A/N: Well, the day is here. The worst date on the calendar. Two years ago... those scumbag assholes destroyed the heroes of the show for nothing. Fuck them. Fuck all of them!

[deep breath] Sorry. It's still emotional over two years later. Screw those jerks, here's some detoxifying awesomeness to cleanse the palate.

Be sure to check out all my other stories :D

Enjoy and comment!

A veteran of the worst of warfare and the best of peace alike, Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock was also used to things that would faze a weaker man. A fool father that nearly brought his house to ruin. An unstable King that he thought but couldn't prove was destined for madness before he unceremoniously died. Three children that were in their own way extreme disappointments. Having to face and challenge institutions that predated the Targaryen monarchy. All of them he refused to be shocked or stilled, accomplishing them and triumphing.

But this eventuality was one he allowed to bring him to complete surprise. "You want me to do what?"

Queen Elia Martell crossed his arms. "We spelled it out for you, Lord Tywin. You aren't daft enough to misunderstand."

He held up a hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight. You wish to compete with each other to obtain a marriage of the Crown Prince and want me to judge."

"Yes," replied Queen Lyanna Stark, always blunt.

"His two sisters being the ones you want to see which he picks?"

"Again, yes. Rhaenys and Daenerys."

Gods, my father couldn't have come up with something so twisted. And Tytos Lannister was the supposed king of pleasure and good times - taking the crown from King Viserys I Targaryen. King Aegon IV Targaryen may have been the king of pleasure, but his weren't good times at all. "And why do I have to be involved in this?"

"Because you're the only one with no skin in the game other than wanting the Realm to come out on top," Elia answered… "And Lord Varys creeps us out."

He couldn't really deny the last part. "Regardless of the Master of Whisperer's countenance, how in the name of the Seven is this good for the Realm?"

Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Jon needs a wife, and both our daughters would be excellent Queens… even though Daenerys is easily the better choice for my son."

"Fuck off," Elia shot back. "My son would be better served with Rhaenys…"

"Enough." Tywin wanted to drown his sorrows in Tyrion's wine stock at the moment. The Queens loved all their children so he wasn't worried of favoritism and potential Dances. No, this was their competitive streak run amok. Wars had very nearly started because of their little games to try and best the other… Perhaps it is best if I oversee this madness - best to control it. "Alright. I'll do it."

Elia beamed. "Very good."

"But… none of you talk to me about it or have anyone talk to me about it. I have to be the judge on its objective merits only without outside input or else I'm out."

Glancing at her wife, Lyanna nodded. "Fair enough. We have a deal."

"One moment." A fourth person in the room finally spoke. She had watched quietly from her seat against the wall behind the fearsome Old Lion of Casterly Rock - the longest-tenured Hand of the King since Septon Barth - but enough was enough. "May I speak to them alone, Tywin?"

Tywin sighed, eager to wash his hands of this conversation. "Alright." He leaned down to kiss the forehead of his wife of the last five years. "I'll see you for lunch, Lyarra."

Lyarra Stark Lannister gave him a smile. "Count on it." But when the door closed, her eyes narrowed and scowl reappeared. "What in seven hells are you two thinking?" she scolded.

"Mother…" Lyanna rolled her eyes, whining like the little girl who kept skipping her embroidery lessons to ride in the Wolfswood with the stableboys. "Don't ruin our fun."

"Fun? You call this fun, young lady?" Lyarra was with Rhaella the last of the old guard in the combined families of Targaryen, Stark, and Martell. Mynara Martell was dead since before Elia married Rhaegar, as was her deceased bastard knight husband. Aerys was… well, he was dead too, as was her beloved Rickard - killed fighting the wildlings the first time they tried to come over the wall… before the Realm knew why. With Rhaella focusing more on political matters, Lyarra found herself assuming the responsibility of keeping the family in line. "This is… it's… ugh, does Rhaegar even know about this?"

A snort. "Like we're gonna tell that fuddy duddy?" Now she sounded like the same child that wouldn't let Ned play with her cause he was 'too mopey.' "We want to have fun."

"Goodmother," Elia added - with her mother dead, Lyarra filled the roll gladly. "We love Rhaegar, but he can be a bit… brooding. Never rises to the challenge of our games."

