A/N: Hey guys. Hope all is going well.

Making up for last time's cliffhanger.

Enjoy and comment!

Chapter 21: Firestarters

Tick… tick… tick… tick…

It was a sound that Samwell Tarly wasn't familiar with. A mechanical ticking, as if one tapped against a stone floor with a blade over and over and over again in repetition. His father, live though he did in a great keep filled with the oldest of art and architecture, was a miser that hoarded every copper coin to be used only to equip the best horses and forge the best swords and string the best bows for the bannermen of their house. Much else was ignored, and with it the newest mechanical marvels.

While the Red Keep possessed a plenty the cog timekeepers, Sam had to make due in his chambers back at Horn Hill with a water clock. As such, the device's clicking made such a quiet and tense situation worse.

Stuck was he with his father, mother, and siblings - the former brooded with a sour scowl. The latter had begun a knitting project, quietly keeping herself busy. Dickon, the youngest among them, played with two carved knight figurines while Talla did the same with a ragdoll. Sam, meanwhile, fidgeted alone. Enduring his father's occasional glare,

It's not my fault I thought the King was being poisoned. That he had been right didn't seem to change Randyll Tarly's mood.

Little Talla, already shaping up to be a rather pretty girl, looked from her brother to her father in confusion. "Why are we sitting here, father?"

"Don't speak unless spoken to," grumbled Randyll, but his heart wasn't into it.

"But I'm bored."

"We're here because your brother assaulted the King."

Sam said nothing - his mother instead answered for he was too fearing of his father. "Randyll, enough. Our son saved the King."

"You saved the King?!" Talla and Dickon ended in looking at him with awed expressions.

"Aye, he saved him from being poisoned."

"How?" His siblings looked at him, while his father said nothing. Scowling still.

Before Sam could answer - the words failed him mostly, his mouth opening and closing - the doors were thrown open to reveal… Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard and Ser Gerion Lannister, the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep. Both Lannisters wore the sigil of the three-headed dragon, while the lion decorated Brightroar's hilt and the pauldrons of Ser Gerion. "Lord Tarly, you and your family are requested in the presence of their Graces, the King and Queens."

"Now Sers," spoke Randyll. "Whatever punishment you wish to give to my son, I can deliver myself and spare the crown the heartache."

"Randyll," whispered Melissa harshly.

"Quiet woman," Randyll barked back. Sam still said nothing, completely cowed. He'd gone through enough of his father's derision over his 'cushy comforts' and 'sticking his nose in a book rather than working on an actually useful skill.'

The two Lannisters glanced at each other before Ser Jaime cleared his throat. "No, you, your wife, and your son are requested. Your younger children may stay here with your own household, my Lord."

Grumbling, Randyll stood. "Well then, let's get this over with."

Sam would've been awed at the legendary Small Council chambers - the same place that Lord Beesbury was killed at the start of the Dance of Dragons and where Viserys II ran the Seven Kingdoms while Baelor the Blessed was engaged in his insanity - had he not trembled with nerves as the eyes of the Sunrise Dragon, the Viper Queen, and the She-Wolf rested upon him. He could hear the derisive growl from his father, but was more afraid of the Targaryens than him.

Also present were Tywin Lannister, Queen Dowager Rhaella Targaryen, and Melisandre of Asshai. All the most terrifying members of the Small Council. "This is the boy?" asked Queen Rhaella.

"Aye, this is the boy, muna," the King spoke. "Young man, you approached me - breaking all protocol - and knocked the mug of milk from my hand and claiming it was poisoned."

Sam, gulping, nodded. "Yes, your Grace."

"And how did you know it was filled with poison?" This was from Queen Elia. She was slight and slender - very very pretty, but her dark eyes were like the snake that topped the tower of Sunspear. Unsettling and dangerous.

"Well… answer, boy!" Randyll demanded.

"I… I saw a slight whiff of vapor off the rim of the mug, your Graces. That… that is the signature of several types of poison powders that can be dissolved in drink. I couldn't let… your Grace drink it and die."

