Disclaimer: I Don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age.

Those familiar with my House Amell of Westeros story, know what happens in that. Well in this AU spinoff (of the AU :) we see what it says on the tin, what if Fausten Amell had sided with the Targaryen's? What if he had brought Daylen with him to Westeros? What would become of the Targaryen Dynasty and how would Westeros change as a result?

House Amell of Westeros: Targaryen Loyalists

Chapter 1: Arrival in a new home

Come, come, sit, and let me tell you a story. You may know it, you may not, but before you judge listen. The beginning may or may not sound familiar, but I assure you, it will get very different. Allow me to begin:

In our known world there are two well known continents. A continent of magic and monsters, and a continent of politics and intrigue. Thedas, home of the great nations, Orlais, Tevinter, Ferelden and the Free Marches. Westeros, neighbour of Essos, the seven kingdoms united under the banner of a three headed dragon. On each of these continents there lived two great men, one whom would fall to destiny, and another whom would fight it.

Fausten Amell, second son of the Amell clan of Kirkwall. His father was a stern man, demanding traditions be followed, and orders be obeyed. Aristide, the first son, was not as strict as his father, but followed his command anyway, developing his own strengths that would serve him well as leader of the Amell family. Fausten however was a free spirit, not someone who allowed himself to be controlled. He also had a dream, and when he was fourteen, he sought to make that dream a reality. Strong and self-sufficient, he sought his own fortune and walked his own path.

Aerys Targaryen, son of Jaeherys Targaryen. His father was amiable and clever, but he did not have the strength of the distant Amell head. He was to be a king however, a destiny that would await Aerys too. Aerys himself wasn't a clever man, but he had a charm to him, and a passion too. He did not excel at things, but he tried and when he did not believe in something, he made his point clear. Aerys argued with his father when he demanded that Aerys marry his sister Rhaella. The Targaryens had practiced incest marriages for many generations. It wasn't until when Aerys was fourteen as well, that his destiny was changed, and he crossed paths with Fausten.

On that year, the king of that time, Aegon the fifth (also known as the unlikely) attempted to carry out a ritual at Summerhall. This ritual, had it succeeded, would have resulted in the hatching of dragon eggs, and the return of magic to the Seven Kingdoms. However, only tragedy befell the king that day. The fires spread and killed Aegon, his friend and bodyguard Duncan the tall, and his first son and heir Duncan the small. Those fires too would have claimed the life of Aerys, if not for Fausten Amell.

He emerged from the flames of Summerhall, carrying Aerys. The boy was taller, broader than the thin prince. Clad in red armour, his raven hair rested on his shoulders, and his blue eyes, seemed to glow in the wake of the fire. Blue eyes, 'blue eyes filled with magic' was a term some in the Marches used, as all Amells had the same deep blue eyes, and magic in their ancestry. Aerys awoke as his saviour put him down, seeing the smile across Fausten's face.

"I'm Fausten," the dark haired boy said.

"Aerys," the prince introduced himself, but he knew not why, he was the prince, all should have known him.

Fausten dropped the prince, and ran back into the flames. His actions were daring and reckless, and inspirational. Though he did not save anymore royals, he saved many others who would have passed in the flames. When Jaeherys ascended to the throne, he offered Fausten any boon he wished.

"I need no reward or reason to help another," he said.

Jaeherys was happy to depart without reward.

"What is the price of saving your son's life?" Aerys had asked the man.

He rewarded Fausten, the wandering foreigner , with a promise.

"Ask anything of me, at anytime, and if it is within my power I will grant it."

Intrigued by one another, they became what Aerys never thought he had, a friend. It was different from the friendship Aerys shared with one Tywin Lannister, it was genuine, no reward was expected. Nor was it out of duty, the friendship simply was. This friendship grew, until they both regarded one another as brothers.

"I want to be a hero," Fausten shared his dream.

"I want to change my country," Aerys too shared his ambition.

But when one is royalty, they simply cannot give into friendship. Aerys saw it in his sister wife Rhaella, Fausten saw it to. The princess loved and desired Fausten, Aerys loved his brother of bond and wished for him to be part of their world. He hoped for Fausten to serve their family as a knight, a lord, as anything. But their youths ended early, and the dragon and the phoenix flew away from one another. Both pursuing their dreams.

