A/N: Hey all, hope all is going well.

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Chapter 39: Scandal

By the Mother above, she had never imagined to be that woman.

She had seen them, during her time helping receive guests at the Hightower and even more once marrying a Prince and becoming Ceryse Targaryen. The women carrying themselves with supurb dignity and poise, but underneath… One gaze into their eyes could see the pain. The dead state of one that lost their will to live. The only sign of their emotion being a flash of red as their husbands fondled and flirted in front of them - ever brazen.

Ceryse never imagined being in this position. Oh, outwardly she lived it with Maegor's wildling lover, but on that she never truly blamed him. Both suffered, both endured the agony of one child after another loved and cherished. Maegor's infidelity had been a symptom, not the disease.

But this…

"Married," she murmured to herself. "My husband… married… to my niece. His niece." Rhaena Targaryen. Was she her sister-wife now? Her wife?

Was this just some nightmare?

Gods, she wished it were, but no such luck. Ceryse relived constantly the moment her life had turned into the seven hells.

Attended by her maids, Ceryse hummed softly. It had been cold that night, Maegor not beside her but she refused to fret - the explanation from him that he had to run to Dragonstone with his mother was accepted without fuss. Before bed she had heard Balerion arrive, and this morning she yearned to see him to break their fast.

She longed for him, and perhaps they could patch up the pain of losing their last babe. Perhaps try again…

The door burst open, slamming against the wall hard enough to dent and crack it. Ceryse swiveled around to see her brother, Ser Morgen, in the armor of the Warrior's Sons. He had accompanied her to King's Landing at leave of High Septon Hugor, and had been her sweet rock. Only now his face was contorted in rage. "Is he here?!" he bellowed.

Ceryse blinked, completely confused. "What do you speak of?" Her maids cowered, the knight looking close to slitting throats, he was so angry.

"All of you, begone!" he screeched at them. Terrified looks moved to Ceryse, who merely nodded. They all scurried away, leaving the two of them alone. "Where is that husband of yours?!"

"Maegor, he isn't here. I was just about to go and break my fast with him…"

"Never!" He got in her face, grabbing her wrists protectively, though hard enough to make her squirm. "Never will you see that cunt again!"

What was going on? "Brother, stop speaking like that. Why are you saying that?" Ceryse was completely confused. "He is my husband and I love him, you know this… ahhh…"

His grip tightened. "I won't let you be humiliated by him anymore! You will come with me back to Oldtown!"

"Brother… you're hurting me…"

"You will obey me!"

The click of boots on the floor heralded a new arrival. "Step away from her." Ceryse saw her husband over Morgen's shoulder. Her heart soared at the sight of him, her beautiful dragon.

Morgen heard him too, and did so… only to seethe. "So the cunt shows up to play, does he?" He drew his sword. "I'll geld you for what you did to my sister!"

"Put that down before I shove my sword through your throat," Maegor warned, hand on the hilt of Blackfyre. "Begone before I have the Kingsguard throw you into the dungeons!"

"Go ahead! I'd love for you to explain to the world that you'd harm your own kin to protect your whoremongering!"

Heart beating out of her chest, Ceryse darted in between them… ending up by Maegor's side, hand on his chest while her other arm wrapped around his waist. "Brother, please. Do not do this and just talk to us. What has gotten into you?"

"He has!" screeched Morgen. "His insult of me is when he took to wed his young niece on Dragonstone after putting her with child!"

There was a silence… until a confused Ceryse laughed. "Is this but a jape? If it is then you worked far too hard to convince me." She looked up at Maegor with a smile… only to see his face go white. "My love?"

Morgen sneered. "Yes, goodbrother. Tell her the truth."

"What truth… what…?" Her eyes widened, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Is what my brother says the truth?"

He sighed. "Aye." The word was like a knife to her heart. "I have married Rhaena under the sight of the gods of Old Valyria… she is my wife as you are, and she is with child." Ceryse stepped back as if struck, hands at her side and face pale - all blood leaving it.

Screaming, Morgen charged at Maegor who was forced to draw Blackfyre to parry. "I'll kill you!"

It was then that two Kingsguards entered the chamber. "Stand down!" ordered Ser Maladon Moore, his own blade drawn as was Ser Owen Bush's. "Stand down or we shall kill you!" Morgen, still red with rage, nevertheless did so and was quickly restrained. "Shall I throw him into the cells, your Grace?" he asked Maegor.

Meeting the eyes of his goodbrother, Maegor shook his head. "Just escort him somewhere else and then let him go once his anger cools."

"As you command. Come on, you."

"This isn't over!" yelled Morgen, voice faint as he was dragged out.

Alone they were, husband and wife… but not his only wife. Ceryse had wrapped her arms around her protectively, barely able to handle the cold that was sifting through her soul. "Ceryse…" she heard Maegor say, approaching her.

But she stepped out of his arms, unable to look him in the eye. "How do I make sense of this? How… I don't even know what happened."

"Wife…"

"Do you love her?"

"With all my heart," he answered honestly.

A sob came out. "Was… was I not enough for you?"

"If you're asking me if I love you just as desperately, I do."

"Then why?"

He was silent for a moment. "I… I'm my father's son, I suppose."

