A/N: Wonderful news, guys! Just got acceptance to my first choice med school! Prayers were answered!

And with that, in we go with our story.

Read and comment!

Chapter 32: Growing Affections

"My lady." Jocelyn turned from her stitching to see Jonas Poole, the Steward of Winterfell, enter. "A raven from Castle Black."

Setting down the leather hunting trousers she was mending - hers, naturally, as she hailed from the swamps of the Neck and never lost her roots though being Lady Stark for two-thirds of her life - Jocelyn approached Jonas and took the dispatch. Perusing through it. "Hmmm… the wildlings are surrounding Brandon and his command at the Fist of the First Men."

Jonas Poole may not have been distinguished militarily, but he served his time in the banners and wasn't an idiot. "Gods… should we call the banners?"

But Jocelyn shook her head. "Even the fastest group wouldn't be able to reach them in time." It sounded callous, but she had to think of the entire picture. "Rhaenys is there with her dragon, and Houses Umber and Bolton combine with our banners and the Night's Watch for a very strong force. We can only trust them."

"Of course, my Lady."

A bell rang from the gatehouse, followed by loud shrieks from the dragons. "Make way for the young lords!" called out the guard at the watch.

Jocelyn went to the window, first seeing Vermax and Tessarion dancing in flight above Winterfell. They had clearly enjoyed themselves. Yipping of direwolves dragged her eyes down to the courtyard where the children dismounted from their horses. The Targaryen coloring of Aegon and Saera was evident and easily noticed, while Alaric's darker complexion was more common in the North.

In her eyes, though, they were the perfect Starks. Strong of mind and of body, tough against the cold and hardy land in which they were raised in. She couldn't be prouder. "I shall visit my grandchildren, Jonas. Would you be so kind as to escort me."

He nodded. "Of course, my Lady. It is my honor."

The cobblestone courtyard was much easier to walk upon than the bare, often muddy ground of her early marriage… back when she was a Queen. Only emphasized how much House Stark gained from their submission to House Targaryen. From their alliance with House Targaryen. Material rewards and comforts… alongside three strong, beautiful, intelligent children to forge the future of the North. Said children were dismounting, petting their direwolves or their dragons. Aegon, tall for his age and growing his silver hair long, first noticed Jocelyn. "Grandmother."

"Greetings, my grandchildren." She eyed the many carcasses being hefted off the pack horses. "Burn marks. Did the dragons help you hunt?"

"Oh, did they ever," grinned Saera, stroking Tessarion with love in her eyes. "They were perfect. So perfect."

Jocelyn raised her brow. "How so?"

Aegon himself chuckled, patting Vermax's snout as the dragon purred. "We've been training the dragons to hunt in pack tactics like the direwolves do. Find a distinctly northern way of riding them and whatnot. Worked like a charm too."

She was impressed. "Commendable work, my sweetlings."

But Aegon shook his head. "We just tried it out. Alaric here was the one that came up with the whole theory and tactics." The most Stark of the three dragonwolves was stroking his direwolf alongside Ryah Bolton, the latter giggling to something he said.

The dowager Lady of Winterfell pursed her lips, regarding them. The likely future betrothed to Aegon… yet she often prefers Alaric's company. Such could be bad if continued… but they were but babes still. Jocelyn wouldn't say anything, but keep an eye out she would. "You are truly like both your grandfathers, my boy." She hugged Alaric. "A dragon or a wolf."

He sighed in her grasp, prone to brood. "One without a dragon."

"Nonsense. You are a dragon." She kissed his forehead. "Enough of that. Let us clean up and then eat these fine meals you've brought us." Not to mention a stop in the godswood. Jocelyn would pray to the old gods that Brandon and Rhaenys would return.

These children deserved to hear their parents' praise.

Clinking glasses, the King of Westeros chuckled as he listened to the tale. "So it was initially proposed that you marry King Artys XI's son?"

Sharra Arryn, whom even grey-haired looked the Flower of the Mountain as she once had, nodded. "Aye, Ronnel's half-brother. I met him while at a tourney in Highgarden. Very dashing and fit."

"He was the winner of five jousting competitions, all out of the Vale," Ronnel boasted. "A record I shall beat for House Arryn since Hubert here prefers the melee like a true Andal." Short, stocky Hubert Arryn could only smile and nod at his cousin and liege Lord. A rider he wasn't, but a swordsman he was.