Over the years Aerys grew less kind, as each year passed he became less stable. A sickness was slowly growing within him, a sickness of the mind. He saw traitors everywhere, trusting in very few. For many years it was Tywin Lannister who ruled as hand of the king. Whilst Aerys's son Rhaegar earned respect amongst noble and commoner alike. In time, Rhaella gave Aerys another son, Viserys. Tywin's pettiness however led him to abandon Aerys, when the king chose a Martell princess as Rhaegar's betrothed.

Fausten meanwhile returned to his adventuring. As the years went by, he built a fortune, found love, had children and rejoined his brother Aristide in Kirkwall. The Amells were happy, and they prospered for many years. In the aftermath of a great fire, Revka, Fausten's daughter, revealed to the people of Kirkwall her son. Many believed that the babe was a bastard, as at the time Revka was not married. The boy also had traits that weren't so Amell, traits that became apparent as he grew. His skin had a tan, lighter than the Rivain tone, his hair was brown and wild unlike the set black hair of most Amells. But his eyes, they were blue, just like an Amells.

Daylen they called him.

The story you know changes from here.

Daylen Amell's magic was discovered and witnessed by the templars, when he was two years old. He used blood magic to save the life of his grandfather. Then he was sent away to the Ferelden circle of magi, raised and trained there, until he became a Grey warden and saved Ferelden from the fifth blight.

But there was another possibility. That Daylen's magic would be discovered earlier, in a private place, away from the eyes of those who would tell the Chantry.

Daylen was two when playing with the son of one of Fausten's dwarf companions. The play became heated and Daylen hit the boy so hard that he got a concussion. This time however he did not run immediately to his mother. This time Caladin had managed to hit Daylen, drawing blood from his lip. A simple cut, a drop of blood, and a heartfelt cry of regret.

"Caladin, Caladin," Daylen shook the boy, their other friends around them, looking at Caladin in shock. "No please don't die, please don't die, PLEASE!"

With that cry, light erupted from Daylen's eyes and finger tips. The blood of the dwarf mingled with Daylen's own blood, and the damage to Caladin's skull, repaired itself. Revka and the Chantry priestess Bella, whom was undoubtedly loyal to the Amells, ran over when they saw the light. Caladin was awake, sitting up and looking at everyone in confusion. Likewise Daylen himself was confused, looking up at Revka and Bella.

"Mother, what's wrong?" he asked.

They looked down at the boy and saw, that his once blue eyes, had turned blood red.

"NO!" Fausten screamed when Revka told him.

"It is true father, it is true, my boy, my little Day is a mage," she said.

They stood with Bella, and Fausten's friends. Stone, the dwarven captain of the Amell guards, he was a stern looking man, full black beard, but a balding head. Stork, the elven scribe and bodyguard of Fausten, he had long greying hair and was taller and lankier than Fausten. Fausten himself had cut his once long hair and grew it short, keeping his facial hair relatively short as well. He had thrown the cups on the table aside, overcome by the rage and grief of what he had learnt.

"Even if we wanted to hide it, the magic has changed him my lord," Bella said.

"I've heard of blood magic altering the users, but for one so young to have done it, even by accident is unheard of," Stork explained.

"Perhaps he is a savant, he could prosper at the circle."

"Prosper? He'd be locked away, able to help only those the chantry dictates he should help, if he lives that long. Those red eyes mark him as a blood mage, he'll always be doubted, thought of as a danger," Revka explained.

"He's different, the change has happened Revka, people will fear his red eyes, magic or no," Stone said.

Fausten nodded his head, drawing dread filled eyes from Revka.

"You're going to give him to the chantry, knowing that we may never see him again?" she asked.

"No," Fausten said.

The determination in his eyes was the kind he had in his youth. For in that moment he remembered his youth, and the promise a prince made. That night, Fausten gave instructions to Stone and Stork and wrote letters. A letter to his brother, telling him a lie, that with Aristide's possible election to Viscount, Fausten would take his house to the far western continent to discuss trade. Then a letter to his son, summoning him back to Kirkwall from Starkhaven immediately. Finally he wrote a letter to an old friend.