Good for him. "This isn't some battle of wits where the only downside is you two looking like idiots." She powered through their childish glares. "This is my grandson's life we're talking about, not to mention my granddaughters."

"We know that, mother. Everyone will be fine, only the ones that truly love each other will marry."

There were so many responses to that, but Lyarra kept it circumspect. "It's risky and stupid."

"Oh?" Lyanna was mad now. "Like how the mother of the Queen married the Hand of the King in front of the Casterly Rock heart tree without telling said Queen… or anyone? That risky and stupid?"

The two northerners stared daggers at each other. "I thought you said you were over that," Lyarra said evenly.

"My mother marrying Tywin Lannister out of the blue? How could I?"

"I know he's not your father, but I'm finally happy after years of grief…" He understood, having lost his wife too - neither sought it, but it just happened and Lyarra had no regrets. She was very happy. "But that's beside the point. Don't do this."

Elia interjected before her wife and goodmother got into a catfight. "Please, goodmother. We know what we're doing. Everyone will be happy from this, I guarantee it." Then she smirked. "Except Lya when she loses."

"In your dreams, Rhoynar. I'll so enjoy wiping the floor with you."

Lyarra shook her head, making her exit as the two wives began bickering. Am I the only sane one left in this keep?

The place was just as Prince Viserys Targaryen remembered. High windows bringing in low light with just a few candles to set a mood, colorful silks draped all across, and the distinctive sound of giggling girls and muffled grunts leaving no one in the dark about what it was. To some it was hells, to others it was paradise. For Viserys, most of his memories here had it as the latter rather than the former.

"Your Grace." Lord Petyr Baelish, High Commissioner of King's Landing and owner of the fine establishment. "Many congratulations as to your triumphant return to the capitol."

He shook off the praise. "My nephew deserves the credit. After all, he did kill the Night King." Viserys loved to puff up, but knew when people actually praised him or wished to kiss ass… especially knowing which kinds of people he wanted to kiss his ass. Baelish… wasn't one of them. "But I'm not here to be praised, I'm here for your wares."

Littlefinger smirked. "Of course. One must never deny a dragon. Shall I set you up with one of your favorite girls, or perhaps you would like to sample some new talent I've acquired…"

But Viserys shook his head. "No, it shan't be me that does this."

His words seemed to shock several of the girls that gathered, some of whom had sampled the handsome Prince before and were looking forward to doing so again. Littlefinger, to his credit, merely blinked. "You wish not to partake in your usual pleasures?"

"Today isn't for me, Baelish, it's for my dear nephew here…" He frowned. "Daeron, get back here."

One and five, Prince Daeron Targaryen was the one child of Rhaegar and Queen Elia who had nary a Martell feature about him - all dragon he was, and such was supremely desirable with the ladies of the Realm. But unfortunately for him… "Do I have to, uncle?"

Viserys rolled his eyes at Daeron's shyness. "Seven Hells, you're the son of dragons and vipers while raised by a direwolf. Stop being so damn skittish." Poor Daeron was pulled back into the chamber, a bright red blush on his handsome face. Viserys gave Littlefinger a grin and patted the lad's shoulder. "Unfortunately I missed his fifth and tenth nameday three moons ago. This present is a little late, but better late than never."

Nodding, Littlefinger caught on quickly - the Prince had brought his last two nephews, his Stark cousins, and his half-brother here before to 'complete their coming of age' properly, and such was the same with young Daeron. "I understand, your Grace. Shall I set him up with one well versed in the art of beginning a man's journey into adulthood?"

Looking down at his nephew, who eyed everything in the brothel with reddened cheeks and wide eyes, Viserys knew something too… kinky or demanding would probably fry his mind. "No one too aggressive, Baelish. Someone sweet but sensual, who can take the lead but not scare him."

"I know just the person. Ryah!"

Out came a young brunette. She had creamy skin and a lithe figure, and stood just the same height as the Prince. "Yes, Lord Baelish?" Her voice had a Braavosi lilt to it.

"Prince Daeron Targaryen needs his first time. Be a dear and take care of it without scarring him for life." Everyone knew what happened to whores who crossed Littlefinger.

Having only worked here for a year since sailing from Braavos, Ryah's eyes widened at the prospect of bedding a Targaryen. The surprise changed to a beaming smile at seeing Daeron. "You are a handsome lad." She strode to him, cupping his face gently. "Your first time?"