"Hmmm… and you learned this on your own?" Melisandre of Asshai spoke rather congenially, but her voice radiated danger.

"My son is quite well read," Melissa bragged.

A snort from Sam's father, and he cringed. "My son is always with his nose in a book." He stepped forward. "Your Graces, I apologize for all of this concern but if you would allow me to address Samwell's conduct…"

He was interrupted. "Lord Randyll," said Melisandre. "The spilled milk we tested with rats. They drank it and all died - your son was right."

Randyll seemed stunned. "Excuse me?"

"Your son, Lord Randyll," said Queen Lyanna. "Prevented my husband from drinking poison based on what he learned from his nose being in a book. He is a hero that saved his King."

Lord Tarly couldn't form words, while Melissa beamed. "My son… he's always been intelligent. And the gods have granted all of us their providence for his intelligence to have provided you with the greatest of services."

Rhaegar leaned forward, eyes on Sam. "Tell me, young man, are matters of botany and alchemy your only interests?"

Sam, for once, managed to clear his throat and speak strongly. "Your Grace… I enjoy many avenues of study. It has always been a dream of mine to write a proper history of Westeros and the Targaryen dynasty. To capture matters that the archmaesters must've missed."

"Hmmm… you sound very much like the Grand Maester. He is a man of many trades as well." He leaned back. "You are to stay in King's Landing for the time being while I determine what is the best manner to reward you for your actions. My wives and mother and my children… you've spared them the loss of a husband, son, and father. I can honestly tell you that whatever reward I give you isn't going to be worthy of the service you provided."

"Lord Tarly," Rhaella said. "You should be very proud of your son." Again, Lord Randyll was stunned while Melissa squeezed her son's shoulders.

For the first time that night, Sam's chubby cheeks curled into a smile. He bowed. "Thank you, your Graces. I am only happy to serve." His heart burst with pride. Finally was someone to praise him, and it felt amazing.


"If you would like, Princess, I can give you my cloak."

Rhaenys swatted Torrhen's hand away. "I am the blood of the dragon, I can handle a little chill." But as another gust of wind roared across the surface of the Wall, her teeth chattered and it felt as if her limbs were going to freeze and break off. "Alright, don't say anything snarky or I'll cut your cock off."

Luckily for him, Torrhen Karstark only smirked, removing his cloak and draping it over Rhaenys'. The extra warmth feeling quite welcome about her slender body. "I would recommend you get some of the felt boots and cloak of the Night's Watch… they can use some dye from Mole's Town on it to your liking."

"Perhaps just a stitch of a three-headed dragon. It's a black cloak, and black is my house color." Both shared a chuckle as they walked upon the battlements, taking in the sights around them. Castle Black was deserted, a faint moment of calm as those of the Night's Watch visited Mole's Town's brothel or got some needed sleep for the ranging that was soon to happen. The camps of the Starks, Umbers, Boltons, and Karstarks were bustling, but they were a distance away. Above, the horn blew once. Only once. "The patrol has returned."

"One horn for the Night's Watch, two for the wildlings… is that it?"

"No, three horns. For the White Walkers." Torrhen glanced at her skeptically. "My muna told me stories of them, the ones she'd heard. Three horns for the White Walkers."

Torrhen laughed. "Some superstitious folks among my father's banners say those are the reason for the Wildlings massing behind Mance. Fools."

Rhaenys shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, but I agree." She had enough earthly problems to deal with. "I'm greatly perturbed the Glovers did not answer the call when my uncle sent it."

"Oh, they're still frosty over your favoring of Lady Forrester over Lady Whitehill at the Women's Court."

She groaned. "I did not favor her, much as I do like that particular House. Their service quite faithful to my uncle. I was merely comforting her that her daughter's friendship for a page in Ironrath shouldn't be one to be troubled over."

"Talia Forrester?" Torrhen seemed shocked. "She associating with a page? I wouldn't have expected it."

A huff. "A man named Tuttle… Gareth Tuttle I believe." She greatly enjoyed her time with Torrhen, he made her happy, but sometimes he said things like this. "A man's birth shouldn't cause him to be discarded. See Lord Davos for example." That noble arrogance was his only flaw that she saw.

