A/N: Not beta'd, so there will be errors. I did my best to find the errors, however. I am still in search of someone to help me with the grammar, so please send me a dm if you're interested.

14 B.C

The bells of the castle Fieldstone and the village of Donnelwood rung through the day.

The situation had called for it. A princess had been born to the king, purple-faced and squealing - she was a healthy babe, born of her fathers' visage with her dark hair and green eyes. No one man could claim that the princess was not his, even if he had not proclaimed the child Jeyne would bear to be his own long before it had come into the world.

Yet with the birth of the princess, came the death of Jeyne.

Ignotus had done his best to prepare himself for the day. The weeks leading up to the birth had been gruelling and bloody. Jeyne had to be constantly attended to by three maesters who worked tirelessly to repetitively close and help heal her wounds whenever they reopened and bled, for the natural birth that laid open the best chances for the young queen to survive the process.

Ignotus had been there, watching her and listening to her cries of agony as the maesters moved about her with their equipment, blood covering their hands. He hadn't been able to do anything for her, for all the power he had as the King of the Riverlands, but watch her scream and shift, doubtless praying for the seven to aid her. And like most times one pleaded with the gods, they did not help.

When all the screaming was done, replaced by the squealing of a child she was too weak to even hold, Maester Dorrick had taken the moment from their workings on her to shake his head at Ignotus, and he knew she was lost to them; she could not be saved.

"A princess, your grace," Maester Lucos had said as his peers busied with Jeyne.

"Give her to me."

The maester looked hesitant, "Your grace, perhaps a milk -"

Ignotus could recall if he had said anything at all, but the man had stopped and given him his daughter then, wrapped in her blanket. All he knew of was the love he had felt for her at that moment, and the strong desire to protect her, before he slowly approached her dying mother, who sat almost entirely still then, and gently raised the crying babies so Jeyne could at least see the fruits of her pain.

Jeyne barely seemed to register them, but she did, and with her last breath, said:

"Lysa."

And so the princess came to be called, Lysa Teague.

As was the custom of the house of Teague, she was to be laid to rest naked with a trident, and he alone was present for her burial. There was a collection of hills that formed a basin near Fieldstone where his house buried their dead. The land there was wet and the soil soggy from the nearby Blue Fork, and the spot in which he had dug had small puddles of water, as well as a large stone burial mark with her name over it.

'To be one with the rivers,' his father had said to him when they had to bury his mother. He hadn't loved the untidiness of it then, he did not love it now, but it was tradition. He would not stop what was close to near a thousand years of that.

Ser Jon Darklyn had shown intense resentment at not being able to bury his sister - but even he was not fool enough to display whatever hatred he had of Ignotus to him directly now, and Robert and Rolland Darklyn had shown dismay at the tradition itself but had bid their sister rest prior and voiced no other protest - all of them having been at Fieldstone for the birth, and what they knew would come after.

That brought him to watching Lysa sleep, some days after his queen's death and a day after her burial. Feeling alone was an easy thing now. He could not go to see Jeyne for conversation, and he did not even speak to the men that had become akin to friends in his near year-long rule. The men he had with him in the Fieldstone were the garrison and those of his household guard that had been here with Jeyne or come with him from Harrenhal, and four of them stood vigil at the corners of the nursery.

His court and council were at Harrenhal, the new seat of his house, and administrating the Rivers and the Hills in his name. He had sent ravens across the kingdom, and even a dreaded one to Dragonstone, to let all know of the death of the queen.

Lord Aerion was of great aid during their war with the Ironborn along with his dragon, bringing it to a quick end with Dragonfire and the subsequent near extinction of House Hoare - which was only survived by the fourteen-year-old Othgar. The victory of said war was still being felt, what with the Iron Islands having fallen to chaos thereafter, what with many of its ruling lords, their sons and grandson being killed in mass, there were supposedly incidents of muddled successions and small scale conflicts on the isles, and that had led to no raiding parties being seen since the burning of the ironborn fleet.

After the ironborn had been dealt with, Ignotus had a thousand horses to march with the Targaryen Lord to the Claw. The only lords to challenge them were the Hardys', and the Battle of the Crackclaw Barren had been a resounding victory for the Riverlands because of the Dragonfire from Balerion. It had been the one to entice the rest of the Claw lords to ride to Harrenhal to swear Ignotus fealty, thus securing the Bay of Crabs for them and a grateful house Mooton.

With that, Aerion had delivered on his end of their agreement, and with Jeyne gone now... Ignotus had to deliver on his.

He hoped Jeyne would forgive him.

The Lords' study of Fieldstone was an almost grand room, and it owed that to the Teague kings that held it before being put down by the Storm Kings and the rebelling riverlords. The smooth stone floor was covered with golden carpets, and the walls had once been lined with the proud visages of previous Teague kings and lords, and their crafted tridents and armours, but they had all since been moved to Harrenhal since he had made the great castle his seat, as had most of the contents of the room. All that remained now was the oak table, the high-back chairs that backed chairs were and the shelves and cabinets that had been between the portraits of his ancestors.

The yellowed windows - intricated by triangular patterns - let in the dimming light of the setting sun, which lightly struck half of the study with the dying light.

Ignotus had never liked to be in the study, yet the part of the lord had forced him here, to gaze upon the only way he could ever truly see his father's image.

Sometimes he wondered what his father would say to that, or if the man would be proud of what he's accomplished. He had been content with remaining a lord and had never sought a higher title or more land, and Ignotus had been too, and yet now he found himself king of the Riverlands, and the lands of the lords that owed him fealty stretched for the Twins to Blackwater Bay, from the Crackclaw Point to the hills below the Golden Tooth.

Would his father think him too ambitious? Would he have had him reject the crown?

Entering the room, he found himself incapable of answering that. He had been wandering again, and that brought him here.

He supposed it was for the best. Ignotus knew he would have to leave for Harrenhal once more soon. No doubt Aerion would see to meeting him there.

The cloak here was the only thing left of importance, and he was nearly of the mind to be rid of the thing entirely.

It was a relic of the first Teague king Torrence, its origins were as old and obscure as the founder of his house, and Ignotus was not certain not to make of it.

Ignotus' father had worn it, and his father before him, and this had gone on for so long that the thing had been called the Lords' Cloak by his eldest brother, and it was difficult to refute such a name.

Pulling it from the shelf at the corner of the room, behind the main chair of the table, he noted that it didn't look worn down at all. It almost look freshly sewn, truly, and retained its dark colouring with no hint of it fading.

His father used to give him dark looks whenever Ignotus intruded upon him wearing the cloak when he was younger and had once threatened to hit him if ever did so again. It was as if he had bothered the man amid an important conversation, and he had been sure that he had as a child, because his fathers' voice always carried into the hall outside, even when he was alone.

His mother had thought him mad, and even his brothers too. Ignotus had been sure that the source of his madness had been the cloak, for he was himself without it. and he had feared it then.

There hadn't much conviction in his fathers' threat then, and so he doubted he would have truly hit him, but Ignotus had stayed away whenever his father was in the study alone still.

