send my own wife and children away whilst I remain here? Surely they will be in more danger in Summerhall then they would be here father?" Aegon asked.

His father shook his head. "No they will not be. Stone's whispers have told him and me that there are those at court who wish to do us both harm, and what better way than to harm Rhae and the children. No I will not allow that to happen, they will be better protected at Summerhall with people who are loyal to them and them alone not to anyone else. You shall remain here because I mean to name you my hand and my heir."

Aegon is silent for a long time shocked, not at being named heir; he had suspected that for a long time, but more at being named hand. "Are you sure about this father? I am honoured but would not Lord Domeric be better suited to being your hand?"

His father snorts then and says. "Lord Bolton is many things, but he does not have the skills to manage the yes men that infest the court and the council these days. You do, you have more knowledge about the things that will keep us in the people's good graces than he does. Bolton hungers for power, and whilst he has been loyal, giving him too much power and he will do as he did in the north. No you shall be my hand; it will be good experience for you before you become King."

Aegon nods and then says. "About Ser Michael Stone father..."

"What about him?" Maekar asks sharply.

Aegon is silent for a moment and then he says. "I do not trust him. He seems too slimy and incongruous to truly be loyal to the throne and the crown. How do we know he does not work for Bittersteel and Aerion?"

His father laughs then, truly laughs. "Ah you are learning quickly. You are right not to trust Stone, Aegon, that man is nothing but a snake it is true. Yet he has his uses just as Bloodraven did. He is loyal to the throne, he has too much of Bloodraven not to be. Yet I have kept an eye on him for a long time now and his reports are always accurate and to the point, even if they do occasionally turn up late."

"Still I do not trust him father. There's something about him that unnerves me." Aegon admits.

His father laughs once more. "I would be worried if you did trust him Aegon. He is Bloodraven's pupil and as such would always be slimy, however he is loyal never doubt that. Still if you wish to learn more about him, I will not stop you. Just be careful you do not get caught, the world does not need to know your suspicions."

Prince Aegor Stark

Seven years since the war, seven long years. So much had happened in those seven years, the lords of the north and the Iron Islands had been discontent with the way the third Blackfyre war had ended, and Aegor had thought that perhaps, his father might finally realise the futility of his goal, but no, the Winter Dragon would not accept defeat and somehow through a mixture of charisma and pure strength had convinced the lords of the northern kingdom that their best interests lay with ensuring that the Blackfyres continued to receive their support. Aegor was not sure how or why his father continued to support the Blackfyres, the North and the Iron Islands were one kingdom, with completely different ideals to those in the south, to those people that his father was so desperate to see ruled over by Aegon Blackfyre. Aegor's goodbrother was a good man a smart man, and yet Aegor could not stand him nor his nieces and nephews simply for what they represented. The prevention of any chance of peace that Westeros could ever see, for as long as they lived and the Targaryens continued to win, the realm would bleed. Aegor was not sure how his father could not see that.

It had reached the stage where Aegor had begun to think there was much that his father could not see or rather chose not to see. Aegor's own wife, Delena had died in childbirth trying to give him another son, his wife and his second son had both died; his wife from complications during the birth, his son was stillborn. Aegor had been crushed by that, he still was, he wondered if perhaps he should not have tried to give his wife another child, giving birth to Daemon had nearly killed her as well, but no his father had told him he would need a spare and so he had done his duty and it had cost him his wife. His father had been busy in a council with Aegon Blackfyre when Delena had died, and when told of the news he had not offered Aegor condolences, he had merely said that it was sad and that things would need to move on. Move on! The man who had mourned Aegor's mother's death for a long time telling his son to move on, oh the hypocrisy of it all angered him. Still he had not done as his father had done and abandoned his children, he crushed his grief by making sure his children were looked after and knew that they were loved and cared for. Not as Aegor and Daena had been after Arianne Yronwood's death. Never like that.

It was this he supposed that had pushed Aegor into the arms of his bastard cousin, Elia Sand. She was his uncle Daario's bastard daughter, and though Aegor had never met any of his Dornish relatives, it was as if something inside of him had clicked when he met Elia. She had come as part of a trip she was conducting of the seven kingdoms, and something between them had just sparked, and as Aegor, desperate as he was to learn more about his mother's homeland began to view her as a friend, and sucked up all the information she had to give him, he also found himself growing more and more attracted to her, until one day after his stepmother's nameday feast they had slept together. He had woken up the next day feeling guilty for taking advantage of his cousin and for insulting Delena's memory, but Elia had merely kissed him on the cheek and told him that his wife would want him to live, and that she was no innocent maiden. And so their little dalliances had gone into a full blown thing, he knew not what to call it and yet he did not feel so empty as he had before. It was good that his children liked her, though his father disapproved. Aegor cared not for what his father thought, his father who had never bothered to ask him if he would ever want to know about his mother, whenever he had asked about his mother, his father would change the subject.

Other things had happened as well during the seven years since the war. His great aunts Elaena and Rhaena Targaryen had come north and had decided to live out the last of their days in the north. Both women were very strong willed and good people to talk to, they had known Aegor's mother a bit as well, and had given him more information about her than he was likely to get out of his father. In a sense he resented them as well, for they got more of his father's attention and smiles than Aegor had ever gotten, it was something that only made him feel even more worthless, and though he was a man grown there were times when he simply thought about telling his father that if he would insist on spilling northern blood for the damn Blackfyres he might as well kill Aegor there and then, for Aegor was growing weary of war.