"I'm sure you can, Ronnel. Runs in the family." Ever since his fostering in King's Landing, Ronnel had been one of Aenys' closest friends and boon companions, both loving life and merriment. It helped that their mothers ended up rather friendly with each other as the memories of the war faded and a new sense of cooperation took hold. "Lady Sharra, I do not wish to ask something that may dig up bad memories…"

"Forgive me your Grace, but I never felt more than a little infatuation for the man." Sharra took a sip of her Arbor gold. "He was killed in his last joust. Splinter through the side of the neck, bled out in a few minutes. Horrible, horrible day."

"His soul is undoubtedly in the heavens, my Lady," Murmison remarked, standing next to the King.

Sharra regarded him curiously. Weak man. The King ultimately surrounded himself with weak men - her son included - something she picked up on rather easily when the royal party arrived on the progress to the Vale. Thirty years ago Sharra likely would've laughed to see something like this, but now all she could feel was worry for the Kingdoms and pity for poor Visenya. Some might wish to see the Kingdom fail. Sharra wasn't one of them anymore.

"Ah, Lord Royce." Now if there was one strong man in the Vale, it was Lord Allard Royce of Runestone. "Have you said your greetings to Lord Royce, your Grace?"

Aenys looked aghast at the thought. "Heavens no… and he's brought Alayne. Delightful, delightful girl. Companion to my beautiful Rhaena."

Hopefully not that sort of companion for her reputation's sake. But Sharra wouldn't embarrass the King with the few rumors surrounding Princess Rhaena. "Lord Allard," she called out.

Lord Royce, arm in arm with his daughter as his companion - Allard was a known widower - approached the King and former Queen. "Your Grace. My Lady." He eyed Ronnel, as if an afterthought. "My Lord."

"Greetings Lord Royce." Aenys shook his hand and took the palm of Lady Alayne. "Young lady, you look enchanting this evening."

She curtseyed, blushing. "Thank you, Your Grace." Her hands clasped together. "I heard of the battle near Hornhill. Thank the gods that Rhaena is alright."

Aenys' expression grew grim. "Oh, dreadful business. I never expected her to be sent into battle… but my brother knows best, I assume. He and my mother arranged her entire martial education."

"While we are on the topic, your Grace, I must ask." Allard could be as pleasant as anyone, but here he was all business. "Rebellions in the Marches, expeditions against the wildlings… I've even heard of some sort of banditry in the Riverlands becoming a nuisance."

Blinking, Aenys wracked his brain for what Allard was speaking of. A conversation in passing with Lord Daeron Qoherys came to mind and it hit him. "Oh, the Lord of Harrenhal has that under control, my Lord. As for the Wildlings and Marches, my sister and goodbrother handle that while my brother and daughter take care of the other respectively. You shan't need to worry."

Royce was not buying it. "Perhaps we should call the banners just to be safe. Been centuries since the Wildlings made it over the wall in numbers and I wouldn't want to fight them and the Dornish at the same time."

Ronnell held up his hands. "That would be far too drastic, Lord Royce."

"Then just me and my knights. Send us to the South or the North and we can nip this in the bud quickly."

"Rhaena could use more cavalry," Alayne added, remembering their letters.

"Perhaps you should consider this, your Grace…" Sharra could glimpse her second son listening rather… intently.

But the King wouldn't be budged. "Seven hells, this is supposed to be a feast, not a meeting of the war council. I'll have no more of this, understood?" Glum nods that only seemed desired by Ronnel and Murmison followed. The King's word was law.

Slipping out one of the side doors, Jaehaerys took a deep breath of the clean, mountain air - allowing the prickly cold to soothe his lungs. Gods, it was insufferable in there. Honeyed words, condescending men and women all trying to both put down yet also curry favor with his kepa. Sharra Arryn in her older age was somewhat forthright, reminding him of Jocelyn Stark, but Jonos Arryn was a snake. He would've wished to advise his kepa to get rid of him, but who would listen to someone of his age?

Not to mention Ronnel Arryn was essentially a child. Jaehaerys knew that even his Stark cousins were more mature than him. How he was made a Lord I cannot understand. Ser Hubert Arryn was far superior.

Feeling the snowflakes fall around him, Jaehaerys sighed and bundled his cloak tighter round his frame. The howling winds from this far up were not as comforting as he wished them to be, though at least the battlements provided protection that the tiny ring around the Moon Door didn't - he'd be having nightmares of that insidious device for weeks. Ultimately, what caused him to leave wasn't the disingenuousness that he often heard his uncle and his elder sister complain about.

