My Name is Daemon Targaryen and I am Going Home

by Alperez16

A different champion steps up for Tyrion changing the outcome of the Trial by Combat and the game itself.

6. The Gold and the Bittersteel

The Stormlands 300 AC.

Jon Connington.

He looked at the man opposite him, Varys had asked question after question. About Aegon, Homeless Harry, their reason for coming without being called, and Jon had done his best to field those questions. Harry had passed in his sleep he said, Aegon had ridden off on a mission of some import and they had come because the time was right. Only one of those answers seemed to be acceptable to the eunuch and so the arguments had started. They did not get to where they may have, as the interruption from Lysono quickly brought them to an end.

"He's back, truly?" he said after Lysono had whispered the words in his ear.

"Aye and not alone, Griff."

"It seems it'll be Aegon himself who'll answer your questions Varys, the king has returned." he said to an appeased-looking Varys.

When Varys went to walk from the tent, Jon shook his head and told him that Aegon was coming to them. The eunuch was not best pleased but he waited regardless. A few moments later he looked to see the tent open and Daemon walk in wearing Aegon's face. Jon was both relieved to see him do so and a little taken aback at once again seeing the face of a long-dead boy. A boy he had once sworn his life to and who he'd not truly mourned since Daemon had ended him.

"Your grace." Varys said with a bow of his head, the eunuch wearing a smile on his face that Jon couldn't tell if it was true or not.

"Lord Varys, I had not thought to see you so soon. We had expected you to stay in King's Landing until we had arrived, was that not true, Jon?" he asked and Jon nodded when bid.

"It is your grace. Lord Varys it seems worries that our attack is folly." he said and he welcomed the angered look that Daemon, or Aegon as he looked to be, shot the eunuch and the flinching one on the eunuch's face as he did so.

"Is that true, Lord Varys? You truly think this folly?" Aegon asked. Jon, deciding he needed to think of him like that while he wore that face, lest he gave the game away.

"The odds you face are too much, your grace, far too much. We had planned for you to arrive to a much different landscape. To find a realm disunited and in the grips of war." Varys said as Aegon moved to take Jon's seat and Jon moved to take another.

By the time he sat back down, Aegon had poured some wine which Varys partook in and he did not. Aegon sipped his own and didn't drink it truly, more making it out that he was only doing so because it was the polite thing to do and not because he actually enjoyed the wine. Something that seemed to please the eunuch greatly and Jon wondered if that was because of serving the Drunken Stag for all those years.

"Yet a war took place and we received no call. The Wolves, Stags, and Lions were all at each other's throats and we received no call. I arrived to find that the Tyrells have tied themselves to the Lions, that the Reach which should be my bannermen by oaths of blood and fealty has deserted my cause because they knew not of me. Yet still, you'd have us wait, Lord Varys? Is it my arse you wish to see on the Iron Throne or someone else's? For so far it seems far more the latter." Aegon said his voice both angry and reproachful and Jon had to bite his tongue to stop from chuckling at the abashed look on Varys' face.

"I swear it, your grace, it's only you that I seek to see crowned and have been working to ensure so for all of your life. I give you my oath." Varys said slightly worriedly.

"An oath you've sworn to how many kings now, Lord Varys? My grandfather, the Usurper and now what, two lion cubs with no right to sit on the throne forged by my ancestors."

"I did what I did to be certain I could be of help to you, your grace, just as your own exile had its reasons, my service to unworthy men did too." Varys said apologetically.

Jon had to admit he enjoyed watching the man squirm, long had he wished to bring about the eunuch's end since he'd found out the truth. Both he and the magister he truly served had made their way to the top of his own lists. Knowing that Daemon would see both men dead before too long had been all that stayed his hand, that and knowing that they were still needed for now.

"Indeed, Lord Varys. Tell me of the makeup of those who stand against us?" Aegon said and Varys breathed relieved as he began to speak on Tywin and Mace Tyrell and the forces they'd gathered.

Listening to the numbers would have given him as much pause as Varys wished it to, was it not for all he knew. The West and the Reach, houses that feared the Old Lion's wrath and Dorne to march at their rear. Were it to be so then they were in serious trouble. Outnumbered, outmatched, and outmaneuvered or so it would seem.

"The lords leading them, Lord Varys. The men who lead the largest Houses within those armies. First, the West and then the Reach if you please." Aegon said and Varys looked at him curiously.

"Dorne, your grace?" Varys asked and Aegon laughed, picking up his wine and taking another sip once he'd finished.

"You truly think my uncles would fight against their own blood, Lord Varys? I thought you were smarter than that. Dorne marches, true, but not to join with Tywin Lannister, to end him. Letters have been sent and my uncles know the truth about me. The reinforcements that Tywin and Mace Tyrell think come to their aid belong to me and not them." Aegon said and Varys tittered.

"Well played, your grace."

"I've been thought well, Lord Varys. Jon has been my truest supporter and the lessons I've learned with him on the Shy Maid have served me true."