Looking at it now, he couldn't imagine believing something of the sort now. It was soft in his hands, and would have been comfortable wear - it had no right being in this state after all these years.

Perhaps he should have given it to Jeyne, she would have been glad to dorn something that had been in his family for so long and would have worn it pride.

Thinking of her made him sigh, much like it had been with his brother, it was strange to think that someone he had intended to spend the rest of his life with was gone. Now, he was truly and utterly alone.

Except... He wasn't. He had a daughter now, a princess. An heir. A babe still, but she would grow to be a woman - capable and intelligent. How could he think himself alone when she needed him so?

Ignotus didn't know if he was to ever have any sons, though if things were to go as he knew they would, it seemed likely. Yet, he didn't now. How would she be able to defend the Riverlands? How would she wage war against the Kingdoms that surrounded them? Quell any rebellions that may surface?

News from the west was that Tully boy - Edmyn - held it to Ignotus for his fathers' death. Edmyn Tully had come and sworn him the oaths owed to him as king because his position was far too secure, but if he were to die, he had no doubt he would work to undo any heir he would leave behind. Was he to leave his daughter to deal with such men?

The Riverlands weren't ready for a queen, that much was clear to him. No matter what he did in his lifetime, or what he did to prepare her, many would still scoff at the idea of following a woman - it would take much more to wholly secure the throne. He needed a son.

These thoughts tore at him. So soon after Jeyne, he was already considering such; but what was he to do? The option had been forced upon him, now that she was gone. If only she had lived, if only she could have lived.

He doubted he would ever love his next queen as much as he loved his first, but the Riverlands didn't need him to - they needed him to produce an heir, a male heir. He would honour his agreement with the Targaryens and give his kingdom one.

Raising the Lord's Cloak, he turned and swung it over his shoulders.

The world shifted around, darkened into an everlasting nothingness, perhaps he should've been cursing, or perhaps he should have been fearful of what was happening. Yet, he felt almost... numb. Something soothed him, told him that this was what was bound to him happen and that he should not be scared at all. Still, he felt his hand wander to his hip, reaching for the hilt of his sword, and found it gone.

Remembering that he hadn't worn it for days now, he dropped his hands and waited.

Then, amidst the strange shifting darkness, there was a growl.

It was close, very close.

Then, everything stopped, and he was in the study again, the room entirely unchanged.

Was that what his father saw every time he put on the cloak?

"No."

This time he did scare, turning to the windows behind him with a startle.

There was nothing.

"There is nothing to fear, master."

There was something to fear, or perhaps he thought so. He felt it now. An overbearing presence at the back of his mind, dark and... malicious, and yet, somehow, not threatening to him.

Was this what his father heard? What he had conversed with?

"Yes," Its voice took on an odd somberness that did not fit the coarseness he heard from it.

"Who are you?" he asked after a moment of silence, in which he contemplated his sanity.

"You needn't speak loudly, master, lest you gain the queries your father did."

A long void of silence spread between them then, where-in Ignotus contemplated removing the cloak - more than knowing that this was its doing. He should have it burned and destroyed, for this surely could not be natural. Still, he did not move...

"Death."

Another silence stretched, one so long that it would have felt strange if this had been another person.

"Death?" He repeated, mouth going dry - surely, he was going mad.

"Yes, master," It confirmed in his mind, and yet did not elaborate.

"A... God?" The ridiculousness of it was not lost to him. How was it that he put on a cloak, and he was suddenly speaking to a deity? Let alone the one that was feared by most, and looked upon with dismay, and the very same one calling him its master.

"Some would say," It said once more, patiently, "And you are indeed my master. For now... And even closer to a friend that all before you."

"Death has no friends," Ignotus found himself slowly saying, and that was followed by a laugh, cold and mocking.

"If you refuse me, then... Perhaps so. You did not, last I found you."

"I have never encountered you."

Ignotus felt it smile, "That is why I find your family so dear. Few would ever contradict me as you have."

"Show me," Ignotus said, resigning himself to this, "Show me your appearance, if you are truly who you say you are."

It did so without hesitation, and he found himself outside in a barren land, grey clouds contrasting the dryness of the landscape. The familiarity he felt here kept him anchored still, and without much fear - despite him never having seen this land before. Before him, this Death, with a hood that obscured its face - or what he felt to be a lack of - and covered its entire being. It had the shape of man, but he could not bring himself to think of it as one as it towered over him.

"I have waited for this day since I learned that I babe born had been to your house named Ignotus. Your brothers interested me too, yet it was you who I intended to be held to."

It still spoke in his mind, and Ignotus feared to think about what its words meant, "What have I done to deserve such interest from... you?"

"You needn't concern yourself with things yet beyond you."

Ignotus had the sudden urge to fall and sleep. The world around him spun, and it seemed to be crumbling. The world was crumbling. The earth was groaning, the grey clouds around him darkened and a furious rain began to fall.

"You haven't the mind for this. But it is as destiny foretold it, thereby doing its duty. Are you prepared at last? To be take up your rights and be beholden to my power?"

In the study once more, he scrambled this time to take off the cloak and throw it to the floor. How could have ever contemplated giving Jeyne such a thing?

"She is not of the blood. I would have destroyed her."

The cloak was on the floor, and yet it still spoke in his mind now. How? His father always only ever spoke when it was on. Was he truly going mad?

His thoughts were met with silence. He had been half expecting for it to answer his mental inquiry, and even though it did not, a certain fear filled him still. Seeing death was surely an omen of darkness, one that surely hung over the head of his house.

"Well," Its voice returned, "Will you accept my power"

"No!"

It did not respond to that for a bit, instead of letting out a supremely mocking laugh that made Ignotus more irked than he cared to admit.

"Truly, he will be of your loins. Your survival is paramount."

Death did not return.

Ignotus was almost certain that his experience then had been instilled by his grief. He consistently grew confused whenever he considered every word this construct of his mind uttered, or even when he thought of himself standing in the dry landscape once more, watching the hooded figure in front of him. It was surely a moment of sorrow from him. That's the only thing that made sense.

He couldn't immediately relocate to Harrenhal, on account of Lysa being too young to travel and him not being of the mind to leave her in Fieldstone. Simultaneously, he had no wish to have the realm be governed by the makeshift council of his household he had left at Harrenhal.

Admittedly, he had staled when it came to the astute governing of the Riverlands.

Outside of continuing the construction of Harrenhal and making repairs to the giant seat - this time by willing men who worked for wages - he had done nothing in the true form of ruling. Of course, he met with his lords, hosting small feasts with this one or that to pertaining to their loyalties and converse on matters that needed him as kings. Yet... He had truly done nothing but make sure they paid their taxes and respected their borders.

Shortly put, he had been negligent. Then, Jeyne was dying and it was difficult to think of anything but.

But Jeyne was dead now. And he had a daughter, whose fate was bound to his success as a king.

He needed to rule.

That's why he found himself in the lords' study, a map of his kingdom spread out onto the desk in front of him - three maesters with him.

