Hi everyone!

Here is a new chapter.
I apologize in advance for any mistakes, I had a strong case of laziness to check for grammar... Sorry x).

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Enjoy!

Chapter LXVI: The kiss of the Stranger

Apart from the Sparrows, the royal army encountered no opposition in the Westerlands. Better still some minor lords joined them on the way. Daeron guessed he had Tyrion Lannister to thank for that. Well, Tyrion Lannister and the dragons. It was true that having two fully grown dragons above one's holdfast had the tendency of bringing out new allies. Yet, Daeron had a feeling that their joining of the army was greatly facilitated by the Lannister banner floating in his ranks. Tyrion had suggested it. The Westerlands were loyal to House Lannister for almost as long as the North to House Stark. When they had received the information that Tywin Lannister had started assembling his army out of the Lion's Gate, Tyrion was the first to ask for a private audience with the King.

"Your Grace, I realize that you now have to go against my father. I also know that you will win. Therefore, as the next Lord of Casterly Rock, I have to advise you to display the Lannister banner if only for the ride up the Goldroad." Tyrion had said.

"And why is that?" Daeron had asked. He had thought it a good idea right away, but he wanted to understand the motivations behind the littlest Lannister's counsel.

"Dragons will bring you their men, the banner their loyalty." The Imp had paused. "And on a personal level, it would help my reputation if my banner was displayed in such a battle. I'm thinking of the future, you see, I am not foolish enough to believe that the Westerlanders will accept my lordship gladly, if I was seen as a battle commander, it would get easier."

Daeron had not realised before that the small lord intended to ride with them. Having seen how relieved Ser Kevan was when he understood that he would not have to battle against his older brother, the King got it now. Not to mention, the dwarf of Casterly Rock was good company to say the least. He treated them to jokes and handled some of the parlays with his minor bannermen. There was no significant blood loss yet thanks to him. Again, apart from the Sparrows, but the smallfolks took care of that, not Daeron's army.

Daeron was riding in the front of the column with Tyrion, Stannis, Robb, Lord Glover and Arianne. For once, Aemon was with a nursemaid in the middle of the marching men. The little prince was usually never far from his parents, but not having too much of a routine with him meant he was safer. If he was always in the same place at the same time, it would get too easy to get too him.

One of the scouts they had sent ahead came galloping back to them. It was obvious he had something to say to the King and his commanders, because if he was actually scouting then he was not really discreet about it. The young man was out of breath when he brought his horse to a stop in front of them.

"Your Graces, my lords." The man greeted. "The army of the Reach is just a mile away. They'll be here in an hour's time." He announced.

"For once the Oaf of Highgarden is on time." Lord Glover muttered behind Daeron. The King smiled but did not reply. He wondered if Mace Tyrell really was leading, in the eventuality that he was, it was indeed unheard of that he was on time. He had not participated in the Greyjoy Rebellion, he basically tourneyed his way through the War of Five Kings and he spent the Rebellion besieging Storm's End lazily. Speaking of Storm's End, Stannis grunted his disapproval on Daeron's right.

"Lord Stannis." Daeron caught his attention. "He's an idiot and a coward, but we do need unity right now." He reminded him.

"Of course, your Grace." The Hand replied sighing.

Daeron nodded. "Bring the army to a stop and build the command tent, we will receive them properly." He ordered.

...

Daeron and Arianne were seated on golden chairs, courtesy of Casterly Rock. Tyrion, Robb and Lord Glover stood behind them on the left and Stannis slightly in front of them on their right. No one could have thought that just half an hour before, there was nothing but grass where their tent now rose. The herald announced Mace Tyrell, his son Ser Loras and more surprisingly, the Lady Olenna, his mother.