"As we hoped they would, your grace." Varys said as he then began to speak of the Reach Lords and the Westermen.

He looked on as Aegon took notes, writing out lists, crossing names off, and adding some to other lists and he could see how Varys looked at him with interest. When the eunuch went to stop speaking so that he could ask what Aegon was doing, he was bid continue and it wasn't until he'd spoken the full extent of what Aegon wished to know that he was allowed to stop.

"Your little birds, Lord Varys, they are able to get word to these men?" Aegon asked handing Varys a list and Jon looked over the eunuch's shoulder as he read it.

"They can, your grace."

"And you yourself, you could meet with these ones?" Aegon asked before handing Varys another piece of parchment.

"Just these, your grace?" Varys asked and Aegon nodded "Before the battle I assume?"

"It would be far too late after it, so you assume correctly." Aegon japed and Jon chuckled when he saw him look at him.

"Were I to leave tonight, I could make it to them, but to what end, your grace?"

"It's time they learned the truth too, Lord Varys, time that they knew it was a dragon they faced. Those men were Leal to my house before and some if not all may wish to be so again. If we can turn but one, force one to hold their men back or to bring them to bear in my name, then victory becomes even more certain."

"And should we not?" Jon asked and saw how Varys looked eagerly to Aegon for his reply.

"Then we know who is Leal and who is not. We find out which houses may need new lords and whose oaths mean nothing. United or not, should they bring their full force to bear then they'll find that the Golden Company is not a bunch of Northern Savages led by a green boy. A green boy who bloodied the Old Lion's nose more than once. The Reach Lords are led by a fool, the West by an old man whose reputation far exceeds his talent. They see us as invaders and think not why we've invaded. Dornish Spears led by my uncle, Golden Warriors led by their Captain General and their King, fighting on the ground we've chosen. This will be a battle they're ill-prepared for and one they'll lose badly." Aegon said and Jon saw how Varys' eyes widened and his smile grew even larger.

They all ate together later that night with the men of the Golden Company and when Lady Sansa Stark was brought in, Varys almost choked on his food. The look he gave to the girl when she took her seat beside Aegon was one Jon would remember for a long time. As was the one he gave Aegon himself. She was beautiful, charming, witty and how she and Aegon interacted soon had Varys and mayhap everyman there wondering if they were looking at a woman who would soon be their queen.

Aegon later told Lord Varys that she had been the mission he'd left to carry out and when Varys asked him both why he'd done so himself and why he'd risked so much for Sansa Stark, Jon had enjoyed both the response and how Varys took it.

"A lady rescued by a fair knight is a fine story, Lord Varys. One rescued by a king is a grand one. Lady Sansa believes in tales of chivalry still. Tales such as Florian and Jonquil. I need a queen do I not? One that the realm will accept? One that will help me unite it once I've taken my throne?"

"You do, your grace."

"Who better than a lady tied to three kingdoms, a lady who suffered at the hands of the Lions and whose family suffered greatly because of their alliance with the Stags? Were that lady to actually wish to be my wife rather than simply accept being so, all the better is it not?" Aegon said and Varys nodded "Think of the songs your little birds can sing, Lord Varys. The Dragons and the Wolves tied together and the Lions tore down by them both. Is not such a tale worthy of song? And are not songs the key to getting the people on my side?"

It was he and not Aegon who led Varys to the edge of camp and set him on his way. Jon wished him good fortune on his travels and told him that he'd ensure that Aegon was well protected during the battles to come.

"He's more than I had hoped for, more than I ever dreamed he'd be Jon. You've done a remarkable job in raising him, you and the others." Varys said excitedly.

"A lot of it is him, himself. We played our part, but a lot of is just who he is. He's his father's son, Varys, all that Rhaegar should have been and more. A true dragon." he said meaning every word he spoke.

"That he is, good fortune, Jon, when next we meet it'll be to crown a king."

He heard the footsteps behind him as he moved out of the shadows. Varys was long gone and far out of sight now and he turned to see Daemon standing in front of him and now wearing his own face.

"He bought it?" Daemon asked and Jon nodded "Good, call the Serjeants Jon, there are plans we need to make before I depart."

"Depart Daemon?" he asked worriedly.

"I know now which men must fall and how to bring chaos to our enemy's ranks, Jon. Varys has given us the key to our victory." Daemon said holding the parchment with the names he'd asked the eunuch for and Jon smirked as he walked back to the command tent with his king, a true dragon indeed.

Stormlands 300 AC.

Sansa.

She had been taken to a tent and soon had water brought so she could bathe somewhat, not that she was truly in need of a bath, or more accurately as in need of one as she had been while traveling to the Stormlands. Seeing the army that was assembled and knowing what they were there for, brought her both comfort and worry. The first of them was what she tried to concentrate on and yet she found she could not. Her mind instead went to thoughts of what could happen to her cousin should this army prove to be not enough.