No, it was the loneliness. None of the Lords brought their young children with them - the closest were Ronnel's young daughter Sharra and Alayne Royce, Rhaena's friend, but the former was barely seven while the latter was older than Rhaena. Not keen company, and where were all the children his age? A keep this size should be filled with them.

And Alysanne… just didn't feel the same without her, even if that witch Arya Reed was always around.

Hearing a shriek from above, down swept the bronze form of Vermithor. Still small and sleek, he'd nevertheless doubled in size from birth. Jae went to the battlement on which he landed and stroked his scales. "Love you, boy." He pressed a kiss to his snout. "Least I have you as a friend." Another shriek found Silverwing land right beside them, her eyes inquisitive. "Ah, girl, do you know where Ally is?"

Silverwing chirped and dove down to the courtyard below. Through the darkness Jae squinted, but could make out a thatch of silver glittering in the orange torchlight. There you are, Ally. Smiling, he hurried towards the steps leading down to the courtyard.

With a swoosh, the practice blade bashed aside its twin and found itself pointed at the neck of the wielder's opponent. "Yield, yield."

"I accept your capitulation," replied young Qarl Corbray, heir to the great House of the Vale. He bowed at the claps and cheers, only interested in one. "And how did you find that, Princess?"

Alysanne, having clapped the loudest of the small group present, blushed as the handsome young Qarl addressed her. "Quite skilled, I have to say. You could be a complement to my brother Aegon."

Qarl smiled brilliantly. While most boys his age were awkward and trended to acne, he was smooth and well built, yet the perfect epitome of chivalry. "To serve the Crown Prince would be a great honor for a simple Vale highborn such as myself."

"Oh please, Aegon isn't the Crown Prince." Arya Reed sat on a barrel against the wall, arms crossed - she and Alysanne weren't the only women here as the two daughters of the Eyrie's steward were present, but they were both the youngest. She, however, acted as if she were ten feet tall and built like Argilac Durrandon in his prime. "Princess Rhaena will become Queen after his Grace the King."

"Ha! A woman rule?" That voice was one of Qarl's companions, a squire for Ser Jonos Arryn. "I'd sooner put a dog on the Iron Throne. Less prone to flights of fancy that could send the realm to ruin."

Arya narrowed her eyes. "Like you could know what would ruin a realm."

"Arya… enough," Alysanne murmured. She was having a wonderful time that night, first entertained by the steward's daughters after young Euphima Arryn was put to bed and then by this impromptu competition said girls brought her to. Arya was like a sister to her, but sometimes she could be… confrontational.

As if proving her declaration, Arya ignored her friend. "Your Lord's entire minority was under the regency of Lady Sharra."

"And where did the Vale end up? Conquered and without a crown. All cause of a woman." This wasn't from the squire, but someone else. A hedge knight's boy from Heart's Home.

"I was unaware that Loren Lannister, Mern Gardener, and those others were women." The girl from the Crannogs wasn't backing down. "Meria Martell kept her land going while having a cunt. An old one at that."

One of the boys, this one a bit smarter, cut in. "Are you speaking treason against the King?" That seemed to affect Arya, who gulped and went quiet.

Before Alysanne could interject again, Qarl did. "Stop it, we're supposed to be future knights. There's a Princess among us. Behave."The boys grumbled, while Alysanne smiled gratefully at the young highborn. "Forgive me for that. They can be a little excitable."

She shook her head. "No, it's fine. I have brothers." Alysanne placed her hands together at her lap, still smiling. "So, what to do now, Ser Qarl?"

"I'm not a Ser yet, Princess. Hopefully soon though." He chuckled. "So, what would you like?"

Hmmmm… "How about archery? That way I can compete!"

His eyes widened slightly. "You can use a bow?" Qarl looked skeptical. "I find that hard to believe."

Arya huffed. "Taught her myself. As a woman of Greywater Watch, we all learn how to shoot." Mocking frog croaks aside, Arya grabbed a bow and handed it to Alysanne. "Too big to properly hunt with but it'll do. Show these cunts how we do it."

A little shy, Alysanne nevertheless wanted to show off her skills. Grabbing the bow, she nocked an arrow and let it fly. Just an inch to the right of center.

"Hmmm, impressive," remarked Qarl.

"Beginner's luck," snarked one of the boys, earning a glare from Arya he responded to with a kissy face, making her roll her eyes.