Torrhen shrugged. "A proper point, Princess, a proper point…"

"Your Grace." Hearing Sandor call out her title made Rhaenys raise her brow in worry. This couldn't be good. Turning, she was greeted with the correct declaration of her thoughts. "News from King's Landing, your Grace," he said, a hint of a wince on his lips. "There was an attempt on your father's life."

Rhaenys gasped, gripping Torrhen's hands. "Has he made it?"

"The raven says he didn't die, but other than that nothing."

Blinking, Rhaenys took in a deep breath. "I must go to King's Landing."

"Princess, but the campaign north of the Wall?"

She glared at Torrhen. "My kepa needs me, fuck the campaign north of the Wall." With that, she raced off towards her chambers, seeking to pack.

Slinging her saddlebag about her shoulders, Rhaenys left the drafty chamber she had been given only to be faced by her uncle Ned. His face was grim, though not wholly unsympathetic. "I can't let you go, Rhae."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was under the impression that even a Lord Paramount and Warden of the King couldn't give orders to a Princess of the blood."

"I'm not speaking as a warden, but as your loving uncle who knows you're making a mistake."

"My mistake is that I allowed myself to be here and not stay in the capitol." Pushing brusquely past her uncle, she came face to face with Sandor. "You told him, didn't you?"

The Hound shrugged. "Ned Stark doesn't own me, Saucy Snake. I have no loyalty to him - my loyalty is to your brother, annoying shit that he is." Rhaenys ignored the giant's words and simply tried to brush past him too, but he proved to be far less of a pushover. "Your brother asked me to look after you, and that would be a fuckin' failure on my part if I let you fuckin' leave here."

She glared at him. "So you did tell my uncle."

"Rhae," Ned called out, placing a hand on her shoulder that Rhaenys shook off. He didn't address it. "Ser Sandor…"

"I'm no fuckin' Ser."

Ned also didn't address that. "It was Torrhen Karstark that told me." Rhaenys whipped her head around, truly shocked. "I will readily admit that I have had reservations about how close you two have gotten since Cersei pointed it out to me back in Winterfell." He knows? Seven Hells, had Rhaenys not been so angry and so determined to fly back to Winterfell and put a sword through the throat of whomever sought her kepa's death she would've gone beet red in mortification. "But I can tell he cares for you, as do I."

"Uncle Ned, I am not discussing this with you." She tried to walk past Sandor, only for Ned to again grab her shoulder. "Stay yourself, Lord Stark," she warned, though the threatening growl Nysar usually added in such moments was strangely absent.

Ned seemed to cringe. "Is that what I am to you, Rhae? Simply Lord Stark?" The words hurt more than any yelling - Rhaenys averted her gaze, suddenly ashamed. "For if that's all it is then you are right, and I shall let you go since it is not my place. But if you see me as an uncle, you are bound by love and filial duty to at least listen to me."

Biting her lip, Rhae couldn't argue. "Say your piece, uncle."

Nodding, the Lord of Winterfell wrapped his arm about Rhae's shoulders, pulling him to her. Loved as much by him as he loved his own daughters. "By the gods, I know how you feel, dear niece. My own father was killed and I wished for nothing but to race south and seek vengeance." By my grandfather. Rhaenys was only three at the time and was all the way in Starfall, but felt guilty anyway. "What you are feeling shows you a loyal daughter, there is no need for you to go south."

"I must, uncle."

"No, you cannot afford to." He looked into her eyes. "You've committed your word to be in the North, to stay here and fight here." Ned looked insistent. "The Northern Lords will never trust you again if you break your word and head south, abandoning your claims to help them fight for their very lands against the wildlings… all hate and fear the wildlings, and for you to shirk your duties…"

She shook her head. "I am not shirking anything, uncle. My family needs me and I must go to them." Unwilling to hear anymore, she raced out of Castle Black and her uncle's gaze, heading for where Nymerion waited outside. "Let's go, sweetling."