The two men dropped to one knee in front of their King and Queen, but the old lady stayed up, leaning on her cane. Her dress seemed way too elaborate for a battlefield. It was green with golden roses embroidered all over the upper layer of the skirt. Even Arianne wore something less ostentatious. Hers was a simple dress of black velvet with red cuffs and collar. A single bronze sun was sewn on her left breast and she wore a large bronze metal belt. The actual Queen gave the Queen of Thorns a amused glanced which, of course, the old Lady caught.

"My knees are old, dear, they can bend, but I cannot guarantee they will straighten again." Lady Olenna commented. Daeron knew there was a subtle insult in her voice, but he let it go and ordered a chair brought for the elderly woman.

"We have come at your call, your Grace." The Oaf of Highgarden announced. "My men thirst for Lannister blood."

"Not mine I hope." Tyrion japed and it looked like Lord Tyrell had not seen him before. Lord Glover chuckled at the face the fat man made.

"No, of course not. Only those responsible for our family's misfortunes." He corrected himself.

"Come on Mace, use your head for once, the only person responsible for our family's misfortunes stands in this room." Olenna intervened. Her son looked taken aback by her comment which was so clearly directed at him, but she paid him no mind and turned to the royal couple again. "I warned him. Siding with Renly was treason, if his nephews were not actually his nephew, then he still had an older brother. As for siding with Joffrey, well siding with Cersei more like… That boy is a monster. I never wanted my dearest granddaughter to be married to him, but then you came along… your Grace." She pointed to Daeron who was confused by her last remark.

"Are you trying to blame the King for your poor choices?" Stannis asked aggressively.

"Not at all, I blame my son for those." Mace's indignation was shushed by the explanation of his mother. "But I had planned to remove the boy before he could lay a finger on our sweet Margaery. Unfortunately, the carrier of the poison got whisked away in between the ceremony and the feast. You should have seen Joffrey's face when he realised not only had you released his new toy, but his old toy and his favourite uncle had disappeared as well." Daeron started connecting the dots.

"The strangler in Sansa's necklace, it was you." He declared.

"Mind you, I was not alone, but yes, it was me. I had no wish to see her married to that monster. Well, now she is and there is nothing we can do about it." She sighed. "I know my oafish son put in his terms that you should do anything to bring her back to us, but, I'm not an idiot, I know she's lost."

Mace tried to speak, but Daeron did not give him the time. "This was the easiest term to agree to." He commented. "I don't think it is likely that she survives, but if it is in my power, I'll make sure she does." He vowed.

"Good." The Queen of Thorns became silent after that.

It took her son a few seconds to recover his composure and understand that he was expected to speak. He cleared his throat clumsily. "Speaking of terms, your Grace. I don't see your beautiful aunt, I had hoped she would meet my son and heir, Loras." He pointed to his son. After all, they are supposed…"

"They are supposed to be nothing." Arianne cut him.

"But the terms…" The lord stuttered.

"We read your terms, Lord Tyrell, but we never agreed to them." Daeron explained. "My aunt will marry whoever she wants, if that is your son, then good, if it is not, it is her choice. And don't presume to take your army or any food away."

"But…" The fat man was getting crimson in the face, Daeron guessed it was from anger and humiliation.

"Don't say anything stupid for once in your life, Mace!" His mother interrupted him. "Or do you wish to see Loras eaten alive by a dragon? It is clear the Targaryens have no need for us, our presence is merely a courtesy and a mean to build a lasting peace once this masquerade is over." Daeron smiled, she was not called the Queen of Thorns for nothing.

"Indeed, Lady Tyrell. Now, Lord Tyrell, Ser Loras, you will join the commanders as befitting your rank. I expect nothing less than absolute loyalty from you." Daeron declared.

"Of course, you Grace." So, Ser Loras had a voice after all. "Where can our men settle?"

"You'll get the rear, for now." Daeron did not want them too close. "Now, Lady Olenna, we had not thought you would be with your son and grandson. What is your wish?" He had not expected to have an old woman to deal with in addition to his wife, his infant child, his little sister and his aunt, so many women to protect. Not that the last two really needed it.