The words rang to this moment in Ceryse's head, as if trying to slam against her skull with every heartbeat. Her husband… her husband had married another. A younger, more beautiful maiden that happened to be a Targaryen just like Maegor. The Valyrian incest still at work, and while it wasn't one that Ceryse had put away her qualms about it didn't bother her as much. No, it was being the wronged wife. The first wife, set aside in all effect for her barrenness.

Maegor was still her husband, there was no demanded annulment, but that was about her father's power, not her. At least that was what she feared.

Her hazy mind had brought her here automatically. It was… both ironic and painful, but without knocking she opened the door. "Princess."

Thankfully, Rhaena was not with Maegor. Instead she spoke in hushed tones with Tyanna of Pentos, Alayne Royce, and a woman in a northern-cut dress that was likely Jorelle Mormont. Not one Ceryse was familiar with but one she knew of. Looking up, Rhaena looked surprised to see her, but that was changed with a cheery smile. "Ladies, please leave my sister-wife and I some privacy."

Sister-wife. Ceryse only partially noticed how the ladies curtseyed to her, instead staring with hollowed eyes at Rhaena. Eventually, the door closed and they were alone.

Rhaena approached her. "Aunt Ceryse, I…"

It was by the spur of the moment. Out rocketed her hand, stinging as it connected with Rhaena's cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark or pitch her back, but Rhaena reached up to nurse her cheek, eyes mournful.

"I don't blame you for that," she said.

Did Ceryse regret it? Aye, she did, same as when she had slammed her fists against Maegor over and over as she cried. Here, she was all cried out but her sorrow hadn't left her. "Why, niece?" was what ended up coming out. "Why did you do it? Bed him? Have his child? Marry him?"

Rhaena didn't hesitate. "Because I love him. I always loved him."

"So did I."

The sad frown deepened, Rhaena sighing. "Never did he waver in loving you… and I know you are aware of our family's predilections, but that is not what I will speak of."

"You don't need to," Ceryse replied. "I… I… you are going to give him what I can't. A babe. A beautiful child of pure Valyrian stock, unlike mine. Perhaps that is why the gods would not let mine survive."

"Ceryse, you'd be our babe's muna too. Just as Visenya was my grandmother so too would…"

She held up her hands. "Don't patronize me. It will be impossible." Ceryse was wrong. She felt tears down her cheeks. "You have him… I had him and I lost him to you. That's it."

Rhaena grabbed her hands. "Ceryse…" Her thumbs caressed the back of her hands, something utterly intimate.

Ceryse reacted by recoiling back. "Don't… I… I can't deal with this." Stepping back, she left Rhaena where she was. Making it halfway to her chambers before the tears broke through her resolve once more.

Twirling about, Princess Alysanne giggled. "I'm gonna be the greatest aunt in the world."

"We know, we know," Arya Reed groaned. "Enough already." It approached the hour of the wolf… the preferred time for the both of them to get in archery practice without anyone noticing. Best get good at it so they can't mock us when we do practice in the open.

Alysanne agreed with her friend, even if her mind was on more sweet things. "You'll see. I'll take my niece or nephew on Silverwing, teach them to dance, to shoot arrows… it's gonna be so fun!" Both of them bounding down the staircase towards the training yard, over the howl of the sea wind did Alysanne hear the sound of wooden thunks. Was someone in the training yard? "Suppose it wasn't to be that we would have it to ourselves this time of night," she chuckled to Arya.

The Crannogwoman rolled her eyes. "Who would be addled enough to train as the hour of the wolf approaches?" Alysanne blinked at her, incredulous. Arya blushed a bit. "We came because it was stupid… so we'd have space."

Shaking her head, Alysanne reached the bottom and turned the corner… to find exactly who. "It's Jae." Her smile changed when she noticed just what her brother was doing. "He's not happy."

"When is he ever happy?" snorted Arya, though there was a hint of melancholy in her tone.

Alysanne was glad to hear it - while they were… best to say distant, since the Eyrie both her friend and her brother held a better relationship and didn't fight as much. As much. "He's not like this, Arry." Jaehaerys hacked and slashed at the training dummy with his wooden blade like a man possessed… a snarl on his lips and angered cries passing them as he continued to assault the hapless dummy. It made her scared. "Jae!" Dropping her bow, she ran to him. "Jae!"

As if finally noticing he wasn't alone, Jaehaerys reacted. Nearly slamming his sword into her… only to stop just before he hit her side. "Aly…" The blade dropped. "Fuck, don't scare me like that." He breathed deeply, hand over his heart. "Was in a trance there, I suppose."

"You were," she replied before hugging him tightly. "Gods, what are you doing out here so late?"

"I could say the same for you." He was cagey. Alysanne didn't like it.

Holding both bows, Arya finally caught up. "Training. Best time, when no one's lookin'." When Alysanne broke the embrace, she tossed her the bow before looking at Jae. Why does this fool have to be so handsome? "Yet I doubt that was your intention."

Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes. "I wanted to get away from it all."

"Yet not to train… just to get away from it all." She chuckled. "What got you so angry, my Prince?"

"None of your business, Reed," he replied, though the hostility came from the circumstance rather than personal animosity. "I just… needed to vent."

Alysanne cupped his cheek. "Please tell me, Jae."