'Muna, do you really want to do this?'

"Not you too," she grumbled, grabbing at the spines to climb… only to be tugged back by a rather insistent Nysar, grabbed the hem of her dress with her teeth. Mewling and whining as she tried to drag Rhaenys off the dragon. "Stop!"

'No, muna, you need to stay.'

She fumed. "I have to go to my family."

'Isn't your uncle your family?'

"He's not…" Rhaenys stopped, eyes widening as to what she had been about to say. That Ned was not her blood, and therefore her muna not her blood. It filled her with regret… and made her realize her uncle was right. If I am to be a Stark as well as a Targaryen and Martell, I must act like one. Rubbing Nymerion's scales, she trudged back into Castle Black. It was still deserted but for the sentries and her uncle. "Uncle…"

He said nothing, only hugging her close. Letting her cry softly on his shoulder.


"I have seen that all the servants were interrogated," Melisandre spoke, her face serene in that personal way of hers that Rhaegar always found surprisingly… not unsettling. "They deny any involvement in this attempt on his Grace's life."

"Of course they do," Tywin grunted. "Imagine not someone confessing before a proper torture."

Melisandre shifted her gaze to Tywin and then back to Rhaegar. "Actually, Lord Hand, I believe they speak the truth."

"Explain," Rhaella bit, herself quite enraged.

The religious advisor nodded. "Two servants, a man and a woman alleged to be lovers, were not present. They disappeared from the palace, but I found this in their quarters." She tossed two vials of powder. "Nightshade. A healthy amount too, could've poisoned the whole Small Council."

"Notify Ser Gerion to start a search party for them," hissed Lyanna, hand on her sword.

"I already notified Ser Oswell to conduct the search, and that he has full authority over the Goldcloaks for it."

Tywin nodded. "Good, very good." He leaned back, cracking his knuckles. "Lord Tytos Blackwood's body is heading to Raventree Hall as we speak. I have sent a letter to Lord Brynden indicating the Crown's condolences."

"Proper, but we need a Master of Coin, now." Rhaella was blunt, concerning the one member of the Small Council that was killed - but Lord Tywin's paramour had died as well and he didn't seem bothered by it. Rhaegar knew he was a cold lion but that was icy even for him. "Anyone have any suggestions?"

"Lord Tytos' deputy was Petyr Baelish, but I'd sooner see a snake than he in charge of the whole thing," commented Elia.

Clearing his throat, it looked like Tywin had swallowed poison but he spoke firmly. "My son Tyrion is the best choice."

"I thought you hated him," Rhaegar mused.

"He is not my favorite, but he's clever and good with figures. You'd be served by no one better."

Both the Crown and you personally, Lord Hand. Tywin had been faithful, fighting for House Targaryen and the Realm as much as he did himself, so Rhaegar didn't begrudge him his personal gain. "Alright, Lord Tyrion it is." He liked the Imp anyway. "Until then, I am tired and seek sleep." Tywin and Melisandre nodded, while Rhaella hugged him close and kissed his cheek.

Alone in his chambers, surrounded outside by guards, Rhaegar was suddenly enveloped by his Queens. Their eyes filled with tears and desperately kissing him. Hugging him, even after they tumbled into bed. Not sensual, just loving and sweet. Eager to know he was alive and still with them.

"We have to reward Samwell Tarly," Lyanna mused, kissing a trail up Rhaegar's neck to behind his ear. "He is the savior of the King, and deserves the world."

"His father hates him, because he likes books rather than the sword." Elia massaged his chest, breath hot against his ear.

Lyanna sighed. "I loved both books and the sword, and would give up neither." The she-wolf shifted, leg draped over his. "He enjoys learning, so perhaps a position in court… service with Qyburn perhaps?"

"That would be an honor for him," Elia replied.

His blood running hot by virtue of his nature - a Valyrian dragonlord, returned upon the earth after so many centuries - both of his wives pressed flush against his skin, their skimpy nightgowns not giving much to keep his shirtless chest from growing sticky with their combined sweat, was a bit uncomfortable. Rhaegar couldn't make himself to care enough to push them away. Instead his hands pulled them ever closer, trapping them in a vice. Willing not for them to leave even as they never would. "My loves…" he murmured.

