A/N: Hey guys. In a bit of a jam, as my first exam's good grade is followed by a second exam next week. Wish me luck.

You are gonna like this chapter ;)

Read and comment!

Chapter 28: Dragonriders

No matter how many times Lord Brandon Stark prayed to the old gods for deliverance as he rode astride Arrax's spine, the northman knew that things could be worse. Honestly, he could've been as unlucky as poor Blizzard, the white direwolf forced to ride tucked safely within the grip of the dragon's claws. Compared to the likely shaking beast, Brandon had a roomy perch and was allowed to snake his arms around Rhaenys' slender waist and take in her body heat.

A wonderful position that, if he was feeling cheeky or... frisky, allowed Brandon to surreptitiously sneak his hands up to…

"Hands back where they were, lecher," he heard Rhaenys say loudly over the howling winds. Grinning into the back of her neck, Brandon sunk his teeth lightly into the skin there while unabashedly groping her breasts. "Stop that."

"Do you really want me to stop?" he yelled back. Some Valyrian curse words tumbled out her mouth, but when he kneaded the glorious mounds in his palm… Brandon almost figured he heard a moan. Oh yes, she is going to jump me when we're alone tonight. Fire and ice… he wouldn't have ever figured they were compatible in the bedchamber but he was glad to be proven wrong.

Gods, he loved his wife… and from how her head lolled back even while guiding Arrax through the air, she loved him just as desperately.

"Aight, love, get ready. We're going down." Another command in High Valyrian sent Arrax diving with a roar, whatever pleasure Brandon's groping had given him disappearing into terror from the dive. Rhaenys whooped instead… neither saw eye to eye on this, though it suited each just fine most of the time.

Eventually though, they evened out at a reasonable altitude about half the height of the massive Wall that loomed overhead. The winds lessened, cold gusts from the Land of Always Winter buffeted by the Wall itself, its white and blue ice marred below by the dark walls and towers of Castle Black. "Gods." Immediately in view were what looked like half a dozen large, furry beasts, the lead one letting out a loud trumpet heard from even on dragonback. "They weren't japing us about taming mammoth."

Rhaenys agreed. "Each are being led by a handler… they're training them."

"Marlon will need to supply some to us." He was uneasy about House Stark being weaker than any of his banners… even if they were allies. Brandon didn't want to be the Tullys. "Looks like the Boltons didn't waste time." Surrounding the entire castle were hundreds of tents, the sigil of the flayed man fluttering about them.

"Also see a lot of Umber banners. Will be good to be with Snarlin' Marlon again."

"Aye, quite the character… in a good way mind you." Lord Umber was just a little bit older than Brandon. He, Maegor, Bran, and Theomare Manderly used to be inseparable back when the Prince fostered in the North, and friendships stuck. "Let's land then, my love." Rhaenys agreed, and a click of her tongue sent Arrax circling towards a landing.

The dragon touched down on a snowy embankment only about a hundred feet away from the gates of Castle Black. Immediately he released Blizzard, who bounded out and scampered in the snow, as if luxuriating being on the ground again. Brandon was similar, though he kept his composure upon dropping down from the dragon's spines. Blizzard almost mobbed him with licks, a happy wolf he was. "Easy, boy, easy."

Rhaenys chuckled as she climbed down from Arrax, greeted with a nudge from his snout. "You did good, my son. Go off and find some dinner. I'll see you soon." The dragon hooted and took off in search of a meal. Rhaenys then looped her arm in Brandon's. "Shall we?"

"Aye, let's."

The gates were opened quickly, revealing a welcoming party of Black Brothers gathered within the courtyard in their full battle dress… as well as others from the other guests of the Night's Watch. Aegon's Conquest and the subsequent Targaryen upkeep of the Realm through fighting banditry and dealing with localized uprisings had kept the complement of the Night's Watch full. A good eventuality, even though the nature of a lot of the men left much to be desired.

Brandon did not like the hate many of them gave him… or the lecherous looks some surly individuals gave Rhae.

Nevertheless, he had his duties. "Greetings, Lord Commander," he said to the recently elected leader of the Night's Watch.

Lord Commander Lothor Burley was rather young, and still green enough to not be afflicted by the rugged hardness that was common to sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Given time though he'd be indistinguishable… There used to be honor in this, though Brandon didn't see it anymore. Just a dumping ground for the dregs of society, all of which Lothor Burley now commanded. "Good to see you, Lord Stark," he finally said. "And thank you for your continued support." He spoke in a well-educated accent. "The poachers you sent us have given our hunting parties a needed boost."