Maester Maric, the maester of the Blackwoods, whose services had been given to Ignotus by Lord Walder to aid with Jeynes pregnancy and birth. The second was his own maester, Dorrick. The third was Maester Desmond, who would nominally be serving Lord Bracken, but this one too he had been eagerly given by said lord, and Ignotus had accepted to avoid any displeasure from the Brackens sides by accepting a Blackwood maester and rejecting a Bracken one.

Anson Blackwood was to marry Damina Bracken, and that would likely put off their rivalry for a time, along with the seemingly improving relations between both lords since they had supposedly aided each other at Harrenhal, but it was best not to instil doubts of favouritism.

"To be true your grace, the lands of the Trident are as fertile as those in the Reach."

"Strange, because I find myself lacking Gardener gold," he raised his head from the map to Maester Maric, "I've been king long enough to know what we have, maester. An abundance of farmland, in use and not, plenty of forestry, and more waterways than can come to my mind watering and separating it all, for better and for worse. I am more concerned with what we should have."

"I... Your grace?" Dorrick looked to him in confusion, as did his peers.

"More and more farmers have been returning to their steads now that the ironborn have been driven out," he started, turning back to the maps, "And doubtless they will begin to prosper until we find ourselves at war again three years later, with the Lannisters marching down the Golden Tooth and it being too late to meet them before they burn half our fields. Or the Gardeners crossing the Blackwater, with too many men for us to engage them directly, and the Riverlands bleed as our smallfolk suffer."

Only Maester Desmond seemed to understand then, and perhaps Ignotus was imagining it, he felt the man get a bit excited as he drew closer.

"You speak it true, your grace," he said, his eyes turning to the map, "The prosperity of the Riverlands has been too hindered by war and the kingdom's vulnerability to invading armies. Its strength and economy suffer greatly from it."

"You see, then," Ignotus nodded, as the others began to grasp it too, "This cycle of broken prosperity is what has us weaker than what we should be. We should have the wealth to rival Highgarden, and the population to match their strength. To garner that, we need to be able to protect our people, and subsequently, their farmsteads, their homes and occupation. The Riverlands."

He looked back to them once more, "I'm not going to ask you to assist me in matters of war and defence or anything of that nature, I will see to that. You three are learned men, and I would have you use your minds here."

Ruling a lordship was one thing, but a Kingdom was another matter. He was not overly talented at stewardship, and he very much doubted he would ever be, but he knew enough to get with his duties. He would need help, and he planned on finding a talented steward to help in with such."

"I would have you look at our situation and any knowledge you have available to you, and draw up potential economic schemes that would help my lords and I exploit the assets of the kingdom. You will have my steward joining you, perhaps he may have something in mind to aid you in this. I would return you to your lords in a week Maester Maric and Desmond, so use this time alongside Maester Dorrick and my steward to do as I bid."

Maester Desmond bowed, as did his peers, "It will be done as you say, your grace."

He had no doubt Desmond and Maric would tell their lords of anything they had managed to defer to each other here, but what did it matter? He was working to help them, "I would have you draw emphasises that draw particular prosperity to Fairmarket Isles, Maidenpool and Harrentown. They're our biggest town, and I would have them continue to be so."

The Brackens would be displeased at that, and he didn't take the moment to glance at Maester Desmond for it. The Paeges that ruled Fairmarket were sworn to the Blackwoods, and strengthening them was usually a sure way to incur opposition. Yet, their relations now were still good, and if there was any time to do it, it would be now, when they named each other friends.

Though his reasons were beyond them remaining prosperous, and they didn't need to know them. He intended to grant a charter to House Mooton to turn Maidenpool into a city, or rather, more so encourage them to invest more gold into their town. With the claw secured, they would have an easier time at trade as he intended. The biggest town next would be his own Harrentown, and he hoped the flowing trade would extend to there - helped along by his plan to commission a road between the two towns.

If both towns proved successful, he would lastly grant another charter to the Paeges and their Fairmarket.

Though he very much doubted he would see such success in his lifetime, he could at the very least set up the foundations for his kingdom and future son.

Much of this singular plan of his hung heavily on House Mooton. It was not for Ignotus, despite being king, to tell Lord Manfryd Mooton how to rule his lands. He hoped the charter and Ignotus taking the effort to secure the Bay of Crab would be enough of a nudge for him to invest more into his town.

'Best I actually see to him myself,' he thought, rising from the map.

"Best get to it."

The defence of the Riverlands was something else altogether.

Even three months since Lysas' birth and the death of Jeyne, three months of covering himself diligently with ruling the Riverlands for the Riverlands, and to stave off the sorrow of Jeyne, he had yet to come to a decision of was to be done for it in its defence.

The Mootons had been given their charter, and Ignotus had - as subtly as he could - pushed Manfyrd Mooton to encourage development in Maidenpool and subsequently offered him reduced taxes with far less subtly. The three Maesters and his steward had presented him with business and tax ventures that would surely make the people and most of his lords grow angry but still needed to be - and had been - enacted regardless. And as he had expected, there had been grumbling, but still so soon after the tyrannical ironborn rule, the increased taxes were still lower than those that had been imposed by Harren - they would have to deal, for now.

Yet, still, he was not yet sure of how to best deal with the vulnerability of the Riverlands.

Even now, so far up above the smallfolk petitioning him on his throne in Harrenhal that they needed to shout for him to hear - wearing the open circlet of darkened iron, with golden spikes wrought into tridents that was his crown - his mind was running through what he believed to be the best ideas.

He would have liked to gather a host and march west, capture the Golden Tooth and put down Lannister strength for a generation. That would best the easiest way to secure the west because that would thereafter force them to march around south and lay siege to Mosborough, Riverhold or Grey Stone Holdfast. Unless they moved through the Reachmen land and risked agitating the Gardeners, or moved between the seats and risked having a riverman army at their back.

Yet, such an endeavour would be far too costly in lives, and he very much doubted they could match the might of Casterly Rock so soon after the ironborn, and he was not of the mind of asking for any more assistance from the Targaryens unless completely necessary.

He contemplated ordering the construction of two fortresses north and south before the path up the Golden Tooth, and perhaps a much larger one between to once more force them to siege or have them bleed before they even fully marched into the Riverlands. And retaliation for such would more than likely be minimal, because no doubt his 'alliance' with the dragons of Dragonstone would have spread with the near destruction of the Hoares; surely they would hesitate to threaten with war.

Yet, building such fortresses would be costly, and would more than likely require the very loan he contemplated getting from the Iron Bank.

When the Harrenhal was finally complete, that would free up much of the taxes he acquired from his riverlords, and from the rich lands of Harrenhal and Fieldstone, and he may well be able to build up the funds to pay it off wholly. Further bolstered by the gold he acquired from the lands of Harroway Tower and Lolliston Keep he had yet to give to a loyal man, which was plentiful enough despite him having given portions of the land to the loyal lords surrounding the respective seats.

Even that was years in the making. Harrenhal would take that and much longer to finish.

The loan seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

He very much doubted the Starks would leave the North to meddle in the affairs of the south, they didn't need to be minded quite yet.

The east... He, once more, would've liked to conquer all the Arryn lands past the bloody gate, Wickendon, the Ninestars, the Stonehead... Yet again, the cost of lives would be high once the Arryns began pouring out of the Bloody Gate, and there was too much open land on their border to simply build a fortress without taking said lands. He would need to construct many more for that to even be effective.

