King's Landing 306 AC.

The Kinslaying Hand.

Tyrion's day had started off so well. He'd woken and broken his fast on burned black bacon, cooked just how he liked it. Then he'd made his way to the offices he'd put aside for himself. The Tower of the Hand was still not yet truly habitable after the damage it had undergone. After looking over their reserves of coin and what taxes they had still to collect, Tyrion had found them to be in a far better position than he feared. True, they still had the Iron Bank to worry about and they'd be paying that debt for some considerable time, but they were far from bankrupt.

With thoughts of even further coin coming into their coffers from Bronn's dealings with the Lords of the Reach, Tyrion felt sure they'd be well able to manage the upcoming winter needs. Especially given that Bran said this winter would be a milder one than many thought. He was looking over the other matters of the realm that needed to be attended to. Some nonsense about Knights of the Vale riding North for some reason or other and a sighting of Ser Davos in Storm's End. As he was wondering about the nature of the one and ignoring the other, Samwell Tarly came running into his solar looking almost panic-stricken.

"Samwell?"

"A….R..RR...Raven, Lord Hand."

"One that's got you flustered, Samwell, why?" he asked almost amusedly, though the smirk he wore was soon wiped from his face by words written on the scroll he was handed.

"This can't be….it can't…"

"I knew he'd come for me, I knew it," Sam said worriedly.

Tyrion though barely heard the words that Sam was speaking. He barely heard any sounds at all. Other than the loud beating of his heart as he read the words that had been written by a man he'd given little thought to for the past year or more.

"Find out if more of these have been sent, Samwell." Tyrion said when he could actually form words "SAM!" he said loudly.

"I…At once, Lord Hand."

It was just as well he'd been seated when he'd been handed the raven's scroll. Had he been standing, then he'd have fallen to the ground. For Tyrion was certain he'd have lost the use of his legs or they'd be shaking so much that they'd not have held him up. Even now as he sat in his seat, his leg shook and the sound of his foot trembling on the floor rang out. Reaching out a shaky hand to his wine jug, Tyrion spilled as much as he poured into his glass and it was not until he'd drank another that he felt somewhat calm.

The raven's scroll was open on the desk and despite not wishing to read it once more, he had no choice but to do so. He needed to see if the words were the ones he had actually read or just the ones he believed had been written.

To the Kinslaying Hand and the Broken King.

For almost three hundred years my family sat the throne that Balerion forged. A throne built for and by a dragon and one destroyed by one too. For all of my life, I've had to grow up in a realm where the unworthy have placed their arses on my family's throne. It comforts me greatly knowing that your own unworthy arses will never befoul it as others have. Yet you befoul much with every breath you both take.

My birthright was denied to me for most of my life. Through lies first of all and then through a truth that was used against me. My life has been naught but a plaything for lesser men and women. Fool that I was, I thought myself lucky because of it. I'm a fool no more and never again shall anyone play their games at my expense.

I am Jacaerys Targaryen. The First of my Name. King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms of Men. The truth hidden from me and then used against me is one I now proclaim with all my might. I've called upon those who name their honor and loyalty as true things and not as traits to be used against them or discarded when it suits their interests. They and I are now set to one task and one task only. To take back that which was stolen from me and my House and to oppose those who wished to deny me the rights I was born with. The right to sit upon my family's throne, in the keep my family built, and in the seven kingdoms my family created. And the right to answer for my crimes in a true and legal way and not be denied the leave to do so.

I name myself a Kinslayer and a Queenslayer for that is what I am. Yet my reasons for doing so were good and true, while others wished my aunt dead for their own glory and gain. I name you both for the usurpers and murderers you are and will hold you to account for each and every one of your crimes. You can run and hide or stay and fight, it matters not to me. For I shall not rest until you've both breathed your last. More than three hundred years ago, the Kings of Westeros looked upon Aegon and believed him to be no true threat. My ancestor showed those kings mercy when he could. Yet I shall show you none. With no name and no claim to hold lands or wear a crown, I gathered the largest army the world has ever seen.

What will I do now I know who I truly am and what my rights entitle me to?

What lengths will I go to see you both pay for your crimes?

What will you do to stop me when not even death could hold me down?

Fire and Blood. Winter is Coming. Words in the wind both and none of them truly carry the resolve in my heart. Nor the determination that courses through my veins to see you pay for all you've done to my House and me. So I leave you with these instead.

I am wrath. I am rage. I am fury. I am death and that is the only peace for you that I carry with me.

Jacaerys Targaryen.

The One True King.

His hands shook as he poured himself a fresh glass of wine and drank it down. Tyrion's mind worked a hundred miles a moment as he tried to think about what he needed to do. When the first true thought came to him, he looked to find that Samwell Tarly had long since left his solar and so he and his guards hurried to the Grandmaester's chambers. All the way there, Tyrion considered and discarded plans.

Jon Snow was now the most serious problem the realm and he himself faced. They could name him as he had named himself, yet to what end? As much as his killing of Daenerys Targaryen could be used against him, it was lessened by many factors. Not least of which was Jon's own admittance of guilt. Truth be told, given what Daenerys and Drogon had done, there would be those who'd name Jon a bloody hero for ending her life.

'Drogon?' Tyrion thought worriedly.

Tyrion hurried his steps. The mere thought that Drogon and Jon Snow could be in this together was enough to almost still his heart. Tyrion racked his brain as he tried to remember all he knew about dragons. They bonded with those of Targaryen blood which was why Rhaegal had allowed Jon to fly on his back.

Would Drogon seek out the last Targaryen and bond with him?

Would his bond with his mother still matter now that she lived no more?

If Jon and Drogon were united, how could they be stopped?

Entering Samwell's rooms, he found the younger man in much the same state that Tyrion himself was. Though he'd not been mentioned by name in the raven's scroll, Tyrion would wager that there was no love left between Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly, at least on Jon's part. He'd wager too that should Jon actually win back the crown, then death was the only future his former brother of the Night's Watch would have.

"Send word to Highgarden, Samwell. Order Bronn to turn back at once." Tyrion said to no response "Now Samwell, lest we all face the white wolf's fury sooner than later."

With those words, Samwell immediately wrote out the message and Tyrion signed his name to it. Then he left the room and made his way in search of the king. He found Bran as always in his chambers and with his eyes glazed over. Their milky white appearance sent a shiver down Tyrion's spine as they discomforted him greatly. Knowing better than to try and speak to the Broken King, Tyrion stood and waited for Bran to come back from wherever it was he flew off to on these little jaunts of his. He was some time waiting and needed to take a seat to rest his sore legs while doing so.