His gaze softened, but still he shook his head. "You're better off not knowing, Aly. I'll… I'll try to not push myself so hard, but if you want to train feel free but this is what I'll be doing." Twirling his blade, he went back to the straw and burlap dummy. Beginning his movements once more.

Biting her lip, she looked at the befuddled Arya. "He's not going to say anything, so it's best we do our thing. Keep him company."

Glancing once more at Jaehaerys, Alysanne nodded. "Aye, let's do this."

The moon crested over Blackwater Bay and had begun its slow descent by the time Alysanne's arms started to ache so unbearably that drawing the bow back grew ever impossible. The low light made it hard to aim, but she had adjusted and the target was more often than not hit in the center. You've done well, Aly. Years of practice with Arya was improving her skills, even if they weren't on par yet with a master marksman or a trained hunter like her Crannogwoman friend.

Even with her further years experience, even with the cool breeze, Arya was drenched in sweat just as Alysanne - inky black hair matted to her forehead that highlighted her non-traditional, harsh beauty. Budding beauty, rather. "Your brother's still sullen."

Alysanne glanced at him, continuing his sets even though his attacks were visibly weakening. "There's something the matter with him… I think it's my sister."

A chuckle. "She did throw everyone for a loop when marrying your uncle Maegor." Arya shrugged. "I'd like to pummel some sense into him, but that might backfire."

"Yeah, not the time for that. Not when he's this angry." To be honest, Alysanne would've found such quite amusing, but Jae wouldn't. "Why don't you go inside, I'll talk to him."

Arya hesitated, but eventually nodded. "Suit yourself… just make sure he comes in. I… the silver-haired cunt is annoying, but he grows on you." The two friends hugged and Arya jogged back inside.

Alone with her brother, Alysanne found he was near collapse. Hunched over and panting. Oh, brother. Walking over to him, she placed a hand on his back. He was so exhausted that he didn't even flinch. "Go away, Aly," he almost croaked.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Gods, please don't let Reed rub off on you. It's annoying with her just being here."

"Stop deflecting. Come, sit down with me." He didn't resist when she guided him over to a stone bench - one Rhaena would often sit at to watch them train… or their parents. Kepa was always so proud of them no matter which, though her muna worried of her daughters training too hard. 'They must. Dragon girls are fierce and proud,' grandmother Visenya would always say in response. When they were seated, she took his hands in hers as they often saw their muna do with their kepa. "So, tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing."

"Wrong answer." That was all Arya. "Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No… and stop saying that."

Alysanne smirked. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…"

He cupped her cheeks, groaning. "Fine, ugh." Withdrawing his hands, Jae balled his fists. "I want to be as strong as our uncle… so when he grows old I can finally pay him back for what he did to us." There was fire in his eyes. "I'll take his head and mount it on a spike."

Eyes widening at the declaration, Alysanne grew fearful. "No, don't say that."

"No, I will say it. He deserves it for dishonoring… our sister."

She'd never know what he initially planned to say before the pregnant pause, but Alysanne put it off. "They're married, Jae. She's happy, happier than I'd ever seen her."

A snort. "Sure, she's happy now while it's all fresh, but just wait for when all the shit comes down! The faith, House Hightower… kepa is weak, and there's gonna be war all because our uncle couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

"Where did you learn such vile words?" To tell the truth, Alysanne was still quite innocent and blushed at them.

"From muna," was his reply, and mentioning their mother only made him ever angrier. "Uncle Maegor told me once that sometimes one finds love that expressing would only hurt everyone. That a truly unselfish person would let it go even if it causes pain… yet he didn't… he didn't with our sister." Jaehaerys put his face in his hands. "I know she's happy… but she won't be. She won't be, Aly…"

Hugging him again, Alysanne let him tremble in her arms. "You don't know that, Jae. You don't know."

"I do, though. We can't work miracles."

"We're dragons, of course we can." That was always what grandmother - and their grandfather while he was alive - stressed to them. "Perhaps you could talk to grandmother about it? Or Rhaena directly?"

But he shook his head. "No… no I don't want to talk to anyone!" He pushed her back, standing. "Just leave me alone!"

Watching him storm off, Alysanne felt tears prick on her lids. Before she knew it, she was racing off herself. Finally falling to her knees after a lightning blur of running in front of the Heart Tree of the Godswood. Allowing it's calming aura to still her troubled soul. Old gods, hear me. Give Jae peace. Let him bury the anger in his heart, even if it means I have to suffer. I give my happiness and comfort to you to take so you can give it to Jae.

Please hear me.

Only the rustle of the wind answered her.

The old gods heard her prayer.

The sound of trumpets heralded the arrival of the King to the throne room. Dressed in long robes and with his ornate crown upon his head, Aenys followed Lord Commander Corbray and Ser Olyvar Bracken with his hands clasped together. At once, all in the great hall of the Dragonpalace fell to their knees. Prince Aegon included, the Kingsguard having informed him personally at his father's call of court.

Eyes flickering up, he noticed that in addition to his mother - Queen Alyssa trying impressively hard to remain impassive but the anger in her eyes visible to all who knew where to look - his sister Rhaena and uncle Maegor were trailing behind. Rhaena had her hands clasped in front of her as their father, but while his rested on his chest hers rested on her belly. As for his uncle, Maegor stood tall, hand resting atop Blackfyre's hilt.