"I'll have to impose on the hospitality of the next holdfast we find, your Grace." The old lady chuckled. Daeron guessed she was used to impose on lesser lords and ladies.

"That would be Wyndhall." Tyrion precised.

"Never heard of this. As long as it's got feather beds and decent food, I shall be content." Daeron had never heard of the place either, but he wished luck to whichever lord or landed knight holding it. A simple, unheard of holdfast would never satisfy the Lady Tyrell.

...

Ellaria and Sarella found their way to Daeron's tent on their own after the sun had set. Arianne greeted them warmly. The leather of their riding clothes was worn out and Ellaria actually looked very tired. The King motioned for them both to sit and help themselves to the food that had been prepared for them.

"Have you been treated well?" Daeron asked.

"Decently enough." Ellaria sighed before adding. "Better than I expected if I'm being honest. I guess we have Lady Olenna to thank for that. She has a bite but fortunately it was never directed at us." Sarella agreed with the woman who was, in effect, her goodmother.

Daeron nodded. "Sarella, I have another mission for you." He said. "You are to return to your uncle's camp and make sure he's there for the siege of King's Landing. I expect a full report on his actions when we join again." If Arianne was bothered by Daeron's words, she did not let it how.

"Of course." Sarella curtsied before turning to Ellaria. The two women exchanged a look that Daeron could not read before the older one asked a question.

"What about me, your Grace?" Ellaria Sand enquired.

"You look very tired Lady Ellaria, and I know Prince Oberyn longs to see you." He started. "You can stay with us and advise us. We will need someone who knows about the Tyrells." He added.

"Those are a pain." Ellaria grunted and the royal couple could guess that part of her exhaustion was due to annoyance from the insufferable roses.

"Indeed." Arianne giggled. "Why don't you rest for the night? You can tell us all about them in the morning." She looked at her husband for permission which he granted with a nod.

In truth, Arianne and Daeron were tired as well, and not long after the two women had left, they tucked themselves in bed, Aemon nestled between them. The little prince would soon be too old for that.

The place he landed in in his dream was foreign, but not too foreign that he did not recognize it. At least he knew it was in Essos. Somewhere South of the Dothraki Sea and East of Pentos. He had opened his eyes on some sort of cart. Not the kind of cart that carried turnips from one village to another though. This one was golden and richly decorated with gems depicting dragons. It was driven by two black horses in armour and with exotic feathers on their heads. Daeron was startled when he heard the roar above him. A dragon, bigger than Rhoynax roared above them. It was of an amethyst colour. Three other dragons though smaller flew with him.

"Father says I'll be able to ride my own dragon soon." It was when he heard the voice that Daeron realised he was not alone on the cart. He ought to know by now, he was never alone in his dreams. "But first I have to prove my valour on the field, otherwise the men will never follow me."

Daeron looked at the boy. He was shorter than him, lean yet muscular. He had no beard and the King guessed it was not by choice. His silver hair was cut just above his shoulders. He wore a Valyrian steel breast plate and protections on his calves and forearms but most of the rest was vulnerable and exposed. "You must prove your valour? But you cannot be older than fourteen."

"I'm thirteen!" The boy announced proudly. "But us Targaryens are battle commanders no matter the age. My older brother is already on his dragon up there with Father." He pointed at the sky. "He got Father's approval after his victory at the battle of the Tiger's eye."

"What is this place?" Daeron pointed at the fortified town they looked about to attack. It was small maybe the size of the Winter town in the middle of summer.

"This is Athor. It's a small settlement that serves as a resting place for the caravans from Ashaii going to Pentos. But recently they've stopped paying their taxes to the Valyrian Empire. They thought they were too small for us to notice." The boy paused. "See these men?" He pointed at a small group of soldiers dressed in black leather and standing in front of the gates to the city. They were well trained, all standing in a perfect rectangle. But there were too little of them. Daeron could see they would not last long. "They are the garrison of the city. It should be quick."