Outside of war, the east was a lost cause.

The south was nearly a similar story, although... The Blackwater split them from the Reach, Stormlands and Westerlands.

He imagined a Twins Esque castle where the Blackwater forks, and a fleet of patrol vessels holding archers and catapults patrolling up and down the river when the time for war came to stop or delay a crossing. Though this would need a fleet powerful enough to hold the bay to prevent foreign powers from moving up the river and destroying the patrol ships.

All the more costly as it was, he could not think of an alternative for the south of their borders. It was too open, too flat and offered no chokepoints for him to take advantage of.

Sighing, Ignotus shifted on his throne and refocused his attention to his duty, and for a strange moment, recalled his hallucination of death.

Aerion Targaryen came a month after his return to Harrenhal.

Ignotus had watched him circle above Harrenhal, surrounded by his guard and waiting patiently when it returned:

"They are one of the closest things to your powers here. Though I would reason them to be lacking in impressiveness."

Despite Ignotus having dismissed the incident in his father's study entirely, and having displaced it from his mind entirely as a moment of grief, no measure of surprise or fear even began to bubble within. Instead, his features had contorted into a frown when he thought:

'You truly are what you say you are?'

It didn't answer, and that did nothing more than anger, but he had had to force a smile to welcome his Targaryen friend. Which was an already difficult task when he thought of why Aerion was here.

It was harder than when they were both in the Nursery - which the lord admitted to be larger than his own chambers when they were alone - and the other man's head was bent of Lysa in her crib, as she tried to reach for his hair. This day was going exactly as he imagined it would.

"Most men would not bother with this,"

"I am not here to see the princess as a lord, but as a friend,' Aerion raised his head from her, and turned to Ignotus, "I am sorry for what it took to get her here, Ignotus."

Ignotus knew he meant it genuinely, or at the very least he believed he did, but he knew well enough that any love for Lysa Aerion had would be born out of a thankfulness she was born a girl, rather than a boy. She was a potential heir, rather than an unquestionable one. Yet, such matters were for Ignotus' mind alone - it wouldn't do to be accusatory.

"All that could be done was, I'm glad she is no longer in pain."

"I understand that the Hoares survived Balerions Dragonfire."

Ignotus indicated that they best talk of this elsewhere, and after bidding goodbye to Lysa as the milkmaid was called in, he took Aerion to his own chambers, where they sat down and a servant poured them their wine.

"The Iron Isles were in disarray, as I know it," Ignotus said, "But it's apparent that Othgar Hoares Harlaw uncle has settled most of the discord with the support of the Greyjoys, and he sits as regent for his nephew until he is of age."

"An interesting development," Aerion took a sip of his wine, and Ignotus was only then surprised by how much the man trusted him, "Would you have prefered the Hoares to be destroyed?"

"I'm satisfied with what has become of our situation," he retorted, "Our women and children sleep safe, and our men work of their free will. Let the Hoares spread to the ends of the world, as long as they leave me and mine be."

Aerion nodded, before uttering, "You are a great king."

"Not yet."

"Visenya will still grow to appreciate you."

A silence spread through the chambers then, and Ignotus was none too comfortable with it, yet he still mentally went through her name. When they had last spoken of the idea of a marriage, the Targaryen lord hadn't even mentioned the name of the daughter he intended to give to Ignotus. Hearing it for the first was oddity, and he wondered if his father had felt the same way when negotiating his marriage with -

He banished that direction of thought immediately. He couldn't think of Jeyne. Not here.

"I will appreciate her as best I can."

"I understand it will be a difficulty, and you needn't be concerned with that," He said without skipping a beat, "She will do her duty."

Duty.

Ignotus thought of that more than he cared to admit at that moment.

"That gladdens me."

Then, the man smiled, his eyes set to Ignotus, "Though I hope you understand the consequences of any mistreatment."

Ignotus kept his green eyes to Aerions purple ones, his pride as king pushing him to unbend in this despite fully understanding where he came from. He couldn't imagine what he would do to the man that hurt Lysa.

His eyes only moved away from Aerions' when the shadow that he immediately recognized appeared behind the Valyrian.

Still obscured entirely by its hood, it seemed to be floating in the air, and not at all like it did when Ignotus last met this Death, it had a scythe. One that it held evenly along the unknowing Lord Aerions neck, unmoving.

"I will enjoy his soul for that."

"You imply I would ever do such a thing," Ignotus turned back to Aerion - just as the Lord glanced back in confusion, doing his best to ignore the imposing figure of him, and keeping a measure of anger instead of wonder in his voice, "You would insult me in my own home?"

"Oh, I apologise for that," Aerion cleared, his voice even, "You understand the adoration I have for my firstborn daughter. Even more so than that, Aegon was sure they would be wed - in accordance to our Valyrian tradition - and he was a bit displeased when I announced this to them, and she was too, mind you, for she cannot claim her dragon now. If there are even whispers of her mistreatment when I am dead, it may well lead to our families being at each other's necks. I would rather nothing of that nature occur."

Ignotus knew it was still more of a warning from him still.

"And it will be an easy thing, for such rumours to rise. She will be difficult. I will try to caution her against acting unqueenly, yet it may still be that she will be so. I tell you this as a friend, so you will not be confused when you meet on the day you will be wed."

'You're certainly making it hard for me to accept taking her to wife,' he thought. Yet it did not matter, a promise had been made, and a promise had to be kept. A king was as good as his word, and Aerion looked to know it. It didn't matter what he told Ignotus under the guise of their friendship, this Visenya could be barren and ugly, and he would have to wed her because he had promised him as much after Aerion burned the ironborn fleet for Riverlands, and secured the claw for them thereafter.

"It won't come to conflict," Ignotus said, not hiding his frown, "What difficulties do you presume I will encounter with her?"

"Visenya has always been a colder child than most, and the circumstances and all she will not be able to have because she is promised to you will make it all the worse," He leaned forward in his seat, "As promised, she will do her duty, but... Do not expect too much from her."

'She will be a queen. She won't want for anything,' he said, though when the man smiled, he resigned himself to what he knew would be, "Regardless... I will observe the appropriate mourning period. I will wed her at the sept of Fieldstone on the seventh day of the seventh moon in front of all my lords and your own, in a ceremony fitting for the admittance of a new queen."

When the dragon-lord smiled, he thought of Jeyne, and how she had been meant to be his queen.

This Death disappeared from behind the Targaryen

Once more, the self-proclaimed Death disappeared and could not be summoned forth by him, despite his many attempts to.

Ignotus was struck by the idea of such a being truly and utterly being real, and worse off, connected to him, or rather, his family. None of his forefathers made any mentions of it in any writings or journals.

The reasons were for secrecy, he understood, but it was difficult not to be angry at any of them for not explaining anything. Or perhaps they had. Verbally. To their first sons and direct heirs. And subsequently, any chance of him understanding this had died with his brother and then his father in his years of grief and daze.

That made more sense than there being nothing all about being attached to a god.