Something wasn't right.

Once Aenys sat upon the Iron Throne, glancing downward in fatigue, he made a subtle nod to… was that Murmison? "Please rise." Standing again, Aegon suddenly noticed that upon the septon's breast was the pin of the Hand… Maegor's was bare. What is going on?!

Clearing his throat, Aenys had dispensed with the usual formalities - that was unlike him, always delighting in the pomp and ceremony of court, but much was unlike him today. "You may all wonder why we are here?" he began, voice clear and concise as it usually was, but missing his jovial tone. "I have an announcement that may shock the lot of you, but please try to listen until I am finished."

Aegon fought the urge to roll his eyes. A proper King or Prince does not ask permission. He bears much in mind, but then does. He'd learned those lessons from both his mother and his grandmother. But his father was his father. Kind, deferent, and eager to please all around him.

Bearing that in mind. "I announce the marriage of my daughter, Princess Rhaena."

One could hear a pin drop in the entire throne room. Aegon himself… it didn't register for several moments until his eyes went wide. Speechless, he met his sister's eyes. Rhaena looked at him, and everything in her violets told him that it was true. She had wed.

"A ceremony on Dragonstone, officiated by my mother, Queen Dowager Visenya." She was within the crowd at court, quiet and reserved as usual. Still beautiful in spite of her clear age - the last of the Conquerors. "She has married my brother, Prince Maegor. They currently expect a child, a Targaryen on both sides and true of birth as I am."

If news of Rhaena's sudden marriage had stunned the throne room, this hit it with the force of a thousand winter storms. "But… the Prince is already married?" The words of Lord Allard Roxton, one of the more pious yet crafty Lords of the Reach - doing his part in visiting court. "Where is the Princess Ceryse."

It was Maegor that answered. "In accordance with the custom of my late father, King Aegon First of his Name, I have taken both Princess Ceryse and Princess Rhaena to wed."

Two wives for the Prince. It was then that the uproar started. "Blasphemy!" proclaimed Lord Tully, as pious as Lord Allard, yet nowhere near as crafty. "You defy the gods."

"You say this, in my presence, Lord Tully?" Queen Visenya's voice was ice, resembling that of her Stark goodfamily. "That is treason." The Lord of Riverrun sputtered at the accusation, yet he held no defense of it.

"They had the will of the gods behind them, ordained in battle." The voice of Maester Myros - a new arrival in the capitol from the Citadel to assist Grand Maester Gawen - his tone matter of fact but defiant. "Prince Maegor has not, and his defiance of the will of the Seven by shaming his wed and bedded wife Princess Ceryse is unconscionable, not to mention his defilement of his niece."

"Watch yourself, Maester," Maegor growled. "I will not allow you to speak of my wife as such."

"She is not your wife. Your true wife dwells elsewhere in this castle."

Maegor was about to stand, when Aenys held up his hand. "Enough of this." That quieted much of it down. "Prince Maegor has been removed from his position as Hand of the King and his place on the small council, but remains at court. The marriage has been recognized and consummated."

Certainly many ribald jokes were whispered of just when it was - all prior to the wedding itself. Aegon wanted to butcher all those fools alive for such insolence. Or should he rather his uncle?

"Princess Rhaena will remain on the small council, and I have appointed good Septon Murmison to be the new Hand as my commitment to peace and faith within the Seven Kingdoms. In that vein, I extend my invitation for High Septon Hugor to make his journey to King's Landing in order to treat and bless my daughter's new marriage." Clapping his hands, he rose. "That is all. I will not take any further inquiries on the subject."

Acting quickly, Aegon rushed after his sister. "Rhaena… why?" he begged, voice uneven.

Glancing at Maegor, her new husband, Rhaena sighed. "I love him, Egg. What can I truly say?"

She was right. What else could she say? Wandering the keep, the grounds, Aegon pieced everything together. All he had not known or perhaps refused to see, it was as clear as a cloudless sky. She always loved our uncle. Something unbreakable, that in which his ambitions and the commonly held belief among court had failed to take heed of. She was always his, I never had a chance. The thought should've brought him to his knees in sorrow, but instead Egg found a weight had been lifted from his chest.

And unceremoniously he found himself at her door. One he hesitated for the briefest of moments before knocking brusquely. Determinedly. Desperately.

Aegon found himself sucking in a breath through his nostrils as she opened the door. Dressed in a woolen shift that hugged her curves in all the right places. Brown hair down and framing her beautiful face. Gods, she was angelic. "Egg?" she asked, eyes blinking away traces of sleep.

"Did I wake you?" he asked… more like stammered, hating himself for making such a stupid question.

But Alys shook her head. "I was about too." She yawned. "What do you want?"

He opened his mouth to speak but each time the words died on his lips. "I… I came for you."

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "No." The word was firm, but her tone wasn't. Mouth quivering. "Go away."

Aegon knew he could command her to let him enter. Knew that she wouldn't stop him. But he wouldn't do that to her. "Please, let me in."

"It's wiser if we didn't. Egg… please don't do this."