"Lord Hand?" Bran asked as Tyrion rose to his feet and hurriedly handed Bran the raven's scroll.

It was a rare thing to see any emotion on Bran's face. Yet looking at him now, Tyrion saw what appeared at first to be surprise and then worry. Before he could explain what it was he had done to combat the words that Jon had written, Bran dismissed him from the room. As he walked from it, he looked back to see those eyes had turned milky white again and took a little comfort from the sight. This time he at least knew where Bran was going and what it was he was seeking. Tyrion hoped that he found him and that once he did, he then had a plan for dealing with Jon Snow. Leaving the room behind him, he began to make more of his own plans too.

Winterfell 306 AC.

The Red Queen.

Sansa had not expected to be so enraptured by Harrold Hardyng. His look was a pleasing one to her eye and he had charm and other attributes that she welcomed. Yet she had believed that no man would stir her heart. Nor would one even interest her enough so that she'd be willing to share her bed and her rule with them. The things Harrold spoke of, the plans he suggested allied to the threat that had become ever more real, had seen to all of that changing, however.

Lord Glover had failed so completely that he'd not even bothered to come and speak to her about it. The chastened lord had instead tucked his tail and ran back to Deepwood Motte with fewer men than he'd set out with. Fool that he was, he mayhap thought that he'd gather more men and complete his task before Sansa had heard of his return. Yet Sansa knew full well how to play these games and had ensured she was two steps ahead of Robett Glover and his ilk.

His defeat both helped and hindered her. It weakened him and so made Robett more pliable, or would. Yet the coin he'd promised her would now not arrive, something that irked her greatly. So when Harrold suggested that with the Vale as full and true allies that coin would become a lesser problem, Sansa had listened with intrigue and it had gained him more of her favor. As too had how warily Lord Wyman Manderly had looked upon the Knights of the Vale and her in turn. Sansa was fully aware she didn't have the full support of the Lord of White Harbor. She didn't have his fealty or respect and so she would be happy enough to have him fearful of her.

Still, it wasn't truly the North and what having the Vale with her meant in regards to her rule there that had won Harrold all his favor. Instead, it was the threat that no longer came from Beyond the Wall. Deep in her heart, Sansa had always known that Jon would never accept his lot in life. Bastards never did as her mother had often warned her. She'd seen it for herself too when he'd taken the crown that was rightfully hers after the Battle of the Bastards. So she'd always expected some movement from Jon at some point, just not this one.

"A raven, your grace. From the Reach, I believe?" Wolkan said.

"The Reach? Which House?"

"I know not, your grace. I'm not even certain it is from the Reach other than it's different from the ones we've received from other regions."

Sansa nodded and then glared at her Maester for not mentioning the sigil that was unbroken on the raven's scroll. Looking upon it, she cared not where it had been sent from, only who had sent it. Something there was no need for her to consider even as she broke past the red dragon and white wolf. Seeing the opening words, looking past them to the signature at the bottom and what he now named himself, Sansa shivered. By the time she'd actually read the full contents, she was shaking.

The scroll was now locked away in her desk and Sansa had no need to read it again to know what words it contained. Those words had been enough for her and Harrold to speak more freely and she had made it clear that he needed to be more than simply the heir to the Vale to win the hand of a queen. His words should have worried her. What he then proposed should have been enough to cost him his head. Yet, they instead proved him worthy of being her consort. Of being more than that given he was bringing a kingdom to the alliance they'd see formed between them.

Since then, ravens had been sent out and a wedding had been prepared to be held in Winterfell. A far different wedding than the last one she'd known here. She and Harrold had shared some kisses with each other and to her delight, they'd not repulsed her as the thoughts of having to do so once had. Sansa even enjoyed the thoughts she had of seeing what Harrold looked like unclothed and what their coupling may be like. Again it was not something she'd expected and so it was more than welcomed. What was not, was the raven's scroll from Tyrion and her brother that she now shared with her betrothed.

"Read this" Sansa said angrily as she handed the scroll to Harrold.

"They dare ask for your aid." Harrold laughed.

"After denying me their own." she scoffed "A common enemy. One we'd do well to band together to face, of all the nerve….."

The embrace was welcomed. As too was the soft kiss first to her cheek and then to her lips. Sansa had forgotten just how much comfort the touch of another could bring her. At Castle Black when she'd arrived and been embraced by Jon, she'd felt a piece of heart heal itself. It was the same with Arya and even Bran despite his oddness. Yet other than those three, no one else's touch brought her any respite from her worries and fears. Harrold's did. As did the words he spoke softly in her ear.

"I've sent word to the Vale, Sansa. All should be taken care of before we're to be wed."

"For true?" she asked hopefully.

"For true," Harrold replied and this time it was she who initiated their kissing.

It was getting harder and harder for her to hold back from doing more than just kissing. Watching Harrold beat all comers in the sparring yard. Dancing with him at their nightly feasts. Walking with him along the parapets of Winterfell and listening to him speak of the things he would do to Jon Snow, all of it enflamed her heart so.

Nothing did it more than when the raven arrived bearing the news they wished for from the Vale and Sansa found she could wait no longer. Lord Glover, Lord Reed, and Lord Manderly had not arrived and she doubted any of them would. While the latter two gave her pause over their reasons, she worried about them or the first one, not. Not only did she have Harrold and the Knights of the Vale he'd brought to her, she now had the entirety of the Vale to call upon as well.

As her wedding was brought forward, Sansa listened to Harrold's plans to deal with Jon Snow. That he wished to use Tyrion and Bran to move first was something she truly enjoyed hearing. For no longer would she be content with one or even two kingdoms under her control.

She deserved more.

She was destined for more.

She and Harrold would have more.

Saying her goodnights to Harrold at her door for the last time as a single lady, Sansa entered her chambers and was helped to undress. The scars on her body had faded some. Enough so they were not repellent when she looked upon them. Her body was as firm as it could be. At one and twenty, she was as desirable to look at as she had been at six and ten. Dismissing her servants, Sansa looked to her bed, and yet it was her desk that drew her attention. Walking to it, she opened the drawer and took out the raven's scroll. Though broken, the sigil of the red dragon and white wolf could still be seen clearly. Steadying herself, she began to read the words once more, even though she needed not to look at the scroll to do so.

To the Red Queen.

I named you a sister once. A cousin for true, yet a sister of my heart. I would have gladly given my life if it bought you one less day of suffering or one more day in this world. For though they were not my words, Family, Duty, and Honor were words I spent my whole life trying to live up to. Would that they were words you spent even one moment doing likewise.