It was said the origins of the founder of house Teague were obscure, and thinking on it now, he must have surely been the one to acquire the ageless cloak that hadn't torn or worn down despite being in his family for generations. Every king and lord thereafter had never ventured outside of the continent, and he truly doubted that such a... magical cloak would have been found in Westeros.

It was all he could do to keep his mind from wandering from the topic.

Questions sprung from his mind as he remembered its words:

'Your survival is paramount,' Clearly, it wanted him to live, and he wondered what it would do to make sure he did. Was it powers only set in death, as stories foretold? Could it change fates and work the powers of gods?

He wanted to understand. He wanted to purchase books to read on foreign gods and their origins if any religion in Essos or elsewhere had a story even remotely conveying the idea of Death being bound to a family.

Yet, the running of his kingdom at such a time did not allow him such liberties as a time to read outside of the vital letters of his lords.

With a large loan being taken from the Iron Bank, construction had begun on three fortresses on the borders shared by Westerlands and the Riverlands, as he planned, one north of the path, in Tully lands, one south, within the Piper borders, and another on the lands around the small stream that flowed to the Red Fork that split the lands of the two lords, that would be owned by the crown.

He had been sure to purchase from both lords to avoid any future conflict over it. And though Lord Piper had only been happy to accept the gold, Edmyn Tully had seemed more than reluctant, but he had taken the gold anyway. Somehow, despite having lawfully bought the lands, he felt relations with the Tullys worsen. And that could have only been worsened when he bestowed upon Ser Raymun Piper - Lord Piper's brother - the newly appointed title of Keeper of the Mountains Pass.

Ignotus had placated him as best he could but ultimately continued with the construction and other works. Two hundred of his own men camped around the construction area, and Ser Raymund was already within his duties as their commander by guarding the pass for any excursion by the Leffords.

Ignotus had already sent ravens to the Hayfords, putting them to constructing a fleet of patrol ships capable and large enough to patrol the Blackwater, and to the Darklyns and his old father by law, for them to construct a fleet they deemed large enough to guard the Blackwater Bay against the regional lords. And thereafter, upon their acceptances, he sent wagons of gold with strong escorts, with his own overseers to prevent any misuse of the funds, to the seats of said lords.

Ignotus had delayed building a seat that would serve to bridge the Blackwater to their Westermen and Reachmen neighbours. He had no desire to worry both of the powerful regions. The Lannister lion would be slow to rouse alone, with the castles rising on its borders and the looming threat of Dragonfire, but if he pushed the animosity of the Gardeners too, doubtless both houses would work to undo it all.

He would let the fortress complete first in the coming years, and only thereafter turn to the defence of the south.

With time moving as it was, it would be too much to be concerned about anyway.

Lysa was almost a single year old, and she only seemed to be getting quieter with age. Where once she would have screamed for this or that, she only seemed to cry when she wanted to be fed. Sometimes, in those rare moments, she wasn't being minded, he would find her lying quietly in the midst of her play, not playing at all, but staring at nothing at all, seemingly contemplative.

She was still a babe. Such a thing as contemplation was beyond her - the maester had assured him - but he was almost certain the princess did just that.

He had tried to ask this Death then, even going as far as to dorn the cloak - as he now did every other day now - but of course, it had not said anything to him.

Ignotus wasn't sure why it worried him so, but her behaviour seemed all too strange to him. Children were meant to cry and scream, not sit down as if judging the world with a keen eye.

Beyond Lysa was the concern of his coming wedding.

He had set his steward to minding the preparations. It was meant to be an extravagant affair, what with it being the first royal wedding performed within the traditions of the seven in near a century. It had to work as an assurance to the people of the power of their River King, and convey the return of the Faith to his lords, whilst also welcoming the foreign woman that would be his queen appropriately.

With so much going on in terms of gold in the Riverlands, he had put off the construction of Harrenhals towers for two months to put away more gold for the wedding, intent on not using the gold from the bank for anything other than what he planned.

He had also been of the mind to send letters to his would-be wife, but he hadn't the heart to do it yet. Guilt racked him every time he thought to pick up a quill, and he thought of Jeyne - how he hadn't even bothered to write to her, and the first time he saw was when they would be wed, only getting to know her in the days leading up to it. Putting in any sort of effort now felt wrong to him, and he felt it forever would.

So he resigned himself to wait.

13 B.C

The day came, despite his misgivings.

Their ship escort was held at the Bay of Crabs, and the rider Lord Mooton had sent bore the news that Lord Manfryd would feast them, before joining and escorting them to Fieldstone, promising to see the Targaryens safely to him. It also bore the news that they had indeed brought a single dragon with them, though Ignotus had been told by Aerion of that prior.

With them would come the Darrys as they ventured north to Fieldstone too, and the Targaryen bannermen of Vaelaryon and Celitigar.

Ignotus had decided to be wed in the home of his ancestors in Fieldstone instead of Harrenhal, as dozens of Teagues had before him. It felt more than appropriate.

Last he had stood in this courtyard, awaiting for his betrothed, he was a boy, scared and overshadowed by his two brothers. Now he was a king, and a man grown. He found it difficult to pull up some sort of nervousness within him. It was all under a measure of grief and guilt, and a desire to return to that scared boy who knew not what his future held.

A foray of colours were riding into the courtyard of the moderate castle, first and on the highest pole, his own Teague banner. Then came the black ploughman on brown that was the Darrys' soldiers. Next came men in dark amour, that had dragon scales on the crests of their helm and carried no banner - in the midst of them was a carriage, wherein he knew sat all but the Targaryen Lord.

A loud and resounding growl filled the air long before the shadow of the massive Balerion seemed to cover the castle, and Ignotus turned to his walls just as the beast landed,

It was almost easier to think it smaller than it was when he was standing outside of Harrenhal, what with it looking up to the enormous structure, but here, its size was clear as night and day. It looked over its walls and towers into the bailey for a moment, as if in curiosity, before moving shifts backwards with a breath, scaring some of the men on the battlements as it moved and lowered itself, doubtless for its rider to drop.

Lord Aerion came in as the Mootons did, horsed and with a duo of his own men who must have been tailing him.

The lords of Darry and Mooton did not linger on their horses for longer than a moment, for Ignotus wore his crown and it would not do for them to be above him so, with the courtyard filled with riverlords who had arrived prior:

Lord Denys Ryger, with his vassals of houses Terrick and Wayn. Lord William Vypren and his son Lymond Vypren, and Myles Strong who was representing house strong as regent for his nephew Osmund Strong. The aged Lord Emmon Frey and his son Jared Frey, whose travelling had been slow on account of his age, along with his three principal vassals. Lord Walder Mallister too, with his sons Lyonel and Corbus Mallister and his own vassals.

Like all the lords that had arrived and would come, Petyr Darry kneeled when he came to him, as did Manfryd Mooton and two of his own sons.

"Your grace," Lord Mooton said from his position, drawing his eyes, "We come with the Targaryens, having seen them safely through the Riverlands. As I swore we would."

"Thank you -" he turned to Petyr Darry then, "My lords. You may rise."