"I know you don't truly want that." Biting her lip, she looked so innocent. So eager to just open her arms and let him in. If he simply kissed her, such was likely to happen but Aegon wanted so much more. So when she finally allowed him inside and closed the door, he spun Alys around and took her hand in his. "I love you."

Gasping, Alys shook her head. "Damn you, my Prince." Not what he was expecting. "How can you do this to me?"

"Do what? I love you, Alys."

She was trembling. "You desire your sister… to marry her and make your claim to the throne airtight, but no, now she's married to your uncle and there's no chance you'll ever have her." The next words came out as a sob. "And that's the only reason you chose me then? I, your secondary eventually"

Fear crossed his face. "No, not at all…" He reached out to grab her arms, but gently. Running his fingers down the skin of her bare arms. "Only now do I see what I was too foolish to once see. That it is you that I want."

A tear fell down her cheek, their eyes locked. "What is it that you want? For I to be your mistress? To sate your lusts and provide you with relief from the stresses of your Princely duties?"

"I should hope the latter," he smirked slightly, only to drop it when she looked away. "I want you not as my mistress, Alys. I want you to be my wife."

"Your wife?" She was surprised.

"Aye, my wife."

"But… but… I'm not of a major house. It would be wrong…"

He snorted. "Alys, your father is on the Small Council. You have won the friendship of my sister… trust me, you are worthy. And even if you aren't, I don't fucking care." He kissed her, a chaste kiss in which he could taste the salt of her tears. "I just want you."

"Egg…" She was trembling. "Is this all some dream?"

Aegon smiled. "I don't believe so. You're too beautiful for me to conjure up."

That finally brought a smile to her face. "A poet like your father." Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. "I love you too."

"So… is that an acceptance?"

Nodding, Alys looked like her heart was about to burst. "Aye, I accept you as my betrothed… though you will have to ask my father."

"Both I and my kepa will ask your father." Unwilling to be parted from her for another moment, Aegon surged forward, latching to her mouth with a powerful kiss. Tongue swiping across her lips, begging for entrance which was oh so willingly granted.

They had already coupled together, knowing every curve, every moan, every scent - yet the both of them desperately sought to relearn all such information. Hands wandered everywhere, the innocent Alys moaning like a wanton whore as she palmed his cock through his trousers. Aegon, for his part, yanked up the hem of her nightgown and sunk his fingers deep into her cunt. "Egg…" she moaned. "Ohhh…"

"Wet for me already?" He remarked against her lips. Going for her neck.

"I'll always desire you, my love," she murmured, mewling from the attention he lavished on her. "Please, Aegon… take me to bed." Just as desperate as her, Aegon couldn't deny her request. Lifting her up with one arm and a grunt and carrying her to the bed, sucking on her neck and never removing his fingers from inside her.

"No, you did not see a giant!" Disagreeing that she was, little Saera Stark leaned forward, hands clasped together and listening intently to the conversation with girlish excitement.

"I did, wee one," Gelina of the Free Folk remarked, seated at the end of the table that was reserved for honored guests. Especially being in the private dining chamber of House Stark. Rhaenys had several guards behind her, not to mention all the direwolves close at hand… remain by the hearth they did, but the beasts were fast. If Gelina tried something… she'd regret it. But she didn't, making Rhaenys' decision to start to treat her less of a prisoner and more of a guest all the more a success. "Big beast, to the top of this ceiling." All the children were fascinated, even young Alaric.

Especially Alaric. Brooding though he was, he sucked up information like a sponge. "Can they speak the common tongue?"

She chuckled. "Nay, not even the Old Tongue. Too dim for it. Speak what they call Mag Nuk, which to yer people is more like grunts. I barely understand it." She cut into a chunk of chicken, dipping it in berry sauce before eating it. "Lots of things in the True North, wee one. Make yer' smile and piss yer' trousers at 'da same time."

For some reason, Saera found that hysterical.

Boots clicking against the stone floor, Rhaenys shifted her eyes to see Ser Willem Poole - the steward of Winterfell - enter the dining chamber. A Ravenscroll in hand. "A message, Ser Willem? From the capital?"

"I believe it is, Princess." Poole extended it to her, leading to a snort from Brandon.

Rhaenys looked up and glared. "What?"

He smirked. "Should I then be called the Prince-consort of Winterfell, Willem?" Apart from the nervous Ser Willem, those at the table chuckled, Aegon most of all - even Gelina snickered, though the frown was back close after. "Well, wife?"

"It's more fitting then for you to be the Lord-consort. You're not worthy to be a Prince."

Saera almost spit out her drink, laughing so hard. Alaric had a bemused smile even as his bother chortled. "Muna, must you?"

"I suppose she does, little Lord," Gelina spoke, finally managing to have gotten the hand of a fork. Least my hands aren't greasy anymore… gods, I'm becoming one of them… She grabbed a chicken leg with her hands and chomped into it, as if sending a message.

A message to herself, for all but a rather disturbed Saera were paying closer attention to Rhaenys' missif from the Dragonpalace. "Open it, muna," insisted Aegon, leaning in.

Looking at her husband, hand on her belly, Brandon nodded. "I am mildly curious. Please open it, my love."

Rhaenys smiled back at her man, matching his look of love. Still stroking the swell of the little dragonwolf, she used her knife to pop open the seal and quickly unfolded it. Scanning the few lines… Her eyes bugged out of her skull. "Impossible… I… can't believe it."

