YEAR 311 AC
At King's Landing…
It was a calm, gentle summer morning. After the War for Westeros and Second Long Night came to an end more than six years ago, no other serious major conflicts have arisen to threaten the delicate balance. As the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros transitioned into a new era of peace and stability during the revolution, an array of reforms were introduced to further advance the nation as promised by the ruling royal House Baratheon of King's Landing—socially, culturally, economically, and politically if possible. Gone was the primogeniture male-dominant inheritance rights; taking an example of Rhoynish custom, firstborn children of noble or royal birth would now be able to inherit their lord father's or lady mother's lands, wealth and titles regardless of their gender. Progress was made since then, albeit one step at a time. After all, change does not transform itself overnight.
Of the many regions in Westeros, the capital city of King's Landing itself had undergone an industrial revolution since the final battle itself with the creation of four districts: the first was the unionization of the many customs squares into a single-market; the second was the establishment of the city's first main industrial center; the third was renovating the houses and mansions into a more modernized residential district – life expectancy increased due to the newly designed sewers, access to clean water and health care treatment, which also saw the city's population boost from 500,000 to 1,000,000 people; and lastly the fourth oversaw the first school district in King's Landing, providing many educational opportunities for both rich and poor, nobles and commoners alike if sponsored by a noble patron. The largest center of learning, the University of King's Landing, attracted many students from across the nation.
Nearby, up Aegon's High Hill within the repaired Red Keep, a group of little children was seen playing within the palace gardens.
*CLACK, CLACK, CLACK!*
*TAP, TAP, TAP!*
"Easy now. Be sure to not get too carried away," Olyvar called out. In the years that followed, the Frey Kingsguard had matured into a capable master-at-arms for the royal family; his hair shaven and beard grown out, Olyvar had taken on new responsibilities of his own: training the male royal children. Where the father once trained him, he, in turn, vowed to train the sons in the art of combat. "Hey! Don't swing your swords wildly like that! Aim low. Keep those shields up! Don't expose your weak spot to your opponent!"
*CLACK, CLACK, CLACK!*
*TAP, TAP, TAP!*
Holding wooden swords their right hand and a small shield wrapped around their left arms, stood Prince Lyonel Baratheon—now 10 years old—and his younger 7-year-old brother Prince Torrhen. Off to the side watching the two boys spar was their other brother, Prince Rickard, who was now 6 years old; along with the family's newest member, 3-year-old Prince Orys—named after House Baratheon's founder. Even though Rickard inherited the classic Baratheon traits, as he grew up his noticeable feature was he had his mother's face and even had strands of auburn hair.
Lyonel and Torrhen continued their sparring session; the elder Baratheon child raised his shield, easily causing his brother's wooden sword to bounce off. Although Torrhen was younger and in need of more practice himself, his swings were rather wild and easy to predict. Lyonel, meanwhile, appeared to have the natural talent for fighting and easily countered with precise swings of his own before smacking his wooden sword at Torrhen's ankles, causing the younger Baratheon to yelp and fall to his knees before being pushed back.
"Very good," Olyvar congratulated. "Give him another go, Prince Lyonel."
Torrhen frowned sadly. "No fair! No matter how hard I try, I still can't beat you!" he whined.
Lyonel merely brushed off his brother's complaints and laughed. Being the oldest, he was physically stronger than him. But despite his streak of 8 wins and 0 losses and the occasional sibling rivalry between each of them, neither of the children held a deep grudge against the other for any sort of wrongdoing. Being half-Stark themselves and because of their upbringing, they were always taught to look after each other as a pack, love each other and lend a helping hand. Lyonel walked over and helped Torrhen to his feet, brushing dirt off his shoulders and held the side of his face in his hand.
"Keep your shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell," Lyonel said, ruffling his brother's hair.
Torrhen meekly nodded and the two began sparring again.
*CLACK, CLACK, CLACK!*
*TAP, TAP, TAP!*
"Hit 'em, big brother!" Rickard exclaimed, unsure who to root for.
Orys in the meantime remained rather oblivious and continued crushing any insect he could find with a rock; he showed little interest in his brother's training sessions—not that the youngest son found it fascinating or anything, but rather he was still too young to understand the purpose of it.
