To sineca: I don't really care one way or the other for the Dornish; there are Dornish characters I quite like, however, on the whole the fandom has turned me against all that the Dornish represent. It's also pretty funny how miffed people get about fictional characters and I wholeheartedly agree they are very hypocritical for the most part.

To Anjo: Many thanks for the interest. Merry Christmas to you as well!


Jon brought the flat of his sword against his brother's throat. The chains rattled with the grounded Aegon's movement. "Remember this for the rest of your days; the bitter taste of defeat ought to suit your palate." In spite of their differences, he was glad the Crown Prince had not sustained any permanent damage. Father would be grieved outside of enough.

"Better you slay me now," Aegon said after a moment's silence, "else I shall make certain the tables turn."

The sword withdrew. "Not this side of the grave. You will live." The finality of his decree reverberated through the tent.


Jon Connington stared at him expectantly. If it were not for the faint toll of the bells and the bone-wearying chill forever imbued into his very soul, he might have yet had the nerve to go down in a blaze of glory, refuse any and all terms of surrender and tear the realm asunder in the process. He was not, however, the equal of his own father in that respect.

"We will meet the demand and proceed with discussion of terms." He paused and turned towards the Knight of Skulls and Kisses. "Richard, the Queen will be joining us." It remained to be seen what she made of her newfound freedom.


Lyanna laughed. "Is that meant to shame me?" She could not quite equal the Princess in height, but victory lent her superiority. "In this world, I know Rhaegar best and he knows me. You are just like your aunt," she patted Arianne's cheek gently, "arrogant and stubborn to a fault."

"You stupid cow. The King will never abandon Aegon." Sore losers, the Dornish were. Tension swelled. Lyanna maintained her gentle smile in spite of the ominous feeling and answered as best she could.

Her Jon had won; words were wind. "Sticks and stones." It was beyond time for her to attempt reconciliation.


Jaehaera glanced upon the heavy braid with the many flowers woven into it. The deep reds and vivid yellows were bright against the muted tone of her own hair. It certainly matched the burgundy and gold of the borrowed kyrtle she had fallen into the habit of wearing. One could not join a lord during his meal in only a chemise. The more pressing issue pertained to the fact that she had yet to hear any word from King's Landing. It did not take more than a moment's effort to understand no raven had carried forth her words. She needed to learn why.


"It was the Northerner lords who put power in your hands," Brandon roared over the tumult of the moment. "My father even gave you his daughter. I am not my father and I shan't allow any mortification of my sister's honour."

In fairness, Rhaegar did not agree with the accusations levied Lyanna's way himself. Jon saw fit to step in then with a view to calm the spirits. For what it was worth, the boy had grown; much more than Rhaegar might have otherwise guessed.

"Brandon, let be; Lord Connington is doubtless overwhelmed at the moment," his wife added to their son's efforts.


"Where is my daughter?" It was only he and Jon in the tent, at long last left alone. Convincing the boy's uncle to take himself off had been nigh impossible. The time had come for truth to have its day in the sun.

"With Lord Lannister, according to mother. I suppose that is the peril of not coordinating with one's allies." His youngest son radiated remorse. Whatever thought he dared not voice, Rhaegar could not bring himself to ask.

"I see; so after I have given Tywin his son back, I am to give him my daughter as well?" Those Lions and their schemes.

"You must do as you think best," Jon offered.


"Is there not much to be thankful for?" Lyanna watched her husband with just a hint of wariness. He'd not spoken a word to since they'd left Jon.

"You would think so, would you not?" Ice flooded her veins at his tone. "But I am not the father of a triumphantly returning son; Aegon, too, is my child." She frowned, allowing the silence which slipped between them to dominate as she debated making a case for Jon's actions.

She settled for the only response which seemed appropriate to her, "I am not asking you to abandon Aegon; I never have. But he does despise my children."


"What do you mean, you wretched cur?" It was unconscionable that his nemesis should spit in his face and then expect to escape unscathed. "Did I not tell you–"

"I do not care. Your petty attitude and misplaced loathing interest me none. I've a life to live and you have a throne to look forward to."

Aegon jeered. "Doubtless you think yourself so charitable."

Cold eyes watched him with disinterest. It was maddening. "Do not grieve our parents any further, or I will return and then you will have truly forfeited your life."

The hell of it was, Aegon knew that many of his former allies would align themselves with Jon.


"I judge much ill has been done here," Rhaenys sighed softly, shaking her head. "But that is, I fear, the nature of power." She patted her sister's hand gently. "Dry your tears, Jaehaera, and let me show you what I have brought for the wedding."

"But, Rhaenys, mother and father–"

"Hush, now, dearest; they must be allowed their due. We can make no decisions for them." She unwound the knot of the plain wrapping and pulled out a long, dark kyrtle. "You are not as tall as me, but we can have the hem pulled in a bit. Sew some mother of pearls in as well. What say you?"


"You do understand he will die one day? Who will protect you from Aegon's wrath then?" Brandon's words gave her pause. "Why did you not counsel Jon to remain here as his father's heir?"

"I did; he would not listen." Much as she wished to, Lyanna could make no such decision in his stead. "He is too soft, that boy; might be 'tis for the best. Aegon is wed to his Arianne and the Dornish are bound to feel a lot calmer when she finally gives birth. They shall be in power once more and let sleeping dogs lie. We have Doran's word for that."

Brandon scoffed. "You are daft."