A continuation of "Cursed as I", the Silmarillion and Game of Thrones are some of my favourite books, so I wanted to make my own crossover after reading Rogercat´s own crossover with the Lord of the Rings.

"I don´t know, maybe after Aerys passes we can try again"

Daeron rolled his eyes at this statement. Every time he and Maglor talked about trying to sail West, the other came with some weak answer: that he couldn´t leave the Targaryen Dynasty so young, that after he had made sure Aegon didn´t fuck his way through the Seven Kingdoms and back, that after the Mad King finally exhales his last breath and the Kingdoms were safely in Rhaegar´s hands… with a reason they separated for such a long time after the Rise of Valyria! And it was not even his fault. Besides Maglor wanted to stay in that dreadful place only because of the people, not that he liked the place.

"They have broken your heart again and again" tried to remember him the sindar. "From Númenor to Gondor and Arnor, all the way from Valyria to Westeros…"

"Children tend to do that to their parents, especially when they are mortals" the other minstrel said, turning to see him to the eyes. They were both naked in the bed, spending the high hours of the night together under the protection of the darkness. "That I am immortal only makes it more apparent."

"More reason to go West, where your own immortal child and his own get live" the silver haired loremaster was about to add something more when a loud knocking was heard on the door. Cursing in quenya, Maglor got up and grabbed a sleeping robe, covering himself.

"What?!" he asked in a bad mood. He didn´t like his nights interrupted, especially when they were in company of Daeron. The servant on the other side muttered some explanation in a low voice, but loud enough for the elf to hear. "What?" he shook his head. "Never mind, I will go in a minute."

"Thank you, my lord"

"And what happened now, that requires your immediate attention?" asked his lover, resigning himself to another night in bed alone while the noldor squealed with the Mad King.

"Brandon Stark just arrived with a contingent of Vale and Northern lordlings, demanding the head of Rhaegar and release of the Lady Lyanna from a clearly mad king that has thrown them in the Black Cells" Daeron felt the need to bang his head on the headpiece of the bed. Just how stupid that man could be? "Have to do damage control before this goes out of hand."

"And Rhaegar? Thought he was with the Kingsguard in the Riverlands" asked the other minstrel. He had always been fond of that one, he was at least smart.

"I don´t know, but I will find out" Maglor finished dressing, arranging his hair in messy braids. "After I fix this before Lord Rickard graces us with his presence."

He went down to the Throne Room with a determinate face, hoping that there was still something to do when he arrived. Personally speaking, he didn´t believe the impertinent younglings were still alive by the time he arrived before the King. Surprisingly, they were, as some guards show him later in the Black Cells. The elf sighed in relieve, maybe there was still an ounce of common sense in Aerys after all.

"Please, your Grace" he said after spending days, no, months trying to coax the king into offering the young ones a fair trial. "Brandon Stark and Elbert Arryn are the heirs of the Vale and the North, future Lord Paramounts. You can´t you just have them executed…"

"I can do whatever I want! I am a dragon!"

"Of course, your Grace, but the Lord Paramounts can…"

"Your Grace! Lord Maglor!" a servant interrupted their conversation, kneeling in front of the Iron Throne in obvious fear. "Lord Rickard Stark has arrived, demanding the release of his son. The Lord Hand has gone to receive him…"

The Feanorian inwardly cursed. Lord Owen Merryweather was a likeable enough man, but inept in any form of ruling. It annoyed the elf that Aerys replaced a perfectly useful, yet not very trustworthy, Hand as Tywin Lannister for a man who only knew how to laugh at comments that only a madman would consider funny. He would surely screw it up. He left Aerys and ran towards the entrance, hoping to stop the catastrophe that was about to be unleashed. Unfortunately, Lord Rickard wasn´t in a helpful mood. Not when he arrived, nor after talking to the incompetent Merryweather.