His two daughters Rhaenrya and Maege were reaching that age where betrothals would have to be made for them. Aegor was determined to betroth them to boys who would be good and kind to them, and who were not Starks or Blackfyres, he would not have his children intermarry with that god's damn family anymore. Rhaenrya was a strong willed girl who liked weaponry more than sewing and other traditional lady arts, and though Aegor often despaired over what to do with her, he thought he had finally found the perfect husband for her, even one that his own father could not object to Laenor Mormont, the heir to Bear Island. The Mormonts were martial by nature and ever loyal to Winterfell, it would be a good match and a smart one. Maege was a harder decision, she was his little princess, she reminded him a lot of her mother Delena, she was the perfect lady, always polite and courteous even to the brats that Aegor's sister had raised. She deserved to be with someone who would make her feel special, and as such Aegor did not think there was anyone who fit that bill, but then he did not want his father betrothing her to that oaf of a nephew of his Jaehaerys Blackfyre, or even the other one the one who bore his name Aegor Blackfyre. Perhaps a Manderly or a Dustin would do. Daemon was too young at present to think about betrothal options.

A knock on the door took him from his thoughts. Disentangling himself from Elia who slept soundly on, he put on a robe and walked to the door opening it to find his uncle and the Lord Commander of the Winter's Guard Theon Stark standing in front of him. "What is it uncle?" he asked tiredly. "Has something happened?"

His uncle merely looked at him and said. "The King requests your presence in his solar."

Aegor nodded closed the door and got dressed and then walked out with his uncle to his father's solar, when they got there the other members of the council were already present. High Admiral of the Northern Fleet Lord Rodrick Greyjoy, Lord Treasurer Lord Rodwell Manderly, High Steward Lord Edwyle Stark, Grand Maester Aemon Targaryen (an interesting choice and a good man), and High Shadow Lord Ethan Glover. Aegor sat down and then his father spoke. "I apologise for the lateness of the hour and the summons, but we have received some very interesting news. Aemon if you would."

Maester Aemon the third born son of King Maekar Targaryen, had been named Grand Maester of the north two years ago replacing Maester Tywin who had died in his sleep at the age of one hundred and one. He was a capable man but half the maester Tywin had been. Still Aegor was interested to see what this letter was. "A letter came from Tyrosh, writ by Ser Aegor Rivers, the company returned from Yunkai victorious and with more plunder than they have ever gotten before. They returned to find their camp in Tyrosh had been overrun, and that Aerion Targaryen's wife and children had been harmed."

Silence and then Edwyle Stark asks. "Do they know who it was and who sent them?"

Maester Aemon looks at the letter once more and then says. "They do not know who sent the people to sack the camp, but Aerion's wife Shiera says that the assassin went by the name Mern."

Aegor's ears perk up at that. "Is this Mern Dragonbane? The fool they rewarded for firing an arrow at Aegon Blackfyre?"

Aegor's father replies to that. "No, a different man using the same name. From the Reach, Mern Dragonbane remains in the Reach lording it over everyone else. This man was paid by someone in Maekar's court to remove Aerion and his family from the inheritance for the throne."

"But why?" Aegor asks. "Why get his family and not the man himself? Is this some sort of pathetic attempt to make it easier for Prince Aegon to come to the throne?"

Maester Aemon speaks then. "Neither King Maekar or Prince Aegon would result to such means to remove Aerion from the game. No even they would not steep to kinslaying my prince, this was someone else."

"So who does Bittersteel pin the blame on then?" Aegor asks. "If not Maekar and Aegon Targaryen?"

Aemon speaks then. "The letter states that Bittersteel is laying the blame on King Maekar and his master of whispers one Ser Michael Stone. He blames my father for not being able to realise what sort of person he had in stone."

Aegor's father speaks then. "You spent some time at court before joining us Aemon, what sort of man is this Michael Stone?"

Aegor sees the Grand Maester hesitate for a second before he replies. "He was a disciple of Ser Brynden Rivers Your Grace. A most ardent one at that, taking everything the man said at face value and putting it into practice. He inherited Bloodraven's spy network and put it to good use. He is more sly and cunning than Bloodraven was though, and far more ambitious as well. I would not put it past him to have something like this ordered."

Rodrick Greyjoy spoke then. "Even if it is Stone, what concern is it of ours Your Grace? It is a Targaryen problem that they will need to solve."

Aegor's father was silent for a moment and then said. "It is our concern because, Bittersteel means to launch an invasion once more, he means to attack the Riverlands this time, and I have received word from our friends in the south that, Prince Aegon is gathering men to march north. It seems we shall be marching to war once more."

Aegor curses then and says aloud. "Should Blackfyre not be here as well then if we are going to war? After all it involves him."

His father gives him a cold look and says softly. "Aegon is with Daena and their children at the moment, I would not have them disturbed until we have discussed a suitable course of action."

And yet you would disturb me, do I mean so little to you father? Aegor thought bitterly. Aloud he only said. "Very well then Your Grace. What would you have of me?"

His father merely looks at him before turning to High Steward Edwyle Stark. "Ed, write to Jon and tell him to strengthen the defences of the Moat and write to Lord Reed, I want the neck nigh impenetrable from the south. Rodrick you shall return to Pyke and call your banners ready for war."

Both men nod, and Aegor feels anger beginning to boil inside of him. His father does eventually turn to him and says. "You shall head north to the Mountain Clans and tell them to get themselves to Winterfell before the other ravens are sent out." Aegor nods and then the meeting is ended, but before he goes his father stops him and says softly. "And whilst there you shall find yourself another wife, you need a spare heir Aegor. Fucking that Sand girl will not do." Aegor nods and then leaves before he says something he will regret.