They stood as he bid them to, and he offered them a courteous smile, "I trust you journeyed well?"

"We did, your grace," Lord Darry was the one to answer.

"That gladdens me."

The two lords moved to sides as Lord Aerion finally dismounted, and approached Ignotus - straight and proud.

"King Ignotus," he said, as courteously as Ignotus had ever heard.

"Lord Aerion," Ignotus returned with as much respect.

"We thank you for welcoming us into your home and kingdom," Aerion Targaryen continued, his eyes unmoving from Ignotus' own.

"We are to be kin. You and yours will always be welcome as long as I rule," he retorted.

"A prospect I am even more thankful for," Finally, he turned to his side and took a step back. Behind him, the door to the carriage had opened a moment's past.

Traditionally, the lord's wife would be the first to introduce herself to his court, but within the wheelhouse was the lady that would be queen to all the men and women gathered, and so Visenya Targaryen was the first to step down the steps.

Her silver-gold hair fell into curls over her shoulder, her purple eyes were openly observant, though they hid her judgement of him well. She was still developing into her womanhood but she already looked to be growing curvaceous beneath the dark soft silks she was garbed in. She was taller than he thought she would be, and may well come up to the neck of his considerable height.

Her face expressed no joy, her full lips conveyed no frown. Yet still, Visenya Targaryen was undeniably beautiful.

When she walked to him, she was not hesitant. Instead her every step was sure, and her frame was as confident as all the gathered lords in the courtyard. Closer to him now, she smiled - forced, he felt without reason - and bowed gently before saying, "Your grace."

"My lady," He courtesied too, extending his hand out for hers, and she gave it, and allowed him to kiss it without a singular change in expression, "I am King Ignotus Teague."

He noted a quickly removed expression of surprise from him when he paused, which confused him, but she was quick to return his gesture:

"I am Visenya Targaryen, you grace. I am pleased to finally be within your acquaintance."

Ignotus' would-be queen hadn't smiled since arriving.

Of course, she feigned at one constantly throughout the welcome feast, when his lords and ladies came to do her courtesy. Thanking them for their kind compliments on her beauty and their welcome, with a smile that did look to be entirely genuine, yet didn't seem so at all so to him. And he didn't need to wonder why he felt so, despite everything seeming contrary:

It will be difficult.

Aerion had said, and so Ignotus had expected. Naturally, he would see her smiles to be false. And they may well be.

Still, all else was splendid, that could not be denied. A golden carpet that contradicted the dreary grey of the floor ran through the hall of Fieldstone, from the light doors of oak and bronze, through the raised dais all the way to the throne. Dozens upon dozens of smaller oaken tables lined the hall, so many as to seat his lords and their lords.

Trays upon trays of suckled pig came and sat on the tables on trays, alongside smoked boar, honeyed duck and roasted pheasants, crusted with herbs and spices, a variety of soups and stews, breads baked to brittle. More so was enough ale and mead, and some wine from the Arbor to satisfy the lords and their men.

Ignotus did not engage too much in drink, more choosing to share laughs with his lords and ladies, to continue to promote and keep their love and loyalty for him. Some of their lady wives had even asked to see Princess Lysa, and he had to promise them access to her outside of festivities at some point, at a time she was not asleep, and they were happy to see find him willing.

Yet, he had a betrothed, and he would disrespect her by appearing to prefer to be away from her. Her own family was there, seated on their own high-table and allowing themselves to mingle with his own high lords.

Except for Aegon.

Aegon Targaryen watched them, quietly and with almost no bother. Though his sister Rhaenys managed to draw the attention of her brother, his eyes were still on them more often than they were not. Observing, judging...

Ignotus turned to Visenya, who turned to regard him before he even spoke, "Is the feast not your liking, my lady?"

For a beat, she almost seemed surprised that he had spoken. Or perhaps was it that she was surprised he noticed her displeasure?

"No...Your grace. It's a lovely feast," She said lightly, "I had only... I had thought we would be wed within your new seat. I've been told it's a marvel."

"Harrenhal is an impressive seat," He agreed, turning away from her a moment, remembering what it had cost, "Yet Fieldstones' has been our seat since Torrence conquered the Riverlands, and all the lords of my house before were wed here and nowhere else. It seemed prudent that we too swear our vows here. Harrenhal brings to mind nothing but blood it took to take it."

"Inflicting upon it a siege must have been a daunting task," He heard her say thereafter, and when he turned to her, he saw something else for the first time during the feast, curiosity. Thin, vailed and hidden it was, but it was there.

"We had the numbers," he began slowly, unsure, "Yet, if the castle had been complete and provisioned, years would have passed and we would still be outside its walls, trying to imagine ways in which we would breach its walls."

She nodded then, seeming to understand as well as a fourteen-year-old lady would, "Then how did you manage to gain entry?"

"The walls are incomplete. Former slaves of the Harren had told us of weakness at a section of the walls, and we focused our efforts there and managed to destroy that portion," he explained, before frowning slightly, "My lady, do you have an interest in warfare?"

Many would have blushed at being caught being too curious, but she didn't seem embarrassed at all, instead, she looked to be annoyed, "No... No, your grace. That would be unbecoming of a maid. I only wished to know more of your glories, and you in consequence."

"There was no glory in the siege," He said, not unkindly, "Men screamed, bled and died when the fighting truly began. The cause was just, doubtless, but any man who would sit and recall the consequences of battles as glorious is a fool."

Her face grew serious then, and she turned away from him without uttering a word.

'And so are you, Ignotus' he mentally groaned.

Using the wedding as a means to gather his lords for a council seemed to be a wise thing, and in between the festivities of the second day since the initial feast, he had summoned them to the hall.

They told him of all their struggles and successes within their domains, of crime, looters, merchants and harvests. Many of the minor lords seemed to be the only ones with issues too large for them to handle on their own - thievery and looters, predominantly - who would attack their farmsteads, burn crops they could not carry and make away with whatever valuables they could find.

He found it strange that he had never even heard of something as prominent as they were telling him, and it was easy enough to see that these men were surely from whatever ironborn soldiers remained.

Ignotus was surprised to realise that no lord had brought up complaints regarding the new taxes he had instilled. Granted, they were still very little in comparison to what the ironborn kings had been taxing them, yet he had expected someone to complain about why the Mootons, for example, had to pay very little while they had to pay at an increased rate.

When none came, he wondered if they knew of it at all.

The Mooton lord was in no rush to tell them if they did not know and instead spoke about the increase of coming merchants and the selling of ware, that Ignotus was not sure if he should account to the sudden encouragement of trade or the removal of the ironborn and their rule that limited trading. Yet the result was all the same, income was increasing, and was being heavily invested into Maidenpool.

Another clear issue presented itself more subtly to him. Lord Edmyn Tully was near his majority at fourteen and would have doubtless been able to present himself to Ignotus ably here in attendance of his wedding, yet the boy had instead sent an ambassador in the form of his regent, Ser Cleos Turnbridge, and offered no excuse but that of feeling unwell.

That further proved to him what he had already known.