It was a strange feeling and one she'd been having more and more as they traveled together. The concern she had begun to feel for Daemon's safety was something that had come upon her gradually and had changed as it did so. At first, she believed it was because he had rescued her, that he had come for her when no one else had done so. Then she'd thought it was for more selfish reasons. He was the only one who offered her a chance to see those who had caused her and her family so much pain suffer their own, to make them pay for what they had done. Now though she wasn't sure that either of those was the true reason and it confused and confounded her equally.

After she'd finished washing and had dressed once more, she asked for some food and found that she was to join her cousin and eat with him his men and with Lord Varys. She did as Daemon asked and referred to him only as Aegon and was happy that he spent the night speaking to her and involving her in conversations with those around him, though not with Varys for some reason. It was guards though and not Daemon himself who escorted her back to her tent and she felt a little put out by that, a little disappointed.

Something she felt the next morning even more keenly as she broke her fast. The warmth of the food and the taste of it was a poor substitute for the meals she'd eaten with Daemon as they traveled together. Or perhaps it was the company she had kept when she usually ate that made this a poorer meal in comparison. Once she was done, she then found herself bored and time seemed to stretch on and on before finally, a guard came to escort her to the larger tent where Daemon himself was waiting for her.

"Forgive me, Sansa, I had thought to have you brought back here last night after we'd eaten and then decided it was for the best you were not." Daemon said apologetically.

"Daemon?"

"While I've no doubt that you could have performed the mummery, I felt it better that it be done without your presence and without too many questions as mayhaps that was for the best. Lord Varys has departed and is most pleased that you're here with us, the tale I told him one he most readily accepted." Daemon said and bid her take a seat.

"What tale?"

"That I sought you out because you're who you are and that you bring with you the chance to unite three of the Seven Kingdoms.." Daemon said and Sansa felt her brow crease and the frown appear on her face, something that he clearly noticed but didn't comment on.

Instead, he poured her some juice from a large jug and allowed her to consider what he'd said and for her to decide what she wished to say on it. Something that confused her a little and yet she found she enjoyed the time she had to think it over, to truly give some thought to what he'd said. It was a rare occurrence for her as usually she had to think much quicker and consider only what others wished to hear, to reply with what may be the right answer to a particular question for them and not for her. Something she was not doing now as she sipped on the juice and Daemon looked at her intently.

"There is some truth in what you told him, is there not?" she said after a few moments

"There is."

"Because every good lie contains some truth." she said and she felt her breath hitch when he smiled a true smile at her, an almost proud smile she felt.

"A lesson we're taught from a young age, Sansa. It makes it harder to discern which part of what we say is a lie and which is the truth and so allows us to lie more easily." he said his words almost challengingly, almost as if he was testing her somewhat and unlike with Joffrey, Cersei, and most especially Littlefinger, she felt that the test was for her benefit, a lesson of sorts.

"You sought me out because I'm your cousin, your blood. That was the truth in what you told him?" she asked as she sipped her juice.

"It was."

"Yet the other is true too. Because of my name, I do offer the chance of uniting the Vale, Riverlands, and the North."

"Something that Littlefinger wished to take advantage of." Daemon said.

"But not you?" she asked curiously and was surprised when he laughed out loud, the laugh a genuine one she believed.

"Were that my goal, or had it been in my mind then I'd not have been able to hold to the truths I told you as we traveled together. I can honestly say that it never crossed my mind. That at no point have I considered your value to be what you could bring to my cause, and that while I have considered you important because of who you are and what blood you have, it's because I share that blood and for no other reason than that." he said and she nodded as he spoke.

"Because we're kin." she said.

"Because we're kin."

They sat silently for a few moments, Sansa looking to her cousin and finding him looking back at her more than once, an odd look on his face as he did so. She believed what he'd said, that he was not playing her false and that it was simply that she was his kin that had made him rescue her and save her from Littlefinger's plots and plans regarding her. Yet the truth was out there now. The words had been spoken aloud and while there were obstacles to overcome regarding the three kingdoms that she was tied to, large and perhaps even insurmountable obstacles, it didn't change the truth of those words.

The Vale through her aunt, despite Lysa being under Littlefinger's thumb, the Riverlands through her uncle Edmure, despite him being a prisoner, and the North through herself, despite it being held by the Boltons, all were far more in her corner than in anyone else's. Sitting there looking at her cousin, she wondered if he was now thinking how she was and as she sipped her juice and looked at him ever more closely, she wondered if he found the thoughts as pleasant as she did. As she was about to speak, words that she'd not even decided what they would be, the tent flap opened and a red-headed man who'd been at the meal the night before made his way inside.

"Your grace, my lady." the man said with a bow to Daemon and a nod of his head to her.

"Jon, may I present my cousin Lady Sansa Stark. Sansa, this is Lord Jon Connington, Captain-General of the Golden Company and soon to be Hand of the King." Daemon said and it seemed to her that the last bit was a surprise to the man who mumbled some words and then kissed her hand when she offered it.

"Your grace…" the man stuttered as he looked to Daemon a moment later.

"Daemon, Jon, there is only us here and so formality be damned."