Torrhen was panting by the time he relentlessly swung again but Lyonel deflected the strike again. Gritting his teeth with frustration, he moved forward – which Lyonel knew would happen and stuck his leg out to trip Torrhen, sending him stumbling down into the dirt. Sweating, Torrhen shook his head.
"Give it another go, Prince Torrhen," Olyvar instructed.
The boy sighed and got back up, wooden sword in hand and shield raised. But just as the Baratheon brothers were about to engage in another round, the sound of hooves and neighing broke their concentration.
"Ah! Not her again!" they complained.
Galloping into the gardens on a white stallion with her long hair flowing in the breeze, Princess Cassana rode around her brothers. Moving with elegance and grace, she seemingly had been typically portrayed as the perfect daughter, the perfect Princess, the perfect girl with little to no flaws. She was just as beautiful as her mother. Already a lady by the time she was 4, Cassana brought smiles and laughter to those wherever she went; but although mature for her age than her twin brother, she would sometimes yearn for the sense of adventure in her heart.
"Cassie!" Torrhen whined.
"You're always showing off! Stop it!" Lyonel exclaimed.
"Hi, big sister," Rickard greeted.
"Sishta," Orys greeted as best a boy his age could muster.
Ignoring her brother's complaints, Cassana rolled her eyes as she slowly rode her stallion down to a nearby servant who approached and gripped the reins to allow her to slide off the saddle, landing on her feet with cat-like reflexes. Donning a beautiful dress of yellow and blue, the Princess tossed her hair back and approached her brothers.
"Ah! Good morning, Princess," Olyvar greeted.
"Good morning, Ser Olyvar," Cassana curtsied.
"Would you go away? We're sparring!" Torrhen continued complaining. "You're going to Riverrun soon!"
"And who are you going to spar with when Lyonel goes off to Winterfell next week?" she countered.
Torrhen glanced at his feet dejectedly. In one week, the elder twins would once more leave home to see more of the world; Daveth and Sansa had been in discussion about the matter of fostering their children to other lords for quite some time, but eventually, the two compromised as to where to send Lyonel and Cassana; sending a raven to the North and Riverlands, both Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Robb Stark had agreed to foster the children. It is seen as an honorable and common tradition among the Westerosi nobility as it frequently results in closer ties and sometimes alliances being formed between noble houses from different sides of the continent. While House Tully would foster Cassana at Riverrun, Lyonel was to be taken in by House Stark at Winterfell. Despite the long distance from home, Daveth and Sansa reassured their eldest children that this would be a learning experience for them, and they would be in good hands as they would be spending time with their relatives while they furthered their education; they could even make new friends their age.
"I don't know," Torrhen finally answered.
"Now, now try not to look so down, little brother. You'll find someone to hone your skills. Just be a bit more patient. Okay?" she turns her attention to her twin. "Lyonel, you know that mother and father hate it when you run off like this. They've been asking for you all day."
"Eh, you know I hate the constant lectures Grand Maester Samwell gives, Cass. It's boring," Lyonel brushed her off.
"That's not why I came here to get you. Did you forget again? You know that today is a rather important moment. Your presence is needed in the throne room."
"Why? Are a bunch of lords going to talk our ears off again?"
Rickard and Oyrs laughed. Cassana, however, was less than amused. "No, brother," she said rather sternly. "You're set to receive your first appointment. This ceremonial banquet is about you, and we're already late enough as it is. Don't you remember what happened last time father got so upset with you?"
Hearing that, all color seemingly drained from Lyonel's face and the boy began to sweat nervously. Last time he ditched a ceremony was two years ago when he decided he'd rather goof around with his pet dogs until Daveth exploded with fury, harshly reprimanding him with scolding words or disciplining him by spanking him with a paddle. His body shook at the flashback. By the Gods, he could still hear his father's words and feel the wood roughly hitting his buttocks until both cheeks turned bright red. Lyonel loved his father and mother, and the last thing he wanted to do since then was to disappoint them again.
Dropping their wooden swords and shields in a beat, the children immediately gathered their belongings and rushed to the throne room with Olyvar acting as their escort. As they hurried their way through the gardens back into the Red Keep via the rear entrance. Everyone was getting closer to the throne room where Lyonel could hear the nobility conversing with one another. Judging by the loud volume, the festivities had already begun. By the time they got to the door, the elder Prince's body was already shaking like a leaf.