A Northern Fool. A Bastard. A Man of the Night's Watch. A Lord Commander and a King. I've been one and all of those things at one time or another. What I've never been however is a Stark. Not in name nor in how my so-called family looked upon me. For when they did so, they saw only a Snow. Only a tool that could be used and discarded once they were finished with it. They, and you most of all, saw me as lesser than what I truly was. Now I finally see you for what you truly are, Sansa Stark.

You wear a crown that is mine by right. Sit in a seat that cost blood to take back and none of it was blood that was spilled by you. You are a woman who cares not for anything but herself and her own wants. A woman who will do whatever it takes to achieve her goals, no matter who is hurt or lost in the process. So be it, for I am now a man of equal resolve. Jon Snow is dead, Sansa. You, Bran, Arya, Tyrion, and Sam, killed him though you knew it not. You did what knives in the dark could not and I thank you all for it. It is the last thanks you'll ever get from me and the last kind word I'll ever utter in your direction.

My name is Jacaerys Targaryen. I am the rightful heir to the Winter and Iron Thrones and I will have what was stolen from me and my House. No matter the blood I must spill in order to do so. I am a Kinslayer, a Queenslayer, a man without family or blood in this world anymore. I know what awaits me when I draw my last breath and I take comfort in knowing what awaits you most of all. It's not Winter that is Coming, Sansa, nor will I bring me with Fire and Blood. Each breath you take, each dawn you see is one you do so by my discretion and one that takes you ever closer to your last.

I am Death, Sansa, and the only thing you can say to me is, Will it be Today? Listen closely to the wind for soon enough you'll hear its answer and its voice will be one you know all too well. Death comes for us all and when it comes to you, the smile it wears upon its face will be the truest one I've worn in all my years.

Jacaerys Targaryen,

The One True King.

Sansa shakily placed the raven's scroll back in the drawer and moved to her bed. Wrapping herself up in her blankets and hugging her pillow tight to her chest, she tried to ignore the sound of the wind blowing against the window. Closing her eyes, she tried to take comfort in the fact that after the morrow, she'd no longer be laying in bed alone. As she did in the hope that Harrold's blade proved truer than Jon's when the time came and death finally called.

The Vale of Arryn 306 AC.

The Widowed Wheel.

Lady Anya Waynwood looked over the raven's scroll and shuddered. The dragons were not as dead as everyone believed them to be. It surprised her greatly and yet did not when she read the words once again. Long had she doubted Eddard Stark's story about fathering a bastard boy. Or mayhap to be more truthful, long had she carried a doubt about it while accepting it all the same. So to find out now, after all these years, that Jon Snow was no bastard at all. Nor was he the son of the man who named him so, was not as big a shock to her as it may be to others.

Reading the words once more, Anya tried to make sense of other things too. That he named himself a Kinslayer and Queenslayer was a surprise and yet not. A Stark he may not be in name, yet the blood of the wolf and the honor of his uncle was something Jacaerys Targaryen bore just as truly. Given what Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon had done to King's Landing, the former queen was not someone that anyone in the Vale mourned. Knowing who her father was, Daenerys was not even someone they had wished to swear allegiance to.

'Would that be the same for Jacaerys Targaryen,' Anya wondered.

The lad's father would to some be considered just as bad as Aerys was. Yet most would not think of Rhaegar Targaryen that way. His son would have gained much support were his truth to be known. He may gain much support still. Taking a seat, Anya placed the scroll on her table and began to play things out in her mind. Soon enough she found questions that had no answers. Or none yet at least.

Why was this not revealed to them at the time?

Why did they swear to Brandon Stark when a son of Rhaegar Targaryen lived?

Why was that son then sent to the Wall for a crime that none would see as such?

The words written on the scroll called out Brandon Stark and Sansa Stark as being guilty of many things. They named Tyrion Lannister as the evil spiteful creature that most people already believed the Imp to be. Jacaerys freely admitted his own part in things while calling out others for theirs. They were powerful words indeed. Given that Anya was sure the Broken King in the South and the Red Queen in the North, as well as the Hand of the King, had few who loved them, they were words that provided a viable alternative. So the first question she now faced was whether it would be an alternative that would garner much support in the Vale. While there were second, third, and fourth questions to be answered too.

Did this raven change her own plans?

Should it?

Or should she continue on the path she'd begun to walk?

Unable to decide as of yet, Anya placed the raven's scroll in her drawer and went about her day's work.

Less than a week later she had been summoned to the Eyrie by her liege lord. Anya traveled there with thoughts other than Jacaerys Targaryen on her mind. Harrold had succeeded in his true mission in the North. He'd done so far more quickly than she'd dared to hope. Sansa Stark was not only open to the idea of marrying her former ward, she was most keen on it. It had been why she'd bid him offer up his services to Robin Arryn so completely. Why she had whispered in her liege lord's ear that he should grasp the opportunity that his cousin's status as a queen had given him.

Small nudges, talk of a falcon soaring higher than any that came before it. Even tales being spoken of how proud his father would be to see his son finally sit on the Iron Throne had all been eaten up by Robin Arryn as eagerly as he'd once suckled at his mother's teat. Grown though he was and stronger than any of them had ever wagered he'd be, Robin was still a weak and pitiful excuse for a man in Anya's eyes. Certainly not a man who could see the Vale prosper in the new world they found themselves in.

In time she'd have stirred up the Faith against the Broken King. Well-placed words about having a heathen sit on the Iron Throne would be enough to bring them to the side of a true man of faith. One she'd provide for them in Harrold Hardyng. She'd use Tyrion Lannister being Hand, Samwell Tarly being Grandmaester, and the Sellsword as Warden of the Reach to bring others to her side. The Reach Lords already bristled and would join any cause that removed Bronn of the Blackwater from the position he had no right to hold. Words spoken by Maesters Colemon, Helliweg, and her own Maester Gardyne, were more than enough to tell her how annoyed the Citadel was at the Broken King. Her plans were sound and would see her House rise higher than she'd ever dared to dream. Or so she had believed. Now, she was more unsure of some or all of those plans.

"Mother?" Morton asked worriedly upon seeing her expression as they rode in the carriage.

"It's nothing, just travel making me bored as usual." she lied.

By the time she had reached the Eyrie, Anya was resolved once more. She smiled and played nice with those already there. When she was greeted by her liege lord, she bid Robin a fond hello. False though her tone and smile both were when she did so. Anya was barely given time to settle and change before she was asked to join Robin in his solar. The words he spoke to her and the raven's scrolls he showed her were both more than enough to firm her plans up even more.

"A dragon, how is there a dragon still alive?" Robin ranted.

"They were all supposed to be dead."

"She was the last of them."