Brandon was suddenly apprehensive. "Rhaenys?"

"What is it, muna?" Alaric was quiet. "Is it grandmother? Uncle Aenys?"

"No, don't tell me someone's dead!" Saera clutched her head, beset by fear.

"That's not what it says… right muna?"

"Gods, no one's dead." Some in King's Landing might as well be. "Your cousin Rhaena has fallen with child, and thus has wed the kepa."

The clatter of a fork rang out as Brandon simply stared at her, while all three of her birthed babes sighed in relief. "Praise the old gods," Saera laughed awkwardly, relieved. "Could've been something worse."

"Can we go see the babe, muna?" asked Aegon. "Hey, he or she could be best friends with our little brother or sister!" He seemed excited at the idea.

"Dat's true, wee ones," Gelina mused. "Blood's the least likely to stab 'ya in the throat and take yer' ice whiskey."

"Lady Gelina, shut up."

She glared at Rhaenys. "I ain't no lady."

"Still, shut up." Normally her antics were amusing, but this was not the right moment. She buried her face in her hands.

Before Brandon could inquire further, it was Alaric that proved himself true as his father's son. "Who's the kepa?"

"Is it her brother, Prince Aegon?" That was Ryah Bolton, previously silent. But how in tune Aegon's future betrothed was with Alaric was… disconcerting.

All eyes on her, Rhaenys shook her head. "No, that would be simpler though… the kepa is my brother. Your uncle Maegor."

"But he's already married."

"I think my goodbrother has taken your cousin as a second wife… oh fuck."

Saera giggled. "Kepa said a bad word."

Rhaenys immediately stood from her seat. "I have to go to King's Landing."

"Rhae, please don't act hastily."

"No, you're not going to stop me."

But the kids were excited. "Yay! Let's go!"

"You're staying here, kids," Rhaenys hissed.

Saera pouted. "But I wanna see Rhaena and the babe. Please, muna."

"Yes, please muna."

Even Alaric. "Please, please, please."

But Rhaenys wasn't in the mood. "I said no!" That shut the kids up… Rhaenys had the dragon temper, but she was almost always sweet with them. It made them scared. Their muna stormed out, kepa following but not until after shooting them a look of apology.

Saera immediately ran into her older brother's arms. "Why'd muna yell at us like that?"

"She's upset about our cousin… and uncle… I don't get it."

"Me neither. Alaric?"

He shrugged, holding Ryah's hand. "Beats me."

A snort from Gelina, still eating. "Wee ones, let me give ye' some wisdom. When lads and lasses git married… it's all one big mess. It's sheer dumb luck 'dat 'dey stay together."

"Is that what happened to you?" Alaric looked at her. "Do you have someone north of the wall?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, no lass fer' me."

"A lass? A girl?" Saera giggled. "That's silly."

Gelina shook her head, but smirked unironically. "Aye, wee one. That can be silly. 'Specially for us." Taking her tankard of ale, she drank it all, wishing she were back in her cell. Better that than getting immersed in this mad southern family's marital problems.

And finding out she somewhat enjoyed being part of it.

"You were never one to hold back, lad."

To most, that would come as a compliment. But Maegor knew Lord Brandon Snow since he was but a boy… taciturn and patient like a wolf on a hunt, boldness was sometimes admirable. Sometimes, not a most of the time. "What happened had to happen, Lord Snow."

"It did not." Brandon shook his head. "You did a very foolish thing that could destroy more than just your reputation."

He sighed, but narrowed his eyes. "I regret only that I couldn't inform my brother, my wife, and the world on my own terms. Marrying Rhaena, loving Rhaena, by Tessarion I would go to my deathbed and know that I'd do it all over again."

Brandon scowled, but then smirked. "Oh, you may have gotten more cautious, more icy… but you are still the dragon you always were." It amused him, and ultimately the bastard of Winterfell knew that such was what Maegor great. "You're a real deal, not some cheap imitation of another house."

"Just as I would wish to remain a dragon, you and any Stark would remain a wolf."

"True, true." Brandon grew serious again. "This will have consequences beyond that of just your family… or court. Best be prepared for them."

"Just as you taught me. Always vigilant."

A nod. "The North will stand with you and House Targaryen."

He smiled. "Hoping it doesn't get that far."

"Might be too late for that." Brandon shook his hand and departed, white hair glinting in the low firelight. When did he get so old?

When did you grow old? Gods, the time had flown by.

Entering his chambers, the stresses of the day melted away as he witnessed such a heartwarming sight. Rhaena was perched on the bed, giggling uncontrollably as Syndor repeatedly licked her face and nuzzled the slight swell of her belly - all while whimpering. "I do suspect she knows," Maegor beamed.

Rhaena looked up, and while happy to begin with just seeing him brought adoration to her face. It was the most wondrous thing. "Aye… such a sweet thing." She cooed at Syndor, resting her cheek on the direwolf's head.

"No, no, she's a ferocious killer." Syndor merely whimpered and licked Rhaena's cheek, making her giggle again. "Ugh… don't take away her ferocity, wife."

"Have I taken away Dreamfyre's?" Her smile widened. "I love that, though."

