To the guest reviewer wanting an update on Essos. I'm going to have to disappoint I'm afraid. There may still be trickles of news and rumours coming in now and then, but I'm not going to give a full update because eventually one of the characters is going to make an extended trip to Essos, and I want what they experience to be as new as it is to the reader.


"Very well done today, Shireen," Myrielle said, smiling broadly as she slid a glass of wine across the table to her. It had been a very long day her mother had been busy with the new market watch and so Shireen had been left dealing with the lords of the Narrow Sea, who were complaining about the numbers of soldiers on their islands. Half of them wanted Lyonel to leave soldiers behind, fearing attack, others wanted him to take the whole bloody lot of them so that they didn't have to feed them. They were clearly not happy about having her dealing with their complaints rather than her mother, as well. It had taken all her efforts to force a level of acceptance on all of them. None left happy, but none left angry either, and that was all Shireen could hope for. Shireen took it and drank half the glass without a reply, relishing the sweet burn in her throat. Her mother raised an eyebrow. "That's not like you," she commented dryly, "is something wrong?"

Shireen bit her lip, how to broach it with her mother. Amalia told her that her mother was well aware, but what if that was a lie to get Shireen to accept what was happening? No, she had to ask, she had to know. "Do you know about Lyonel and Amalia?"

"You mean that Lyonel has taken her as a mistress? Yes I know." She sat down, apparently completely unconcerned.

Shireen squeezed her cup until her knuckles were white. "You aren't angry?"

"Should I be? Your brother could do far worse for a mistress than her."

"But he shouldn't have a mistress!" Shireen insisted. "It's wrong."

"So is killing, and yet here we are, fighting a war. Your brother having taken a woman into his bed who he treats well and is there willingly is far from the worst sin plaguing Westeros these days." Her mother sat back. "And would you begrudge Lyonel the happiness and comfort she brings him?"

Shireen bristled. "He never needed to indulge in lust to find them before."

Myrielle's gaze didn't waver. "You didn't answer my question."

She threw back the cup, draining the last of the wine. "This war started when Cersei Lannister found comfort and happiness out of wedlock, if we are going to claim to be better we have to act it."

"Your brother is not having sex with his sister," Myrielle pointed out. "Do not make him out to be the same as that woman."

"I know, I would never suggest that. But this could lead him astray."

Her mother raised a long finger. "If I thought your brother was endangered by this relationship, I would never have encouraged it, and I would put an end to it."

Shireen sat back, her mouth falling open. "You encouraged it?"

"The sparks were there," her mother replied dismissively, "I merely fanned them."

"You pushed Lyonel to do this?" Shireen asked. How could her mother do that, she was the very first to impress the importance of the faith onto them.

"It was a nudge, at most."

"That's…" she trailed off, what answer was there to that, her mother was so sure that what she did was right that even Shireen was questioning it. "Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered.

"Ah," Myrielle said, smiling knowingly, "so that's why you're angry."

Yes, she was angry, did that surprise her mother, that she was capable of anger. "I understand why you didn't tell me in a letter while I was at Storm's End, we both had our duties. But you could have told me all the time I've been here. Why didn't you?"

"It wasn't my place to say," Myrielle replied simply, filling up Shireen's glass again. "I am not your spy, nor am I Lyonel's spy." Her mother put down the jug of wine and took Shireen's hand, squeezing it softly. "Shireen, I have always considered myself blessed to have had two children who love each other as you and Lyonel do. I don't know any other siblings as close as you two. If the fact that Lyonel has taken a mistress is a problem between the two of you, you need to talk to him about it. You would both lose something more precious than gold if you fell out over this."

Shireen drank another half cup of wine. "But how am I supposed to even start that conversation?"

"Just ask him about why he took Amalia as a mistress."

Shireen could already feel her face burning with embarrassment. "But-"

"Shireen," her mother cut in firmly, "no excuses, all you'll find are more excuses, go and find your brother and talk to him. Today."

There was no arguing with her mother when she took that tone.


Shireen dismounted on the hill, looping the reins of her horse loosely around a low hanging branch. On the fields below her, Lyonel's archer battalions were practising their craft. Thousands of arrows and bolts soared through the air as Lyonel watched over them, surrounded by his officers.

"Princess!" She turned at the call. A short distance away, Amalia was waving at her from where she lay on a blanket on the shaded side of the hill. When Shireen raised her hand to wave back, Amalia beckoned her over. Shireen didn't want to go, but she would be rude to just refuse. So she joined Amalia on her blanket, on which three baskets of food lay. "It's wonderful to see you princess," Amalia said, beaming at her, "can I get you something to eat, to drink?"