"I'm done for. Father's going to kill me," he said with dread.
Cassana, despite being stern, was sympathetic to her twin and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No, he won't, brother. Father is not going to kill you. I'm sure mother will understand that it was a simple mistake. Completely unintentional. No harm was done, see? Now come on. They're waiting for us," she motions.
Lyonel breathed in and out and pushed the door open. The throne room was lively with each of the assembled lords and ladies from across Westeros for this important event; the children held each other's hands so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd as Olyvar gently pushed his way past the nobility as Lyonel, Cassana, Torrhen, Rickard, and Orys kept pace with the Kingsguard knight. Food and refreshments were being served by the castle's staff, banners from different houses were hung from the walls. As they neared the throne, they could see their mother already in conversation with Myranda Royce, their new aunt who recently married their paternal uncle Lord Gendry last month. Thankfully, their father wasn't anywhere to be seen yet. Perhaps they made it on time? No, there he was conversing with Lord Tyrion! Maybe he hadn't seen them yet? People were talking so loud neither could hear what the other was saying.
"And I tell them when I heard he had taken up with a commoner, I was scandalized. Just scandalized, Your Grace! Oh, you should have seen the look on Lady Waynwood's face. She was furious with him!" Myranda retold the story with a smile.
"Men do stupid things for women. They're easily manipulated. But in a way, I suppose there is a sense of romance between them – like the ballad between Prince Duncan the Small and Jenny of Oldstones," Sansa said. Much to the surprise of many, despite having five children and the passing of time, the Wolf Queen was seeming unaffected by aging and was just as beautiful as ever—no wrinkles, no gray in her hair, no excess body fat… nothing! She still retained her slender figure and smooth auburn hair. The absolute pinnacle of beauty.
"I know, I know! I pray he gets the pox. But still must be sorry for the girl to elope with a Waynwood of all people. I mean, how else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? Thankfully I never wed one of them; I would have made him swear a vow to don his helm whenever he wished to fuck me and keep the visor closed."
Sansa repressed a blush at the remark yet maintained perfect composure. She is only teasing, but do you have to be so… crude, Lady Royce? she thought perceptively.
"Ahhh, but at least I landed a Baratheon," Myranda grinned wickedly. "I heard so many rumors about the men of that house I had to find out for myself."
"Rumor? What rumor?"
"I fear I must apologize to you, Your Grace. You will think me a dreadful slut after hearing what I have to say, I know," she winked suggestively. "Rumor has it that the men of House Baratheon are… quite skilled not only on the battlefield but also in the art of lovemaking. Or maybe they are by nature so very… healthy. I mean, you and His Grace popped out five children I was just dying to know what it felt like firsthand, so I had to bed my Lord Gendry before we were wed. But before I knew it, he was fucking me so much all night that by morning I could hardly walk. I see now the stories the maidens tell of Baratheon men endurance are not exaggerated. It was amazing. They know how to hit all the right spots."
She's trying to make me blush. No, I will not give you the satisfaction, Lady Royce. Keep such vulgar thoughts to yourself, Sansa realized. She cleared her throat.
Myranda noticed. "So… how is your husband's performance in the bedroom? Did you get naked? Does he curl your toes? Make you sing? Does he flip you ass over tits and hammer you like a bent nail?" she pressed.
Sansa's eyes widened with dismay. "Lady Royce!" she hissed quietly to avoid attracting any unwanted attention, her face now turning a bright shade of pink.
"Ooh, look at that blush. He's that good, huh?"
"I believe this conversation is over. Good day, my lady," the Wolf Queen quickly left the conversation, ignoring Myranda's laughter behind her. By the Gods, why must she have been permitted entry into such an important ceremony if she was going to speak to me like that?! Sansa took a moment to collect her wits and rid her thoughts. This was an important day for her eldest son, after all.
"Mother?" a voice called out to her.
Sansa turned to see Lyonel, Cassana, Torrhen, Rickard, and Orys had made their way through the crowd towards her. Their presence made her smile and she almost forgot about the conversation she had with Myranda. "Ah, there you are, my darling children," she hugged them all with as much motherly warmth and affection. She turned to Olyvar. "Thank you for ensuring they arrive safely, Ser Olyvar. You are dismissed. Please feel free to at least enjoy yourself with some food and drink once in a while. Entertainment will commence shortly."