"The carts of poachers to bolster your ranks was Lady Rhaenys' idea."

He looked to the Princess and bowed his head even as he shook Brandon's. "Your Grace." A Targaryen would always be a Targaryen, and the Lord Commander treated Rhaenys as such. "We've set up the best accommodations for you, but forgive us if they are not up to your standard. Our beds are hard, our halls are cold, and our food…"

Rhaenys held up a hand. "As long as the latter is nourishing, that is all that I require. It will please me to eat as you do." She smiled, hoping to put him at ease. It worked.

Releasing the Lord Commander's hand, Brandon approached a familiar face. "Marlon, you big bastard." He was enveloped in a crushing hug, one that the Lord of Winterfell gave back as good as he got. "See you've never changed."

Laughing like a bear, Lord 'Snarlin Marlon' Umber clapped him hard on the back. "No need to when you're already perfect!" He squeezed Brandon one more time before settin' him down. "Ah, the lovely Princess Rhaenys." Built like a bear, the Lord of Last Hearth was nevertheless chivalrous and gentle as he kissed the proffered hand. "If yer tired of sleepin' with this pussy, my bed's always open." He wriggled his eyebrows.

Coming from someone like Tyrion Lannister or Jonos Arryn, Rhaenys would've thought long and hard about feeding them to Arrax for a comment like that. But Marlon was harmless, so she merely rolled her eyes and laughed. "I feel I should fear the wrath of Lady Umber should I take you on that offer." She stepped next to Brandon, stroking his hand lovingly to make him certain of her love for him.

Lord Marlon made an exaggerated motion of looking over his shoulder. "Seven hells, I'm two days ride from mi'home and I'm still frightened of that girl." Flint by birth, Lady Umber was thin and beautiful, yet tall and skilled with both a bow and a lance… and a temper to boot. Challenge her at one's own peril.

Gods, Rhaenys loved her adopted home… at least most of it. "Lord Bolton." Much as she adored little Ryah, Rogar Bolton was a more… acquired taste.

"Princess… Lord Stark." Rogar could be talkative when he wanted to, but it was cleared that he wanted to be tightlipped now. "I brought my banners as requested."

"Thank you for that, Lord Bolton," Brandon replied, shaking his hand and moving on quickly - luckily, the next person was someone he actually liked. "Ralla, you're as beautiful as ever."

The wildling snorted. "Unlike Umber here, yer' wife is right next to ya', so be careful."

There was a reason Maegor partook in such a long affair with this woman - Rhaenys could see it, liking her earnestness quite well, as that of her father Rulth. "I am glad to see you again… only wishing it was under better circumstances."

"Aye," snorted Rulth, chief of the clan that allied to the crown when needed. Granted plenty of land in the gift, Maegor was sure to have them made Lords of it if they asked. So far they didn't. "Thenns and Burned Men groups are likely to attack one of the smaller forts soon according to my sources. Best get planning."

Down to business it is then. "Alright," Brandon announced. "Lets."

It was a dream come true for Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. Ever since his earliest memories, watching his kepa soar through the heavens on Quicksilver… the stories of his grandfather and grandmothers bringing fire and blood to the defiant Kings of the Sunset Kingdoms, Jaehaerys had so longed to ride dragonback. To be the Valyrian dragonlord he was born to be. Now, with such a dream so close at hand…

"I changed my mind," Jae murmured, breathing quickly as his uncle pulled him up atop Balerion. "Let me down!"

His uncle Maegor laughed merrily, clasping his back. "Don't tell me you're scared, nephew?"

Balerion was the largest dragon, and therefore his massive bulk reared Jae up at least three stories - combined with the sheer height of the cliffs… "Yes, I'm scared! Let me down!"

Giggles from across the field were heard. "Jae, Jae, puss puss." A glare was sent Alysanne's way, leading to more giggles.

"Puss puss, sister?" asked Rhaena, who had no troubles with settling Alysanne on Dreamfyre.

"Aye, uncle calls people that when they're scared."

It took a moment for Rhaena to realize that she meant 'pussy,' and matched Jae's glare, shot at Maegor. "Uncle should be more careful about what he says in front of you." It was like they were a bickering family, and in a bittersweet way Rhaena loved it.

Maegor groaned. "See what you did, nephew." Jae was still trembling, leading to Maegor squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, Balerion knows what he's doing."