Looking into her eyes, Daeron nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Aye."

Ryah clucked lovingly, kissing his cheek. "I know it can be overwhelming, but you came to the right place. Come with me." Grabbing his hand, she led him towards the back. Daeron gave his uncle one last look… Viserys answered with a grin and a nod. Enjoy, you idiot. Gods, Jon was the same way when he broke him in.

Jae was the opposite, and Viserys didn't know which was scarier.

The Prince took a seat in the antechamber, passing the time by humming a tune and either reading a book or sharpening his dagger against a whetstone. Patrons and whores passed by him but his mind was elsewhere.

"My my, Prince Viserys is here and didn't even come to see me? I'm insulted."

Viserys looked up and immediately smiled at the thatch of red hair. "Ros!" He rose and hugged her, like old friends. "How did you get here? Last time I saw you was in Wintertown."

Laughing, Ros took a seat next to him. "Traded up. Pay's five times better even if I have to deal with Littlefinger." It became apparent immediately that the nickname wasn't cause he came from the Fingers. "But why hasn't the conquering hero come to see me yet?"

Ros was his favorite whore when staying in Winterfell for a year to coordinate the logistics of the campaign north of the wall. Viserys visited her as much as possible, even having to fight that dolt Theon Greyjoy when the squid got jealous. But now… "It's complicated."

"Why? Your cock and stones get hacked off by some corpse?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll have you know my cock and stones are as powerful as ever."

"So why don't you let me be the judge of that for myself…" Ros paused, eyeing him. "Wait… by the Maiden!" She began cackling. "You're in love!"

Viserys panicked momentarily. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed.

She did, though kept giggling. "My my, the mighty whoremonger finally settled down… though by the looks of you, the lucky lady doesn't fuckin' know you want her." Moping, Viserys shook her head. "Who is it? It's not Princesses Daenerys or Rhaenys, is it? Cause everyone knows they belong to the Crown Prince."

"It's not…" He did a double take. "What now?"

"Oh please, everyone in King's Landing not an arrogant jackass is rooting for them… but you're not escaping that easily. Who is it? Arianne Martell? Allyria Stark? Oooh… please tell me it's Myrcella Baratheon! I would pay money on you to win the duel with Robb Stark."

"She's not any of those." Viserys shook his head, looking sheepish. "Sansa Stark…" he murmured, hoping she didn't hear.

She did though. "Sansa Stark?" Ros socked him in the shoulder. "You and redheads." A laugh. "Well, you're a Prince. Go for it."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"She's a good girl and you know as well as I do that I'm just a whoremongering Prince. She needs someone better."

His nieces and nephews would've probably puffed him up, gave reassuring words. Ros though just punched him in the arm. "You're a fuckin' idiot, my Prince." With that she got up and walked away.

Viserys was luckily not given much time to stew over his miserable situation cause out came a rather smug-looking Ryah - behind her, his nephew walked with a lost, starry glint in his eyes. Oh, to be young again. "He is a delight, my Prince. I hope to see him again."

"Alright, how much do I owe you?" Viserys paid Baelish already but always paid the ladies too.

But she shook her head. "No, keep the money." The whore had a dreamy stare as well. "Just bring him back for me." Kissing Daeron on the lips, she scampered back into the private quarters.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Viserys grabbed his nephew. "How was it?"

Daeron looked up at him, a slow smile stretching over his lips. "Amazing."

Viserys laughed, smacking his back. "That's the spirit! Though… what was your secret? None of your brothers ever cost me a single bronze star either."

Inhaling deeply, Princess Daenerys let out a calming exhale as she sat at her divan. Enjoying the gentle motions the brush made through her silky locks. Nothing was more relaxing to her after a long ordeal. Sleep had brought her no relief, nor had wine or a decent meal to break her fast. This though… much better.

"You still seem tense, your Grace."

Dany sighed. There was no escaping the intuition of her closest friend. "I suppose I still am, Missy." When the Princess found the poor girl being abused by her owner during a diplomatic visit to Lys, Daenerys had to resist sending Ser Brienne to butcher the man alive. Instead, a tiny sack of gold dragons in his hand and Missandei of Naath was all hers. Not that she kept her in bondage - the collar disappeared into the flames of her hatchling dragon, and the two since had been inseparable. "It feels as if the gods are condemning me to watch my worst nightmare come true."