Qarl took the bow, nocking his own arrow and loosing it. Closer to center than Alysanne's. "Not as good as with a sword, but I won't be going hungry on any hunt." He grinned, winking at the Princess.

Alysanne took the bow back and was about to nock another arrow when Jonos Arryn's squire marched to her. "No, you've had enough, Princess."

"It's my turn," she defended, though was frozen in place. No one ever was so brazen with her and she didn't know what to do.

Some pilfered ale and rather chauvinist attitudes overcame the boy's deference to authority. "Women shouldn't play with bows. Give it here." He yanked harder, making Alysanne stumble and fall.

"Princess," Qarl said, but he was ignored after…

"Cunt!" The squire cried out as Arya slogged him in the mouth. Then the nose. "Don't touch her!" Again and again she hit until another boy hit her calf with his training sword, making her scream.

Alysanne watched in horror. "Arya! Qarl, do something!" But the heir to Heart's Home did nothing. "Help her! Get them to stop."

He shrugged. "Your friend really needs to know when to keep her mouth shut. Even I was growing ire with her." Alysanne couldn't reply to that, getting to her feet to do something herself when Qarl grabbed her. "Let it happen. It's for her own good."

His grip on her wrist hurt. "Let go!" she started to wriggle, only for him to hold her tighter.

Suddenly a flash of steel bashed him upside the head, causing him to grunt and fall. "Don't touch my sister." Alysanne turned. Jae.

Not noticing it was the Prince, the boys ignored the groaning Arya and charged at Jaehaerys, who defended himself as best he could. Broken noses and bruised chests were dished out, but the boys had a five to one advantage over Jae and he was close to being overwhelmed.

"Break it up!" The harsh voice of an adult stilled the scene. Ser Marden Karstark strode to the Prince and Princess with his blade drawn. A real blade. "What's going on here?"

"They… they attacked my sister and Lady Arya," Jae croaked out, nursing a bruised belly.

Marden's eyes widened. "What?! You could be beheaded for this!" Six sets of eyes, eight if one counted the meek steward's daughters watching on the sidelines, widened in terror. "Shall I dispense with the King's justice for them, my Prince? Harming a member of the royal family?"

"No, Ser Marden," Jaehaerys replied. "My sister was wronged first, it should be her decision."

The northern knight's grey eyes cast upon Alysanne. "I shall do what you order, Princess. Should I take their heads?"

Alysanne bit her lip and looked at the boys. Qarl was firm but his eyes showed fear… the others were practically pissing themselves. It would've been funny had it not also been so serious. In the end, she shook her head. "Just let them go. This isn't worth execution."

Seeing her shy away - Arya Reed also doing so - while the Prince glared daggers at them, Marden flashed his blade menacingly. "Be grateful to your Princess for her mercy. Thank her!" he barked. Quick words of thanks followed, even from Qarl Corbray, though there was the stirrings of resentment in his expression. Ser Marden didn't care. "Now get!" Each ran as fast as they could, booking it for… wherever.

Before Jae could look away, his sister leapt into him. "Thank you, brother. Thank you, thank you." She peppered his face with kisses, making him blush madly.

"Um… you're my sister… of course I would…" Alysanne merely smiled and cupped his cheek lovingly, making his blush deepen.

"I won't tell his Grace about this unless you wish me to, young ones," Ser Marden remarked. "Children will be children, at least that's what it was tonight thanks to you, my Prince. Your sister is right to thank you." There was a swell of pride in Jae's chest at the praise. "Let me escort you to bed."

Following behind, Jae felt a hand tug at his, causing him to lag. "Jae." Arya Reed didn't wear her angry or smug face around him like she usually did. Now, it was rather subdued… and grateful. Her bruises accentuated that.

Jae narrowed his eyes even so. "Gonna hiss at me for intruding on your heroic moment?"

She merely shook her head. "Thank you, Jae. I… I was defenseless and you saved me." Quickly, she darted forward and pecked him on the lips. Not like before, which was teasing. This was completely genuine.

The Prince could only stare in shock as she blushed slightly before running to catch up with Alysanne, leaving him behind.

It seemed so… farcical. Seated at a lacquered wooden table - likely more expensive than the worth of a thousand smallfolk in King's Landing - Prince Aegon Targaryen didn't know why he was here. Some religious thing having to do with the Crone or the Smith he was told, but didn't bother to remember. An Archsepton was here, someone that blathered loudly about piety. Something else he didn't bother to listen to.