"A drink would be lovely." Shireen said.

"Of course, water or wine?"

"No tea?"

Amalia wrinkled her nose. "One day they'll invent something to keep tea hot, alas, not yet."

A foolish question, of course they couldn't keep tea hot all the way out here. "Water please," she said. Having already had some wine with her mother, she didn't want to cloud her head. If she was going to confront Lyonel today, she would do it with her wits.

She took the hewn cup that Amalia passed over. "So, how are you doing?" Amalia asked. "I've missed our conversations."

"So have I," Shireen said, "I'm sorry, I've just been very busy." Already she was apologising to this woman when she had been… with her brother. It was an unnatural power.

Amalia looked at her knowingly. "Are you sure? It has nothing to do with the fact that the last time we saw each other I was sitting on your brother's lap as he kissed my neck?" Shireen knew the flushing would come before it did. Amalia giggled as Shireen glowered. "I'm sorry, princess, you just look adorable when flushed so," she said, reaching over and patting Shireen's hand, rubbing the knuckles softly. "But, I confess, it was not how I wished you to find out about our relationship."

Shireen took a breath. "How did you want me to find out?"

"Well I wanted to tell you immediately," Amalia said softly, "but your brother wanted to do it himself, do it right, as he said it. And since he is your brother, I didn't want to harm your relationship by revealing that myself."

"What investment do you have in our relationship?"

Amalia looked over at Lyonel, a small smile forming on her features. "Well, I don't have any siblings of my own, but from what he told me of you, and how he told me I could tell it was special. Very special."

"It was," Shireen replied bitterly.

Amalia sat upright, suddenly completely serious. "Princess, I promise you, I have not taken your place in Lyonel's heart, and I never will. What we have is fun, but it is a fireplace next to the sun. You are what gives him purpose."

Shireen was angry about that, but not for the right reason. She should be angry because Lyonel wasn't supposed to think of his sister as his purpose, his purpose was supposed to be his people, his land, his future crown. But no, she was angry because Lyonel didn't show it.

"I don't think that's true," she told Amalia.

Amalia smiled assuredly. "Perhaps I exaggerate a little," she said. "But I promise you, he still cares."

"Then why does he push me away?" Shireen shouldn't be sharing with this woman, but it felt good to say to someone who wasn't her mother.

"He hardly pushes you away, from what I see of you."

"That's because you never saw us before," Shireen pointed out.

"A fair point," Amalia conceded. "So what has changed?"

"He used to tell me things. He used to let me comfort him when he needed it."

"And you're upset that he comes to me now," Amalia said.

"No, that's not it," Shireen stammered, too quickly.

Amalia squeezed her hand again. "It's alright, I understand," she said softly. "But I promise it's not because he values you any less, it's probably because he doesn't want to show any weakness in front of you."

"Well he doesn't need to be like that, he always used to come to me, and I love that he always came to me, not mother, not father, me. I loved that I could soothe his worries. And now, when I can't be beside him on the battlefield, I thought I could at least do that."

Shireen matched Amalia's stare. There was no anger there, just an inquisitive calmness. "Do you want me to leave him?" Amalia asked, calmly and without anger.

Part of Shireen wanted to say yes, but it was a crude impulse, leaping before the others like an impetuous child. Loud, but not alone. "No," she said softly. "I want Lyonel to be ready, and if that means he relaxes in your company instead of mine, so be it. Besides, you have done nothing to deserve him leaving you." She turned her hand in Amalia's grip, squeezing it back. "And the kind of comfort you provide, well, it's not like I could do that."

Amalia giggled. "Very true. But I think there are ways," they both looked over at Lyonel, tall and imposing in the autumn wind. "We can both be there for him."

"If he'll have us," Shireen said.

"A man has a need of a lover, and he also needs his family, I will not be the one to take it from him, I rather like him too much for that."

"You like him? You don't love him?"

Amalia looked at her surprised. "We don't really know each other well enough for that," she said softly.

"But, you're bedding him? If you don't love him, then why would you do that?"

"So innocent," Amalia giggled.

"What?" Shireen asked, confused.

"Never you mind," Amalia said. "One day, you'll understand. In the meantime, how did you used to comfort him?"

Shireen explained, leaving out some of the more personal details, how she used to soothe Lyonel's worries. "I see," Amalia said when Shireen was done. "Well, maybe I can help you with that."

"What?"

Amalia leant in, a playful glint in her eye. "If Lyonel won't accept your kisses anymore, I can give it to him for you."