"Is this even true?"

Knowing her liege lord as well as she did after having taken great pains to get closer to Robin Arryn, Anya was well aware of his moods. He was still at times the same spoiled and petulant boy he'd always been. Though with her help some of it had been contained more to private rooms than the more public outbursts they'd all had to suffer through for years. All she needed to do now was to let him get it all off his chest and hope he did so more quickly than was sometimes his wont.

"Mother warned me of him."

"Of this Jon Snow."

"She feared he'd usurp my cousins when all the time it was me he wished to usurp."

Any sat and allowed Robin to shout himself out. She tried not to laugh at the idea that he believed himself as the aggrieved party in any of this. His rights were never in danger from Jacaerys Targaryen and the only reason he felt they were was because of the words she'd whispered in his ear.

"You have more a right to the Iron Throne than your cousin, my lord."

"You'd make a far better king than a faithless heathen, would you not?"

"I'm certain were your father here then he'd wish to see you fly even higher than he had ever soared."

Anya didn't even have to close her eyes to hear the words she'd whispered over the past year or so. Looking to Robin as he took a seat, calm for now, Anya waited to see what would be said next. There were no words spoken when she was handed the raven's scroll from King's Landing. None uttered by her until she was finished reading it. The call to arms was one they'd not follow, or at least not follow truly. Yet she would need to speak to Morton and Donnel, along with some of the lords and Knights of the Vale, to see if a military advantage could be found in a mummery of sorts.

"I'll not march with the Broken King nor the Imp. Not when the Dragon is the true threat to my crown." Robin said and Anya smiled and nodded her head.

"You should go hawking, my lord." she said after a moment of silence "You know how much it helps you to think things through."

"It does, it does," Robin said happily.

"I'll speak to some of the other lords about a plan of action, my lord. See where their minds are so that you can present them with one they'll most wish to follow."

"I thank you, Lady Anya. Your counsel is much appreciated."

"And is yours for as long as you require it, my lord."

The next morning she watched as they rode out of the main gate of the Eyrie. Her son Donnel was speaking to Robin and making him chuckle while Ser Sandor Frey spoke to Ser Lothor Brune before nodding in her direction.

Anya spent the day in talks with her fellow Vale Lords and Knights. Ser Symond Templeton, Lord Yohn Royce, and others. The Bronze Lord made it more than clear that he'd have no intent to kneel to Jon Snow was he who he'd known him to be and even less of one to kneel to him given who he truly was. The former Bastard of Winterfell had made no friend on the battlefield in Yohn Royce. Thank the gods.

It was mid-afternoon when the news reached them and late in the day when the body was brought back. The fall had broken Robin Arryn's neck and though there was some true mourning, Anya sensed great relief too. Ser Lothor's actions had cost her greatly in terms of coin and would hopefully reap her many rewards in the future. Given the depth of feeling about the dragon that sought the throne and the Broken King who sat upon it, her words on Harrold and the offer she now wished him to make to Sansa Stark were ones that were most welcomed.

A king and queen they could all rally behind, or so Yohn Royce declared loudly. Anya's path was now set and she prayed it was the right one. For if it was not, she doubted she'd escape the dragon's flames when they came her way.

Oldtown 306 AC.

The Azure Lady.

Desmera was at a loss for what to do. Ser Baelor and his wife were gracious hosts and she'd spent some time speaking to Lord Leyton. The newly named Warden of the South had sought her company out more than once. His conversation hinted without coming right out and asking whether or not she wished to be Jacaerys' queen.

Somehow she kept from actually saying so. Instead, she spoke of the future in more abstract terms. Desmera asked more and more about the war they were to fight in. Her worries about whether or not they had the numbers to win that war were ones that were always present and rarely ones that were assuaged. Not by the words spoken to her by Ser Baelon or his father. Nor even by the ones spoken to her by her mother when she too tried to calm her rapidly beating heart.

Lady Malora had been able to make her worry less. Jacaerys himself even more so. Yet both were now or soon to be in the midst of a battle and it was truly the latter of them she worried most about. So her nights were spent standing on the balcony that she'd somewhat shared with the king's own rooms. Her eyes would look to the sky and to the now-closed doors that led to Jacaerys' bedchamber. She'd at times close them and almost hear his voice.

"You're cold, Desmera," Jacaerys said as he placed his cloak upon her shoulders.

"I…will you not be cold now too, Jacaerys?"

"I'm of the North, it's long been something I've become used to. Besides the Reach is far from cold." he chuckled.

Her days were spent either doing so-called ladylike pursuits such as embroidering, teas, and gossip or some other what now felt dull and boring activity. Or with dealing with her new responsibilities as Lady of the Arbor. Desmera met with the captains of what was now her fleet. She bid them good fortune on their journeys or welcomed them back from wherever it was they'd been. Listened to their tales and spoke to them on the possibility that they'd soon be called to sail their fleet not for trade or in the protection of that trade, but for war.

"We'll be ready, my lady."

"Our holds are fully stocked for whatever task you set us to."

"The men will fight for you, milady, always."

Their words made her so very proud of them and yet she had no wish to see them fight. It made her wonder if they could be used in some other way and so she spoke to both Lord Leyton and Ser Baelor to see what the king's plans may be. It surprised her that they knew so little. That other than the fight against Lord Bronn, they'd not spoken too much of the war to come. Their lack of knowledge worried her greatly and made her question if Jacaerys actually had a plan or not. Something that shamed her a little when the ravens began to arrive and she was made privy to their contents.

"You wished to see me, Lord Leyton?" she asked as she was bid to take a seat across from Lord Leyton and Ser Baelor.

"We've received the first answers to his grace's ravens, Lady Desmera. My son and I believe you'll be most comforted by their contents."

"I would?" she asked.

"From Casterly Rock, Driftmark, Claw Isle, Sweetport Sound." Lord Leyton said pointing to what Desmera now saw were dozens of raven scrolls.

"The Iron Islands, White Harbor, Greywater Watch, Gulltown, Maidenpool, Seagard, and more Houses send their replies each day." Ser Baelor said with a beaming smile on his face.

"Words of support?" she asked hopefully.

"Take a look for yourself."

She picked up the one from White Harbor. Knowing that support in the North would mean much to Jacaerys and her own smile was just as true as Ser Baelor's as she read first it and then the one from the Neck.

"We know no king but the King in the North whose mother was a Stark," she said, repeating the words that Lord Howland Reed had written.

Both Lady Genna Lannister and Yara Greyjoy had written of accepting the offers that had been made to them. While others had named Jacaerys Targaryen as their one and only king. The dragons still had supporters in the realm and when she asked Lord Leyton what this meant in terms of numbers, she was stunned by the reply.