The boy was likely far from being loyal to him. A subtler lord may have shown himself here, feigning love for him whilst seeking out lords to follow him in treason. Doubtless, he was advised so by his regent and overseers, but whatever amount of hatred he had from Ignotus must have made him refuse. The boy within him had won out over sense.

Yet, what else was he to do?

The boy had done nothing that would be cause for a summons and likely would not do so for time to come yet. Being proactive was beyond the situation as it was. He would have to wait unless he wanted to be rid of him using other means...

No. He would not turn to kill his own lords as the ironborn had with no just cause.

The boy could do nothing on his own, and Ignotus was not of the mind to beg forgiveness for what had transpired in a war. He would have to keep his other lords loyalty has he had, and the Tullys would be no cause for concern.

"I wish Lord Edmyn well," Ignotus said unblinkingly to Cleos when all was done, "And I hope that he can chance to meet his queen when he is well."

The man bowed.

The next morning was damp and cold, forcing Ignotus to wear his furs and leathers, while his retinue wore golden gambeson under their mail and armour, waiting patiently as he for his would-be queen, their swords at their hips as they stood aside their saddled horses in the midst of the bustling courtyard, where his men and his lords' men went about their business.

Eventually, Visenya Targaryen appeared from the castle in her warm riding habits: dark gloves, her necktied cloak and long dress.

"Your grace," She courtesied as if they had just met for the first time, and Ignotus mentally sighed, wondering why he was doing this. She was evidently still displeased with him. if she even cared enough to be displeased. The Targaryen didn't even seem apologetic for making him wait, and didn't seem eager at all to even falsely convey it.

"My lady," He retorted, offering her his hand to lead to the horse he had picked out for her, "I trust you slumbered well?"

"As well as could be expected."

Ignotus helped her to her horse without a retort to that and turned to climb on his own in a barely contained silence.

Best be done with this, he decided, and let her decide if she would be the one to decide if their marriage would at least not be with animosity. He would do his part in assuring her of his intentions, and if she chose to be the child with it, he would let her be with her distaste for him.

The ride was silent.

They passed the Widows Ford, a small village alongside a branch off of the Red Fork closest to Fieldstone and the unnamed forest thereafter. Perhaps he should have been more introductory to her in what would soon be her home, but he felt no such inclination. He was as angry at her as she was at him, and that worried him - he did not want a marriage built on hatred.

Ignotus mustered as much friendliness as he could to the smallfolk he passed, offering his kindest smiles, greetings and some silver to some when they bent their knees.

The forest soon turned to hills, and the commoners they passed disappeared. The beaten path they rode on turned to grass, and it was now the basin in midst of the hills rose before them, and it was at this point that he bid them stop.

"My lady and I will make the walk from here," He said, unhorsing.

"Your grace," One of the men acknowledged, himself dismounting and moving to hold the reins of Visenyas' horse.

Ignotus her helped off, and still, she said nothing, but he led her to the basin despite his growing reservations. There was nothing to do beyond accept this:

"I brought Jeyne here, once. Before we were wed," Saying that was easier than he thought it would be.

They walked on for a bit, and she said nothing at all until they were close enough to see the many stone heads of the buried Teagues, where her curiosity won surpassed her dislike of him, "For what purpose would you bring her here?"

"It was her notion. She wanted to know more of my houses' history, and she would point a name on a stone head, and I told her all I could," Ignotus pointed to one, "Like Tyler Teague. He convinced the Storm King Arlan to allow him to keep house Teagues lands as the Lord of Fieldstone before the battle of the five kings, where his father and brothers died, and as he was presumed to be captured, his uncle became king after all of them and proceeded to die in the continuing battle. Tyler relinquished his claim to Riverlands afterwards - as was the agreement with Arlan - and the men who had fought for our family felt betrayed by him."

Ignotus turned to another head, her gaze following his, "Tyler had a son called Benedict before his guard killed him, who after reaching his maturity, had half the guard hung."

Visenya nodded, her gaze going over all the heads and their names with a measure of interest: Torrence, Damon, Theo, Torrence II and many more who had been kings and lords of house Teague. And the only exception here. Jeyne Teague.

"And...now there she lies, "He went on, drawing her attention to his deceased wife's stone head, "Dead, and I am forced to marry again, despite the desire of my heart."

"You need only say the word and the betrothal and the coming wedding will be stopped," She sneered, turning to him in a fury.

"I gave my word to wed you, and that is what I shall do," He retorted to her firmly, his own anger lacing his voice, "I know that you too do not want this match with me for all you shall lose. So we needn't feign love or contentment with each other privately."

"That understanding gladdens me, for I feared for sanity if I had acted as if I cared for you."

"Yet," Ignotus worked hard to keep from insulting her, "Understand that despite my desires to not be wed to you, your position as my queen will never be disrespected by me. I will not bring whores into our hall, nor will I dishonour our bed with maids or servants. I will treat you with the dignity that you deserve within your position, and any person working to shame you will find themselves punished accordingly."

"Hold your vows for our wedding."

"I say them to you now so you understand that I am not being spurred by occasion," Ingotus frowned, "Your place as my queen will never be in question, despite your hatred for me and my dislike of you. When I am unwell, you will rule in my stead, and should I die before our children mature, you will rule for them until they are. All this I swear to you, Visenya Targaryen. And I hope that you can grant me the same honours as your husband and king."

Visenya did not fight him immediately, but he feared all the same as she held his gaze with her purple eyes, her vexation still clear as day. Continuously, she said nothing for a long, more than awkward, moment. Eventually, he sighed.

"We should return to the castle before were are missed too much."

"I will honour you as you honour me."

Ignotus took that as the best compromise he would get from her, and offered her his arm back when they made their way back to the horse.

Recognizing that they both surrendered themselves to their future together.

And it was so, near a fortnight later, that they were wed within the Sept of Fieldstone, where they exchanged their vows and where he placed a cloak bearing the sigil of Teague over her shoulders, matters of her protection passing to him, where-in he swore to himself not to fail with her. That her fate would not be identical to Jeynes, because he could not protect her as he swore he would.

The kiss they shared held no semblance of passion, but it did not have the shade of coldness he imagined it would. Admittedly, it excited him quite a bit.

It had been too long since he truly felt the lips of another.

The feast thereafter was a drawl for him, what with them having done so much of it in the days leading up to the wedding. He was eager to be done with it, to get back to the way life was.

'Except, it would not be as it was,' he thought, turning to Visenya, who looked every bit a beautiful queen in a golden gown with sleeves of dark myrish lace. Closest to her on the next high table was now her family, Aerion Targaryen and his frail-looking lady wife, Valeana. Aegon, who as Ingotus oft observing the attendees of the feast if not watching Visenya and Ignotus himself, was going exactly that, whilst Rhaenys next to him caught his attention for short bouts of conversation.

"Your brother does not seem overly fond of me."

"He worries for me," Viseyna retorted, turning to him, "I am to be surrounded by foreign men, in a foreign land, married to a foreign king."

"The land is as foreign to you now as Dragonstone."

"Is that how you truly believe it works, husband?"

"Many of the men here would die for you."

"Because of their love for you," She graced him with a small smile, "Not out of any affection for their foreign queen."