"But… he's so big."

The dragon let out a series of growls that sounded like laughter. 'Don't worry, hatchling, I shall strive to only do a dive loop once.'

"Uncle!" Jae was shaking again.

"Balerion, stop it."

'If it helps, hatchling, your grandfather was just as scared when he first rode me.'

That shocked Jae to the core. "Really?"

'Aye, and look where he ended up.'

Jae began to waver, only for his uncle to speak. "Jae, it's alright to be scared, but just think of what it will mean to overcome it?"

He sighed, still tense. "Hold on to me, uncle."

A powerful arm wrapped tight around him. "I'll never let go. Ready?" Gulping, Jae nodded. "Sovegon."

It was over in an instant. One moment the Prince was stationary in his uncle's grasp and then he was accelerating at a speed unknown. The roar of the wind drowning out his terrified screams, the wind blasting into his air as his entire lower body felt the jolts in altitude. His own hands hugged the large spike that jutted out of Balerion's back, feeling every twist and shift in the dragon's movements

Beside them, Dreamfyre climbed higher and faster than the larger and slower Balerion. He only got a glimpse of his little sister, but Jae could see her - utterly joyous, consumed by wonder.

'Let go, hatchling.' Balerion spoke to Tim as he beat his wings. 'This is what you were born to be.'

Gritting his teeth, Jaehaerys battled his fear. Rising up in his perch - easing on his grip of the spines. Looking out over the vast expanse of blue and green below him. Was that what the world looked like to the gods?

Magnificent.

"Are you alright, nephew?" his uncle yelled into his ear.

"Kessa, uncle… faster."

"Alright." Balerion lurched into the air at a faster clip, and this time the Prince allowed himself to enjoy it. After about a minute, a loud whoop joined the roar of the wind.

Sleeves rolled up all the way to his shoulders, the flames cracked and sputtered around Jaehaerys' hands. Untouched by fire, the Prince continued to stroke and caress the scales of his dragon egg with a wide, dopey grin on his face. The same grin he had constantly held since his dragonride with his uncle.

Scared at first, the Prince's fear had vanished quickly, replaced with the wonder of the experience and the fire of destiny burning through him. That is where I belong, soaring among the clouds. He was a Targaryen Prince, proud and powerful like his grandfather, kepa, and uncle.

But was he truly if his egg wouldn't hatch?

Prince Jaehaerys wasn't one to back away in the face of failure. Rarely did he give up and never again would he.

"Jae Jae Jae!"

A put out groan left his lips as the Prince removed his now steaming hands - again unharmed by the flames - to find Alysanne striding into his chambers without knocking. "Don't you realize I could be busy?"

She giggled. "Don't be a silly boy, Jae. Not at lessons, not sparring, not with kepa or muna or uncle Maegor, means nothing to be busy on." Narrowing his eyes - which made her smirk - Jae could see that the dragonride had brought a change to her as well. While she was still a bubbly bundle of joy for all of those in the Dragonpalace, even him though he'd never admit it, Jae could see she carried herself more… confidently. Purposefully, almost like their muna, or grandmother. Rhaena had the same gait. It… suited her.

What really surprised him was that there was another girl with her. She had the wild look of a northerner, but she was clearly not a Stark - short and squat, though slender as well. "Who's this?"

Alysanne turned to her. "This is Arya Reed, my best friend."

"Reed… Reed… Aren't those the frog men that live in the Neck of the North?"

Arya blinked, narrowing her eyes at the Prince. "Better a frog than a lizard."

Now it was Jaehaerys' turn to be surprised… and affronted. "Lizard? You should know you are speaking to a dragon."

"A dragon without one," Arya Reed shot back. Jaehaerys fumed as she smirked at him. The Prince already didn't like her. Much too insolent. Rhaena's friends were never so insolent, even though Jae hated their tendency to pinch his cheeks and fawn all over him - Tyanna was the one that never did. I like her out of all of them… this one is nothing like Tyanna.

Alysanne, noticing the tension, broke it up firmly. "Both of you be nice or I'm telling muna." Jae didn't want that, and while Alyssa Velaryon was no family relation to Arya Reed, angering the Queen was not an option for her. They both shut up, though it wasn't forgotten. "Playing with your egg again?"

That didn't improve Jae's mood. "Playing, no… trying everything by the gods to hatch it, aye, I am."

"Did you try hammering it?"

Jaehaerys rolled his eyes. "Lady Reed, you do not hammer a dragon egg."