"Indeed. You will crush these soldiers, but then, what about the high walls?" Daeron pointed out.

The boy sighed. "That is exactly what Father said. I said the walls would be no issue since we have dragons, but I think my answer irritated him. He told me that burning people alive when we could besiege them and make them surrender would paint us as monsters." He explained begrudgingly.

"You father is very wise, that's what I would have said as well." Daeron told him.

He rolled his eyes. Apparently, he did not agree. "I do not see the difference between burning people to and starving them to death."

"Is that what happened here?" Daeron asked. He knew the battle was already done and so the young boy beside him would know.

"It is. But I was not there to see it. My plan was perfect, we wiped their garrison in no more than five minutes, but as we were killing the last of our injured enemies, someone on the walls shot an arrow right through my eye. I never got to ride a dragon, nor to be acclaimed as the battle commander I was supposed to be. Then, my father set a camp all around the city, he starved everyone inside. No more than a hundred people survived. In the end, the Valyrian army departed, new settlers arrived and life went on." He sounded frustrated. "I should not have died, if my father and brother had started burning the townsmen while I did all the work, it would not have happened."

"But they would have been seen as monsters. History would remember them, and you as monsters." Daeron pointed out.

"Well, instead I'm not remembered at all…" He pointed out. To that, Daeron had nothing to answer, indeed, he did not know the boy. But for his defence, he did not know Athor either. And he had no idea golden carts were used in battles like that. Nor had he ever seen an army behave like the one of his ancestors. It was like a beautiful choreography. The men moved in straight shapes, there were not many cries and when one fell, another took his place. It was the first time a battle did not look or feel chaotic to him. The boy sighed again bringing Daeron back to reality. "See? You do not know who I am."

"Then might you tell me your name so that I could know you?" Daeron asked.

"I'm Aeros Targaryen, fourth son of Maelys Targaryen and his third sister-wife Aelys." Daeron shuttered, he had never been completely at easy with his family's past polygamy and incest.

"Well, Aeros, I'll make sure to speak about you to my son and other future children. They will know what a battle commander you were. As a thank you for the precious lessons you just taught me." Daeron smiled.

Aeros frowned, confused. "What lessons did I teach you?"

"That life is brittle no matter the strategy." He paused. "And that I should not let my son anywhere near a battlefield before I'm certain he's ready."

...

His seed was trickling down Arianne's thigh, some had stained the sheets. That was what sheets were for anyway, was it not? Daeron doubted Lord Estren would mind. He was way too ecstatic to be housing the Queen – and the Queen of Thorns – until the end of the siege. Arianne sighed and panted as Daeron peppered her hair with kisses.

"I know you don't like it, but I don't want Aemon anywhere near a battlefield and I think it would be best if he was with his mother." Daeron told her soothingly.

"I know." Arianne repeated for the hundredth time. "I'm not opposing it, I think you're right to, I just don't like it."

"It's only for a few months at most. If everything goes well, we'll be together again in a fortnight." Daeron insisted.

"A fortnight? I think you're a little optimistic." She kissed his jaw line. "This dream really must have moved you to make you decided to keep me and our son here." She commented.

"It was horrible. The boy was so set on impressing his father… And he let him lead a battle… at thirteen. It makes me wonder how many of my ancestors upheld this tradition. I did not get a sense of the timeline." Daeron revealed.

Later in the day, Arianne stood in the courtyard with Aemon in her arms. Daeron took him from her and held his son close to his chest regretting that he had to wear breastplate because he could not feel the warmth of the infant boy. Aemon tugged at his hair, a happy smile on his face. Daeron vowed to protect his innocence for as long as he could.

The Queen took the Prince back and kissed his cheek. They had said their proper goodbyes in bed. Still, Daeron whispered in her ear. "I'll be with you in no time, my love." She nodded ever so slightly and stood straighter as Daeron climbed atop his horse. "Raise the gates." He ordered. Lord Estren's men did as he commanded.