"What?" Shireen asked again.

Amalia reached and and tapped her lips gently. "You give me your kiss, and I'll go and give it to your brother for you."

"I don't," Shireen began.

"Come on," Amalia said mischievously. "It'll be fun. Give it a try."

Shireen took a breath and nodded, why not. She leant in and kissed Amalia on the cheek. But Amalia only frowned. "So you want me to go and rub my cheek against your brother? Alright I suppose."

"What do you mean?" Shireen asked as Amalia got to her feet.

Amalia tapped where Shireen had just kissed her. "I have to give this to your brother, which means I'll have to rub my cheek against him. That'll be awkward, but as you wish."

"You're not going to do it now!" Shireen asked. "He's in the middle of his work."

"True, but it won't take a second to rub my cheek on his."

"Wait," Shireen said, getting to her feet. "Don't rub your cheek on his." She leant in and pressed her mouth against Amalia's unmoving lips.

Amalia grinned. "That'll be easier. Here, have this one back," she swiped her fingers along her cheek where Shireen had first kissed her and rubbed it off on Shireen's cheek.

"Urgh," Shireen shuddered, wiping away the traces of her transferred kiss. To which Amalia laughed before making her way purposefully to Lyonel. Shireen watched her march straight up to Lyonel and pressing her lips to his cheek. She leant up and whispered something in his ear. As she turned away Lyonel seized her arm and pulled her into another fierce kiss. Shireen looked away, not needing to see that.

After a minute or so, Amalia returned. "Princess," she said.

"Yes?"

Amalia took a breath, then reached up and took Shireen's face between her hands, and then pulled her in, kissing her fully on the mouth. It was an awkward kiss, their lips just stayed pressed against each other, no movement or passion in it. Amalia pulled away, looking flustered for the first time. "From your brother," she said.

Unsure how to respond, Shireen just stood there. Amalia, also unsure, did the same. "I didn't think that through, I'm sorry," she said, finally stepping away. "I didn't think he would ask me to give you his kiss."

"It's alright," Shireen said, "I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" She seemed genuinely concerned.

Shireen smiled at her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Of course, it was just a kiss. Besides, you gave mine to him, it's not so wrong that you gave his to me."

"Yes, but still," she swallowed. "I don't kiss girls, not on the lips at least."

Now it was Shireen's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You were basically asking me to kiss you on the lips."

"That's different," Amalia insisted.

"How?"

"You kissed me, I didn't kiss you."

"So you've never kissed a girl?"

"No."

"Not even a friend?"

Amalia smiled sheepishly. It was such a strange look on a woman who was usually so self confident. "I never had girl friends. Most of the girls I grew up with were in my father's… employ." Shireen frowned, then it dawned on her. They were family slaves. Amalia continued. "And the rest were not like me."

"I can't imagine they were," Shireen said, she couldn't imagine anyone like Amalia.

"I only mean that they all had brothers who would inherit their family businesses. I don't. They talked about the latest fashions and flirtations. I had to deal with interest rates and shipping manifests."

Now Shireen was more confused. "But you are the height of fashion, and when it comes to flirting, well…" she nodded towards Lyonel.

"Yes, but I had to fit that in in my free time," Amalia pointed out unconcerned. "Which cut into my time for reading poetry and watching the philosophers debate on the open podiums. So I spent as little time as possible doing so."

"And the flirting?" Shireen asked. "How much time did you have for that?"

Amalia sat back, clearly amused. "My my, is my innocent princess asking me how many men I have welcomed into my bed?"

Shireen's face was on fire again. "No, it just, you won Lyonel over so easily."

Amalia laughed. "Well, Lyonel was almost as innocent as you my darling. But since you asked." Amalia held out her hand, three fingers raised. "There you go."

"Three?" Shireen asked, her voice squeaking. She wasn't sure why, what number was she expecting? A dozen? One?

"Three," Amalia confirmed. "But don't worry, your brother is by far my favourite."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel better," Shireen muttered.

"Yes that might have been an inappropriate thing to say," Amalia replied, the faintest hint of a blush colouring her cheeks. "My apologies."

Eager to change the subject, Shireen asked. "You've mentioned poetry before, you like it a lot do you."

Immediately, Amalia's eyes brightened. "Oh yes, I love it, such art with the words, the images, the stories. Do you like poetry?"

"We don't really have it here," Shireen replied, "we favour songs over poetry."

"I've heard your singing, it is a thing of great beauty," Amalia said with a smile. "But if you haven't read any poetry, that simply must be corrected." She frowned, drumming her index finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Can you read High Valyrian?"