"Understood, Your Grace. I'll try," he said before joining the rest of his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. Since the death of Ser Lucius, there had been another vacancy in the Kingsguard. Within a few months, the vacancy was filled with the recruitment of Ser Dramen Chaffton, a knight from Oldtown in service of House Hightower.
Now alone with her five children, Sansa looked at her eldest son. "Where have you been? How many times do I have to tell to never pull a stunt like that? You had me worried sick," she scolded.
Lyonel looked a bit hurt. "I'm… I'm sorry, mother," he apologized.
The Wolf Queen ruffled his hair. "You are forgiven, sweetheart. Just… don't do that again. Please?" she sighed. "Now, Lyonel, do you understand specifically why your father and I said your presence is required today?"
Lyonel shook his head no.
"My son, you were just named Prince of Dragonstone. You have now been given a position of responsibility which you will undertake in three years." Sansa smiled and placed a hand on his back. "I suggest you go over there and thank your father."
Nodding, Lyonel obediently walked towards Daveth. Still, the youth was rather nervous about what his father might say to him. The Young Stag had finished his talks with his uncle and Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister. Folding his arms, Daveth recognized the pattern of small footsteps creeping up behind him. He knew it belonged to his eldest son and heir. Having ruled the Seven Kingdoms for more than thirteen years, Daveth's black hair grew long, was slicked back and had small distinctive gray streaks despite being only 30 years old and his beard was close-cropped. He wore a black formal tunic with an asymmetrically cut collar and a sweeping crimson regal sash like his grandfather Lord Tywin. To Lyonel, it made his father look more intimidating to a 10-year-old boy.
"You're late again, my son," Daveth said with a low, deep tone.
"I know. I'm sorry, father. It won't happen again," Lyonel replied; his siblings soon caught up with him.
"See to it that it does not."
Cassana stepped forward and curtsied. "Father, the fault is mine," she defended her twin. "I searched everywhere for my brother as best as I could, but not fast enough and so I am responsible for such a blunder."
"Hmm. Responsible. Lyonel, do you understand the meaning of that word?"
"I do, father," he nodded.
"Father?" Cassana spoke again, "you know the fault was mine. Must you be so hard on Lyonel?"
Daveth turned to face her. "Cassana, you will not yet have to carry such a burden like the crown I will one day pass on to your brother once my time in this world is done. He must not allow himself to be led astray with such distractions… even in times of peace."
"He cares about our family as much you, mother and the rest of us. He yearns for your approval and will do what it takes to make it so. Maybe this ceremony will allow him to realize his true potential once he takes that first step."
"Then he will have to show me he has what it takes," Daveth replies. I can be harsh, firefly, I know. But as much as I want to as a father, I cannot as King permit too much leniency. Once you and your brother see more of the world, you'll understand why. He turns to the assembly. "Lords and ladies of the court, gather round," he begins, gathering their full attention. Sansa soon joins her husband's side. "We are gathered here today to celebrate a momentous occasion. Six years ago, men and women from every corner of Westeros stood united against the tyranny of House Targaryen and their dragons. Never in 300 years had we faced such a foe, but we defied the odds to defeat them and drive them back across the Narrow Sea."
Sansa spoke next. "Let us also remember that it also took a united Westeros to defeat the Night King and his Army of the Dead," she said. "Against all odds, and in the face of the greatest threat this world has ever known, we defended the realms of men – but at such a cost. The victories we won belongs to each of us… every man, woman, and child in the Seven Kingdoms. Let us remind everyone what it took to win. If war and times of hardship have taught us anything, it is that we are at our strongest when we work together. And if we can put aside our grievances long enough to stop something as powerful as dragons and White Walkers, imagine what we can achieve."
*APPLAUSE!*
"As the cornerstone of change is laid, we have now entered into a future greater than any one of us could imagine," Daveth chimed in. A future many did not live to see, but we will honor them. They gave us that chance. "My lords and ladies, it is with great pleasure that the Queen and I hereby introduce the newest member of our court: our eldest son and heir, Lyonel of Houses Baratheon and Stark, the Prince of Dragonstone." Together, he and Sansa look at Lyonel and wave at him to join them in the center.