"You must realize that his Grace would never partake in those… women." Even practically one of the most well-regarded women in the court of Dany's mothers, Missandei was still polite and dutiful. A side effect of how she was raised in bondage. I've seen women in the pleasure houses that weren't as wanton as those sluts.

"I know, Missy, but eventually he'll be betrothed to someone, and then…" She sighed again. "I'll lose him."

"The answer to that is just go and confess how you feel."

But Dany shook her head. "He'd never go for it. I'm just his sweet sister to them."

Missy rolled her eyes, setting down the brush and primping Dany's hair - getting it in the wavy curls that so suited her. "Isn't that a turn on for you Targaryens?"

Looking back at her, Dany blushed at the comment. "You know what I mean."

"Unfortunately I do." She loved her best friend, but Daenerys was sometimes impossible and thick-headed. That's the Stark in her. If there was any family that possessed such a clueless stubborn streak, it was the direwolves of the North. Daemon had it in spades, while Lyanna was slightly more observant yet also afflicted.

At that moment Asha Greyjoy burst through the door, hands nearly ripping out her own hair. "You have to stop this! Before it's too late!" The once ward of House Stark turned Lady of the Iron Islands groaned.

Dany and Missy looked at each other - Asha was the blunt, sarcastic member of their little circle, but she had a flair for the dramatic. Making many mountains out of anthills. "What is it this time, Ash?" Dany asked.

"Sansa's in love, gods it's horrible."

"Oh shut up," Sansa said, hot on her heels as she breezed in. Dany's cousin was the prim and proper maiden written about in the songs, but today she could seem like Jonquil reborn. "But she's right, I've found my dashing knight." She spun around, giggling happily.

"Who is it?" Dany asked, mentally bracing herself for what monstrosity this would be.

She wasn't disappointed. "Dear Harrold Hardyng, heir to the Vale." The way she said the name, it may as well have been the Father.

Daenerys frowned. "You mean Harry the Arse?"

Now it was Sansa who scowled. "Don't call him that. Asha calls him that and it's not true. He's a sweet and dashing man."

"To you maybe, to the rest of us he's an arse," Asha shot back, rolling her eyes. The ironborn looked Dany up and down. "What's got you in a tizzy? Is it Jon again?"

Before Daenerys could answer, Missandei did it for her. "Aye, she's worried about all the ladies throwing themselves at the man she loves." Dany bit her lip… she couldn't deny it. Not to her friends.

"Jon's a naive idiot." A woman in a man's world. Asha didn't let much faze her, but the icy glare from the dragonwolf Princess caused her to shrink a bit. "Apologies, Princess, but it's true."

Dany narrowed her eyes. "Do not speak ill of Jon in my presence if you wish to keep your tongue." She had read a while back that Viserys I Targaryen cut the tongues off of anyone that challenged the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's eldest boys. He was right to.

Asha knew when she stepped over the line. "I say this not to insult him, but it's pretty obvious that he's daft in the sense of these matters. I fear that he'd be easily manipulated into falling for the first woman that truly tried to snag him."

Concurring, Missandei put a hand on Dany's forearm. "The women from last night, they're fools. But those of the same pedigree as Lady Margaery - though I doubt your sister's close friend is one of them - would see to seduce him as not merely a lover, but a husband."

Simply the thought of it, another woman's lips on her brother… another woman riding her brother… moaning and screaming as her brother fucked her from behind. Dany's eyes grew dark. "I'll kill all of them." She walked to the window, shaking with an icy rage that made the northern blizzards of her mother's homeland tremble. "Winter will take them. They will taste Frostfang's fire and burn with the power of fire and blood."

Eying each other with worry, Sansa walked to her cousin. "Come, Dany. Please sit down." Dany's lips were still hard, but she complied and didn't resist Sansa guiding her to sit on the bed.

Trotting to her, Hura nudged her snout against Dany's side, whimpering. The bond she had with her direwolf seemed to draw Dany from her rage, a tired smile forming on her face as she ruffled the grey fur of her companion. Oh, Hura… what am I gonna do? I love my brother but I can't do a damn thing about it. Sensing her anguish, Hura licked her hand.