"You'll be protected even further," Elia insisted. "All dishes tasted by the cooks that make them or the servants that serve them. Someone is out to kill you and we cannot allow that person to get close to your death ever again."

"Fuck that," Lyanna hissed, even as she peppered his shoulder with sweet kisses. Nuzzling his neck, ever clingy and adoring of him. "You're a dragon, a proper King who shouldn't cower behind food tasters." His wild and fierce Lyanna, ever warlike and bold. Gods, he loved her. "We must find the person behind this and allow me to bury Wolfsbane down his throat."

"And not face Aegarax's dragonfire?"

Lyanna growled and bit his shoulder, sucking hard and leaving a proper bruise. Making him groan at the wolf marking her territory. "You're my husband and my King. An attack on you is on me to redress."

He chuckled, hand inching down to squeeze her asscheek. Making the she-wolf yip. "I have learned it is not wise to challenge you on matters such as these." Lyanna beamed and kissed him. It grew hungry.

"The only question is," started Elia, interrupting them mid-kiss. Her voice was not jealous, but her hand palmed his cock over his trousers, showing her intent not to be left out in any sensual matters. "Who was responsible for this."

"I'm not ruling out Robert," Lyanna said through her kiss-bruised lips.

"No, it is not Robert." Rhaegar grunted, adjusting himself on the bed. "Before you call me as naive as your brother in regards to him, he's not the sort to use poison."

Grumbling, Lyanna nevertheless nodded. "Aye, you're right." She shrugged. "Haven't heard from Euron Greyjoy in a while."

"Last my birds told me he was in Essos sailing towards the Jade Gates. I wouldn't put stock into him being responsible." Elia nuzzled Rhaegar's chest with her cheek. "I would put it on the Blackfyres."

"They're graduating towards action then, rather than remain in the shadows."

Elia nodded. "If they wish to make yet another bid for the throne, they will have to start sometime… and I feel this will be the most serious since the first Blackfyre Rebellion."

He shook his head. "Fuck, those cunts… if only Aegon the Unworthy and his son would've let Princess Daenerys marry Daemon Blackfyre none of this would've happened."

"And oh, sweet husband, I would not be here to provide you and your wife with carnal release," Elia murmured sultrily in his ear. "We should look more towards the future, not the past, and enjoy the present." She nibbled his ear, and Rhaegar groaned.

A thought came to his mind as Lyanna kissed him on the mouth, his brides clearly choosing now to prove to themselves in the most pleasing of ways that he was alive. What if… could Doran be the culprit behind this attempt on my life? He hated to think it, but the thought remained unassailable deep in his mind. A persistent itch he couldn't shake.

Then Elia swung her hips over his crotch, fishing his cock out of confinement while his vision disappeared by Lyanna engulfing his mouth with her cunt… and Rhaegar forgot all but the current moment before him.


It was to be said that Bella Baratheon had never been inside a Sept by choice. Oh, the septas that her father and uncle assigned to watch over her made sure she went, as did her father whenever he bothered to part from his 'lady companions' and grow remorseful enough for the benefit of the septon taking his confession. But she never felt it, though. The gods were but statues to her, ones that hadn't answered any of her prayers to take her away from Robert.

Or later to kill him when she realized there was no hope of escape.

"Rest easy, young one," she heard the kindly voice of the High Septon inform her. "She is in a better place."

Bella wanted to tell Meribald to pound sand, but for once she found such religious words to be comforting. Facing her mother's pale body, eyes covered by the painted stones as per Andal custom for the Stranger to take her, it was all she could imagine to keep from breaking down into tears.

"I'm sorry, Bella." Gendry had hugged her, the one to escort his half-sister to the Great Sept of Baelor. Mya offered, but Gendry insisted it just be him, and Bella appreciated it. Edric didn't even say anything. "She seemed a lovely woman."