Daylen owned very little, Revka didn't bombard him with gifts and toys, and he wanted nothing. So he didn't have a coat or cloak. Fausten wrapped a cloak around Daylen, it was an old mass of beige that enveloped Daylen.

"Use it as a blanket for the journey," he said.

"Where am I going grandfather?" Daylen asked.

"Day, you are going on an adventure with your mother, one I'll join very soon," Fausten said.

"It's because I used magic isn't it?"

Fausten smiled at his grandson's intuitiveness. He kissed Daylen's forehead.

"When you're old enough, when you fully understand the dangers of Thedas, perhaps you'll be able to come back. For now though, because I am old I will make the decision for you, I can at least save you my boy," Fausten explained.

"Save me?" Daylen asked.

"Once when I was young, I dreamed of being a hero, but as I got older I realised that...I could not save everyone," there was a small tear in his eyes as he said this, looking up at the stars, and their promises. "To save one, also means to sacrifice another, and I could not keep doing that, because I lost hope that I could save everyone."

Daylen waited a moment, before he smiled and looked at his grandfather.

"Then I'll do it for you," he said.

Fausten looked at the boy, at the maturity in his eyes, and the smile on his face.

"I'm still young, and I'll be young for a long time, which means I'll still have dreams. So I'll become a hero, the hero you wanted to be," he explained.

With tears of joy Fausten hugged Daylen, feeling hope yet again.

That hope did not fade, Fausten's hope at least would never fade. Daylen was his hope, and as the first ship filled with Amell servants left, Fausten waved to it. His plan to keep Daylen from the circle was complete. Through storms the ship sailed, across the oceans beyond the map of Thedas. After a month of sailing, their provisions near spent, Revka's ship arrived at the port.

"Wake up my Day, wake up," Revka whispered to her child.

Daylen stirred, yawning as he got up. He climbed up the ladder with his mother, smelling the salt air and seeing the sun. They walked to the edge of the deck, seeing the multitude of ships sailing in and out of the famous port of king's landing. Finally they had arrived at what they hoped would be their new home. Westeros, the continent to the West of Thedas. The continent conquered by and ruled by dragons, a place where magic had been suppressed for many ages.

Daylen gripped his mother's hand nervously as they walked onto the port. Men in gold cloaks and armour waited to escort them. Revka kept her knife hidden, their retinue of guards were asked to follow, but she knew they would be disarmed if allowed to walk beyond the red keep. Walking through the streets, holding the bundle that was his blanket close, Daylen saw some of the poverty the people of the country lived through. It was much different than what he saw when he explored darktown. People lived under a greater and stricter watch.

There was a stench in the air too, one Daylen often smelt when he was near the dog kennels, or after he'd used the privy. He didn't turn his nose up at it though, and he didn't complain about the smell to his mother either. They held one another's hands, walking in the centre of the gold cloaks, until they reached the Red Keep. It was a long walk to the throne room, under the watchful eyes of the royal court. When they reached the throne room, they were marvelled by the sight of the iron throne. It was a grand thing, one had to go up steps just to reach the actual chair, made from hundreds of swords. Fausten had told Revka the story, of how a dragon and every smith in the country forged Aegon's throne, a throne that since then, nearly every Targaryen heir sat and suffered on. For it wasn't difficult to imagine, and even see that the throne would rake against the skin of whoever sat on it.

Shadowed by the throne were the small chairs belonging to the hand of the king, Owen Merryweather, an elderly man dressed in lavish clothes and doublets. Next to him was the Grand Maestar, another old man called Pycelle. Though he had a rougher and longer beard than Merryweather, brown robes and as common with his order, linked chains around his neck. Many chains that went from his neck to breast, chains of brass, bronze, copper, iron, gold, lead, platinum, silver, steel and tin. They showed his supposed expertise in multiple subjects, and with his demeanour gave off the impression he was a brittle but wise old man. Though Revka had a feeling the man was more spry than he let on.

Then, away from the two men, there was the queen. Queen Rhaella Targaryen, the silver haired, purple eyed beauty that was Aerys Targaryen's sister and wife. From what Fausten had told Revka, age had not affected the Queen's beauty. Though she had a sad look, giving off the impression that if she smiled, it was far from genuine. Revka's eyes went from one Targaryen to another, to the man actually sitting on the iron throne.

Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, seventeenth king of the seven kingdoms. He was thin and pale, his skin was paler than his hair, which seemed more brittle than it should have been. The king's face was nearly obscured by his matted and dirty hair, even his beard hung down to his waist in wild tangles. Then there was his nails, dirty yellow claws that must have been nine inches long. As Revka got closer and closer, he saw that cuts on Aerys's hands and heels. No man in the room carried a blade on him, only the seven knights in front of the throne. Seven men dressed in white armour and cloaks, the famous kings guard.

"You stand before Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm," Merryweather said, drawing out each title.

Lord Owen was about to speak when Aerys raised his clawed fingers, silencing the man. His guards began to circle Revka as the king walked down the steps of the throne, then down the steps that led to the throne. He moved between two of his guards, the two behind Revka putting their hands to their swords as the king looked at her. Aerys's eyes narrowed at the woman and her son, he circled them both, looking at their hair and eyes. All remained silent, not so much as a cough or breath even dared to break the silence. Aerys circled Revka for the fifth time, then stopped and turned to her.

"One should kneel before the king," he said, his voice quiet, tone unreadable.

None knew if he was going to scream at her, or strike her. Rhaella nearly moved out of her chair when Aerys raised his hand to Daylen, touching his cheek with his nails. He looked into his eyes, the dragon's purple, into the demonic red. Slowly, Aerys backed away from Daylen, a smile spreading across his face.

"I see a boy I once knew in you child," the king said. "Tell me your name."

"I'm Daylen," the boy said.

"You introduce yourself the same way as well, your first name, never once considering the strength there is in a family name. You are indeed his grand child," Aerys smiled as he looked to Revka. "And you must be his daughter, you have his bearing."

"Thank you your grace, my father once spoke of a debt that your family had owed mine. He did not wish to collect on that debt, but these are trying times for our family. We do not ask for land or aide, merely the chance to make a home here," Revka explained.

"I will do better than that, I will grant you the Meadow, I am sure that Fausten will make good use of it," Aerys said.

"Your grace, um, if I may, though the Meadow has no real value, it would be an insult to the family already ruling there," Pycelle said.

"Why does he talk like that? And why is he leaning to one side as if he has a weakness?" Daylen asked innocently and Aerys looked over his shoulder at Pycelle.

The Maestar was hiding an angered expression, and he adjusted his footing. Aerys leant over to Daylen, bringing his mouth to his ear.

"He thinks he's got everyone fooled," he whispered and smiled at the boy.

"Greenward is a friend of Fausten also, his rule was always as a Steward, besides, he will not be receiving nothing, a year's worth of tax from the royal treasury in compensation," Aerys explained.

"A year's worth of tax your grace," Merryweather gasped.

"As I said lord hand, is there a problem?" Aerys demanded and Merryweather lowered his head.

"No your grace, there is not," he said.

Aerys sat on the throne and looked down at Daylen and Revka.

"Come here child, let me see you," he twirled his finger at Daylen.

Revka reluctantly released Daylen's hand and pushed the small of his back. She was proud that she didn't need to push him that hard, he walked into the middle of the gap between the King's guard and Revka, nearly meeting the group. He looked at the knight's in wonder and then at the king.

"Tell me boy, what is your dream?" Aerys asked and Rhaella looked up at her husband, then looked at the boy.

"I want to be a hero," Daylen pumped his fist and took a step forward.

The king's guards were taken aback at first, then relaxed as the king laughed.

"Very good, very good, you truly are Fausten's grandchild, very well, Ser Dayne step forward," Aerys commanded.

One of the knights stepped forward, turned and bowed to the king. At Aerys's command he removed his helmet, revealing a man with dark hair resting on his shoulders. Revka noted how handsome he was, and the discipline in his eyes, as well as the whispers of the people around them. They were shocked that this knight was called up

"What would you have of me your grace?" Arthur Dayne asked.

"I want you to see to the young lord Amell, have him study the expectations of squire, and teach him a bit about the sword for as long as you can," Aerys explained.

"Yes your grace," Jamie said.

"Stay as a guest of the royal family Lady Amell," Revka knew it was a command and gratefully accepted.