"My lord, please, reconsider this" the elf urged the northman. "You owed the king and his family allegiance and your heir dared to threaten the live of one of them. I know the matter of Lady Lyanna´s disappearance has everybody on their toes, but there has to be other ways to settle the matters than…"

"My daughter did not disappeared, LORD Maglor" the man answered with disrespect. Clearly, his opinion of the noldo was not a good one… or he plainly didn´t respect him. He thought him a parasite to the Throne or a mere politician without an ounce of skill in battle. Or maybe the man thought that he could do his job better. Anyway, this wasn´t very promising for the Calaquendi. "She was kidnapped. By Prince Rhaegar. And I´m going to get her and my son back."

"At least give me some time to endear the king to this, to change his mind about… whatever he is planning for Lord Brandon. I´m sure that I can make him understand the situa…"

"I don´t need any help from you. Move!" Rickard pushed past him, leaving the frozen elf in the hallway to the Throne Room. Such brashness would not be well received in the court of the Targaryens, not now, not ever. Which makes the situation even more dire.

"Please, Eru, protect us all. I know I have forsaken the right to ask you anything long ago, but please" he looked up before setting off to face Aerys again. "My Elros and his children, please, save them."

When he arrived, Lord Stark was already shouting at the king that his heir was a kidnapper and a rapist. Makalaurë, who had known the boy since he got out of his mother´s womb and had been present in the Tourney at Harrenhal, was fairly sure that the couple had eloped together. He was aware of the Lady´s refusal to marry the betrothed her father choose for her (another child of Elros, Robert Baratheon, but he didn´t held him in as much stem as Rhaegar. And how could he, when the boy whored and did other morally dubious things) and that they shared an ardent correspondence, so he was convinced that they decided to run away with each other to do what young love knows best. A history worth a song in the Old Days…

But, what in other times would have been song worth, now was an utter disaster. It didn´t matter that the couple became the new Beren and Luthien, their union could spark a war between the Crown and the North, and let´s not talk about the Stormlands. Baratheons were not known for their forgiveness when one causes their anger to stir, if their family head´s pride was hurt… he didn´t even want to think about it. That was without counting the spurned Elia Martell and her family. How could Dorne forgive something like that? Rhaenys and Aegon too… What a nightmare! Even if Aerys reacted as rational person would, which in itself was too much to ask, this had the potential to become a full blown civil war that would ravage Westeros and fracture the Targaryen Empire.

"… I demand trial by combat!" this words returned the elf to his body, calming him down a little bit. Rickard Stark might not be a celebrated swordsman, but he was an accomplished one from what his informants told him. He had a fair chance to win against the likes of Jonothor Darry or Oswell Whent. He would definitely lose again Barristan or Arthur, so, to be sure…

"Your Grace, allow me to be your champion on this occasion. You will find no better sword than my own" Maglor proposed with a bow. It was true, but that didn´t mean he couldn´t stage a defeat. And, for his children, he would.

"No, the champion of House Targaryen is Fire" announced the Mad King with a wicked smile, making the elf´s skin crawl. At a sign from the madman on the Throne, the guards seized the Lord Paramount of the North and brought him to pyre, armour and all, while others killed his guards. "Let´s see how he fares against him."

"No… AERYS, STOP!" Kano screamed, launching himself to free the northman. Unfortunately, he was tackled by both Barristan and Lewyn Martell before his committed a mistake.

"Please, Lord Maglor, don´t be foolish. You are the only one that can control the king to certain point, don't leave us to his mercy without your wise counsel" whispered Selmy to his ear once they had him on the floor. The noldo fought against them anyway, causing satisfaction to appear in Aerys eyes.

"Hum, this is incomplete like this" the king said before calling a servant. "Bring his son from the Black Cells, so he can witness his trial! The accused should always be there for the verdict" one of the guards did as he was told and, before he returned, Aerys devised a system with ropes that would have made Sauron pleased, simple with torturous. And with the sword just barely out of reach.

"Why is the old goat call… FATHER!" Brandon Stark screamed when he saw his parent tied to a stake in a pyre. Lord Rickard tried to get to him too, but he was too well secured…

"Brandon, don´t do anything he said! Don´t!"

"The deal is simple, boy" the king started, sadism dripping from his voice. "You save your father before he burns down to a charred pile of bones and you are both free to go" he signalled to the sword that was hanged as a guard slipped the rope around a frozen Brandon´s neck. "Reach it and cut him free if you can. Rossart?"