*APPLAUSE!*
"Go on, brother. This is your moment," Cassana motioned.
"Congratulations, big brother," Torrhen and Rickard smiled.
"Big bruva," Orys babbled.
Lyonel straightened his collar and stood straight, taking one step after the other before all eyes were on him now. Giving a polite bow, he knelt before his parents. "Father, mother, words alone cannot express how much you honor me with such an appointment. This is a responsibility I will not take lightly," he began. "We can do so much more now. We are greater than our ancestors ever dreamed. This evening proves what we can accomplish through cooperation."
Well-spoken, my son, Sansa thought proudly. "Prince Lyonel Baratheon, as heir to the throne, do you swear on this day—by the Old Gods and the New—that you will guide the Seven Kingdoms when your time has come?"
"I swear by the Old Gods and the New," Lyonel vowed.
"Do you swear to uphold and preserve the peace?"
"I swear by the Old Gods and the New."
"Do you swear to use your power for the good of the realm and its people, not for your selfish desires?"
"I swear by the Old Gods and the New."
Sansa smiled. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. "Arise, my son." Lyonel complies. "Let the festivities commence!" she proclaims.
*APPLAUSE!*
Lyonel looked at his father. Daveth looked at his eldest son and gave a brief nod; to the Baratheon prince, his lips curled into a happy smile—knowing he had taken his first step into proving himself worthy of inheriting his father's legacy. As his brothers and sister congratulated him on his first appointment, Lyonel kept his eyes locked on Daveth and Sansa—the latter smiled and waved at him.
I'll make you both proud, he thought. I promise. You have my word, father and mother.
(One week later…)
What came next the following week was not an easy moment for Sansa; on the day of their arrival, her uncle Edmure arrived to take her daughter Cassana with him to be fostered at Riverrun while her older brother Robb took her son Lyonel with him to be fostered north at Winterfell. All parties said their tearful goodbyes to each other as both Edmure and Robb promised the royal family they would take good care of the twins. Sansa, with her husband Daveth, their sons Torrhen, Rickard, and Orys, waved as the royal carriages rode off into the distance along the kingsroad.
Although it was customary, being separated from her firstborn children were particularly hard on Sansa. She would often sit by the window waiting for them, other times she would cry herself to sleep at the thought of not seeing them again—despite Daveth's reassurances they would still communicate via messenger birds. Over time, though, Sansa slowly came to accept the new reality they were in. Instead of being sad, the Wolf Queen held a deep sense of pride in her children. Lyonel, Cassana, Torrhen, Rickard, Orys… she loved them all and would help them should they ever ask her. True to their words, Cassana and Lyonel each sent ravens to King's Landing telling their parents how they've been, easing their mother's worry. Until then, Sansa spent the last few days raising her other three sons and arranging romantic dates with Daveth. The Small Council would keep the stress of the King and Queen for as long as permitted.
By nightfall, nearly everyone was in their assigned rooms.
Both Daveth and Sansa were in bed with the sheets pulled up to their neck to cover the fact they were completely naked after making love. Though she tried to sleep, Sansa sniffled lightly as her tired eyes glanced at the portrait of the entire royal family. Her husband, their children… they meant everything to her. She soon felt Daveth's body turning in the bed to spoon her, wrapping his arms around her to envelop her in a sideways hug.
"Can't sleep too?" Daveth asked.
"No," Sansa shook her head against the pillow. "I miss them, Daveth. Lyonel, Cassana… they're our first babies," she confessed.
"I know. They're good children. All of them."
Sansa turned to face Daveth, looking him in the eyes.
"If you want, we can arrange a visit to Riverrun and Winterfell—"
"Soon, love. Soon. I simply… wanted to relive the dream of holding them when they were babies is all."
Daveth reminisced the day he first became a father. He pictured Sansa cradling a newborn with a facial expression filled with love and affection for the creation of new life they would make together. Ten years married, five children… and seed enough for many more. They were still young and had plenty of time if they wanted to grow their family before time ran out. If Sansa wants another child, I'll give her one… and this time there will be nothing and no one to ruin it. Daveth felt more than content with his journey with Sansa by his side.
"Daveth?" Sansa snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Yes, Sansa?" he answered.