"She wasn't," Bella replied. "She was an awful woman, but she loved and cared for me." There were no qualms about what Tyanna Rivers was - it had been her that taught Bella that, a lesson that she took to heart. She was a gold digger and fortune hunter that traded intimacy to the Lord Hand. Bella didn't necessarily see that as a bad thing.

It certainly elevated a former whore into a woman of great wealth. Not influence, though.

The presence of Lord Tywin in the Sept for but a minute before he left without a word - not even acknowledging the existence of the child of his lover - said everything. Tyanna hadn't wanted influence, only wealth and comfort. As someone at the mercy of many highborns, Bella looked upon her mother and thought differently. You were wrong, mother. You were wrong.

Wealth mattered nothing if you had no power.

"Bella?"

She looked behind her to see Prince Rickon. Clearing her throat, she curtsied. "My Prince." Behind him, several others of the royal family were there, Princess Myrcella and Dowager Queen Rhaella alongside Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime. The ones connected to the Lannisters. "You've come to pay your respects?"

He nodded. "Kessa."

The Valyrian word for 'yes.' Bella wasn't stupid. "Why? You're not a Lannister… or a Baratheon." Her father hadn't bothered to show up, which put him below even Tywin, but her point stood.

"That's not why I came." He shifted his feet. "Your muna died… thought you might feel better if I paid my respects."

Her jaw dropped. Bella… had not expected that. "Oh… thank you." Her voice was soft.

She did not resist when he hugged her. Merely letting him.

It felt nice.


Sweat beaded on her forehead, eyes tightening as the inferno grew larger and larger. She felt lighter, casting the flames in a wide arc that bathed a trio of men in their deadly assault. They pitched to the ground, howling unbearably in sheer agony as they thrashed and writhed around. It hurt. It sent a throbbing headache through her, one that nearly made her faint.

She couldn't bare to care less, bidding them death as she turned. But by the gods she wasn't meant for this. War was not her calling, but it came to her, and damned if she was not going to rise to the occasion. "That way is clear!" she screamed to her husband… only to find him in the midst of a fight for his life. "Baeglor!"

"Stay back!" he bellowed in response, the fires around him continuing to grow into a size she had never dreamed possible to create. Already their home burned ahead, serving as a beacon for the sellsails hungry to take their plunder before it was engulfed by the flames. No matter how many orders came from their demonic leader, after them both.

Suddenly her husband was knocked to the ground, and she charged into the fray. "No!" The flame that emerged was so sudden and furious - something Shienna had seen Baeglor show their son but never performed for herself - that it merely punched through the warrior with the battleaxe as if a spear. His brain was skewered, and began to cook from the inside as a fire smoldered. "Get up, my love!" More were coming, Essosi and Westerosi both.

Blood pumping, she raised her fist to send a blast at the attackers, but the burst was weak. A delicate tendril that danced through the air. The berserker caught on fire, but wasn't felled. The others weren't deterred and kept coming… until Baeglor charged. His fire flew from his blade and his free fist, as furious as hers was graceful. A powerful shot to her beautiful dance that burst through the gut of another Berserker.

He was the warrior, not her. So much was clear, but both needed to fight.

Too many to count, and led by their leader. A demon in the flesh as he bellowed out a powerful laugh. One that could make all but the strongest collapse in terror.

Baelgor climbed to his feet, Fang clutched tightly in his hand and erupting into flames that licked down the Valyrian steel. "Get out of here, Shienna," he breathed.

Fire covering her hands, she looked to him in a stunned silence. "No, I stay with you."

"You get the children and leave! I'll keep them off you." He twirled the blade in his hand, ready as he said.

"I'm not leaving you."

"You must, please… for them and for our legacy."

Biting her lip… she made the choice and ran. Hearing not moments later an infernal bellow as Baeglor charged into the din. A massive gout of flame exploding into the air, the man she loved never to be seen again.

A tear fell from her eye as she still ran. And ran… and ran…

"Muna, please!" begged Baeglora, hobbling as she trundled about the cobblestones. "I can't keep up!"