Court was dissolved and over the following weeks waiting for Faustens arrival, Revka spent many a morning speaking with the king. She told him of all her father had accomplished when he left Westeros, his service as a mercenary, establishing the branch house of the Amell family. Rhaella had been present when Revka spoke of her mother, she noticed the frown that crossed her face when she spoke of her father marrying the daughter of a penniless merchant. Though to her credit, her sympathy seemed genuine when she told her of her mother's passing when Damion was born. Certain things she did not tell the king, such as the Amell's financial troubles after having to pay back debts Damion incurred from failed smuggling ventures. And of course what had occurred to put them on this journey in the first place.

Daylen was put into an ill fitting squire's uniform and followed Arthur on his free periods. Arthur's free periods though were dedicated to his own training.

"I doubt you could even lift a training sword lad, I'll have the smith craft something for you, in the mean time study with your tutors," Arthur said to him.

Bella was present to teach Daylen the history of Westeros. But as she read the book to him, Daylen watched Arthur practice with his sword. His mind, in possession of a memory with a specific description that was not suited for this era, memorised the grips, poses, footing and angles that the knight stood at. A swat from a stick Bella had on her drew his attention back to the book, but the lesson was already learnt. He had within his mind a foundation for sword fighting. So when Arthur gave him a simple carved wooded sword, he was astonished that the boy repeated his drills from days ago without any instruction. He was even more astonished when the boy got past the master of arms and practiced with a training sword. Though Daylen was tall for his age, he was hardly the ideal height for even a practice sword. Yet, Arthur watched the boy lift the blade, swing it and repeat the drills he had memorised.

'He's not just using it for practice, he wants to strengthen his muscles too,' Arthur smiled as he watched the boy.

Daylen eventually grew tired and collapsed from the training. Arthur Dayne could already tell that Daylen Amell would make a good fighter.

In the afternoons though, Revka spent her time alone with the queen. They were awkward, silent sessions at first in which they would discuss the weather or the food.

"At some point we will run out of dishes to speak of," Revka quipped.

"Your father had that sense of humour too, tell me Lady Amell, what has your father said of me?" the queen finally asked Revka the question she knew she wanted to ask.

"He spoke mostly of the king, but briefly he did speak of you your grace, he spoke fondly of a beautiful girl with more intelligence than others believed one should have, I respected that girl and sought out intellect as well. But I could see the pain it caused my father, he did not wish to speak of it again," Revka explained.

"I see," Rhaella lowered her head slightly, drinking the lemon juice on her table.

"Your grace, if it pleases you, would you tell me of the boy you knew, of the foolish boy whom befriended princes and princesses?" Revka asked.

"It would please me very much Lady Amell," Rhaella smiled.

Thus the foundations of a friendship between Revka and Rhaella was formed. They spent many days together before the Tourney of Harrenhall. That was when Revka and Daylen would meet many of the lords of Westeros. Walter Whent, Lord of Harrenhall and brother of Kingsguard knight Oswell Whent, hosted Harrenhall to show off the spectacular fortress that his family lorded over. Harrenhall had an infamous reputation, had been the sight of many ghost stories and tragedies. But the Tourney was to be a day of celebration over the name day of the Prince Viserys Targaryen, only the prince would not be attending. Viserys was to remain in King's landing with Rhaella. Revka rode alongside the king's carriage, seeing the country side. When it was Summer in Westeros, they seemed to be hotter than in the Free Marches.

"My lady," Arthur rode to Revka's side.

"Sir Dayne, tell me, do you believe my son has in him the potential to be a knight?" Revka asked.

They both looked over their shoulder, seeing the boy struggling to get his horse to trot.

"He's rough, but the right knight may be able to train him properly," Arthur said.

"My father once said that there was no better teacher for him than the battlefield, but that is not what I want for my son, or for my other children," Revka stroked her belly as she rode.

"I understand my lady, war makes men out of children too quickly, he grows quite fast," Arthur noted.

"He does, I just hope that he will not grow as cruel and bitter as most grown men are, Sir Dayne, I have heard whispers, the king only goes to this tournament out of fear of Prince Rhaegar, you are his closest friend, does the king have reason to fear the Prince?" Revka asked.

"The king I am afraid fears much Lady Revka, honestly your family may not have picked a good time to come to Westeros," Arthur stated.