His father wasn't here. His brother wasn't here. His sisters weren't here. Neither was the Hand of the King or Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the former being his uncle making it even more galling. This feast was useless and yet here he was forced to stuff himself into a tight doublet rather than his training gear listening to giggling maidens and obsequious courtiers.

The maidens were better than the courtiers… until they talked.

It helped that he wasn't at the head table - instructing the servants to keep his goblet filled and his favorite dinner of auroch steak, potato soup, and fresh bread not being possible if he was forced next to his mother and middle brother not to mention the rest of the Small Council. However, that also meant that his menacing stare, one said to be a perfect copy of his grandfather or uncle, couldn't protect his mother from those same obsequious courtiers.

Like the maidens were with him, their looks held contained or barely contained lust for the beautiful Queen Alyssa. Aegon wanted to run them through with his sword.

However, there was one that stood out. One of the advisors his father most recently placed there, Rogar Baratheon - closer to his age than his mother's but not one to run in the circles of the younger royals, rather in the elder one. And Aegon could only watch as Rogar sat next to his mother with the innate Durrandon swagger, swinging his legs confidently on the table as he chatted with Queen Alyssa. Making her laugh at his jokes, smile at his stories.

A coy smile from his mother made his blood boil. Aegon never remembered her looking at his father like that… in his head he was sure there was no threat but the audaciousness was what bothered him.

"Oh, your Grace." He looked up to see a beautiful golden-blonde with vibrant green eyes gazing at him with a nervous adoration. "I don't think you've listened to a word I said." It was said with amusement, so his guard wasn't as up as usual.

He raised a brow at her. "Forgive me, I'm a little distracted tonight since my sister is at war." She placed a hand on her heart and swooned to that. "What was your name again?"

She giggled. "Lady Elinor Costayne of Three Towers." Ah, the Reach.

Looking back at the high table and seeing Rogar glancing at him, Aegon closed his eyes before focusing on her. "Would you like a dance? Elinor practically fainted as she accepted.

It turned out that Elinor was a good dancer, and her interest in him did puff up Aegon's ego, but she didn't truly catch his fancy. Perhaps I could have her. The Prince certainly had sampled some of the maids around the Dragonpalace and each one of them satisfied beyond belief, yet… all were lacking. This one lacked compared to his sister and future Queen if Aegon had to say something about it.

"You are beautiful, my Prince," Elinor complimented.

"You as well," he replied, keeping himself from rolling his eyes.

A movement to his left and Aegon quickly averted his gaze. He noticed another woman on the dance floor, someone that was quite connected to his sister - the reason Aegon truly knew her. Alys Harroway. If he desired Rhaena for what she represented, Alys was one his loins burned for. Skin the color of a peach, in all other coloring she was the exact opposite of his. Black of hair, brown of eye, slight in build, and slender in figure. Ripe and begging for his hands to peel that tight dress off of her.

The dance ended and Aegon kissed Elinor's hand, making her putty in his hands. If I want her I can have her. But there was only one he wanted… yet would he take her? Aegon was undecided at this point.

"Your Grace?"

Blinking, Aegon looked up only to narrow his eyes, the object of his disdain that night right in front of him. "Ser Rogar. What do you want?"

Black of hair and blue of eye, Rogar sported a thick but trimmed bushy beard like Aegon's great uncle Orys - making Rogar his second-cousin by blood. He smiled at him, almost as burly and well-built as his uncle Maegor. Aside from the longer hair, their features were close companions. "Your mother the Queen is worried of you. That you're not having a good time."

"And she sends you to ask me rather than summon me to the table?"

Ser Rogar smirked in pride, his swagger obvious. "She saw you dancing with Lady Elinor and didn't want to summon you out of your fun." He raised a brow. "But I can see you don't truly desire her."

"What's it to you?"

"You're a Prince. This is your domain as the heir. Take what you truly want - my advice as your blood." He bowed. "I shall inform her Grace that you are fine." He left a blinking Aegon. Take what I want...

Searching for Lady Alys, he noticed his sister's loyal friend leave the great hall and into a corridor that no doubt led to her chambers. All of his sister's favorites had their own chambers, small yet comfortable so they could always be in her confidence. Aegon thought it ridiculous… until it allowed him to keep track of the object of his desire. Whenever the beautiful Riverlands maiden retired for the night, it was that same corridor she emerged from the next day.