"Why not? Works for father whenever one of the pulleys gets jammed."

"I can assure you this won't work." He buried his hands in his hair. "I've run out of options."

Rubbing her chin, Alysanne's face suddenly brightened. "Wait here, Arya, come with me." She dashed off, a confused Arya following in her wake. Jae didn't even have time to sit down before his sister returned… her own silver-colored egg nestled in her hand. "Your egg is lonely and shy… just needs some love." Not waiting for a response, she dropped her egg into the hearth, sparks sizzling out as it settled among the fetters.

Arya looked skeptical. "Ally, I'm not sure this will work."

"Ally? No, you'll call her 'your Grace.'" The only non-Targaryen Jaehaerys would tolerate referring to Alysanne so informally were Aunt Ceryse and their Stark cousins.

"I'll call my friend whatever I want, your Grace." The way Arya Reed said the words, they may as well have been the vilest profanity.

Jae fumed. "Go back to your swamps where you belong," he hissed.

"As soon as you jump into the Fourteen Flames, your Grace," she hissed back…

"Shhhh!" Alysanne's harsh whisper drew their attention. "Do you hear that?"

Prince and crannogwoman eyed each other in confusion. "Hear what?"

"A crack… I heard a crack."

Jaehaerys shook his head. "You're hearing things…"

When the crack sounded out again, all three heard it.

"Are you sure about this, muna?"

Watching the fear and indecision on her son's face, Visenya resisted the urge to shake her head. Oh, my son… I love you, but we should've fostered you with a warlike House as we did Maegor. But she loved him, so refrained. "Aye, I believe she is ready for this, and you told me of the nature of the threat."

Aenys was still unsure. "Couldn't he handle it alone?"

"No, this needs finesse and he is not the best diplomat." A good enough excuse - with what Vhagar told her of the true state of affairs, Visenya knew that this needed to happen. The family needs more happiness.

A loud screeching made each of them tense. "It's coming from the children's chambers," they heard Lord Commander Corbray say from behind them.

"My children!" Aenys was running for the chambers, Visenya following - equally as concerned.

Big Jon Hogg waited outside Jaehaerys' room, a look of awe on his face. "Your Graces, you need to see this…"

"Where are my children?" Aenys demanded. "Are they safe?"

"Aye, your Grace. Come see for yourself." Both royals pushed their way past him and froze at the sight. At the truly wondrous sight.

Hanging from Prince Jaehaerys' doublet was a tiny dragon hatchling. Its scales were a dark bronze, head extended and curling around the Prince's neck. As for Princess Alysanne, she was giggling uncontrollably as a second dragon hatchling - this one's scales a brilliant silver - scaled up her shoulder until it was perched there. It spread out its wings, screeching.

"Hatchlings…" Visenya said, first recovering. "You hatched your dragons…" Seeing Alysanne, it reminded her so very much of herself - Vhagar hatched very much like that, while Balerion was already grown and Meraxes hatched for Rhaenys in her crib.

Alysanne finally noticed her grandmother. "Kepa! Grandmother! Look at Silverwing, isn't she gorgeous?"

Aenys was still shocked, but Visenya dashed over to Alysanne and smiled down at her and the dragon. "Silverwing, huh?" The name fit.

"Aye, cause she's the most beautiful dragon." Alysanne stroked her snout, which Silverwing responded by purring.

Finally the King snapped out of it and approached his son with a beaming smile. "And have you named yours, my son?"

Jaehaerys nodded. "I knew the name from when I first got the egg, kepa. Vermithor, the Bronze Fury." Vermithor preened at the attention, proud and confident even just after hatching.

Aenys laughed merrily and pounded his son on the back. "My children! Dragonriders all!"

Two new dragons for House Targaryen.

"I confess to Father almighty,

"To the blessed Mother kindly.

"To the Warrior ever stronger,

"The Stranger to save us longer…"

Singing the words he had memorized long in the past when just a bastard boy raised in the still royal seat of Highgarden, High Septon Hugor Flowers felt the Father's blessings upon him. Though having ascended through the rungs of power to its zenith in the way of any backstabbing politician, there was something about the worship of the Faith that called him on an almost primal level. To feel the gods in his heart… It was what drew him to the Starry Sept rather than the banners as his father, King Mern had wanted.

And yet I shall avenge you father. Not with the sword but with the holy word that commands it.