"For now, perhaps," He conceded, "But when you prove to be an able one, they will love you near as much as they love me."

"And what is an able queen, Ignotus?" Her smile had faded into a frown, "One that simply bears children?"

"It would be a start," Ignotus answered gently, keeping his green eyes to her purple, "They expect an heir. If you give them one, their adoration will be an easy thing to get. If you don't have it by that point already."

Visenya turned from him and back into the busy hall, what was to happen that night evidently coming to bear in her mind then, and it came sooner than he was sure she wished.

When the feast concluded, he called to it an end and consented for the bedding, as was expected, and he found himself suddenly being surrounded by the women attending, the lady wives and daughters of his lords, giggling and japing as they edged him out of the hall and towards his solar. Briefly, he spotted Rhaenys amongst the women tugging at his clothes.

"Please, do satisfy my sister, your grace," She tittered, and he found himself snorting at the unreserved joke.

Ahead of him, he was the men escorting Visenya, who were having an easier time undressing her as they went. He was unsurprised to find her father and brother absent in this, and even the other Valyrian lords. These were not their costumes, though Rhaenys didn't seem to care. More so, she looked to be enjoying it.

They entered the room as the men were leaving after putting Visenya in, and he was near pushed into his now naked wife, who did not look entirely too pleased, but kept to her silence as the room cleared and the door was closed. Thankfully, unlike his first wedding, they seemed to clear from the door, and soon enough, nothing but the crackling of the firewood from the hearth filled the air.

All that was left of his garb were his small clothes, though she was entirely naked before him - her eyes, now though, did not seem angry at all. They were not challenging, distrusting or even curious. No. They were near fearful, and it only dawned to him then she was but fourteen. His eyes fell, involuntarily, to her growing teats, her still widening hips and the small curls of silvery hair over her womanhood.

"Did it please you, husband?" She finally said, despite the... concern her expression displayed, which disappeared when she turned away from him and towards their "To you watch your wife carried about like a common whore? To be spoken of in such a vile, vulgar -"

"I was under the assumption you knew of this part of the ceremony," he sighed.

"My father must have neglected to tell me," She said, before muttering, "Small wonder why."

"I would have forbidden it," he drew closer to her, instinctively, "If I knew it would bring you discomfort."

She did not give him a response, instead of turning to him again as he finally stood close to her, waiting for a reaction, for her to flinch away, to step away, and when she did not, he drew his lips to hers, his hands gently rising to her hips as they met. Reluctantly, she returned his kissing, and for a moment, he felt her hands rise to his stomach before they fell again.

"I don't..." She managed out, between her heavy breaths.

"Don't fret," he said, his lips falling to her neck, "I'll take care of you."

The tourney he held for further celebration thereafter passed without incident.

The champion of the lists was Goren Codd, the last remaining son of Lord Cadron Codd, who had managed to unhorse Ser Hibald Grey after both parties broke two jousting lances between them. Ignotus himself offered to knight the boy of eighteen, who had been knights that were many years his senior, and Goren Codd surprised him by accepting the knighthood, despite still keeping his father's Drowned God.

Though few men cheered him.

Thereafter, Ser Goren Codd crowned Rhaenys Targaryen his queen of love and beauty.

The archery was won by Gaston Cox.

Ignotus was happy to call the festivities to an end, to watch his lords and the smallfolk to return to their keeps and occupations, to assure the Darklyns that they too would still always be welcome to see the princess. Any more eating and he felt as if he would become too fat to sit atop his horse, and the novelty of his marriage hadn't truly struck him as it had with Jeyne.

Though it was not quite unhappy. They tolerated each other enough to share their marriage bed, and even hold some conversations:

She asked of his family, of his father Myrddin, his brothers Antioch and Cadmus, the strangeness of their names and how they had died. They were older wounds for him, easier to bring up and talk of, and her distant interest in his family - now hers - made it difficult to refute answering her.

After she had seen and even played with Lysa, he had considered telling her of the being from the cloak, this Death, but ultimately decided against it. A girl of near fifteen would know nothing of it, Valyrian or not.

He asked her of her family too, of Aegon and Rhaenys, and her parents. They seemed close, despite their difference. If he took his wife's word for it, Rhaenys was a girl of songs and poems. She was graceful, kind, impulsive, something that made her easy enough to love. Aegon was the silent boy Ignotus had seen him be, whose only friend yet was their bastard brother Orys Baratheon. Who they did not bring out of fear of offending him.

Ignotus would not have cared.

They copulated after all their talks - every night since their wedding - though she always seemed almost uninterested in it until he got her wet enough, and then in the midst of it, she would turn the lack of vigour onto him. After near years of having none of it, Ignotus found it easy to push her back. And... He was happy with it.

Ignotus admitted that her observations of her family were accurate when he held them to private dinners before they were to depart. Rhaenys asked him more questions than he remembered answering, somewhat more shy than she had been during the bedding. Aegon was still as silent as he had been before, though Ignotus had sprung up a question of his martial prowess, which had developed into talks of strategy, which went as deep as they could with a twelve-year-old boy, though he was certain Aegon withheld some of the knowledge he had by the hesitation in which he rightly answered some of his inquires.

The morning they did depart was cold and cloudy. Ignotus exchanged a hug with Aerion like they were brothers, Visenya did so too quietly with her mother Valaena, with a tearful Rhaenys, and a solemn Aegon. Yet, when she turned to her father, Aerion merely summoned a servant, before whispering something Visenya that Ignotus could not hear.

A man came, bearing something covered in cloth, though Ignotus knew what it was long before it was uncovered and drawn.

"Dark Sister," he heard Visenya muttered, as her father held up the slender blade the rubber studded rain-guard glistening, "Father -"

"A wedding gift," The man interrupted, before turning to Ignotus, "One to be made to you, Visenya, if your husband will allow it."

There was no real way Ignotus could refuse, and his acceptance would thereby allow her to use, to accept that she could become a fighter, that she would become part of his war councils, and potentially lead his armies should he prove incapable. The idea should be unthinkable. Many would scoff at the idea, and he was sure even his lords would look strangely to it.

Yet that was not what concerned him. He feared for her. For her life, and what would become of her should she ever be captured during war?

What would have become of Jeyne if she had fought her rapers with sword? Would they have killed her?

"Of course."

Aerion smiled at him subtly, before sheathing the blade, and offering it to Visenya, who kept her eyes to him.

"Will you truly allow me to use the blade?" She would ask him later that day, the question poised sternly after their lovemaking.

"If it's truly what you desire, and you understand the implications of it. Know, however, that the idea of you being in danger in battle one day brings me no measure of joy."

She frowned then, "Do you imagine I am joyful about a similar prospect regarding you?"

"I can't feign to know. Are you?"

Silence descended, and it lasted long enough to incite a sigh from him, but then she answered, "No."

"It will happen," he said after a beat, setting his gaze to her, "There will be many wars, even with the looming threat of dragons. They will all try to destroy us. Lannister, Durrandon, Garderner... All of them."

"Then I will be with you through all your victories and defeats, husband. If you will let me."

A/N: Harry next.

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