Making his decision, following Rogar's advice, Aegon quickly downed the last bit of wine in his goblet and stood up. Briskly making his way after her, intending on an interception just as she disappeared into heer chambers.

In spite of the torches, the black walls of Valyrian design and lack of windows within the holdfast made it seem darker than it was - adding to the tension of what Aegon was about to do. Squinting, he could still make out her form as she approached her chamber. It was across from one of the few windows, bathing her beauty in moonlight. Aegon, hungry and enraptured, slowed his step as he approached.

When she finally noticed him, he was only a few feet away, close enough to smell a whiff of scented oils sprinkled in her hair - ones of flowers and lavender. Not something my sister does.

"Prince Aegon," she murmured, otherwise trying to compose herself.

"Lady Alys." When was the last time he was so close to her? The night of the Jubilee long ago? Seemed that long, and older and wiser left Aegon greatly troubled by that. His moral compass knew this was wrong. That he should not deflower such a noble lady as he had done the servants. But… he didn't quite care. Many men - many princes - had seduced and bedded noblewomen before. Was it wrong for him to do the same?

The fact he hadn't sampled the woman that haunted his dreams for so long seemed an obscenity needing of correction under the light of the moon. And thus his decision was made.

He stepped forward once, arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him. She froze in his grip but didn't scream. "We cannot, my Prince," she whispered, in contrast to her flush face and lidded eyes.

Aegon snorted. "I think you want this as much as I do." He was deep in his cups, but a dragon needed far more to be truly inebriated. His mind was still sharp and his reflexes still powerful, evident as he pressed Alys against the door, making her gasp. "You're mine tonight.

Snaking his hand to untie the laces holding up her bodice, Alys placed a hand on his. "No" she told him, but her thumb caressed the back of his hand.

Chuckling, Aegon ignored her words. Another hand moved to hike up her dress just enough for him to slip underneath. Alys gasped when Aegon simultaneously latched onto her neck and brushed against her smallclothes. She was soaked.

Running his tongue over her smooth skin, a tug of the dress revealed her bare breasts and he hungrily blazed a trail downward. "No." she said with a firmer voice, grabbing at his arm that was against her core.

"Kessa," he hissed, almost laughing at her feeble attempts. Aegon tugged at her smallclothes, grinning against her skin as he heard a rip - he was impatient and wanted her. Enjoying the wetness of her folds. "You want this," he insisted, taking a nipple. Breasts small yet also as firm as ripe apples.

Alys threw her head back and melded against him, panting as her hands just fell to the side. Aegon assaulting her sensitive pearl with a furious lashing. There was no more resistance on her part. Instead, Alys enabled it, sought it out. Her hands grasped his silver hair, urging him on. Aegon lavished love on her nipples before blazing back upward, wet kisses again on her neck.

"Tell me you want this," he growled into her ear, sucking on a lobe. Fingering her nub in the middle of a dark corridor.

"Yes…" she moaned, writhing much more furiously against him. "I want this… ohhh…" Unlike the maids and whores he had previously sampled, Alys' climax wasn't a strong tremor but more a gasping bliss.

It made Aegon grin, but he could do better. Kissing from his ear across her jaw and cheek, that was all she needed before she sought him out with hers. Their resulting kiss sloppy and filled with want. A decisive attack, Aegon dominating her mouth with his powerful tongue.

He wasted no more time. Her door was thrown open, Alys shoved inside with only a pause to kick it shut again. He shoved her to the bed and hastily removed his doublet and trousers. Aegon grinned as she wasn't wasting time either, peeling off her dress and waiting perfectly bare for him. Shy yet hungry, a combination that made him hard as steel. Climbing atop her and meeting her lips again, his cock poked at her soaked entrance. "Tell me yes."

"Yes…" she moaned.

With one motion he entered her fully, making him grunt. So tight, so perfect. A maiden yet she felt no pain, only wrapping her luscious legs round his hips and pulling him deeper. The two of them never breaking their kiss.

Would this be what it felt to take his sister's maidenhead? Somehow Aegon didn't think it could compare, yet desire it less he didn't.

Seconds later, all thoughts of his sister died as she tightened around him, the Prince lost forever to this woman even if he didn't know it.

"Princess… I find no comfort in advancing without your horse guard."