Someone then knocked on the door, causing Dany to rise. "Come in." She smiled at whom had come. "Uncle Benjen."

Beaming, the northern knight walked to his niece and kissed her cheek. "You look more radiant by the day."

"That's the dragon and wolf in me… a perfect combination." She swayed her dress, showing off shyly. "But I know you're not here to praise me with the truth, uncle. What is required of me."

"Your mother wishes for your presence."

"Alright then, give us a moment…"

But Benjen shook his head. "No, niece. She wishes to speak with you alone in private."

Dany blinked. "Oh." She bit her lip as she followed Benjen out after bidding her friends goodbye. What could muna want... ?

Huffing in annoyance, Arianne fell back onto the bed - raven hair spilling out over the covers. "Cousin, you have to stop hollowing out a rut in the floorboards. It's driving me mad."

The powerful, slim Targaryen Princess ran a hand through her hair - same shade as Arianne's and her munas, while her skin was more an olive compared to Arianne's date-tone. It was a nervous habit, one only brought out if she was anxious, or angry… or both, mercy to anyone that had to deal with it.

Seven hells, she was at that latter stage. "What do those cunts think they are doing?!" Her fists clenched, a whistling sound leaving her gritted teeth. "My brother isn't a piece of meat for them to chew over! They don't love him! They don't care about him!" Rhaenys kicked a chair over, watching it shatter against the wall. "I'll slice them apart limb by limb if they try to put their hands and mouths over Jon!"

"Hard to do, considering that your brother is one many would like to slide their tongues over," Arianne smirked, knowing how it would rile her.

Violet eyes almost black with rage, Rhaenys turned to Margaery. "And you! You were flirting just alongside those vicious sluts."

Margaery gave a scowl. "No, you don't put this on me, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Oh please, I saw your hands on him! I saw you giggling at his japes."

"He's actually funny compared to the other dolts at court."

"He's not that funny," Rhaenys shot back, the competitive sister. Liar, you love his japes. "Alright fine, he is funny," she allowed - the Princess might admit it to her closest friends, but she'd never admit it to her brother or Dany. They'd never let her live it down. "But you don't get to touch him like your grandmother wants you to!" Olenna wanted her granddaughter as Queen. Saying such was like saying water was wet.

She rolled her eyes. "You think I would've done that if I wasn't trying to get my grandmother off my back?" Now she was frustrated. "I don't even like Daemon that way!"

"Don't bullshit me, everyone wants my brother." What's not to want? Having that thought pop in her mind so quickly made Rhaenys blink. Huh, where'd that come from?

"Rhae, he's not my type. I prefer… Dornish Targaryens." Margaery blushed. "Like your little brother…"

"What?!"

Arianne pushed herself upright. "Oh, here we go. Spill! Spill!"

Margaery shrugged. "It's nothing, we've done nothing."

"Oh yeah, and I've 'done nothing' with the Crown Prince," Arianne giggled. "What kinds of nothing did you do with Prince Jaehaerys, Margaery? Are you no longer a maiden?"

"Of course I'm a maiden." She crossed her arms. "It's just a… little crush. I'm sure he doesn't feel the same."

"Believe me, Marg, he feels the same. I mean, look at you. What man wouldn't?" The future Princess of Dorne was notorious for taking both sexes to bed, so the compliment was well-sourced.

Tapping her feet, Rhaenys crossed her arms. "Um, hello? Can we talk about my dumbass brother's love life later? I actually have a problem here!"

Arianne waved her off. "For the love of the gods, just fuck him and get it over with."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't act stupid. I know you've been lusting for Jon ever since you were old enough to know where the dick and tongue went in a woman." Somehow, even Princess Rhaenys was reduced to blushing mad - a trained killer and voracious conqueror that she was, she was still quite innocent at times. "You can't admit I'm right, can you?"

Her anger seemed to leech from her. "I don't think of my brother that way." They grew up together, they played together, they sparred together. "He's my best friend in the world… someone I always feel comfortable with."

That's not why you enjoyed it when he would spar with you shirtless.

Shut up! Shut up!

Margaery could see the hesitation in her voice. "I wouldn't know what you're going through because I'm not a Valyrian." Not to mention the closest brother to her in age preferred… certain body parts that she didn't possess. "But for you… it's sort of fate, no?"