"If we take it that the Broken King has the majority of the Riverlands through his uncle. That some of the North come to him through his sister." Leyton began and then waved off something that Ser Baelor was about to say "We know not how Ser Davos fared in the Stormlands, but let's name them as enemies for now and do so too with the Vale."

"Dorne?" she asked.

"Have answered not, but I believe the banker was traveling there from here." Lord Leyton said to a nod from Ser Baelor "No matter for now. Anyway, should the Broken King bring all he has to bear then I'd wager in total he'd not reach 100,000 men at arms."

Desmera shuddered at the number. Surely it could not be so many.

"The West, the Iron Islands, the Lord of the Narrow Sea. The Houses who've already pledged to his grace and our own forces. I'd name it as close to twice that number, at least that number, and half again. What say you, Baelor?"

"At least, father. With more to come too. His grace spoke of the Company of the Rose. Other Leal Houses will come to his side once they see the numbers we can gather and once news spreads of the victory at Highgarden…."

"The battle has been won?" she interrupted. Desmera was relieved only to then find it was only that Ser Baelor thought it to be a foregone conclusion.

"No, but I have no doubts it will be." Ser Baelor said.

"True enough and once news of it spreads…." Lord Leyton added.

Desmera tuned out the rest of the words spoken. Her worries now increased that the battle would be less of a forgone conclusion than either man said it would. At dinner that night, she ate sparingly. Once it was done, she took herself to her room. Once again found herself standing alone on her balcony looking out at the night sky.

When she saw the Gyrfalcon fly towards her, she at first paid it no mind. Only the whiteness of its feathers against the night sky forced her to look at it more closely. From a distance, it almost looked like one of the stars in the sky. The more attention she paid to it, the more wondrous it looked to her. It seemed to almost glide the closer it got to her and to her surprise and delight, it soon landed right on the balcony wall a few feet from where she stood.

Torn between moving to the bird or going into her room to see if she could find some food for it, Desmera eventually took small steps in its direction. She feared frightening it away at some point. Which was truly a silly thought. The Gyrfalcon was large and though at the moment it was placid, it could turn vicious in the blink of an eye. It would not be scared of a mere slip of a girl like Desmera and if anything she should be the one who was fearful. Not that she was and when she reached it and touched its soft feathers, she wondered if it was the king's own bird that had come to visit her. It took her more than a moment to remember that it was an eagle the king had named his own and not a gyrfalcon. Another moment to then see the scroll that was attached to the bird's leg.

"Is that for me?" she asked and was stunned when the Gyrfalcon squawked in reply.

Moving her fingers to the scroll, she untied it and then was startled when the bird took to the sky and flew away. There was no seal and though it was a night with a full moon, it was too dark to read the words out on the balcony. So Desmera walked into her room and sat down on her bed to do so. Her heart stilled and the smile she wore was a true one as she read what had been written in Lady Malora's hand.

Desmera,

The battle was a resounding success and Highgarden is now free of its former Lord. Lord Bronn died at his grace's own hands and his army was routed. We shall stay a day or more at Highgarden before we return to Oldtown to firm up the rest of our plans. I would bid you to place any travel plans on hold, for there are things that must be spoken of, words that must be uttered, and a future that must be resolved.

Malora.

The words allowed her to sleep comfortably that night and the next day news arrived from the king himself. Two messages. One for Lord Leyton and one for her. Reading her own message written in the king's own hand was a boon she most enjoyed. The words were simple and yet carried a promise within them, a promise that she hoped to see fulfilled. For the next few days, Desmera counted them off as she had once counted off the days that would lead to her Nameday. They received one more message from Lady Malora telling them that she and the king along with their escort would arrive on the morrow bearing a gift from the very gods themselves. That night, Desmera barely slept and when she did, her dreams were of a red dragon, a white wolf, an eagle, and the king they all followed.

Highgarden 306 AC.

The Lady in the Tower.

Forward, backward, the past, and the future, Malora spent as much time sailing the river of time as she did looking at what was going on around her. She wagered that the Broken King was doing likewise. Though she wondered if he was having as much success as her in doing so. The power that she carried within her was still untapped in its potential. She'd used more and more of it and learned much through it. Yet it would be years until she mastered it. If she ever mastered it at all that was.

A part of her had feared that the Broken King was too strong for her to counter. As while it was all still new to her, Brandon Stark had already had years to learn as much as he could. Yet something inside her told her that he'd wasted much of that time too. That instead of using it to master each and every one of the powers that the Three-Eyed Raven had, he concentrated on powers that he believed were more useful to him than others. Darker and more disturbing powers that should not be used.

Malora used her newfound power for what it had always been meant to be used for. Watch and wait, sit and take note. Then when the time came, help the Prince that was Promised to fulfill his destiny. That was what Bloodraven had sought to do. What he had believed that Bran's bond of blood with the prince would lead him to do and where he had failed so truly.

'Or did I?" the voice said deep within her said.

Her first task once she'd sent allies to the prince had been to deal with the ravens that would be sent to spy on them once he arrived. Malora had found certain things out during her own time flying with the birds she'd chosen. It was impossible to keep the link open at all times. Yet over time, your bond strengthened so much that there was no need to. You could direct the bird to go where you wished it to and just join it at different points during the journey. When your bond was as strong as it needed to be, something which took time and great effort, you could then simply open the bird's mind to your own at will.

It was an enlightening experience, to say the least. As not only did you not need to see things through the bird's eyes all the time, but things the bird saw during its flight were easily available to you. True it took time to master even this ability, but once it was, it opened up many possibilities. Her next discovery was that one warg could easily recognize another. Either through touch, look, or through their familiars. They gave off a certain glow, a certain color, and shade. Brighter or darker depending on how strong the warg was.

The Broken King's was a dark grey that was almost black. In some ways, his familiars bore the same color as Jace's eyes which made them easy for her to make them out. Should Bran be actually flying within the raven when she saw them in the sky or elsewhere, then that grey would definitely be darker. Though as of yet, Malora had only found him in ravens occasionally. Mainly it was those he'd taken and set to task. Bran ready to rejoin them on their journey when it best suited him, or so he thought. Malora took great pleasure in stopping that from taking place and her own flock of hawks, falcons, and especially gyrfalcons had dined well on the black birds that Bran continued to use almost exclusively.