Ser Dick Bean was by no means physically unfit, but even his well-built form was having difficulty traversing the Red Mountains of Dorne. Perhaps due to his size and strength. Shorter and sleeker, Rhaena had little trouble - though without the adept skill the mountain-bred Gawen Corbray could endeavour to hold. She swore, the man was part goat at how he scrambled up the rocks and crags.

"No one must know we're here, Ser Bean," she whispered back. "Lady Dayne's letter stated she was to meet us similarly situated."

"Forgive me, but that could be a trap as well."

"Then Dreamfyre will protect us." Thanking the gods for the cloud cover, she looked up at the overcast sky and couldn't make out her beloved dragon by vision alone. Yet she was there regardless. Stay tight, girl. I'll call if I need you.

'Yes, muna.'

It felt strange for Dark Sister to be strapped to her back rather than her waist, but the tight confines of much of the paths up the mountain slope proved Ser Gawen's advice correct. Aside from the silver hair tied back - though underneath a Dornish headscarf tied tightly round her face to hide it - she looked more akin to a Dornish irregular than a Princess of House Targaryen. Mustard-yellow trousers, a loose shirt covered with leather armor, and brown boots all shrouded her royal lineage.

Such was likely the point, and it felt oddly freeing to wear this. Nevermind the aches and pains from such climbing.

Nevermind the fact she'd rather be in her dragonriding dress… or bare of all clothes while riding Maegor…

The headscarf thankfully covered her blush at the thought… that and her cheeky grin.

Leather gloves keeping the sharp rocks from slicing at her hands, one haul that strained her muscles drew her to an outcrop along the mountainside where Ser Gawen had stopped on. For a moment she thought it was for a water break, but Lady Forlorn drawn and ready got her guard up. "Where is your flock?" the Lord Commander asked, cream cloak dirty and streaked with red dust - not the Kingsguard cloak but close enough to distinguish him among the other Dornish clothing.

Across was another man dressed similarly, but the skin shown by the vision slit was swarthy. Dornish. "On the east side of the mountain. Can't have Reachmen stealing my sheep."

Sighing, Gawen sheathed his blade. "It's them," he told Rhaena and Dick, the latter only lowering his guard slightly while Rhaena's tension eased. "Take me to Lady Dayne."

The guard nodded. "Follow me." Rhaena raised a brow but complied, flanked in front and rear by her bodyguards. Her eyes glanced at the other outcrops overlooking the overhang. How many of them contain hidden archers? Hopefully she would never know.

A small cave was inhabited by three others. Two guards, one with the lithe body of a woman though one that looked like she could handle the scimitar strapped to her belt, and a figured dressed similarly to Rhaena. Only her headscarf was off and she slowly sipped at a cup. She was very pretty in a delicate sort of way. "Princess Rhaena, it is an honor."

Rhaena could see her eyes - they weren't anything but cunning and sharp. Rhaena only lowered her mouth guard, exposing her face but nothing else. "You are correct."

A snort. "Good supposition that you'd be sent. Was expecting one of the Tarlys… or Maegor himself though.

"My uncle knows I can take care of myself, and I would consider the Lady of Starfall important enough to need a royal to parlay with."

"Astute. You are truly one of the strong ones, Princess." Water was passed out, which was greatly appreciated by the three Westerosi even if they didn't show their gratitude. Tension still predominated. "To business?"

"Aye, that is appreciated."

Clarisse set her hands on her lap. "The Vulture King, as he is called. You are having difficulty in bringing him to justice."

Rhaena narrowed her eyes. "We are close to eradicating him. He's made mistakes."

"Eradicating his men, perhaps, but he can get more." She shifted. "Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?"

"Why would you help us?" That was Ser Gawen. Bean meanwhile, kept eyeing the exit to make sure no Dornish tried to block them off from an escape route.

"I understand it isn't your… experience to find a Dornishwoman trustworthy, but we have common ground. The Vulture King embarrasses us and threatens my lands with war. Reachmen have raided across the Torrentine and I would like it stopped."

"I'm sensing there are other reasons, but that doesn't matter at this point. What can you offer?"

Clarisse smiled, one that truly made her beautiful - if she wasn't married, some man would be very happy to be bound to her. "The location of the Vulture King."

"Sounds too good to be true. If you betray me with false information?"

"Then I assume your dragon would break any ambush." She and Rhaena stared at each other, a certain understanding and respect being passed forth.

A/N: The endgame of the vulture rebellion is nigh.

Jae and Egg are getting close to their end relationships. Quite amusing, no?

Enjoy and see you next time!