Rhaenys bit her lip. "I suppose… no, it's crazy. Kepa would want to marry him to someone that would bring a political match… yeah, and those cunts are all from worthless houses who's time aren't worth considering. That's why I'm angry." Rhaenys denied it was a lie the moment the words left her mouth, but it wasn't just the thought of an unworthy woman marrying Jon that made her want to retch.

No woman is worthy for my Jon…

'My' Jon… oh fuck…

Watching her silently warring with herself for quite some time, Arianne bit her lip and looked at Marg. "Did we break her?"

A shrug. "Perhaps… I always thought she'd just come out and say it when they both returned."

"You know our Rhae. Can disembowel you with any object but is clueless when it comes to love.

Thankfully for the poor princess, the door threw itself open as her other set of cousins stormed in. "Hey dipshit." Nymeria Sand wasn't one to respect title… or common decency. "Stop fooling around like a pretty Princess and come with us."

Knocked out of her reverie, Rhaenys gave them a quizzical look. "What do you bitches want?"

"Fuck off, Rhae. Your mother sent for you," Obara hissed back. "Get the fuck over here," she grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me if you know what's good for you."

Tyene rolled her eyes. "And you want us to tell Queen Elia that you refused to answer her summons. Good luck ever sparring again in this Keep for another three weeks."

She has me there. Groaning, Rhaenys nodded her head. "I'll be back when this is over," she told Ari and Marg. "And if you touch my stuff I will end you."

Arianne waited until the door shut behind them before she started rifling through Rhae's jewelry drawer. "See Marg, the key is wearing these to events where she doesn't attend."

"She doesn't attend many events," grinned the Rose of Highgarden. But Prince Jaehaerys did. Her thoughts made her grin wider as she tried on a pearl necklace that so complimented her skin.

The arrow shot forward, hitting the rabbit right in the crown of its skull. "Great shot, your Grace," Robb grinned.

"Ugh, you're not gonna stop with that, are you?" Jon groaned, lowering the longbow. "We're cousins and we've grown up together."

"Aye, that's the case, but only now have I ever started to see you as the King and not the boy who covered himself in flour to scare Senya among the dragon skulls."

Jon faceplanted, while Val stifled a giggle. "Oh, I need to know this story."

"Please don't, Robb."

"See, Jon was naked at the time," Robb didn't pay him any heed. "My dear cousin wasn't so modest back then…"

"Enough!"

Val didn't stifle anything, laughing uproariously. "Oh cheer up you dolt. Tormund's japes aside, you need not worry about your bare form. Any woman would be… pleased at seeing what awaits them in the bedchamber." She knew from personal experience. Cracking her neck, the goodsister of King Mance nocked her arrow and released it at another rabbit. This one went through its eye. "Say, is that tiny, busty goddess from Dorne married… well, what you southerners call married anyway?"

Robb's brow wrinkled. "Arianne you mean?"

"Yeah, her."

"No, she's not married," Jon interjected. "And before you ask, yes, she swings both ways."

Grinning madly, Val hit a squirrel in the head. "My lucky day."

Before either young highborn could inquire further, Ser Barristan approached on horseback. "My Prince. His Grace has come upon a boar's trail and wishes for you to join him in the hunt."

Jon could never deny a chance to spend time with his father. "Until next time, cousin. Val."

Proving their worth, Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan gave the King and Crown Prince a wide berth - close enough to provide assistance when needed but far enough to allow them some privacy. It was well appreciated by the two Targaryens. Unlike many Kings of old, they were spoiled with the most dutiful and devoted of Kingsguards. They looked at the histories often so they wouldn't take it for granted. "I truly missed this, my son," Rhaegar remarked, breaking the pleasing silence between them.

Jon was modest with his emotions, but he couldn't deny that his heart swelled with pride and joy at his father's love for him. Meeting those like Samwell and Domeric, he knew that it wasn't a given. "I did as well, kepa." Father and son - the only persons Jon was ever closer to were Dany and Rhae, and they were practically triplets. "Although it's much more fun when we ride dragons."

Rhaegar threw back his head with laughter. "Aye, they ruin horses for a man, don't they?" His war stallion took the moment to neigh rather loudly, which the two Targaryens also found hysterical. "But hunting with them is like smashing a cockroach with an anvil. Takes all the fun out of it."