Though Harrenhall was marked as a celebration, Revka knew there would be a great many high lords there. She also knew that people loved the Prince, and feared the king, and for the future in his hands. When Revka first saw the prince, she saw his story book good looks, his gentle nature and gallant stride and understood at least on the surface why he was so popular. He certainly seemed to be the ideal vision of a king. Revka also understood the need for clandestine meetings, if Rhaegar truly was plotting against his father, she wasn't surprised.

"Lady Amell, I have heard much about you, it truly is an honour to meet you," Rhaegar bowed his head and kissed Revka's hand on their first meeting.

"And you my prince, I have heard things too, such as you're better with a harp than a sword, is that true?" Revka asked, a challenge in her smirk.

"You'll have an opportunity to find out," Rhaegar said, and both Arthur and Sir Barristan chuckled.

Rhaegar moved down the line of Amell attendants, greeting them. Then he came to Daylen, and looking down at the boy he smiled.

"You must be Daylen, what do you dream of?" the prince asked him.

"Of being a hero," Daylen said.

When the other lords laughed, Rhaegar hushed them.

"Well young Daylen, I look forward to seeing your rise for myself," Rhaegar patted his head before he left him.

On the first night, the gathered lords of Westeros dined and drank. Revka acquainted herself with the Starks of Winterfell, in particular Rickard Stark's daughter Lyanna. The young wolf had a fire in her, and when Revka met the girl's betrothed, she understood why she hid her misery. Robert Baratheon was handsome, a head full of dark hair, strong muscles, which he used to entice serving girls and grope them. Then there was the drinking, Revka knew from that moment he would make Lyanna, in fact any woman a miserable wife. Aerys called a silence over the crowd of drinking and jeering lords.

"My lords and ladies, it is with great joy that I welcome into the fold a great and noble family from across the seas, stand Revka Amell," the king said.

Revka stood, feeling the eyes of the nobility on her. She noticed a different temperament amongst the lords, all depending on where they came from. Northerners seemed honest, placing a high value on honour, though this made them come off as quite severe. Robert was hardly the model of a Stormlander, his brother Stannis seemed a more sensible and stoic person. Those from the Reach seemed gentle and amiable, but Revka could tell schemers when she saw them. The Westerners seemed obvious schemers, she noticed how beautiful Cersei Lannister and her twin brother Jaime Lannister were, and how smitten the girl was with prince Rhaegar. She bowed to Aerys and knelt on behalf of her father.

"I swear fealty to you your grace, and in turn my family swears fealty to the Targaryen crown, through peace and war we will serve!"

"Well said daughter of Fausten, now stand and join my side," the king said. "Step forward Jaime Lannister, and Daylen Amell!"

The Lannister heir walked to the front of the king's table. Daylen did the same, standing next to Jamie, who bowed to the king.

"How may I serve you your grace?" the young knight asked.

"Daylen, kneel," Revka whispered to him.

The boy blinked for a moment, before gasping and kneeling. A few of the lords laughed, causing Daylen to blush and keep his head low. His eyes drifted to Jaime Lannister, who was looking at him from the corner of his eye. A smirk drifted across the knight's mouth, and he winked at the boy.

"You were recently knighted for your service as Sir Barristan's squire, I call on you now to follow in the footsteps of your former teacher and join the kings guard," the king said.

Jaime raised his head in surprise, being part of the king's guard was a great honour for a knight. He knew serving in the order would further immortalise him, beyond simply being a knight of the seven kingdoms. Some of the greatest knights of Westeros had been members of the kings guard. Not only would he be serving as brother to knights such as Barristan the bold and Arthur Dayne, but he'd follow in the footsteps of previous generations of knights, knights like Raymont Baratheon, Ryam Redwyne, Duncan the Tall and Aemon Targaryen the dragon knight. It was in the crowd, where the Lannister brothers, Kevan and Tygett stood. Younger brothers of Tywin Lannister, neither had the ruthlessness or intellect of their brother, but both truly realised what the king was doing and how it would anger Tywin. The warden of the west had only one son he valued as heir, and that was Jaime, Tywin's hopes were all on his perfect child. Knights of the kings guard were forbidden from holding hereditary titles and lands, and from marrying and bearing children, service was until their death or disgrace of the order. And Jaime was not one to shirk from duty and honour. Aerys was denying Tywin his chosen heir, and taking a hostage too. But still as the people applauded, Tygett and Kevan silently congratulated their nephew.