How many ravens had met their ends at the hands of her birds was a mystery even to Malora. Syrax though was the true mistress of the skies when it came to ending their service to the Broken King. The eagle just like the White Wolf gave off a bright almost shining light when Malora looked at them. One that was matched by the prince they were bonded to. Malora had believed it showed Jace's warging skills needed work, only to find out they very much did not. While not as strong as her or Bran, the prince was as he was with every activity he did, eager to become more skilled and dedicated to doing so. One day she believed there would be no warg more powerful than Jacaerys Targaryen other than herself or Brandon Stark. Although by the time that day came, she wouldn't like to wager on the odds that Brandon Stark breathed still.

Opening her eyes. Malora readied for the day ahead. Her birds patrolled the skies around Highgarden and Oldtown. The messages that had been sent had been received and answered and it was now time to do something that no one in Westeros had done in more than a century and a half. Wake a dragon from stone. Malora left her room and made her way to the king's chambers. She passed the numerous guards along the way. Men from her House, from other Reach Houses, and more and more men wearing the green apple of the new Lord and Lady of Highgarden. Sigorn was on duty this evening and the young Kingsguard offered her a wary smile before knocking at the door and bidding her to enter a moment later.

"My lady is it time?" the king said eagerly.

"You've been waiting for me, Jace?" she asked informally knowing that the king preferred it.

"Rarely have I felt this way on my Nameday, Malora. They were not usually days that were celebrated much when I was younger. A pat on the back from my uncle and some gifts from my brother Robb and well wishes from Arya. Mayhap an extra dessert should Lady Catelyn not be looking my way."

"And after you left Winterfell?" she asked, though she already knew the words he'd reply with.

"We celebrated little at the Wall or beyond it." Jace said rising to his feet and moving to the fire "This day though…" he said as he took the egg from the embers, its heat not bothering him as he did so.

"You're sure you wish no one to witness this, Jace?" she asked once again, he'd told her no more than once what his reasons for it were and yet he now did so again.

"I understand your points, Malora. I know what seeing a dragon hatch would do. Ser Jorah Mormont was there the day my… when Daenerys' dragons were hatched and he spoke of it with awe and majesty. It brought the small remnants of Khal Drogo's Khalasar to her side even more truly and probably bought Ser Jorah's loyalty completely."

"And yet…."

"And yet I trust few people with much of the truth of me. The real truth of who I am and not my name or birthright. Few people are truly within my inner circle and so it's only they who'll see it for true. Others will just have to make do with seeing a dragon in the flesh." Jace japed.

Her brother had joined up with them by the time they left the keep. Humfrey, Tormund, Val, and the rest of the Free Folk along with her, Jace, Sigorn, and Ghost were the only ones who moved to the Weirwood tree. The Three Singers was as old as time itself. Planted by Garth Greenhand, they had started out as three giant Weirwoods and over time had become entangled in each other so that now they almost seemed to be one tree. In their shade, a dark pool rested and when they reached them, she and all those present looked on as Jace began to undress. Once he was standing there as naked as the day he was born, she and the others watched as he picked up the egg and with it in his arms, he jumped into the water before disappearing from view.

It was the light that drew their attention to the water after that. The almost beam of it as Jace and the dragon egg reappeared. Malora couldn't quite make out what it was that Jace held in his hands, though she had no need to. Just as the Children of the Forest before him, Jace held what to all eyes would look like a simple acorn. It was very much not. No acorn ever shined as brightly as this and when he climbed from the pool and placed it next to the dragon's egg, Malora smiled. As she did when Jace was given something to dry himself with and began to redress.

They stood for close to an hour without anything happening other than the light from the acorn growing dimmer. Then the egg began to crack and break open and all eyes looked to the small red dragon as it forced its way out from the broken shell. The screech it made was loud as its dark purple eyes took in the sight of all those who stared its way. When it found the grey eyes of its rider, however, it was a far more joyful sound it let out. It trilled as it took to the sky and landed in Jace's arms. Trilled even more loudly when Jace softly stroked it with his fingers. With a nod to Sigorn, Dark Sister was handed to Jace who then brushed the blade lightly over his palm. The red dragon drank the spilled blood eagerly and for some time. When it was finished it let out a far louder roar than a thing of its size should be able to. Yet through it all, Malora found her eyes on Jace's own, and she most welcomed the look of true contentment she saw there.

Highgarden 306 AC.

The White Dragon.

He'd been killing time. Doing things for the sake of doing them rather than because he wished to. True he'd made plans and had awaited responses to the messages he'd sent from Oldtown, but in truth, all Jace was doing was counting down the days until his Nameday arrived.

After the victory and he'd dealt with the dead, they'd ridden to Highgarden in the company of the new lord. Lady Janna arrived not long after them and they held a feast of celebration while the new Lord and Lady of the keep made it their own. Fossoway men now garrisoned it and some servants had already been dismissed while others would be kept on. Given the lands that surrounded it and would now be part of their holdings, Jace had made Jon Fossoway and his wife, the former Janna Tyrell, rulers of one of the wealthiest Houses in the Reach. More than that, he'd won their loyalty completely. As soon he was to find he'd done so with others too.

The Lords of the Narrow Sea coming to his side was not a great surprise. Nor were some of the other Houses who'd been Leal to his own. Lady Genna Lannister accepting his offer was somewhat expected as was Yara Greyjoy, though neither could be trusted fully. He'd heard no news from Davos other than Malora telling him that his Hand had left the Stormlands alone, which suggested that Gendry had refused his offer. It was some of the others that surprised Jace though. Seagard he'd not counted on, yet was most grateful to have on his side. Lord Manderly he'd hoped for, yet feared he'd not get. It was House Reed though, they were who truly brought him joy when Malora told him that they'd declared for him and what words they'd used to do so.

"We know no king but the King in the North whose mother was a Stark."

Even was their declaration not to be enough, which it was. Those words instilled something in him that he'd thought he had lost. Hope. A hope that he'd find someone who knew of his mother and his father. Someone who could tell him tales of them that painted them in a true light. There were those in the Reach who'd met his father, yet few who actually knew him. As for his mother, those who could tell him of her were long since gone. Though there was one at Winterfell who may still live and who would have known her well.

Jace though didn't know how long it would be until he saw Winterfell again and Old Nan had been one of the oldest people he'd ever known even when he'd left for the Wall. She lived still or had when he marched south with Daenerys. Who knew if she'd still be living when he turned his thoughts to the North once more? Howland Reed though was a younger man. Around his uncle's age if Jace was right. He lived and he could tell him things that he so longed to hear. Things he had believed he never would. So hearing that he had named him as his king, Jace asked Malora to send a message directly to the Lord of the Crannogs and then he went back to killing time and waiting for the day to come.