"I'm afraid not," Shireen replied.

"Ah, a pity," Amalia said. "The Laeranxys is my favourite epic poem but it relies on the intricacies and sentence structure of High Valyrian to truly appreciate… The Zamettari, that one translates well, I'll lend you my copy, you simply must read it."

Seeing Amalia so eager, was refreshing and Shireen already wanted to know what was so good about these poems. "What is it about?" She asked.

Amalia's smile widened, her eyes glowing with passion. "It's set during the fourth Ghiscari war, and the eventual fall of Zamettar to the Valyrians and their dragons. It's got everything, drama, romance, treachery, prophesy, gods, all of it."

Intrigued, Shireen nodded. "Alright then, I'll read it."

Amalia pulled Shireen into a surprising and tight hug. "Oh wonderful, I'll bring it up to the castle tonight, and drop it off in your rooms." Shireen returned the hug, smiling at Amalia's happiness.

"What are you two hugging over?"

Shireen pulled back and looked up at Lyonel, but Amalia spoke first. "It would seem your sister has an appreciation for fine art that I have utterly failed to impart to you," She said, faking exasperation.

Lyonel frowned. "I've got to-" He began.

"Focus on the war, I know I know," Amalia waved away his reply, getting to her feet and brushing down her dress. "Honestly, I wonder if you'll ever have the time to appreciate the finer things in life."

"The war won't last forever," Lyonel said.

"But then you'll be recovering from the war, then you'll be preparing to be king, then you'll be the king and then you'll be dead, never having appreciated the fine art of poetry." She tutted, pouting at him. "Well, if you're done for the day?"

"We are," Lyonel confirmed. "Then I have to pass on a message to Silos, if you'll excuse me," she swept off, leaving both Baratheons looking after her, a small smile twitching on Shireen's lips.

"She waited all day just to pass on a message?" Lyonel asked rhetorically.

Oh Lyonel, Shireen thought. Perhaps he really was innocent, Shireen saw what Amalia was doing, she was giving them some time alone. "Leave her to it and come and sit down," Shireen said, patting the blanket next to her.

Nodding, Lyonel sat down. His quiver clattered at his belt, arrows rattling against each other, his tunic was creased and worn and when he pulled off his gloves, she could see sweat on his palms and around his wrists. "Here," she said, passing him a water skin, which he took gratefully, gulping down the fresh drink.

There it was, the awkward silence that she had been dreading. It was time to get it over with. "Lyonel, we need to talk."

Lyonel froze for a moment, water dribbling down his front. Slowly, he lowered the skin, his eyes downcast. "I know," he said quietly.

"Let me go first." She took a breath and spoke. "I don't like that you have a mistress," she said. Lyonel opened his mouth to reply, but Shireen continued. "Let me finish. I like Amalia, I like that you like her and I like that she brings you happiness. I am glad she can bring you comfort in ways that I can't. But I still don't think you should have a mistress, I think that kings and princes should hold themselves to a higher standard than that. I hold you to a higher standard than that because I love you. I love you so much and it hurts me that you have taken a mistress. But I won't stand in your way or tell you what you must do. You know your body and soul better than I. And more than wanting you to be morally good, I want you to be happy."

Lyonel nodded. "Thank you. Thank you, Shireen. I'm sorry I didn't broach this topic sooner, and tell you what Amalia meant for me, to me, and why I'm with her. She hasn't taken your place in my heart, no one will ever do that. But as much as I love you, I wouldn't set Amalia aside just because you asked me to. So thank you for not asking."

"Where does that leave us?" Shireen asked.

Lyonel shuffled up next to her. "I think we can't go all the way back to where we were, so we must go forward." He cupped her cheek softly, looked into her eyes for the longest moment, then leant in and pressed a firm kiss to Shireen's forehead. "Let's not use Amalia to do that again," he whispered.

Shireen's breath hitched, tears forming in her eyes. "Does that mean I can…"

Lyonel nodded. "It's how you've always shown affection, I shouldn't have denied it to you."

Shireen leant in, relieved, but as her lips descended on his, she froze for a moment, then darted passed them and pressed a kiss to each of Lyonel's cheeks. She pulled away, the tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. "I do show my affection for you in kisses. But I think perhaps kisses on the lips are rather inappropriate for a prince and princess, don't you?"

Lyonel smiled, brushing her tears away with his fingers. "I do," he said, pulling her in tight. Shireen lost herself in the hug, safe in Lyonel's arms. Why did they grow cold over this? Here, they were as warm as they had ever been.