"Brandon, don´t listen to him!"

"When you are ready" at this signal, the pyromancer lit fire to the pyre. The green flames did a quick work of the dry wood, making it disappear in ashes. Rickard Stark started screaming and his son jumped to grab the sword he would never be able to reach. Parent and child´s screams of pain, agony and asphyxia resonated into a pinned Maglor´s ears as he wept and asked for Aerys to stop.

No use. Soon, the only thing that remained from the proud Rickard Stark was a bunch of dark bones, still being licked by wildfire, near the body of his firstborn, who had choked to death. Once the "entertainment" ended, the king directed his lilac eyes full of fury to the elf, who couldn´t stop his tears.

"You dared to order me in front of the entire court" as if a few terrified nobles could be called a court. "I will let you off because of the friendship you have showed my family all this years, but this won´t be without consequences!"

"Nor would your actions tonight" Maglor said as he got to his feet, his head held high. He looked all the part the Prince he once was. "Can´t you see? You have condemned your House tonight with your thoughtlessness and cruelty! Because, if a Lord Paramount can´t have justice, who can?! That is what the Kingdoms will say and all they will need to rise in Rebellion against us!"

"Rebellion? They would never dare. And, once I have showed them the heads of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark on my walls, they will never do so. They will respect the dragons…"

"Aerys, snap out of this! You are not a dragon nor have one! The Lords of the Vale will never obey you…"

"Then you will go to make sure they will. And, if they don´t, you will join my armies in combat" the king ordered, glaring at him. "You have always bragged of the swordsman you are, no better time to show that than an actual war."

"Aerys…"

"Dismissed!"

Knowing that it wouldn´t be favourable for anyone to continue upsetting the king, Maglor bowed lightly and left the room for his chamber. The memory of one of his beloved children laughing at a spectacle fit for Morgoth made him want to throw up, but he couldn´t help it. Not with the sickness ravaging the king´s mind. He made it to his room just in time to crumble in Daeron´s arms, who was surprised to find him so destroyed. And horrified when he learned the reason. He meant, he knew what Aerys was like, having witnessed his fair share of burnings, but this was a complete new terrifying level.

"I don´t know what to do" Makalaurë confessed after crying in his husband´s arms for a good few hours. "We can always run west, but I can´t leave them with this mess. It is partially my fault, I should have done something about Aerys years ago…"

"You would never put a finger on one of your children´s hairs, let alone hurt one. There was nothing you could do" the other minstrel soothed him, running a hand through his dark locks. "I have my doubts that Rhaegar kidnapped the Stark girl, also…"

"Yes, those two must have run away together"

"They fancied themselves Beren and Luthien or something like that?"

"A little bit less adventurous, magical or something like that, but yes, I believe" Maglor separate himself from Daeron, a little bit calmer. "I… I will have to ask you to leave. Wouldn´t forgive myself if you are caught in this mess, my love."

"Hey, I won´t leave you like this" the sinda promised. "If you have to fight in this war, then you will have me by your side."

"Then, I will have to ask you for a favour" the noldo continued, drained. His Dairano wasn´t going to leave… but he had a way. "I will leave in the morning for the Vale, to ask Lord Jon Arryn for his wards´ heads. Not that I´m expecting him to be willing to compel, but…" he shook his head. "Anyway, if this really is to be turned into a war…"

"There is little doubt of that, by what I saw of Lord Arryn" he rolled his eyes.

"What do you know?"

"You are not going to like it" the loremaster cleared his throat. "Lord Arryn has been plotting against the crown for a long time already. I discovered that when we stayed at Storm´s End after Cassana and Steffon… you know" he didn´t mention the horrible episode, Maglor was too depressed not to start crying again. "He shared secret correspondence with Baratheon´s great uncle and guardian, talking about making Robert king instead of a Targaryen."

"That… answers so many questions" like the marriage pacts of lately. "Which returns us to my favour, suddenly turned more important" he walked to a coffer and opened it. Then handed the contents to Daeron. "Go to Essos and hire sellswords companies to fight for us."