"You will return to king's landing in the morrow, and begin your work by protecting prince Viserys and the family of Prince Rhaegar," the king commanded and Jamie nodded his head. "Now, Daylen Amell, son of Revka, you will serve the crown as your mother has intended. My son Prince Rhaegar knighted his squire Richard Lonmouth, you will take his place and serve the prince," Aerys explained.

It drew some gasps from the crowd, for they had never heard of a child from a new family immediately being given the honour of squiring for a member of the royal family. Already Revka could feel the glares of some of the nobility, the whispers of new money being given special privileges. She also heard them whisper of her son being a bastard, noting how little he looked like his mother. His skin tone, hair, that subtle shape of his ears made them wonder, Rivaini? Qunari? Elf? Tevinter? What gene pool had made such a hybrid child? There was only really one opinion that mattered, and all fell silent when the Prince rose.

"It will be an honour to have him as my squire, but first I must ask your thoughts on this young Daylen, rise and speak plainly," Rhaegar said.

Daylen stood and scratched the back of his head.

"I'll do my best," he said.

Revka smiled, as expected of her boy.

The feast truly began then, the music echoed and the drinks were poured. Revka saw Catelyn Tully dance with her betrothed, Brandon Stark. Their heir of the North, he had everyone's eyes on him and somewhat overshadowed his brothers Eddard and Benjen. Ned as they called the middle brother danced that night with Ashara Dayne, he was a nervous young man clearly not used to dancing or interacting with women. Such a thing though could be what appealed to women, Revka struggled to see how the quiet wolf was best friends with the boisterous stag that was Robert Baratheon.

"I heard tales of Fausten Amell, a great warrior they say, never had an equal with the spear, but I had no idea his daughter was so beautiful," Robert nudged into her, a horn of ale in his hand.

Revka stroked her chin as she looked at Robert and his clumsy attempt at flirting. She turned fully towards him and looked at him in deep thought. The lack of response confused the Baratheon lord, and he blushed when Revka poked his chest.

"Oh dear," she said and his expression dropped.

"What, what is it?" he asked.

"That is not a good sign, you may want to tone down on the drink my lord, and the bacon, and the mutton, and the beef," she said.

"What are you saying?" Robert asked, rubbing his belly.

"Warriors need to be smart too my lord," Revka said and Stannis coughed.

The other lords looked at Robert's younger brother in shock.

'Was that, a laugh?' they wondered.

Outside the roar of the banquet, Daylen stood in the yard, holding his wooden sword and swinging it. He swung the weapon again and again, adjusting the angle and his footing with every swing. The boy kept swinging, controlling his breathing steadily and efficiently. When he seemed finished, he crossed his legs together and sat on the floor, picking up the book beside him.

"Fire and blood," he heard a voice behind him and looked over his shoulder.

There was a boy sitting on the steps, a skin of wine beside him. He wore a red doublet with a gold lion embroidered on it, a couple of rings were on his fingers and his shoes were of a fine make. The teenager wasn't as tall as his age should have indicated, then again Daylen had heard people say that of him. It wasn't simply height, his arms were shorter and the same length as his legs. Daylen had heard men like that being called dwarves (though the Dwarves of Orzammar took great offence to the comparison apparently).

"Sorry," Daylen said.

"For what?" the blonde haired boy cheekily asked. "It is the name of your book, 'Fire and Blood: a history of the Targaryen kings from Aegon the conqueror to Aegon the third', it was a bit long for my liking," the boy explained as he hopped down the steps drinking some of his wine.

"You've read it?"

"There are a great deal of books I've read, my brother has his sword and I have a mind and a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, Tyrion Lannister at your service," the boy offered Daylen his hand

"I'm Daylen!"

"Yes I know, Daylen Amell, your family has caused quite a stir, it's all been very entertaining to watch really? Are you aware that my father and your grandfather were acquainted once?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes I..."Daylen shifted nervously as Tyrion stepped up to him, looking directly into his eyes. "Yes I know, they didn't get on apparently."