The Starry Sept, home to the Faith of the Seven for thousands of years since it's first incarnation was built by House Hightower, was packed with people. The leading citizens of Oldtown alongside visiting lords from across the Reach, Riverlands, Vale, Westerlands, and Stormlands were all gathered to celebrate the Day of Glory - the feast day to celebrate the victory of Artys Arryn over the First Men at Seven Stars. Already the mass of revelry was preparing outside to go on long into the night, but could only start after Hugor himself consecrated the rites.

A most ancient tradition, one symbolizing that no matter how frivolous or gluttonous, the might and judgement of the gods were watching. Insisting on a sense of humility and restraint.

Something our draconic rulers do not have.

Finally, the choir stopped, tenors resting their throats as polite applause filled the cavernous dome that housed the vestibule and great hall of the largest sept in the world. Taking a seat in his padded throne, the first two rows of pews where Barth, the Most Devout, the senior Conclave of Archmaesters, the Wardens Paramount, and the Captains of the Warrior's Sons were all equally padded as befitting their status, while the other benches were left hard. Even the wealthiest would have to endure discomfort, humbling them.

Those that served the Seven in all their dealings needed not the same humility.

With only a milling chatter filling the great vestibule, Hugor motioned for Archsepton Boniface to surmount the gilded pulpit - a gift from King Joffrey Lannister after the King of the Rock declared the Faith of the Seven to be the true faith of the Westerlands. The proud man with thick salt-and-pepper hair and sideburns that rolled down his cheeks cleared his throat, readying his voice for the coming sermon.

"Hark the sound, my brothers and sisters of the Faith. Let us rejoice under the guiding light of the Father and Warrior on this day… this day of glorious victory by the Father's servant and Saint Artys for our land, our people, and the true pantheon of gods over the heathens and tree-worshippers."

There were many things Hugor could say for Boniface. Robust, tireless, fearless, and renowned for his strength, there wasn't anyone within the Most Devout with his zeal and devotion to the cause and Hugor admired such dynamism - sorely needed in his opinion even after the purges of the corrupt and child-lovers from the ranks. The fiery Archsepton sometimes preached for day and night when called for by the calendar, without sleep or nourishment. And yet… the man had no tact when not given orders to shut up. The North was likely to rear in fury at the words said, but Hugor cared little. Cheap grain shipments from the Honeywine to White Harbor would keep them pared off… at least until the moment came.

Though Hugor missed much of the sermon in his thoughts, when Boniface stretched out his arms and cried in a zealous animation, even the most determined to tune him out were shocked into listening. "Do not think that your meek attendance can absolve you of your sins before the Father above! Every single link of the chains you forge in life will be weighed by the Stranger in the final judgement, and all that stands between you and the eternal damnation of the Seven Hells is your conduct. Your true conduct, service to the Seven who are One in everything they see fit to demand in you through their most holy mortal emissaries! That is your true penance! That is what you must reflect in on this day, the day of the glorious victory of our ancestors!"

The choir picked up again, this time singing an ancient Andal war ballad… one that Saint Artys likely had playing among his army while marching against the heathen Royce Kings. As the entire vestibule of thousands stood at once to sing the chant, Hugor stood as well. Smiling at the choice of words.

Boniface may have had little tact, but Barth had it in spades. No better manner to urge action against the enemies of the Faith while also not doing it. He shall be in my chair after I die. Though Hugor didn't plan on dying for the longest while… at least not until he outlived the bitch Queen Visenya.

Soon it was time to perform the ceremony. Hugor descended from his throne, flanked by Ser Damon Morrigen and Barth on either of his sides. Four more Warrior's Sons in immaculate armor, brilliant rainbow cloaks, and the ceremonial crystal-crested helms, carried the sacred icons of war in their chests of crystal - the translucent gems reflecting the brilliant light that shone through the windows. Within were the famed sword and shield of Hugor Hill… the first King of their people and prophet of the Seven themselves, and through them would the High Septon consecrate this day of praising the military victories of the Seven over the heathens and apostates.

While Boniface and Damon begun their oratory to start the ceremony, Hugor's eyes scanned the crowd. There among the Hightowers was Princess Ceryse, ever beautiful but still grieving over her many losses. Forgiveness, sweet rose. His sister Vivienne, fierce as ever in spite of her age. Lady Argella Durrandon and Ser Davos Baratheon, those Hugor had truly wished to woo but all for naught. Enemies, they would be. Robb Roxton, the wielder of the Valyrian blade Orphan-Maker… one of the greatest warriors of his age. Someone the High Septon would meet personally after the ceremony.