"What, me calling you 'wife?'"

"Mmmm… say it again."

"Wife. My wife."

Sighing in joy, she gently guided Syndor away and opened her arms - the direwolf trotting to the fire just as Maegor climbed in them, hugging her close. "I missed you today."

He kissed her neck. "Aye, seeing you at court wasn't enough for me."

"Nor I." Breathing in his scent, Rhaena frowned. "Ceryse came by here."

Maegor's breath hitched. "How… did that go?"

"She slapped me… but more from hurt than anger. She's lost, Maegor. Thinks you abandoned her for her barrenness."

"Gods… that wasn't it at all."

"I tried to tell her that we could be a family, the three of us - and the hatchling." He cupped her belly, Rhaena giving him a small smile. "I mean, Ceryse is beautiful."

He snorted. "I know you have a weakness for that, beautiful women."

"Sometimes." She wanted to tease him, but it wasn't for the moment. Not for this conversation. "She's not ready to hear such things. She's too hurt, and if she goes to Oldtown you'll never see her again. They'll poison her against us… or at least reinforce the hurt."

"Her brother," Maegor grunted. "Tried to attack me. Didn't work, obviously, but the sentiment is likely shared by the Hightowers… I don't think they ever warmed up to me at all. Too cozy with the Faith."

Reminded of the Faith just brought more melancholy to Rhaena. Thinking on it was just a downward spiral, so she did the only thing that could be done. She kissed him. Chaste at first, but it soon deepened. Grew hungry, frantic, the two of them in need of the powerful desire they shared for each other. "Have me, husband. Please," Rhaena pleaded, coming up for breath for just a moment.

There would be times for her to be a dragon, but here she was simply a wife that needed her husband.

A husband that was always there for her. She slipped off her shift as he loosened his tunic. Rhaena was already naked, and with a few deft flicks of her fingers so was he, trousers upon the floor and joined by his smallclothes.

He gazed at the tiny swell with awe. "Our babe."

Her eyes sparkled. "Aye, ours." Leaning in for a kiss, suddenly Maegor went to his knees between her legs. "Seven Hells, " she gasped.

Maegor dived into her as a man dying of thirst - probing, teasing, lapping at her folds with both lips and tongue. Her hands weaved in his silver-hair, same color as hers, guiding him to the right spot. "Kessa… kessa, Maegor," she mewled. Soon a warm tension built in her center, upon her suddenly. A quiet gasp left her throat, spasms of pleasure flowing over her and leaving Rhaena trembling with pleasure. "Oh… oh… Fuck!" she screamed, head collapsing onto the bed behind her.

Rising, Maegor fisted his weeping cock. "I need you now, wife."

Simply his using that word again electrified Rhaena. She flung the covers off the bed and rested on her back, easing her legs apart. "Come here, my dragon."

As he clambered on top of the bed, he cupped her cheek. "I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat, Rhaena leaning to nuzzle his palm."And I you, my beloved." Only moments later her mouth opened again, Maegor's cock stretching her walls. Sliding all the way into her.

So large, so powerful. Rhaena adored it, for he was truly a man. Kind and gentle with those he loved, but able to bring fire and blood with both dragon and blade… She mewled, she screamed, she clawed at his back as the forceful thrusts threatened to split her in half. He tried to keep a steady pace, but even the powerful dragon lost himself to the passion. Her legs wrapped round his waist to spur him on, rolling her hips into his thrusts.

Such loving frenzy was not to last, as she felt another orgasm rippling through her. "Oh… oh…" she called out, tightening her grip. "Look at me… please look at me."

He obliged, gritting his teeth at the spasms of her walls. "Rhaena," he moaned, only her name on his lips as his own seed spilled inside her.

Tangled did they stay, Maegor smelling the fragrance of her silver hair and Rhaena listening to his heartbeat. "Promise me this never changes between us," she begged. "Promise."

Maegor kissed her head. "I promise." She didn't answer, for she fell into a serene sleep. Him not far behind, content with their lot wrapped in each other's arms.

"Your Grace… I… I cannot believe all of this has transpired at once."

Aenys, leaning on his desk with his head propped up by his arm, idly chuckled. "My father used to tell me that there were some decades where nothing happened, and then some weeks where a decade happens. I finally understand what he meant."

The Hand of the King pin feeling heavy on his breast, Murmison spoke a silent prayer and then sat across the table from his King and friend. "I can only offer congratulations upon the betrothal of Prince Aegon and Lady Harroway… though I was unaware they were sweet on each other."

"That's the point, I had no idea." He laughed again, though this one looked quite sorrowful. "My children… they are engaged in conduct behind my back. Rhaena with my brother, Aegon with Lady Alys, Jae and Aly trying to hatch their dragons. Thank the Seven above for Viserys… at least he is a sweet, quiet boy trying not to humiliate me."

Reaching out to place his hand comfortingly on Aenys', Murmison tried to smile. "As your friend and spiritual advisor, I can only say that you should keep your children close. Show them the way of piety and amity that guided you through life." That did provoke a genuine smile upon the King's face. "However, as your Hand I can tell you that I would proclaim the betrothal of Prince Aegon to the world."

His brow rose. "How so?"