"Come on, sister, I got you!" Even hefting a large burlap sack of their last possessions, Althor kept his sister in pace with the two of them. A strong and strapping lad in the making like his kepa before him.

Shienna Aekylosh wished to smile and gush over her lovely children, but chaos surrounded them. The Dothraki were almost at the gates of Pentos and thousands rushed the docks for passage out. She had forked over the last of her carefully hoarded silver stags to make it past the barricade of spearmen that guarded the docks, and still needed to find a ship.

To Lys, to Braavos, to Westeros even, it didn't matter.

They had long since given up attachment to land or belongings over life. Such was the fate of their house, but they still lived.

Trying to go for a ship, Shienna instead was stopped by another swordsman, this one at the direction of a bureaucrat. "Payment for entry."

She blinked. "No, I paid there." Shienna pointed to the checkpoint, already beset by further thousands. Blood was already being spilled to control the crowd. "I already paid."

"That was for entry, not for passage out." Her eyes widened. These… these monsters. Pentos claimed to be a free city, but its bonded were slaves and even its freeborn were slaves to corruption. She had no further coin, and so was stuck.

"Muna…" Baeglora whined, tugging on her arm. "Are we gonna die?" Her lip trembled, eyes glistening with tears as Althor kept his hand on his dagger when a particular roar of the crowd threw themselves at the shield wall while sellswords charged into the gap to reinforce it - forced to grow up before she and Baeglor ever intended. He had seen so much, forced to survive instead of learning their house's birthright.

Shienna hated it, but as had been the case for the last six years, all that mattered was the matter of saving themselves. Again, she pushed it down deep and forced a smile upon her face. "Please, mi'lord. Let us through, I beg you."

His face was undeterred, and backed up by the freeborn sellswords brandishing swords at those that made it through the screen of spearmen holding the wall of panicked smallfolk behind them… he needed not be afraid of anything as was the case with oily bureaucrats. "Lest you have the payment for the ticket, I'll have to have you escorted out so that another can take your place."

"Please… I'll, I'll give you my ring." The words tasted like ash. Her grandmother's ring, an heirloom from before Old Valyria fell - an impossibly shaped set of jewels set in brightly polished Valyrian steel. Priceless amber and diamonds. Seeing it brought the man a covetous glee. "The ring for safe passage out."

"Muna, no!" Althor grabbed at her hand. "You can't sell our House's ring! We've already lost kepa's sword!"

The most prized possession of her late husband, only topped by her and the children… Baeglor would never part with it just as Shienna would sooner die than part with her ring under most circumstances, but what choice did she have? "We must survive, my sweet." His face showed heartbreak as he hugged his sister.

More than just the ring. The culmination of how far they fell.

Just about to remove it, a tall man with a warrior's build found himself in Shienna's vision - having suddenly walked from the docks behind the swordsmen and bureaucrat. "There you are, sister." At Shienna's blink, he laughed. "Hope you didn't get sidetracked for too long. I know you carry too little coin."

Confused for but a moment, Shienna recovered with the ease of a woman having spent her life living on her wits. "Aye, silly me, I suppose." A silent prayer to Vermithor that her son and daughter would either catch on or be too cowed to say anything. From how she cried, Baeglora was the latter… and it broke her heart.

Althor on the other hand was old enough to catch on. "Uncle… please help. The man is demanding muna's ring!" If a stranger would save them, she knew he'd take it. Herself too - suspicion could be held later.

"Is this true?" The man was polite but gave off a… dangerous air. Shienna could tell he shouldn't be trifled with.

The bureaucrat seemed to understand that just as well. "But… but… I can't let her in without payment."

"Will this do for the lot of them?" Out came five gold dragons, each bearing the sharp, handsome profile of King Rhaegar I Targaryen. The bureaucrat stared at them, as did Shienna. Passage cost half that number in silver stags bearing Tywin Lannister's face, those hard to come by for her either, hence having to sell her ring. "Aye?" The bureaucrat nodded, taking the coin and waving them through. "Good, sister. Follow me to our cabin. It is quite spacious."

