The ramp lowered from the ships and thudded onto the pier, and Lyonel smiled. Shireen was home. He was surprised to see her descend from the ramp first, and the way she walked. Her step was brisk, utterly sure. Her hair fell around her shoulders, her white skin was dusted now with a light tan and her sharp features cut the air. Then she saw him and she smiled. Her smile hadn't changed. It was still so full of light and joy. She didn't walk to him, she strode, and when she got to him she threw her arms around his neck.

Lyonel wrapped his arms around her back, picked her up and spun her around, relishing the sound of her laughter as he put her down. They pulled apart. "I've missed you," he said.

He was so pleased to see her he didn't have time to pull away before she leant in and kissed him. "I've missed you too," she said.

"You've changed your hair," he noted. More than that, she had changed. There was something in her eye that wasn't there before, her stance, her gait. She was a different person.

"You've just changed," she told him, looking him up and down. "I can't put my finger on it but there's something different about you."

"Well, I didn't nearly die," he said and, filled with the same relief he had felt when he'd heard she survived, he squeezed her tightly again.

She didn't complain and hugged him back. "I'm alright, Lyonel," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "I'm alright."

"I know, I just worried, I wasn't sure what I would do without you."

"Well you don't need to worry, I'm here. And besides," she added, pulling away. "You're the one who went into battle. Imagine how I felt."

"I made it out alive. I won, Shireen," he whispered.

"And I'm very proud of you," she smiled up at him. "And it's not just that," she looked around at the changed docks of Dragonstone. "You'll have to tell me about everything that I've missed, and it would appear there's a lot of it."

"Well, I know just the place," Lyonel said.

She raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Alright then, you go ahead, I'll just get my people directed into Dragonstone."

"Can't someone else do that?"

"They could. But they are my responsibility," Shireen said, turning and walking back towards the ship. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "I should bring my bow, yes?"

"Of course."

Lyonel couldn't help but watch as Shireen started directing the crew of the ship as they brought down trunks and crates full of supplies. She talked to the guests who had come with her and ser Richard and Aeriel, putting them in charge of bringing the guests up to the castle. She was assertive, sure, beautiful in command.

Leaving her to it, he made his way to the hill.

"So I'm betrothed now?" He asked, drawing the bowstring back to his cheek and releasing the arrow.

Shireen giggled as his arrow thunked into the target. "You aren't betrothed, I merely pointed out to Lady Fossoway that you are currently unspoken for." She notched her own arrow and drew it back.

"Perhaps," he said, nodding appreciatively when her arrow hit her own target. "But right now, I'm far too busy for that nonsense."

Shireen raised an eyebrow. "Marriage is nonsense?"

Only when it came to Shireen. The idea of anyone being worthy of having her as a wife was nonsense. "Talking about it while I'm trying to organise a war is nonsense, we still have to take King's Landing and cast down the Lannisters."

"I'm not concerned about that," Shireen said. "Good arrow," she complimented him. "You and father will win. I'm just making sure that my brother marries only the best woman."

He chuckled. "You know I'll marry whoever father needs me to marry. If that happens to be a Fossoway woman, so be it."

"Not if she doesn't deserve you, I won't stand for it."

"Shireen, I'll be the husband and the future king. I'll be fine with my wife, but your husband will become your lord. I'm more concerned with who you might end up with."

"Uncle Robert was also the husband and the king," Shireen pointed out, "do not underestimate what danger a wife could be to you."

He nodded, the thought a sudden chill in his mind. "All the more reason not to bring that risk into my life until we have won."

"It's not just risk," Shireen said, fixing him with her hawk-like stare. "I want you to be happy."

"Of course you do," he said, "you're too good a person to want anything but happiness on anyone."

"Except our enemies," Shireen said, her expression darkening, the sharp features of her face becoming daggers. "Or your wife, if she treats you with anything but the utmost respect."

"Well as long as I have you choosing my bride, I shouldn't be concerned then," he laughed.

"I'm serious, Lyonel." He shot an arrow at the target and turned to Shireen, pulling her into a one armed hug.

"I know, and I'm grateful," he rubbed the top of her head softly. "But it's your husband who needs to be worried," he added in a whisper. "If he harms you, body or soul, I will not forgive him."

Shireen squeezed him tight. "It'll be nice having my brother as the king."

"Hey," he looked down at her and waited for her to look up at him. "When I'm king, if you need to come to King's Landing, for any reason, you'll always be welcome there, and no matter what a husband or septon demands, I will never force you to leave."

She smiled, shaking her head a little. "I love you Lyonel." She leant up to kiss him again, but he pulled back. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, quite." He said, stepping back and gesturing to the targets. "It's your shot, I believe. Make it a good one if you want to catch up to me."

She laughed. "Like that will ever happen," she said, settling into perfect posture and shooting another arrow.

"You know what mother would say if she saw that attitude."

"Well, she's not here right now. She's got her hands full with our new guests. How many of these exiles are there?"