A sea of faces. Hundreds of enemies, allies, and unknowns within them.

Soon, he could feel it. The King was about to wean off the mother's milk of a recent ascension, and before long the reality would be felt by the populace of Westeros, both faithful and heathen alike. And once that was done, Hugor would be ready.

Breathing deeply, he opened his mouth to speak. "My children, proud of the Faithful…"

The Dragonpalace was bustling with activity.

If one hoped to keep any sort of good news circumspect and private, it was best not to tell King Aenys - not that the news of the hatching of Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Alysanne's eggs into two beautiful dragon hatchlings was worth keeping a secret. Heralding it far and wide, the King had ordered a massive feast prepared in the great hall for that evening, everyone from court and in reach of King's Landing invited to participate.

Anything for his two children - now bonded dragonlords like Valyrians of old.

Not that the Prince and the Princess cared for a feast in their honor… or even any sort of public declaration to exalt them. Such things were fine and pleasant for them, but could not compare to the feeling of actually having a dragon they were bonded to.

And that feeling was exhilarating. Better than even their first dragonride.

Alysanne's dress was covered in grass stains but she didn't care. Giggling with glee, she twirled about the grounds of the Dragonpalace with Silverwing in her hands, held up high so that the sun could make her scales sparkle. "The most beautiful girl. The bestest girl in the world."

Silverwing hooted, which in the dragon's immature sounds sounded high-pitched and petulant rather than the fearsome grown dragons… but to the Princess Silverwing sounded perfect. The greatest creature that could've ever walked or soared above the earth.

"Fly, boy." Alysanne, looked casually over at her brother and couldn't help but snicker. "Com'on, fly." The dolt was trying to get Vermithor to fly, but the dragon merely peered at him with a puzzled tilt of the head and neck while merely clinging tighter to his chest. "Don't be weak, fly!"

"Jae… he's just a hatchling," Ally said, only to giggle at his look of frustration. "We just hatched them today."

He sighed. "I know, I know." Wrapping his arms gingerly around Vermithor, he stroked the bronze scales of his neck - causing him to purr in contentment. "We really have them."

Alysanne's grin widened. "We do." Looking up at the upthrust Silverwing, her amber eyes just looking at her, the Princess squealed madly and ran for Jae. "Our dragons! Our beautiful dragons!" Silverwing hooted and just managed to leap from her arms to her head as Ally collided with Jae. Embrace tight as they spun around.

The Prince was surprised at first that his sister threw herself at him so abruptly, then momentarily worried for Vermithor. But the hatchling merely hooted back, getting locked in a hooting contest with Silverwing. He accepted the embrace, leaning his head against the still squealing Alysanne… eventually, he was laughing back, the two of them spinning and then tumbling together.

Unseen in the tall grass still undisturbed by their brother's plans for lush gardens and extensive paving, the rock caught Jae's foot and they both collapsed to the ground. Vermithor and Silverwing shrieked and flapped their wings frantically, though the thud for their bonded humans wasn't too hard. If anything, the grass provided a good cushion.

Once the shock work off they just kept giggling together, violet eyes locking. "We did it, Ally…" whispered Jae, voice halting from the weight of what they did. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She smiled back, expression radiant. "Thank you, Jae." Alysanne hugged him tightly. "I'm so happy right now."

"Aye, I can see that." Truth be told, that was a more wondrous sight than even their dragons - and Vermithor was pretty wondrous on his own accord.

"Valonqar!" Broken from their moment, both Jae and Ally looked up to see Rhaena running to them, Aegon jogging behind. They both wore sparring clothes, the former's hair braided back while the latter let his curls loose. Stopping, the eldest Princess spotted the hatchlings. "Oh gods, look at the glorious sight." Without hesitating she scooped up Vermithor in her arms, the dragon letting out a shriek and trying to wriggle away but Rhaena's grip too tight. "She's just as beautiful as my Dreamfyre was."

Jae, loving his sister but protective of his dragon, snatched Vermithor away. "His name is Vermithor, but aye. He's beautiful." He was smiling at the end as the dragon clutched him protectively.

Rhaena looked over to see Silverwing recovering her position atop Ally's head. "So is that Silverwing, then? Kepa couldn't stop gushing about the both of them and I can see why. They're wondrous, valonqar." She was so happy for them.