"Were you scared at Winterfell when you fought the Night King?"
Daveth shuddered; he hadn't thought about the Battle of Ice and Fire in such a long time. He didn't want to as it was a memory that would stick with him for the rest of his life. "Yes," he admitted. "Well, I… sometimes there were moments of doubt. But… looking back now, all I thought was to keep those monsters away from the people who mattered most. Our family."
"I wish I could have been there with you."
"You were," he held her hand. "More than you could imagine. Every time I went to fight a war, I thought about you and our children. You all gave me purpose, a reason to want to come home."
Sansa smiled. She traced her thumb across Daveth's knuckle and leaned in to kiss him. As she pulled away, the Wolf Queen pressed her forehead against her mate's. "I love you," she told him.
Daveth wrapped his arms around Sansa and pulled her close, ignoring the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest. "I love you too," he murmured. And thank you, Sansa… for everything.
Before long, both ventured off into a deep sleep. As they dreamed, they lived to see some amazing things; another decade in their life come to pass. But each had to see their loved ones die off to make it this far. Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, Robert Baratheon, Barristan Selmy, Lucius Blackmyre… all long gone. What kept the Young Stag up most nights was the thought about each of the people he forged ever-lasting bonds with walking their own trials and tribulations the same way he did, each in their own time.
By the Gods. Sometimes, the great journey… seems so long.
Chapter End
Author's Note: The second to last chapter is here; the final one will consist of an epilogue detailing the events taking place afterward. The royal children have grown up—both in age and numbers—and now Lyonel and Cassana are both off to follow their own path. Since the title "Prince of Dragonstone" wasn't used during King Robert's reign, Daveth decided to bring it back and bestow it upon his eldest son Lyonel before he and his twin sister are taken in by their relatives in House Tully and House Stark to be fostered. Each of the Baratheon children has shown to display their own set of personality traits, but which ones did you think stood out the most? Who acted more like their father or mother? Stay tuned for the final update: the epilogue!
C.E.W: King Daveth and Queen Sansa continue to rule the realm, and see to it that their children are prepared for the responsibility. Lyonel and Cassana were very young, but surely they remember the last Battle of King's Landing, how can anyone forget a thing like that. No one is going to go up against Daveth given that he's won every war he fought, and leads the realm better than any other king in generations.
Robb Stark and Talisa continue to rule the North, trying to rebuild from the Long Night. But House Stark is known for honor and duty which is why Daveth sent Lyonel there.
Jon Snow is probably busy helping the Wildlings beyond the Wall, they suffered greatly thanks to the White Walkers. Maybe Jon became the New King-beyond-the-Wall and may have a chance of leading the Wildings into a better life. The North grove might be a start.
Theon Greyjoy went to the Iron Islands with people to settle there, and build a new Ironborn culture. To be better than those who came before, long dead thanks to Daveth and perhaps maybe they'll be something better for the sea.
Trystane and Myrcella will be rulers of Dorne before long after Doran is dead. How's the relationship between Tyene and Olyver going?
Tyrion still serves as Hand of the King, he might retire soon so that he may spend time with his wife and kid at Casterly Rock. Tyrion learned that it is important to balance duty from family, something that his father never understood.
Tommen and Margaery Tyrell rule the Reach, I suspect their children might take the Tyrell name. Shireen handles the Stormlands, Edmure rules the Riverlands, and Robin the Vale.
Essos might be a concern though, particularly in Dragon's Bay once known as Slaver's Bay. Daario might be dead, but Daenerys had many admirers among the former slaves, many may hear of her death at Daveth's hands. They might come to seek revenge, armies have been built from low people before. There will always be war, not in Daveth and Sansa's lifetime perhaps but someday, its why they prepare their children for responsibility.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
Turner1416: I got question does this mean their will be a new story like a new saga
—Haven't decided yet.
TehStorm: Great chapter,i can't wait for the last chapter of the story even tough i am really sad to see this amazing story end.
Praetor12: It's funny that you did the Prince of Egypt reference, because I was thinking of that movie this morning. I kind of wish you would have started the chapter with the boys causing trouble like in the movie, maybe not doing the same thing but I'm sure you get what I mean.
Bio RL: When will the epilogue be published? :0
—Soon.