Smiling for the sake of all else, Shienna pulled the children behind her before turning with a hard stare to the man. 'If you're expecting a… female companion for the remainder of the voyage, I'd rather jump into the sea."

He laughed. "Relax, I mean no dishonor to you or harm to the children." The man smiled at Althor and Baeglora, and while the two were guarded he put them slightly at ease. "No, when my companion sought me to save you, I couldn't refuse."

This was growing more confusing by the moment. "Your Companion?" A flash of the purest silver caught her eye and Shienna froze.

"The fire dancer in the flesh." Eyes sparkling, the girl from days before granted her a serene expression. "I believe it is time we meet at last."


A puff of mist leaving her mouth, Rhaenys rubbed her palms together before she drew her felt gloves. Ones designed both for warmth and for fighting. Everything was to be ready for the day.

"Ready, your Grace?" she heard her uncle Benjen ask, hands behind his back and dressed as a proper Kingsguard.

"Just about," she replied, grabbing her curved sword and glaive. Affixing the former about her waist while slinging the other about her shoulder. "Today is a momentous day." Grabbing a scrap of bacon from the unfinished breakfast, Rhaenys tossed it to Nysar, who devoured it whole. Tail wagging. She grew larger and larger by the day, bigger than all but the largest dogs. Easily able to traverse the snow.

A snort from her other companion. "Aye, fuckin' momentous." Sandor rolled his eyes. "Would be better if that cunt dragon would fly with us."

"Do not speak of my niece's mount in such crude manner," Benjen growled.

"What? Does the fuckin' dragon have a cock instead of a cunt?" the Hound remarked, nonplussed.

Smiling softly, Rhaenys drew her hair back in a severe bun before approaching her brother's sworn sword. "Oh, dog, simply remember that it is best not to insult someone that could seek you are 'accidentally lost' in the snowdrifts of the Haunted Forest. It can be so easy to misplace a person up there."

Sandor, for his part, smirked slightly. "That's the Saucy Snake I know," he chuckled. "Save the ferocity for the fuckin' wildlings."

Rhaenys grinned back, kissing her uncle's cheek before motioning them to join her outside in the courtyard.

The entirety of the Night's Watch was gathered within the courtyard of Castle Black, or what had to seem the entirety of the brotherhood. Rangers in their black cloaks, swords at their hips and on their horses ready to ride. Already the great steel gates groaned as the men at the top of the Wall hauled them open, exposing the even colder landscape beyond to the predations of the Seven Kingdoms. Today we ride, the army to follow upon the morrow.

She knew the plan. Find the Wildlings, while the majority of the Rangers lured them into a feigned retreat and the northern light cavalry would run them down. Easy pickings, if they would charge and pursue.

Given the wily Wildlings, it was a break even proposition.

Her uncle embraced her, kissing her brow. "Be careful, Rhaenys."

"I always will. You taught me to, after all," she replied, enjoying his warmth as she had since the age of three. Any chance you'll come with me? Rhaenys waited for Nymerion's answer as she greedily took in her uncle's embrace.

She didn't have to wait long. 'There is dark magic out there, muna. Please don't go.'

I must.

'Then forgive me if I don't join you.'

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. At least I'll have Nysar with me. Knowing it would cause Nymerion a bit of annoyance, she laughed as the dragon loudly shrieked, shaking her head and smirking. "Big fool." Pulling back from Ned's hug, she smiled at him. "Please don't be too far behind, and watch your back."

"I shall as well, dear niece." Sparing one last smile, she went to her horse and mounted it. Readying to ride as the gate finally opened fully. Alright… let's go. At the sound of the horn, the Night's Watch galloped out of Castle Black and towards the lands beyond the Wall. Rhaenys Targaryen among them, ready to prove herself.

A/N: Rhaenys is going on her adventure now, and Dany/Jon/Sansa have found someone new.

Do we think Sam got a proper reward?

Credit to my friend WrathofAvarice/GreedofRage for the characters of House Aekylosh. He created such wonderful characters - I'm just using them with his permission :D

Be sure to comment :D