"Daemon, we've received word from the scouts, the ship's been spotted." Jon Connington said as Daemon bid him take a seat.

"Where?"

"It's not yet passed Storm's End, Daemon."

"We need to get word to it, it's not safe for it to land just yet. I'd hoped…"

"Daemon?" she asked confused.

"The ship carrying Arya, Sansa. We can't let her land as there is too much ground between us and her with the Lannisters and Tyrells marching through it."

She held her breath, Arya, Arya was close and she so longed to be taken to her, to see her once again. Yet Daemon had told her that should things play out as he expected, then it would be a battle that was to occur here and it was not one that she wished her sister anywhere near.

"Griffin's Roost, Daemon, we could have the ship dock near Storm's End. Perhaps have Lady Sansa escorted there too?" Jon Connington said and she looked from Daemon to the other man, her heart racing and not liking the idea of being parted, while at the same time wishing to see her sister once again.

"Give us a moment, Jon." Daemon said.

"Of course."

Sansa watched as Jon Connington left the tent, Daemon walking from around the table to take her hands in his and she welcomed the gesture. She felt her heart begin to slow, her mind began to calm and she shivered when he touched her face and raised her chin so she was looking at him. The silver hair was gone, the purple eyes too, and she was staring now into dark grey ones that looked at her with concern and something else that she couldn't name.

"I can send you to meet Arya there, Sansa. Jon is right, it's the best place for the ship to land and it's far from where the battle will be fought.

"I…what of you?" she asked worriedly.

"I have mine own work to do and shall be leaving before the morrow regardless. The battle I've sought ever since I found out about my truth is at hand, the day of reckoning I've looked for is soon to be here as well."

"I don't….I wish you would not….." she couldn't say the words and hoped he understood what it was she was trying to.

"I'm trained for what I must do, Sansa, I'll be safe." he said and why she did it she knew not, only that she did.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him and she moved in close, her eyes locked on his, and then her lips touched his own. Just as it was when he'd kissed her on her wedding night, she felt the stirring and the jolt that went through her. Something she believed he felt too and when he got over his surprise and kissed her back, she felt it even more.

Fifty men he sent with her, all of them armored and mounted, and saying her goodbyes to him had been harder than any she'd said in more than two years. Her father, her mother, her brothers, and Arya, with each of them it had been hard, and yet she'd not thought them to be final. A temporary parting was all she'd expected it to be. Even with her father when she'd spoken to him before Joffrey had taken his head, she'd expected it to be but temporary. As she rode off and looked over her shoulder, she prayed to gods that she'd not believed in for so very long, she prayed that this parting would be temporary too.

The Stormlands 300 AC.

Daemon.

A part of him wished he could leave with his cousin, that he could see to her safety and be there when she met with her sister, but he knew he could not. The battle he'd prepared himself so very long for was almost at hand and there was still much he needed to do to ensure it was one that he won. So after seeing Sansa off safely and resolving to see her soon, he, Jon, and the Serjeants of the Golden Company met and laid out their plans for the march and the battle itself.

Riders were sent to see how far the Dornish Army was from them so they'd know just how soon they'd be joining them and then they readied their own march to the ground they'd decided the battle would be fought on. It was ground that had been well scouted and was of their choosing, and yet even that and the numbers they had wouldn't guarantee them victory. Which was why what he planned to do was so very important.

After the other Serjeants had left the command tent, Daemon bid Jon stay and they sat facing each other in silence for a few moments. During all their time planning the invasion and the war they'd face once they arrived in Westeros, many different plans and ideas had been discarded. From a slow and careful gathering of allies to dealing with Tywin Lannister alone in his room or to a long chase across Westeros where they would attack Tywin where it hurts and bring him death by a thousand cuts almost. Eventually, this was the one that was decided upon and now as he looked to Jon Connington, he could see that he wasn't as certain about it as he had once been.

"You worry over my safety." he said breaking the silence.

"You intend to walk straight into the Lion's Den, Daemon."

"As I have before, Jon. As I'm trained to do."

"Would it not be best to allow Varys' words to take effect? To see what allies desert Mace Tyrell?"

"Alone? No, It won't be enough, just as Dorne wouldn't or as the Company of the Rose being here rather than where they are would not. If this war came down to numbers Jon, then it is already over. Which is why it was never supposed to." he said and Jon nodded.

"You'll join us before the battle?" Jon asked.

"If I'm not there it's because I'm dead and should that be the case, then you can decide whether or not there is still to be one." he replied and saw the worried look on Jon's face grow even more so "It's not my time to die yet, Jon. I've many more days before that's to be my fate." he said as reassuringly as he could.

"Be safe, my king." Jon said rising and with that, he left the tent, unable to look at him anymore and Daemon felt the man's worries even more now.