The Goldroad was nothing golden, it was a path of brown dirt with a few paved sections here and there. Wider than the Kingsroad and better maintained but dirt and dust anyway. Daeron guessed the only thing golden about it must be the fields of wheat and barley in the summer. It was too cold for plants to grow by now. Winter was here. The smallfolks prayed that it would be short. Daeron had no such foolish notion. He prayed that they would be able to defeat it in the first place.

Not three days of calm had passed since they left Wyndhall before two scouts ran to them. One came from the West, the other from the East. The eastern one reached the royal command tent first.

"Your Grace, I have confirmation that Tywin Lannister is on his way right now." He left King's Landing three days ago. He has eight thousand men with him. Considering the pace they're going at, I believe we have two days before we reach them."

"That fast?" Robb intervened.

The soldier turned to the young Lord of Winterfell. "Yes, my Lord. Lord Tywin is pushing his men to their limits, it's as if he's eager for battle."

"We have twice his number. He wants to get this done and reach the Seven Hells you mean." Lord Aurane commented.

"Let's not be overly confident." Daeron advised. "Thank you for the information, young man, make sure to get a hot meal on your way out." The man did just that, after bowing once more, of course. "We continue as planned." Daeron told his advisors. He was about to develop, but they were interrupted by the herald.

"Another envoy, your Grace! From Casterly Rock." The guard announced.

"Let him in." Daeron frowned. He was not annoyed that he had been interrupted in his meeting, he was concerned about the place where the scout came from. If Tywin Lannister had managed to get to their rear, he could actually have a way to defeat them.

"Sorry for the late hour, your Grace." The man said bowing. Daeron wished they would all bow less, they lost so much time bowing. "I have an urgent message for yourself and Lord Stark." He looked pointedly at the other lords.

"Leave us." Daeron said at once and they all obeyed without fuss to his surprise. "Talk." He ordered the envoy.

"I'm so very sorry, my Lord, your Grace." The man looked at them both before handing Daeron a letter. The Stark direwolf seal had been broken already. Daeron read it as fast as he could.

To King Daeron Targaryen and Lord Robb Stark

Your Grace, my Lord,

It pains me to announce the passing of Lady Catelyn Stark last night. She passed peacefully in her sleep. By the time she was discovered by a handmaiden in the morning, there was nothing that could be done. I believe her heart gave way in the night; her handmaiden told me the lady had been complaining of chest pains in the day but refused to see me for it. There is nothing that could indicate that this was unnatural.

I am very sorry for you and House Stark. I wish to offer you my sincerest condolences.

At your disposal,

Maester Wolkan

Daeron was shaking as he handed the letter to Robb. His cousin read it about as quickly as him before falling into the nearest chair. "Dead?" He asked as if he could not believe it.

"I'm so sorry Robb." Daeron said for lack of better words.

"She cannot be! She was healthy." Angry tears rolled down Robb's cheeks, he was like that when his father died too, Daeron remembered. He had run to the woods and nearly destroyed his sword on a tree in anger.

"People fall ill sometimes." Daeron got up and put his hand on Robb's shaking shoulder. He wished he could do something, but he could not.

"I need to get back to Winterfell." Robb announced springing to his feet.

"No, you don't." Daeron corrected. "There is nothing you can do anymore. By the time you get there she'll be buried already. Stay and fight, for her memory, and your father's. She's with your father now. She's happier."

"Our father." Robb spat at him. "He was your father too!" Daeron did not understand why his cousin was suddenly angry at him, but he did not try to, he just nodded.

"Our father."

If you're crying right now, I'm so sorry :'(.

Next week: Dany and Arya come back. A long awaited dream.

Guest reviews:

- I did not know that.

- (InCK) Something like that... but not exactly. We'll see what happened in the Vale next chapter.