Lyonel scratched his chin. "I'm not sure. Several thousand at least. Myr isn't a small city."

"But with more enslaved than free. I'll bet most couldn't afford passage on a ship, let alone an entire flotilla to bring them and their households with them." Shireen held her bow by her side. "Nevertheless, they seem to be settling in well here."

"That's because you've only just arrived," Lyonel informed her. "They were a problem when there were a few hundred of them, now…"

Shireen looked at him, concerned. "Now what?"

Lyonel sighed. "Now they're making demands, I'm not sure how mother handles it. When Magister Traghar arrived, mother was able to extract a third of his wealth for guarantees of protection here. Now we can barely demand a tenth from the new arrivals otherwise the whole bloody lot of them start murmuring, and a lot of them brought their own bodyguards with them, enough now to cause trouble. I also think we aren't getting a true amount out of them."

"How so?"

"I think they meet up before arriving. The ones already here sail out to meet the new arrivals and take some of their wealth, bring it back to the island. The others remain at sea for a few more days then come in and we take a tenth of what remains."

"That's dishonest of them," Shireen replied, frowning. "Is our protection not enough?"

"Would you become a peasant for safety?" He asked her. "These people are merchants, they worship money and make it dance in ways I can't understand. It's everything to them." Amalia had explained it to him one night, after a particularly hard negotiation with another shipload of refugees. She'd asked if he could become an archer for hire under her father's employ without complaint, or would he argue that he deserved more.

"Still," Shireen said, notching an arrow and pulling it back to her cheek. "A little more honesty can go a long way."

"It's not all something to complain about," Lyonel said. "They've refilled our war coffers significantly, some of them are volunteering to fight or making crossbows for our army."

"Crossbows?"

He nodded. "I have a whole battalion of them now."

"In exchange for a lot of their money back no doubt."

"Money and promises," Lyonel said. "But we won't be able to offer either if we lose." Shireen released the arrow. "Very good."

"What promises?" Shireen asked.

Lyonel calmly drew an arrow from the ground and fixed it to his bow. "Well, they've lost their city, so we're offering them places in ours."

"King's Landing?"

"Exactly," he drew and released. "I've promised them that they can set up new workshops and businesses in the city once we take it." He hadn't yet worked out exactly where they would go. King's Landing was a large city, but overcrowded. The Myrish were used to mansions and gardens, most of King's Landing was squashed together like arrows in a quiver, with no room between them. Perhaps they could establish a new section of the city, build more walls further along the river for them. It was a question that needed answers, but one he didn't have time to contemplate yet. "Hopefully they'll bring more revenues to the crown. Lady Amalia tried to explain it to me, but when she starts talking about money she does this thing where she starts talking very fast and using terms I've never heard before. Like speculative interest."

"Like what?"

"I'm still not entirely sure." He often wondered whether what she was telling him was true, or if she delighted in confounding him with complicated terminology. It didn't help that she picked up things exceedingly quickly. She knew as much about transport capacity and victually armies as most of his best officers at this point.

"Right. Who is Lady Amalia?"

Lyonel felt his face flush. Should he tell her who Amalia was to him? No, Shireen would hate her if she knew. Besides, he was allowed a private relationship. "She's the daughter of Magister Traghar," he told her. "She's been very helpful with smoothing things over with the other Myrish and she got us the crossbow manufacturer."

"She sounds useful."

He turned back to the target to hide his grin. "She is that," he said.

"I'll have to meet her," she replied.

"I think you'll like her. She's almost as easy to like as you."

"Stop it," Shireen said, flushing, drawing and shooting. Her arrow thunked into the target, very near the centre. That was the last arrow. They looked at the targets, comparing the spread of shots. "You win," she said.

"I do," he said. The difference in their skills was far more noticeable now than it had been. They were walking in increasingly different worlds, and he hated it.

Shireen took his arm gently. "Well done." She leant up to kiss him and he stepped away. "Lyonel."

"No need for that."

She pouted. "But I always kiss you when you win."

"You also kiss me when you lose," he pointed out. "So, when you beat me, maybe then."

She pointed at the targets. "Look at that, you think I'm going to win anytime soon?"

"You will, if you train hard."

"I don't have time to train hard anymore Lyonel," she complained. "I have too many other duties now. And you train everyday."

"Well I am going to war soon," he pointed out.

She stepped back, brows creasing in concern. "Where?"

"Crackclaw Point." The air had become chilly around them.

"When?"

"The invasion force will be ready in around two weeks."

Shireen bit her lip. "So I only have you for a little while longer."

He stepped up to her and placed a hand on her cheek. "You have me as long as I live," he said softly.

She placed her hand over his own. "I know, I know," she said softly. "But I'm going to spend as much time with you as I can," she assured him, her eyes suddenly alight.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied.

She took a breath. "Well, if I can't kiss you, can I at least hug you?"

He smiled and opened his arms, folding her into him and holding her close. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. On their hill, away from prying eyes and ears, they held each other, and just for a moment, they lived in a world without war.