Now as he walked back from the Godswood, the red dragon resting on his shoulder, Jace felt the eyes as they looked his way. Syrax had refused to let the dragon have all his attention and so she too had forced her way to his side. The red dragon and the golden eagle, Syrax's feathers having finally taken on their true color or been shed since coming to warmer lands, were both as eager for his attention as the other. So Jace gave it to them as equally as he could. Ghost was more sure of his place in Jace's heart and needed no such show of loyalty as Syrax did. Yet Jace was sure to give him attention too as they walked into the keep and back up to his rooms.

"You named it yet, King Crow?" Val asked as they walked.

"I had thought to name it after my mother or my father, mayhap even both, and yet no name I come up with fits him right."

"Him?" Tormund asked confused "How can you know it's him?"

"Have you not seen his mighty member?" he japed to a loud chuckle from Val.

"Fuck off, King Crow," Tormund said, though he was amused too given his smirk.

"I know he's him the same way I did with Ghost or knew Syrax was her, Tormund. I feel it, here," he said touching his chest.

"So his name?" Val asked.

"I had thought of Rhaennax or Lygaros." he said and tried not to laugh at how both Tormund and Val scrunched up their noses in disgust "Or even Caraxes," he added to confused looks.

"After the Blood Wyrm, your grace." Ser Humfrey said and Jace nodded.

"The Blood Wyrm?" Sigorn asked as they neared his rooms.

"A famous dragon that was ridden by one of my ancestors, Sigorn."

"It is good to honor them so, King Crow," Sigorn said thinking no doubt of his own as he did so.

Upon reaching the room, he asked for raw meat to be brought to him. Enough food for Ghost, Syrax, and the red dragon. Entering the room alone, he still hadn't yet decided on the red dragon's name and he swore that it looked at him almost impatiently because of it. When the food arrived, he fed Ghost first, followed by Syrax. Taking a seat by the fire, he tried to get the red dragon to cook his own food but no flames came from its mouth. So instead, Jace cooked it on the fire and fed him by hand.

He was more than pleased with the appetite it showed when eating the food. Then once it was full, the red dragon moved closer to his chest. Syrax flew over and landed beside him a moment later. Laying down on the floor, Jace must have looked quite a sight. Ghost too had joined the red dragon and the golden eagle and while those two rested against each of Jace's arms, Ghost placed his head on Jace's stomach before dosing off to sleep. It didn't take long for Jace to join them. His dreams that night were of sitting on a newly forged Iron Throne.

Beside him, Desmera sat wearing her own crown. While in front of them, two young boys and a girl stood dressed in red and black. All three of them bore the silver hair of House Targaryen. The two boys' eyes were as violet as Dany's had once been. While the girl had grey eyes much like his own. Jace didn't need to hear their names to know they were his children. Yet hearing them was a most welcome sound.

"Rhaegar, Aemon, Lyanna, behave. You are princes and a princess of House Targaryen and you know how important today is." Desmera said firmly.

"I'm sorry, mother, father," Lyanna said, before looking out the window.

"Very well, after we greet our guests I'll take you all flying. You too, wife." Jace said to his children's joy and a roll of his wife's eyes.

The only sound louder than the children's happy squeals came from outside the window as the red dragon, now far larger, and the three other dragons that could only belong to the children in front of him, all flew by.

When he woke the next morning it was to find the red dragon had woken before him. Standing on his chest with its head tilted to one side as if it had been waiting for him, the deep purple eyes stared into Jace's grey ones inquisitively.

"Aegarax," he said to a trill. "Aegarax," he repeated to an even louder trill.

Rising to his feet, holding Aegarax in his hands, Jace moved to the plate of meat and picked a piece up on his fork. He'd considered many names, some that were combinations of his mother and father's to form a word or some to honor the dragons that came before this one. At one point he'd thought to name the red dragon, Vēdros (Fury) to match what he carried in his heart. Yet that was how he felt, not how the red dragon did. While he may in time be the expression of Jace's fury, it was not a good and true name.

The dream had provided the answer. For just as Jace was the beginning of his House once more. Just as he was the start and creator or the new House Targaryen, so too would be the red dragon for the dragons that came after it. Aegarax had created the first dragon. It was only fitting that he'd do so once again. Holding the piece of meat in front of the red dragon, Jace spoke the word and his name once more.

"Dracarys, Aegarax," he said and the blue flame covered the meat instantly.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: The Company of the Rose arrives back in Westeros for the first time in over 300 years. Sansa and Harrold marry while Howland Reed receives a request that stirs up old memories. Bran finds few answers as Aegarax proves an even more lethal raven-killing machine than Syrax. While Jacaerys arrives back in Oldtown and makes plans for the future, personal and for the realm.

For those following my other fics, Aemon the Dragonknight, The Dragonverse, and When the Dragon Danced are up next.

Missed Reviews.

Matt Black: I agree with that completely. I think they worked best together and had Jon just reached out properly then things would be different. The showrunners forced her descent so quickly and used the truth of Jon to do it. It was piss poor writing and it's why we all still have so much trouble accepting it. Hell, they even dropped both the Marriage for Alliance thing they started when Daario was dumped and the possibility of Dany getting pregnant that they alluded to during the Dragonpit scene, all so they could force their plot points.

It takes a lot of skill to dual-wield. You see Jon trying it and failing miserably and he will try again, but it really takes some skill and a skilled teacher in order for it even to be a possibility. It takes time too, so while it may be something he can do in the future, for now, he'll wield one sword and may alternate.

You can argue that Jon is grieving and he's still young and inexperienced. Older men than he have taken more time to get over the loss of a love. And no I don't mean Robert Baratheon lol. So I can let his emo side slide when it comes to Val. I hinted at it here, because the wound is still fresh and also so it could compare with how he may react to another lady.

Chapter 6 Reviews.

Finkarhu: You're welcome.

Daryldixon: They will all play in time.

Creativo: Jaja, cierto por cierto.

King Mern: For me, they're the most interesting stories and since his character was so shafted in the show at the end, they're what I'll keep writing.

Rhett: So with Ned, I take no issue with his initial actions. Although he was 19/20 by the time he reached the TOJ and I don't really think you can call him a kid given the world they lived in. I mean Jon/Robb are 15 when the books started and you can certainly argue they had to face just as difficult choices as Ned did. But I digress. I take no issue with him not pushing Jon's claim at the start, nor even in naming him as a bastard, stupid though it was. However, you're wrong about the Night's Watch. Other than Benjen Stark, there are few trueborn sons of lords at the Wall unless they're sent there or have specific reasons for going. Waymar Royce goes and he's a third-born son, Jeor Mormont goes but he does so in order for Jorah to take over as Lord of Bear Island. Other than that, there are few if any. As for it being Jon's choice, he has no other choice nor is offered an alternative. Jon is well aware he's not going to be accepted at WF for the rest of his life. Something proved true by the fact Cat basically wants him gone the moment Ned is leaving (and has done for years before that). He has no place and believes he's the stain on Ned's honor, something that Ned allows him to think of himself as.