They'd not talked much since the first time he'd shown himself to be true, but when they had it had been mainly about regrets. Jon Connington had more than one and none bigger than those involving his father. From not killing Robert Baratheon at the Battle of the Bells to not being by his father's side at the Trident, Jon had felt he'd failed his father and was being given a second chance. He'd thought that second chance had been with a mummer's dragon and so that too had been added to his list of failures in Jon's mind, now Daemon knew that should he fall, so would this.

After dressing simply and covering up Blackfrye so that it looked like an ordinary sword, he snuck from the tent and made his way to his horse. His ride from the camp went as unnoticed as he wished it to be. He rode fast and hard, stopping only when the horse had needed to and then he walked and led it behind him for some time. It was dark when he came across them and they were a poor bunch. These outriders had seen only what they had wished them to see and were now heading back to tell Tywin Lannister or whatever Lord that had sent them out what it was they'd found. Daemon waited until he saw one heading out to take a piss alone before making his move. He had cut the man's throat while he was in midstream and removed his face within moments. After tying his body to the horse he'd ridden here on and slapping its arse to make it ride back to where the Golden Company's camp had been, Daemon then joined back up with the rest of the men and laughed and japed with them as if he was one of them.

It took two days to reach the Lannister Army and it was an impressive sight. Along with the Roses that rode with it, he'd put it about twice the size of his own forces, maybe even three times. With the Dornish Army on his side, he'd bring those numbers down to maybe simply twice his numbers. Now it was time for him to take some of those who would be key off the board completely. So after he'd given his report to Lord Brax, it was to the rest of the men he'd ridden with that he went and nightfall that he waited for.

"Did you see any elephants, Gared?" one of Lord Brax's men called out to him as he sat by the fire after they'd made camp.

"No, soldiers though, lots of them." he said as those around him quietened.

"More than us?" one of them asked him and he shook his head, much to the man's relief.

"The Golden Company are no match for the Men of the West, even if there were more of them than us" another man bragged.

"What of the Roses, they're more than enough for them." shouted out another and Daemon laughed as talk soon turned to the Roses and their failings.

He ate with the men he sat with and drank some ale, though not much was given to them that night as the battle drew ever closer. When the time came for them to sleep, he made his way to the tent he was sharing and waited until the man he shared with was out cold. The sleeping draught he'd put in the man's drink assuring that he didn't have long to wait. Then he made his way to Lord Brax's tent and snuck past the guards.

"The Many-Faced God sends his regards." he whispered softly as he stabbed the man through the heart.

After swapping one face for another, he began to thrash the tent and called out for his guards, the two men running inside and seeing the body on the ground.

"My lord, are you harmed, do you require a Maester?" one of his guards asked as he shook his head.

"Who is that man?" he asked sounding panicked.

"That looks like Gared, but it can't, he wouldn't…wait there's something off about his face." the other guard said and Daemon looked on as Gared's face slipped from his head, the skin falling to the ground and the guard almost losing whatever he'd eaten earlier.

"What the fuck?"

"How is that?"

Later as he stood in Tywin's tent and told the tale to Tywin, Kevan, and the other leaders of the Western forces, he saw the relieved looks that were shared not just by the Lannister brothers but by the others there too. He'd killed a Faceless Man and though no one truly understood the magic's that the order possessed, he'd given them enough clues to figure it out. Not that any of them would live long enough to tell the secret should they wish to.

"Why you Andros? No offense but why not Lord Tywin or Lord Kevan?" Roland Crakehall asked and Tywin looked at him as curiously as the others now did.

"He took one of my men, Roland, one of my outriders and so it was easy enough to then get to me since he seemed to be that man I wager." he said to nods.

"It matters not, thank the Seven that Andros survived and that the assassin is no more." Quenten Banefort said and Daemon nodded his own agreement as they then began to speak of the plans for the battle to come.

It was the next day that they reached the field and took up their positions. Once again orders were given and Daemon listened to who was to march where, to which lord was to lead the cavalry charges, and to how the Golden Company would meet their end on the morrow. There was cockiness and confidence galore at the numbers they'd be facing. Even more so about the surprise that they had in store for the Golden Company and that marched at their backs. Later while Tywin allowed his lords to drink some wine, the Old Lion kept a keen eye and a tight rein so that none drank more than a little. Daemon walked back to his tent with Lyle Crakehall, the Strongboar was set to lead one of the cavalry charges and as they laughed and japed, Daemon plotted his fall. He wouldn't be the last of them he'd visit that night, but he may very well be the first.

Why he thought of his aunt as he snuck from the camp in the early morning he knew not. The memory of their meeting came to him for some reason and he let it settle in his head as he passed the pickets and guards and rode to where Jon Connington stood waiting with a relieved look on his face. Even after he'd told him that he'd done what he needed and that their path to victory was all but assured, it was Dany he taught about. Dany and the Great Grass Sea, and the life she now lived.

The Great Grass Sea a little over two years ago (298 AC.).

Daemon.

Having your whole world turned upside down was not something he'd recommend to anyone. Nor was spending your life in the dark, though it at least had its benefits. When he'd been called to the room by Jaqen and the Kindly Man, he had expected to be given an assignment only to find that all he'd known and believed was to be shown to have been a lie. True he was still the orphan that they had said he was, though his parents and because of them, he himself, were far more important than he'd have ever believed them to be.