Basking in their legendary elder sister's praise - legendary for her anyway - Alysanne's brightness dimmed when she saw her brother with a put off frown. "Brother," Ally asked. "Would you like to hold Silverwing?" Unlike Jae, very protective even now, she didn't mind her family holding her dragon and Silverwing herself was a rather gentle spirit for a dragon. Perfect for her. "Here, hold her."

"No, it's fine." Closing his eyes, Aegon simply turned around and walked away back to the Holdfast.

Alysanne blinked, both confused and saddened. "He wasn't happy for us…"

Rhaena dismissed it, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Don't mind him… he's just a little jealous even though he'll probably inherit a dragon like uncle Maegor." She patted Silverwing on the head, the dragon leaning into her touch. "Did you feed them yet?"

Looking up, Jae shook his head. "No, sister. Should we?"

"If you don't want them to starve," Rhaena laughed, making Jae blush in embarrassment. "Come on, we can get the cooks to give them some burned meat." With that, she led them off the grass towards the palace kitchens.

A knock on the door brought Maegor's head up. "Come in." His mood brightened at seeing his smiling niece. "Rhaena my dear, come. Sit."

"I presume you heard the news, about Jae and Ally?"

"Ah, of course. Your kepa practically told the stablehands personally, he's so overjoyed." Maegor was too. I always knew they would be mighty dragonriders. He saw it in Jae, especially. That sense of greatness that reminded him of himself. "Forgive me if I seem a little… muted."

She raised a brow. "What's wrong, uncle? Do you need some help?"

"No, nothing like that, it's just…" Rhaena had been his confidant since the tragedy. Why not confide in her over this? "I wrote to Ceryse, asking if I could visit her in Oldtown. She wrote back saying it was too soon."

"Oh, uncle." Rhaena walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, giving him a hug. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "I know, I know… She's in pain, but I miss her."

She was playing with fire. Rhaena knew better, but seeing him so lost didn't just bring out her comfort… but also her opinion of the situation. "She doesn't deserve you, uncle." Voice firm, Rhaena exposed the feelings that only Tyanna had ever heard. "I pray she seeks your marriage annulled, or you do."

Blinking, Maegor tried to look up at her. When Rhaena's looped arms over his shoulders made it impossible, he pulled forward, rising from his chair. "You're wishing my marriage to die?" He was incredulous and made it plain. "Niece, I know your parents and grandmother raised you better than that. Do you hate her that much?"

Rhaena bit her cheek to keep from screaming. "Uncle, I don't hate her. Aunt Ceryse has always been kind to me, but look at yourself." The last came out louder than she intended, but Rhaena didn't regret it. "You're dying inside, uncle. No one can stand to see it, least of all me."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm greatly heartened that you care for me so, niece…"

"You have no idea how much I care for you," she murmured, as if thinking out loud without knowing it. When Rhaena realized it, her eyes widened for the briefest of moments.

Maegor heard it too, but chose to let it slide - not willing to expose himself to what it could've meant. "That being said," the Prince continued. "You need not worry about me here. Ceryse is my wife, married under the sight of gods and men, and my duty compels me…"

Never before was Rhaena this angry, this affronted. "Compels! Duty! You're not talking about some ward or some military campaign! This is your wife, your marriage… you speak as if you are keeping in a loveless marriage simply because of some imaginary honor."

"It is not loveless, Rhaena, and I do not appreciate your tone." His own irritation was rising.

"Someone has to say it," she replied, though tried to lessen her ire for his sake. "And you're lying."

"Excuse me?"

"You're lying… or at least trying to convince yourself a lie is the truth. It isn't duty that's compelling you to stay with Aunt Ceryse. Oh, there's love in there." Rhaena couldn't deny that he didn't love Ceryse. Nor did she truly wish for him to just toss her aside like a used pack animal, but… "But it's really guilt that's making you suffer like this. You blame yourself for all the miscarriages, admit it."

Maegor could try and deny it… he could order Rhaena out of his chambers, but… "You're right. I do blame myself." Admitting it finally to someone other than his own thoughts, Maegor's shoulders slumped and he leaned against the wall, head dropping against the cool stone. "I couldn't protect her when she needed me, it is my fault."

Gods, how could she continue with him in this much pain? "Uncle…" Rhaena was at his side in a fraction of a second. "No, it isn't your fault. These things sometimes happen." Whatever words of comfort she had she gave him. He deserved it and so much more. "Don't blame yourself." Feeling a sob hit her, Rhaena embraced him tightly. "Never blame yourself."