"That's fair." The breeze coming in from the river and the bay, birds chirping all around them - it harkened back to a simpler, more innocent time between them. Rhaegar missed it, back when he could look at Jon's face and know that his beloved child hadn't witnessed the horrors of the world. Now, the hardened grey eyes clearly witnessed horrors Rhaegar couldn't comprehend. A lesser man would've been destroyed or become a cold shell of himself, but not Prince Daemon Targaryen. He was the strongest of them all. "Jon?"

"Yes, kepa?"

"If you had written to me, I would've come."

Stiffening, Jon let out a heavy sigh. "I know." As large as his army was, the combined forces of the North, Vale, Riverlands, and Mance Rayder's Free Folk army, it wasn't even close to what the dead could field. "The fight was so sudden… we simply didn't have time to wait."

He didn't wish to be bogged down in a military and tactical discussion with his son. Such could come later. Rhaegar looked his boy over and saw instead something of himself - a pain buried long ago. Not the same sort, but close, deeper even. My son is alone… his soul is adrift even being with his family.

"You faced impossible odds and triumphed, Jon. I couldn't be prouder of you." Not needing airs while alone in the Kingswood, Daemon looked at him with a tired smile. A genuine one. "But I can see you left a bit of yourself along the way."

There were few Jon was open with, but one of them was Rhaegar. That being said, the King was surprised when he turned his head and looked off into the distance. "I… I don't want to talk about that." A dour, brooding pain was written on his face - hidden, but Rhaegar could tell.

What dark secrets are you keeping from me, my son? But Rhaegar wouldn't pry. Such a secret burden was Daemon's to tell him if he wished - he'd move on. "I understand, my son."

"Do you, kepa? Do you truly?" No one knew the depths of what he endured fighting the Night King. Not even those who were with him.

Struck by his antagonism, Rhaegar was humble enough in his wisdom to not fall for it. "No, I don't. Not about what you fought or what you faced. We each endure our own trials and it's not up to us to judge or disparage our experiences." That seemed to mollify him, and it didn't hurt that they had a close father-son bond.

As such, he grimaced. "I'm sorry, kepa. You're just trying to help me, and I didn't mean to snap at you..." Jon bit his lip. "There are just a few things I wish not to share." Some knew, but he swore them to secrecy in front of the great weirwood North of the Wall.

"You need not worry yourself about me, Jon. I love you and will respect your wishes."

"I love you too, kepa."

Whatever distance came up between them that moment vanished again. Rhaegar was glad for it, for he wasn't done. "I won't pry into your experiences, but I can tell that you are lost. I've felt this myself, and only your munas saved me from it."

Jon closed his eyes. "I don't see myself finding someone like my munas anytime soon."

"And why not? You aren't a blushing maiden from what I've heard." His son blushed, which made him grin softly. "I'm not blind to Viserys' little ritual for all his nephews."

"This is humiliating," Jon said, trying to cover his face with his riding cowl.

"Varys also informed me of a little dalliance you had with Lady Alys Karstark."

A reddened face. "That was once, kepa. Ever since I've learned three flagons of ale is the limit. We're just good friends now."

"And the Lady Val? There was some… significant heat there as well between the two of you."

"Don't get caught by her calling her a Lady, she's worse than Arya in that regard." He'd made that mistake and gotten thumped for it - granted, she soothed the thump rather pleasurably later… "I suppose by Free Folk custom we were more serious than we intended, but there was nothing lost between us. We needed warmth and comfort during the hells we endured, and we trusted each other to give that." Rhaegar nodded at that. "Besides, I think she is setting her sights on someone else."

"Oh? Who's the lucky lad?"

Jon blushed again. "Cousin Ari."

Rhaegar blinked. "Ah… well then, I do have experience with that."

"Please, kepa, I do not want to know what munas do to each other. Do you wish to know what grandmother and Jaime do to each other."

"Point taken." Both of them laughed awkwardly. "So you're experienced in relationships, and yet you see no one?" Rhaegar was looking for something. "Plenty of women would throw themselves at you."