Finding out you were the heir to a stolen throne and the last scion of a fallen dynasty was one thing, finding out you were not alone in the world was another. He had a family, where before he thought he'd had none. An Aunt, uncles, cousins, both sides of his bloodline survived in some way, shape, or form. Yet despite that, it was left to him to lead one side of his family line into the brave new world that according to the elders of the House of Black and White, he was destined to bring about.

Daemon listened to them speak of destiny, fate, of a purpose larger than any before it and he couldn't help but laugh. He'd been trained to be an assassin, not a king, a killer not a peacemaker. Surely there was someone better suited to the task than he, his aunt and his uncle both carried the blood of the dragons in their veins, surely they could see the dragons restored to a throne that he had no wish for or no training to sit upon. It was not to be, as both Jaqen and the Kindly Man told him that it was to be him and him alone to take the throne back and that any other attempt would lead to not just failure, but something much worse.

"What can be worse?" he asked to no reply, only a look that told him that he truly had no wish to know.

It took him a moon to come to terms with all he'd learned and during that time he read constantly. Of Aegon the Conqueror, the Dance of Dragons, of the Blackfrye Rebellions, and of Robert's, he read, studied and when he was done, he then began to plan. Finding out that his father had been killed by Robert Baratheon and that his mother had died not long after bringing him into the world, had been as hard to take as finding out that his grandfather was a mad man who sought to burn people alive and became aroused when doing so. Daemon saw the rights of the Rebellion and the wrongs of it in equal measure, though when he heard of the death of his brother and sister and their mother, he only saw wrongs.

The hatred he felt for Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane, and Amory Lorch was a living breathing thing and one that only grew day by day. Finding out that he was not alone in that hatred was something he welcomed greatly and as he looked over the list of names that Jaqen gave him, he knew he'd soon be visiting each of them. That the list came from his mother and was among the few things he had of her was something that made it even more special to him. So as he spoke the vows in the Hall of Faces, they meant far more to him than the other times he'd promised the Many-Faced God that he'd get his due.

From there it was to other plans that his mind and attention turned. Daemon listened carefully as Jaqen told him things that would be useful in the days, weeks, moons and even years to come. Allies that he could bring to his side, enemies that he would need to deal with, and most importantly of all, a location in Essos where he could find more of his blood. It was there he traveled first, forgoing the need to see a Mummer Dragon dead and to bring the army that had been intended to place a black dragon on the throne to the side of a red one. It was not to the company of sellswords that had sworn an oath to never return while the North was sworn to a dragon that he went, but further into Essos to Vaes Dothrak and to a Khalasar.

It took him a number of moons to travel to the city of the Horselords and when he arrived it was to find that he was too late. Yet another member of his family had fallen and upon hearing of Viserys' death, Daemon was at first greatly angered by it. Khal Drogo's name would have been added to his mother's list were it not for the truth of why his uncle had died being revealed to him. The Dosh Khaleen were more than happy to speak to him on it and when he heard what Viserys had done, Daemon found himself glad that his uncle breathed no more.

"He bore a blade in our sacred city, faceless one, held it to the Khalessi's belly where the Stallion who Mounts the World was growing and demanded a crown." Shigvi said as Daemon sat amongst four of the older women.

"Then he deserved to die." he said to approving looks "How was it done?"

"The Khal took his golden belt and melted it down and then he used the melted gold to fulfill the pact he'd agreed with Khal Rhaggat." Hiziwi said and Daemon nodded.

"And the Khalessi?" he asked curiously.

"She and Khal Drogo have ridden more than a moon ago, south to the poisoned water." Shigvi said as Daemon rose to his feet.

"Is it the gift you seek to bring to Drogo or his Khalessi?" an older woman who'd not been sitting with them asked as she moved to look Daemon in the face.

"Neither Drogo nor his Khalessi has made an enemy of the Many-Faced God, and their service to the Great Stallion is far from over." he said to a pleased look.

By the time he caught up with the Khalasar events had gone very badly it seemed. There were far fewer of them than he'd been told and had heard about. Drogo was known far and wide to lead the largest Khalasar and yet the one that Daemon saw camped was barely worthy of the name. He saw few warriors and yet there were more than he could take on in a straight fight and so as he made his way to what seemed to be the largest of the tents, he did so warily.

"No further stranger." a voice that wasn't Essosi called out and Daemon found himself looking at a tall man wearing armor and wielding a longsword.

"I come in peace, Jorah the Andal, to speak to the Khalessi and the Khal." he said as softly as he could, the man's eyes narrowing at his words.

"Why should I believe you?" Jorah asked and Daemon for a moment found himself unable to respond, the woman who'd come to the tent looked so sad and broken that his eyes were drawn to her and even his cold heart felt pity for whatever she'd gone through.