"You have soldiers…"

"They won´t be enough, not when the Vale, the Stormlands and the North goes after our throats. And, with the Riverlands torn by loyalties to Lord Tully and the Targaryen Dynasty, they will be fewer even."

"Makalaurë…"

"I can only trust you with this. Anyone else would sell us, sharing our weakness with the rebel side" he took Daeron´s hands on his. "Please, my love, do this for me. It´s the best way to help me right now."

"I hate when you are like this, I can´t say no" Maglor smiled at this answer before walking to the closet they shared and unbury two coffers. They hadn´t been opened since before the Blackfyre Rebellions, but they were needed again, so he cleaned the dust and opened one. "Are you going to be fine in my absence?"

The Doriathrim sword the lid revealed was antique, more than anything in Westeros. Still sharp and ready, it was one of the best works of Eöl the Moriquende after the black swords. It was as deadly as it´s smith´s other creations and had accompanied Daeron in his many travels as a wanderer. And it was going to accompany him again in his travel to Essos, where he would be safe.

The other box contained two twin swords, one of the first that had been forged. Fëanor himself made these ones for his second son when he mastered his own double wielding style and they had tasted both edain and eldar blood since then. They had a deadly reputation… the best weapon someone could take to war, as the Doriathrim had found out much to their horror. Maglor ran a finger trough the edge, finding them as sharp as the last time he wielded it, when the Valyrian Freehold still existed and the Ghiscari raided it for slaves.

"I will be fine"

-In the Isle of the Faces-

"I think I´m pregnant" Lyanna said, cuddled by her husband´s side. It happened so fast, but considering the amount of fun they have been having since their wedding two months ago… well, she should have been expecting that. "My moon blood hasn´t come as ever and it has never failed to come in time before…"

"Let´s not take things quickly" Rhaegar continued, yawning a bit. They had a lot of action before and he was beaten… she was insatiable. A wolf in bed as in everything else. And, when they were not coupling, they were talking like this. And, seven hells, she knew how to make him talk. "Have you thought about how you would like it to be named?"

"You are going to let me name the baby? If there is a baby, I mean" Lyanna asked, surprised.

"Well, I was thinking about Jaeherys if it´s a boy or Visenya if it´s a girl" he was sure it was going to be a girl… if there was indeed a baby, that´s what he meant. "But I wasn´t talking about that. I was referring to the amilessë."

"Amilessë? It´s that some sort of Valyrian name for epithet?"

"No, it´s… it´s a tradition in House Targaryen and other Valyrian Houses… of ancient Valyria, if I´m right" he bit his lips, trying to find a way to explain it. "It has something to do with our roots, so… the tradition dictates that the father gives a name, the ataressë, and the mother another, amilessë."

"How… strange" now Lyanna was interested. "How does this amilessë thing work?"

"I´m not really sure, but it´s usually in quenya"

"Quenya?"

"An ancient language, even more than valyrian, that nearly all mankind has forgotten. I talk it along with Sindarin, but it´s not of much use with Maglor and Daeron as the only people I can practise them with."

"Hummm, Maglor… and Daeron?" the mysterious minstrels. She had heard about them before from her father, but never thought much of them. Their role in court was dubious, with Daeron being absent a lot of the time and Maglor… well, they said he was a relative of the Targaryens of some kind, but no one could pinpoint his exact position in the royal family tree. Well, she was married to the Crown prince now. Surely she would have enough time to unravel those mysteries. "Can it be a northern amilessë?"/

"Of course, Elia put Rhaenys Meria and Aegon Maron when I introduced her to our naming tradition" he smiled when he remembered that. "I think she was asking for wisdom and good fortune. Amilessë apacenyë..."

"What?"

"It´s just an old way of calling it on quenya, which translated to Westerossi means mother-name of foresigh. It´s a type of mother name… there were others, but the meaning was lost. Unless you ask Maglor and he is not that willing to talk about that" he rolled his eyes.

"Really?" the young princess smiled. "So… what´s yours?"

"Humm?"

"What is your amilessë?"

"Why do you want to know, my fiery she wolf?" he asked turning to her again, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It´s Elendil"

This is a work I posted in Archives of our Own, I hope you enjoy it as much.