Murmison gulped. "Maegor and Rhaena's marriage will be flooding Westeros, but they eloped upon Dragonstone so whatever happened already happened. You had no hand in coordinating it so the chaos will be all at once."

"Please, do not remind me," he groaned.

"And yet, you now have a betrothal between the child of yours seen widely as your heir…"

Aenys slammed his fist. "I have not decided that yet!" He shook. "I still lean towards Rhaena… my sweet firstborn. My powerful dragon daughter." The anger shifted back into melancholy.

"All I am saying, your Grace," explained Murmison. "That Lady Alys is completely acceptable in terms of her eligibility to be a Princess. Let me proclaim the betrothal… treat it as the wedding of the century. Dances, tourneys, a grand celebration that I shall officiate, and I believe the chaos of your daughter's marriage shall dissipate."

Looking up, there was hope in Aenys' eyes. Hope… and fear. "Yet what of Maegor… what of his wife, my goodsister Ceryse…" He moaned. "Gods, my daughter is now my goodsister…"

Not having any answers, Murmison shook his head. "One step at a time, your Grace. One step at a time."

Feeling the wheelhouse groan and rattle over each cobblestone of the few paved streets of King's Landing, Septon Murmison couldn't be in a more sour, surreal mood. The position of Hand of the King was a great honor - especially for a man of the cloth - but by the Father above it felt instead a poisoned chalice.

Princess Rhaena had not made his duty any easier. The girl, headstrong as her grandmother, likely sundered the Realm already in the balance. Only the King failed to see the cracks forming, and with Maegor compromised and being the brute that widened said cracks, it was up to Murmison to perform the greatest miracle of his lifetime - preserving the three-headed dragon's monarchy upon the Realm.

"We're almost there, mi'Lord," the household guard spoke, wearing his Targaryen surcoat. Normally the Lord Hand would have his own banners guarding him, but Murmison was no Lord. He didn't represent the Faith and thus couldn't count on the Warrior's Sons, so the same Targaryen guards that Maegor would use were afforded to him. "And there's a large crowd."

"What?" Poking his head out of the wheelhouse, Murmison nearly gasped. Thousands had gathered in the courtyard around the Sept of Remembrance, none hostile but it was clear they weren't joyous either.

All simply looked at the wheelhouse as it rode up - expecting someone important inside.

They were right.

Eventually the wheelhouse groaned to a halt in front of the steps to the Sept of Remembrance. Murmison was allowed out and he ascended the steps, only when reaching the top did he turn. Gazing at the sea of faces… simple faces, those of pious laborers, washerwomen, young children. Some Poor Fellows gathered around the massive Wat the Hewer. And the entire complement of Warrior's Sons, dressed resplendently.

"My children," he spoke, making clear his Hand of the King pin. "Today, His Grace, Aenys. First of his Name, he remains ever faithful to you and to the Seven. I have been made Hand of the King by his decree, and forever will I use every breath in my body to keep him on the righteous path."

That did not satisfy them. "Is it true?!" asked one of the smallfolk, a man in a smith's apron. "Did Prince Maegor marry 'da Princess Rhaena?!"

No point in denying it. "Yes, he did."

"E' 'as a wife!"

"Bigamy!"

"Save 'da odder womin' fer 'da rest of us!" That earned some humorous jeers.

"Easy, my children, easy. Let us not forget the prosperity brought to us by their Graces. Yes, the actions will bear my inquiry and the light of the Seven upon them, but rest assured - the future is sound. Just now, Prince Aegon has proposed marriage to Lady Alys Harroway, a woman of proven piety and the greatest of reputations." More murmuring. "There will be a glorious wedding in this very sept, and I know the light of the Seven will shine upon this fair Realm."

Not his best speech, but it was enough. The crowd began to disperse, and Murmison made his way into the sept.

Soon inside, Murmison let out a deep sigh and leaned his head against one of the columns. Breathing deeply. "They are satisfied, for now, the rabble."

Murmison turned to see Damon Morrigen, his rainbow cloak reflecting the light of the candles in a panoply of color. "I highly doubt this will be the end of it, Ser Damon."

"Oh, certainly not." He approached the Lord Hand. "The rabble may be won over temporarily with fancy speeches and the promises of weddings ordained by the Seven, but it is the Starry Sept that will truly sway them if it so wishes… and right now they are upset."

Groaning, Murmison gazed at Damon with worried eyes. "A raven, already?"

"Word travels fast."

"And which more harmed them? The marriage of uncle to niece, the marriage of a man already married? Or the fact that it is Lord Hightower's daughter that was so dishonored."

"All three, I believe, though the second you listed is what's driving Archsepton Boniface to distraction. Barth and Mattaeus are keeping the voices of fire at bay, but unless his Grace addresses their concerns…"

"Wait, they're coming here?"

"Alongside the High Septon. They wish to speak to the King."

Murmison nodded. "I shall arrange for their arrival personally."

Damon frowned. "Remember, Lord Hand, the Seven who are One are far less forgiving than the High Septon would be." Morrigen then journeyed into the cella of the sept, leaving Murmison alone with the new information.

A/N: Aegon handled it... surprisingly well. Ceryse, not so much.

Alysanne is pretty much a convert to the Old Gods.

Till next time!

Enjoy and please comment!