"Who is this man, Jorah?" his aunt asked, Daemon looking at her dirty silver hair and the clothes that looked as if she'd not changed them in days.

"I'm here to help, Khalessi, in any way I can." he said holding back who he was for now.

"Why?" she asked softly "Why would you seek to help me?"

"Because I may be able to." he said and she looked at him before Jorah and two Dothraki bid him remove his weapons and then looked at him curiously when he did so.

Given how heavily armed he truly was that was no great surprise and even after he had removed all his weapons, he was still searched thoroughly. He could have hidden some but was he here to cause any harm then he could still do so, weapons or not. Since he wasn't here to bring anyone the gift, there was no need for him to be more of a mummer than he needed to be. Once they felt he was completely unarmed, he was brought into the tent that his aunt had walked out from and he saw the reason for her sadness as he lay there unmoving. Drogo was not dead, but he was close to being so and when he moved to go to him, he was stopped.

"I swear it, Khalessi, on all I am, I swear I'm not here to cause any harm to you or the Khal." he said looking at her and pleading with his eyes for her to believe him, which to his relief she did.

He moved closer to Drogo when he was allowed to and leaned his head to his chest and then his mouth. The smell of the poison was very apparent to him and as he placed his hand on the large muscular chest of the Khal of Khals, he timed the beating of the man's heart, happy to find that there was still time to save the man.

"The Khal has been poisoned, Khalessi, a very dangerous poison but not one without a cure. There are some things I need, some roots and mares milk that has not yet been fermented." he said and the look his aunt gave him was both hopeful and doubtful at the same time.

"The witch cursed him, told me that he'll not rise until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. That when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before." his aunt said anger winning over sadness this time.

"I know not about curses, Khalessi, poisons, however, those I know much about and I promise you that the Khal can be saved. We must act now though, for time runs short." he said and she looked at him, her features hardening as she did so.

"If you speak lies, I'll see you lose your head." she said and Daemon nodded.

Within the hour he had all he needed and the potion was made, it took him longer to find something to keep Drogo's mouth open so that he would drink it down and once he did, he asked his aunt to have her husband sit up and be held up while he fed him the potion. It took Jorah and two other men to lift Drogo into a sitting position, his aunt holding her husband's head as Daemon poured the potion down his throat. Daemon pressed his hands over Drogo'schest and stomach while he did so to make sure it was swallowed and not spat out. Then once he was done, they waited.

The first stirrings came two hours later, Daemon moving to tell his aunt that all was well and this was to be expected.

"It's a good sign, Khalessi, it means the potion is working." he said and she looked from him to Drogo far more hopefully now.

When Drogo began to move his arms and legs, when he began to cough and splutter, Daemon called for Jorah and the other men and had them lift the Khal up once more so that he could expel the contents of his stomach. His aunt and the men all looked on as the green bile almost spurted from Drogo's mouth.

"Water, he'll need water." he said and the pouch with it was brought into the tent. Drogo's coughing began not long after he'd emptied his stomach and when his eyes opened and he looked to see them in the room, he began to move to fight them all. Only his aunt moving to take his face in her hands and stare into his eyes was enough to stop him.

"My Sun and Stars, you have returned to me." his aunt said and Daemon had never seen such joy on someone's face as he did then and there.

The Stormlands 300 AC.

Tywin Lannister.

They had the numbers if not the position. This was not the ground that he'd have chosen to fight a battle on and the small voice at the back of his mind kept telling him that he should force them to where he wished them to be. Yet the die was cast and here the battle was to be fought. He couldn't retreat and make them give chase, as not only would his lords lose some faith in him were he to do so, but he'd lose the advantage that Dorne gave him too.

While not quite the Anvil and the Hammer, it would play out similarly. His army, the Reach's stood to the front of the Golden Company while marching at their back were Dornish spears and between them, they'd crush and end this invasion once and for all. Firstly though he needed to parley and so he, Mace Tyrell, and Kevan rode out to meet the Commanders of the Golden Company and to find out why they'd decided now of all times to bring their men to bear.

"What news of Brax and the others?" he asked Kevan as they rode out.

"The same, my lord." Kevan said and had it been anyone other than his brother, then he'd have thought them derelict.

"Of all the days." he said under his breath, the annoyance at Brax's and others' dereliction of duty was something that he could let pass for now, but not something he'd let pass for long.

They soon saw the men they were to parley with and for a moment Tywin thought he was looking at a ghost, a specter. The closer they got to the men on horseback the clearer it was that he was not and that was indeed Jon Connington sat on the black horse. Soon though he found his eyes drawn to the man who sat upon the white one. His silver hair and purple eyes marked him out as someone he couldn't be. Shaking the image from his head, they stopped some distance away and waited for their foes to bridge the gap.

"Lord Connington." Mace Tyrell gasped, only now noticing the red-headed former Hand of the King.

"Lord Tyrell."

"We believed you dead, my lord." Kevan said and Connington smiled.

"And I hoped you would be, you and your brother." Connington replied glaring at Kevan and then him.