Had Ned given him one of the multitudes of options available to him as Lord of WF and Warden of the North. Had he given him his name and then Jon chose to go to the Wall, then you can argue the point. Ned makes no plans whatsoever for Jon and other than refusing him leave to join the Wall because he's too young and allowing his head to be filled with there being great honor with the Watch, he basically sends him there. Given that Benjen is there, Ned has to know the conditions, and yet at no point does he make an alternative plan. Bear in mind that Ned is Jon's only family. Should something happen to him, then Jon was screwed. Cat certainly wasn't going to look after him. Whereas Robb was always going to inherit WF, he and the other children always had a mother, grandfather, uncle, aunt, and great-uncle out there should anything happen to their father. Bear in mind too, that you're given Ned the benefit of the doubt for being young and so it's fine for him to make a mistaken choice, but forgetting that Jon was 15 when he made his own choice to go to the Wall. A choice as I've shown above that is influenced and pretty much directed only in one direction.

So I take no issue with Ned initially, there was no true option to put Jon's claim forward and it risked far too much. However, the choices he made from then forward right up to the choice he makes when leaving WF, I take issue with. He could have organized a different life for Jon, the fact he doesn't is questionable at best.

The thing with Arya is that Jon sees her as betraying him as much as anyone, so there is already that divide there. Given his plans for Bran/Sansa, by the time she returns there may be no way back for either of them. I agree with that with Robb, and for Jon, he certainly would IMO.

Biohazard: So glad you liked it.

Orthankg: Really happy you enjoyed it.

Lannister: I can't see Jon not seeing Robb that way, him or Rickon. Now at his darkest, he may consider had they lived if they'd be the same as the others, but he won't let his mind go there. So both Robb/Rickon he holds as true in his heart.

SuvionZaaldrizes:

Your views pretty much match up with my own in a lot of respects. I used to be a complete Ned Stark fan, something which only increased when Sean Bean was cast and portrayed him. Then I read the first fic that showed Jon walking a different path. I think funnily enough he was sent to WH as you suggest here, but it opened up the world of endless possibilities that were available to Ned.

One thing people forget about allowing Jon to go to the Wall too is that it was not a safe place. The deserter shows that. Benjen's words on ranging must have, and hell, over the years countless times the North has been called to the Wall to fight for something or other. So in essence to protect Jon he was allowing him to go to a bloody war zone. Nice.

I think he could have gotten out of the betrothal, personally. But I accept that he may not have been able to. I take issue with it because he is on one hand allowing Jon to swear away any right to a future family while putting his own grandchildren on the Iron Throne. But, maybe he couldn't get out of it in his own mind. Where I take the same issue as you, is the Stannis action. By supporting Stannis, Ned is setting himself up to fight a war for the Iron Throne. And before anyone goes, he'll sit it out, remember this is Ned bloody Stark we're talking about. How can he not bring the North to bear in Stannis' name once he names him the right and true king? He's also well aware from Renly and LF that no one wants Stannis as king, nor will truly support him. So here, not calling upon Jon is where I lose it completely with him.

The thing with Ned, as you seem to concur with is that when you examine his actions, they become questionable and open to debate. Now you can write them off as him being naïve and ill-equipped for the world, but some of them can even be questioned as more nefarious than that should you wish to. What is not in doubt, and again as you state so clearly, is that he takes no steps at all to protect Jon should the secret come out. No steps to prepare the North or improve it. Does nothing to make his children more ready for the world than he himself was and in the end, Ned fails as both a father and a lord because of it.

Surpemus: We can all agree to disagree at times. Bronn wasn't exactly being loyal to his king other than in deed here. His intent was still for himself as would be true to his character. For me, Gendry and Jon were never friends. They had a couple of interactions in the show and that was all. And the first of those interactions is then changed completely in hindsight. Remember when Gendry first meets Jon he thinks of him as Ned Stark's son, it's the whole tone of the conversation. He as the son of Robert, Jon as the Son of Ned, and he brings up how they fought together to bring down the dragons. Well, Jon is not the son of Ned and so would that not change things in Gendry's mind?

But, again, to me, they're simply not close friends. This isn't Tormund or Edd or Davos, this is a guy who was in love with Jon's sister and who thought him Ned's son. A guy who took orders from him because he was the leader. So with that in mind and with the fact that Jon is now going against the king that Gendry swore to (as he'd have needed to swear an oath) as well as the brother and sister of the woman he still loves, where does Gendry's loyalty truly lie? His father fought against and not with Jon's father as he first believed, he actually killed Jon's father and now Jon is going after what Gendry had hoped would be his good family. Add in that the Stormlords would have their own issues with a Targaryen king, especially that Targaryen being the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar and well I think anything else from Gendry is wishful thinking. Now were he and Arya together and she told him to support Jon, then all bets are off.

Juristen: You're completely right. Jon though is trying to offer an olive branch and stave off the fight he may have with Yara and the IB. He's trying to show that, unlike the Broken King, he lives up to the deals that were made. So politically that's part of it. Practically he's also trying to bring in an ally and stop Bran from doing so. Yet, he's doing it all with one eye open too. He half expects Yara to stab him in the back, he just wants her close enough so he can see it if she does so.

But had Dany not made this offer, then Jon wouldn't even consider it, that's the biggest part of it, trying to do right by her word.

Sibreal: So glad you liked it.

Dunk: Bronn for all his skills is not a military leader. It's a completely different skill set and he had lost this battle before it has begun. While the show made Jon a moron when it came to military tactics, Bookjon was very adept at them and that's who he's channeling here. It's a sort of blinkers-off thing with Jacaerys that I'm going for. You can see some of it in his letters too. Sansa in a way is showing she's a child of the south. She never learned the things that those in the North learned so she sees the KOTV and Harrold and thinks them worth two or three of the badly equipped Northmen she's comparing them to. It makes her think she can both afford to lose some support or simply threaten and gain that support. Well called on the birth of the dragon, I always had the intention of it to be the catalyst and even when I chose the name ages ago, it was with that in mind. Kudos for predicting what it would lead to.

Celexys: We'll be seeing a lot more of the Free Folk as we go, Sigorn too. And Val will be as prevalent here as Tormund.

Galwidanatitud: So very glad you enjoyed it.

Ragesage; Hope you continue to like it.