"Indeed they didn't, not quite the 'legendary rivalry' of story books, but I know my father doesn't hold your elder in high regards, oh he's made it clear that Fausten Amell is a man of paradoxical strength and intellect, and even more paradoxical ruthlessness and integrity," Tyrion explained.

"What do you mean?" Daylen asked.

"Not everyone gets to be a mercenary captain and keep their honour, I've heard stories that'll change your opinion of your grandfather. But they are not mine to tell, I wanted to see the red eyed boy myself," Tyrion said and Daylen looked away for a moment. "I apologise if I offended you, but the people, especially the ones in that hall will never forget what you look like."

"I know, I certainly won't, the same is said of you right?" Daylen asked and Tyrion looked at the boy in surprise.

"We should never forget what we are, we should wear it like armour, then it can never hurt us," Tyrion said.

"Did you get that from a book?"

"I am quite clever if I do say so myself," Tyrion grinned.

"Yet still you skip some lessons with the Maester brother," Jaime called out from the steps.

He walked down with a smile across his face, wearing proudly the white cloak of the new order he was to serve.

"Congratulations to you both," Daylen tipped his head in a bow.

"There is reason to congratulate Jaime, but why me?" Tyrion asked.

"Well, Sir Jaime is joining an order which requires him to never inherit land, so wouldn't the rule of Casterly Rock one day go to you?"

"Not if my father has anything to say about it," a glare crossed Tyrion's face, upon seeing Daylen's confused expression Tyrion's face softened, to disappointment as he gulped down some more wine. "I will warn you now boy, as well as judging you for your eyes, they'll judge you for your birth. Bastard they'll see you as, and all dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes."

"All I see is a man drinking," Daylen said as Tyrion turned away, and it put a smile on the Lannister boy's face.

"Good night to you red eyed boy, don't stay up too late...or do, I'm hardly the child to speak of proper etiquette!"

Jaime shook his head and Daylen laughed, the Lannister 'Imp' putting a spring in his steps as he walked back to the banquet. The new knight looked down at the boy and placed his hand on his sword.

"I saw you, you move quite well, though why weren't you using one of the dummies, I'm sure the master of arms is still about," Jaime said.

"Wooden objects don't hit back," Daylen said.

"Neither does the air."

"It wasn't the air I was practicing against, it was the opponent in my mind's eye...but I couldn't win" Daylen stated and quickly bowed.

Jaime turned in confusion, before he too bowed to the Prince.

"Please, both of you stand, I'm not here as prince but as a fellow knight, wishing to see his squire," Rhaegar said.

"I wish I could see you fight tomorrow," Jaime said.

Rhaegar sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

"Truthfully I fear it won't really be a test of my skills, there are a rare few knights willing to fight me at their best, unfortunately my advancement will be owed mainly to people letting me win and not my real skill. I'd rather not compete actually, but it is expected of me, we could exchange armour Ser Jaime," the prince explained and laughed as Jaime looked at him in confusion. "I jest, I'm sorry, we'd never get away with it, I wanted to invite you both back inside, I intend to perform tonight and I would not have either of you miss it."

Daylen and Jaime both followed the prince up the steps to the hall. Jaime nodded to the boy before returning to his family, Daylen doing the same. Revka patted her son's head, roughing up his hair and looking to the prince. All eyes were on the man as he plucked at the strings of his harp. He played a melody that echoed through the hall, such a beautiful tune that trumped what Revka had heard before. Many spoke of Rhaegar the warrior, and though Revka was sure she would witness his skill with a lance tomorrow, she suspected it would not trump his performance tonight.

Afterwards, guests returned to their rooms or tents. Revka slept soundly, content in the knowledge that her son would be safe. Daylen sat cross legged on his bed, unable to sleep. He looked at his hands. For the briefest moment, a spark ignited in the gap between them. Narrowing his eyes, Daylen focused, focused on the spark and on the strong dream he had, the strength and power such a dream demanded. Light flickered for a second in his hands, and the boy smiled. But as he lay back, he wondered:

'Is this truly a good place to be?'

Next Chapter 2: Phoenix and Dragon united

Hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter, its just the foundation of the story really. Things will really pick up next chapter.

I initially considered making Daylen Jamie's squire, though I needed him to initially be at Rhaegar's side for certain aspects of the story to work.