He grimaced again. "Yeah, I rather hate that. Would much rather just spend time with Dany and Rhae to be honest." The Crown Prince didn't notice how his father did a little inward dance at that. "Sometimes I just want to go to you and ask to arrange a marriage for me, like grandmother did with you and munas."

"Oh son, the betrothal between myself and your munas was based on love alone. We fell for each other before any of the political shit ever was discussed. You are smarter than I, so I trust your love will align with the Realm's priorities."

"I hope so, kepa. I hope so." The two of them were silent again, Jon keeping eyes for the boar while the gears in Rhaegar's mind turned at the new information.

"See, kepa!" Viserra smirked, hands on her hips in triumph. "Those are proper parents! See how they want to give their children the betrothals they want?"

"Shut up, whore," Vaegon said, not even looking at his sister. "You're as stupid as Daella." The poor, quiet girl buried her face in her hands as she began to cry at the insult. "Oh, seven hells, it's doing it again," the archmaester complained.

Fists clenching, Saera glared daggers at her brother. "Fuck off, Vaegon. You're such an asshole."

He gave her a sidelong look. "Really, Saera, I would consider myself just more observant. See, is it being an asshole to tell Daella she has the intelligence of a Sothyros ape? Since it's true, I can't be an asshole." He waved her off. "Besides, you're the biggest whore there is so you fuck off."

Face red with anger, Alyssa stood. "Say one more word and I'll fucking kill you."

"Ha, we're already dead. Maybe if you hadn't died when you did your son wouldn't have killed all your grandchildren you dumb cunt… Ow! Hey!"

Alyssa screamed as she hit him with a gold goblet. "See how you like it, you little prick! Learn some fucking respect for once!" If Arbor gold didn't work, then maybe the actual goblet would knock some sense into him… or kill him, she was willing to see if she could.

A fist slamming against the table stilled all of them, even the crying Daella. "Stop it!" Alysanne screamed, driven to her end. "No more! No more of this! I'm not letting this family tear itself apart. Your descendants learned the Dance from this and it's my fault." She buried her face in her hands just as Daella had, this time in lamentation.

Jaehaerys hugged her close. "Gods, son. What did you become?" Was it my fault he turned out this bitter?

Grabbing the goblet from his chastised sister, Vaegon hurled it at his father. "Fuck you, father. Fuck all of you!" With that, he stormed off to places unknown… probably with the massacred maesters from the recent conspiracy.

Holding his sister Daenerys in his arms, Aemon sighed. "Kepa, you really should've popped him in the mouth when he was growing up. He needed the discipline."

The 'Wise King' sighed. "I know." He didn't seem so wise once the fruits of his reign really began to bear fruit… the Dance, the destruction of the dragons.

"Instead you shoved me in that hellshole," Saera hissed. "Vaegon got off free while I had to endure the same shit that turned our sister into that." She pointed to Maegelle, sitting quietly in the corner. Ever since the conspiracy had been exposed, she barely said many words… all of what she learned being just a tool to destroy her family.

"That may be so, but you still deserved a punishment for what you did."

"Why didn't you just believe me when I needed you?"

"Why didn't you learn for once that you can't just be a brat all your life and expect people not to secretly poison you in your sleep?!"

Baelon, eying his older brother with a grimace, finally cut in. "Kepa, you're upsetting muna."

Jaehaerys' iron heart softened, feeling how his bride was trembling. "You're right son, I'm sorry." He kissed Alysanne on the temple. "Sorry, love. Forgive me for being such a bastard."

She sighed, wiping her tears. "No, you're not a bastard, Jae." Alysanne looked at her family, united together again the way it should've been. "We should all take some lessons from Rhaegar and his brood. They've perfected their family." Gods, she was proud of them.

"Not yet," Alyssa smirked. "Little Daemon still hasn't pulled his head out of his ass… nor did his munas."

Another chortle from Viserra. "Cheer up, kepa. Lyanna and Elia prove there are denser people out there than you." In all fairness, even Jae couldn't help a chuckle at that jape, the rest of his family laughing merrily.

A/N: And the personalities of our two Princesses are fleshed out more.

Viserys is in love! Who coulda thunk it?

As for the recap... no denying that poor Jaehaerys Targaryen wasn't the best of fathers. Now, he has to come to terms with his screwed up family.

Given the anniversary, we need more Jonerys content. If I can get 25 comments, I'll update Friday :)