"Can't not… I've made so many mistakes…"

"No, you're perfect. The greatest man in the world." Her hold grew tighter. "Don't destroy yourself over this. Please, I can't take it. You'd destroy me too." Soft tears left her lids, soaked up by his tunic.

Is she really crying? "Rhaena… Rhaena, look at me." With a little urging, he tilted her face up only to meet her eyes… and he was lost. He had grown up amongst violet eyes, the haunting beauty of House Targaryen, but there was something different about Rhaena's. It was as if she could see into his soul… see through his reputation and pain, and give what she found pure adoration.

These were the same eyes of his muna that gazed at his kepa. That realization seemed to affect him greatly.

"Rhaena…"

Though not minutes before he'd never think it possible of him, at that moment Maegor closed the distance and claimed her mouth, lips pressed against hers as her hot tears left them slightly salty to the taste. It didn't stop him, the Prince pushing for entrance and it being readily granted once Rhaena realized the occurrence she had dreamed of for so long was finally happening.

Time both stood still and shot by, the two of them kissing. Always sweet and gentle, but with an increasing need that left Rhaena flush against her uncle's broad chest. Gods, he felt as strong as he looked. Her hands moved across his muscles above the tunic, allowing themselves to explore places she could only fantasize about before. If this was just a dream… she didn't want to wake up.

But the dream turned into a nightmare as Maegor suddenly tensed, shoving her back and stepping several paces away. His face was pale and his hands were trembling with… fear. Rhaena had never seen him afraid before. "Uncle?" She tried to approach, but he backed away again.

This was not happening… not again. Memories flashed in Maegor's mind of the last time he had broken a woman's heart - but as that time had been the right thing to do, so was this. "It would be best if you left, niece."

Rhaena reacted if struck. "You cannot," she whispered. "Not after that." Approaching him, Rhaena placed a hand on his shoulder… on his cheek from behind and she swore he leaned into it. "You cannot believe that you didn't feel something from that kiss, uncle."

He did, seven hells he did, but Maegor couldn't allow her to be destroyed just as he had protected her mother's reputation all those years ago. 'You must do your duty to that love by letting go and being honorable.' The words he had long ago spoken to Jaehaerys resurfaced in his mind - if anything, it was harder than before. Did he love Rhaena? Perhaps so, but the impossibility wasn't as prominent and it drove him to hope… to pine after his niece…

No, he could not be weak. "Get out, niece. Just leave me and never speak of this again." He hated himself for how rough his tone was, but Maegor knew it was for the greater good. Cravenly, he refused to turn his head to look at her.

Heart shattering into thousands of pieces, inside Rhaena felt like bursting into sobs… but instead the dragon within her roused. "You're exactly how muna said you were, uncle." The lowest of blows - especially the facts she didn't know of - but one she hoped cut deep. "Goodbye."

But just before she managed to leave the door opened, revealing the last person either wanted to see. "Ah, wonderful, my daughter is here as well!" announced Aenys to Septon Murmison, who accompanied the King as his most trusted friend. "You look radiant, my lovely Rhaena." He kissed her cheek, only to pick up on something. "Is there a bother in your life, my dear?"

Rhaena, taking a deep breath, shook her head. "No, kepa. Just making sure uncle knows the feast for Jae and Ally is tonight - you know how he hates those things."

"Ah yes, of course," laughed the King, ignoring the glare Rhaena sent to her uncle, who had turned but was still quiet. "In any case, I would hate to ruin the joyous occasion of my son and daughter becoming dragonriders today, but I'm afraid this cannot wait." Aenys dropped to a serious tone, one both Maegor and Rhaena found… unsettling. "Seems the Dornish Marches have risen in rebellion."

Eyes widened. "What?!" Maegor was absolutely shocked. While bandits and cross-Red Mountain raids were plausible, an actual rebellion?

"Did Dorne invade?" Rhaena asked.

"No, thank the gods… but this is a serious matter and House Tarly has requested reinforcement from the Crown."

"I'll be at Hornhill by the morrow," Maegor announced.

But Aenys shook his head. "You will not run off haphazardly, brother. There will be a proper call to the banners and a host will march for Hornhill." He looked at both of them. "And the two of you will lead it."

Ah fuck. The thought came from both of them.

A/N: The wonder of Vermithor and Silverwing's hatching end with Rhaena and Maegor's spat, but fighting the Vulture King won't let them drift apart, lol.

Read and comment! If all y'all are still reading and I can get more than 15 comments, I'll post next week.