"What care we what you hoped and by the end of the day, what we believed will turn out to be true. I'll offer you but these terms, turn tail and run back to Essos, for you're not welcome here. These are free…"

"What care we for terms from a man that would never live up to them." the silver-haired man said interrupting "Terms from a murderer of women and children, from a man whose greatest ever victory in war was hiding under the Rock and sacking a city that believed him a savior. Who'll come to your rescue Tywin Lannister? Who'll save you from my wrath?"

"Hold your tongue, boy, lest I remove it from your mouth." Kevan said and Tywin almost smirked.

"A lion's roar is a powerful thing, but their bite means little. I know lions, I've seen them in Essos, lazing around and feeding off the work of others while thinking themselves top of the food chain. They're not, for here there be dragons and we come to feed."

"Dragons." he snorted "I ended the dragons, boy, just as I'll end you."

"You missed some, Lannister, and this one has come to play. The debt you owe my family is long overdue and a Lannister always pays his debts does he not." the silver-haired man said and Tywin held his tongue so as not to give him the satisfaction of asking who he was, he didn't have to as his next words told him exactly who he faced "For my family and in the name of my father Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother, I sentence you to death, Tywin Lannister, and before this day is done I'll stand over your corpse having seen justice finally done.

"When you see your father again, your mother, when you see your sister and your mad grandfather, be sure and tell them it was Tywin Lannister who sent you to them, boy." he snarled, not quite a roar but that would come too before the day was over.

He turned and they rode back, Mace Tyrell blubbering about whether or not that truly was Rhaegar's son and Kevan telling him it was a mummery, a lie being portrayed as the truth and while Mace may fall for that, no one else would. This battle had to be fought, this war had to end today, and it had to end with that boy dead. In time word would spread and the doubt would take his army and allies from him quicker than a lance, arrow or sword would. When he was dead he could name him a liar and a mummer, just as Kevan now did to Mace, but only when he was dead.

The Golden Battle 300 AC.

Daemon.

They rode back to the command tent, Daemon keen to tell them his plans and to find out what exactly he had at his disposal. Jon Connington had sent scouts and they'd found the Dornish Army marching their way, their arrival expected sometime during the battle itself. He knew that there were some worries that they'd not fight on their side, that they'd join with the Lions and the Roses, but he knew they would not. The enmity between Dorne and the West was too strong, the wait that Oberyn had allowed himself to suffer was too long, and the desire for vengeance and justice for his fallen kin was too enflamed for Oberyn and Dorne to do anything else but what Daemon wished them to do.

Still, there was no point turning the tide of a battle, if that tide had already overwhelmed you and so he'd done what was needed to ensure that they'd win this day, mayhap even without their Dornish allies. One life, that was all he'd been allowed to offer the Many-Faced God and he'd chosen one for both convenience and because the man deserved to die. While not a direct part in any action taken against his family, Brax had played his part in the sack of King's Landing and he'd played it well. Rape and murder, amongst the many crimes the man himself had taken part in. He'd been a younger man then and more likely to get caught up in the bloodlust that sacking a city could inspire, that though was no excuse and so his life was forfeit. His god had acted through him and justice was served, it was now time for more of it to be dished out.

"They intend to use Serret and Crakehall on the left, Banefort and Swift on the right, they and their cavalry will prove less of an issue than they should be. As for the archers, they may cause some more problems though if all goes to plan, they too will have much to deal with." he said looking to Jon and the other Serjeants.

"The elephants stand ready, your grace." Old John Mudd said and Daemon nodded.

"As do my archers." Balaq added.

"The center is the key, Tywin, Kevan, the bulk of their forces will be unaffected by my actions, though hopefully, the panic our charge inflicts will be enough to take some of their effectiveness from them."

"Did you have to speak so directly, your grace? Will that not put a target on your back?" Jon Connington asked worriedly and Daemon smiled before answering.

"It had better. Though I shall be lost to their views at times too. Misdirection Jon, it's a tool for us to use." he said and Jon looked at him not truly understanding before he nodded.

"The Reach, Your Grace?" Lysono asked.

"Some will join us, though which ones I know not for sure. The Tyrells will fight and while Mace is an idiot, his son Ser Garlan is a capable enough man, so he's who you should aim to nullify."

"Prisoners?" Brendel Byrne asked and Daemon nodded.

"I want Tywin alive or dead by my hands, and should others fall under your swords then taking them alive is preferable. However, not at the risk to your own lives." he said to approving looks "Today we settle old debts, for Gold and Bittersteel, for Glory and Renown, and for a future we can all share in." he said to cheers and bid Jon stay when the others left.

He stood looking at the older man, seeing the concern in his eyes and the worry that he felt most clearly. Reaching out he placed his hand on Jon's shoulder and offered him what reassurances he could.

"Today is not my day to die, Jon, see that it's not yours too." he said and Jon nodded.

"I….your father, I should have been there with him, on the Trident, had I…."

"Then more than likely you'd not be here today, Jon, and I'm in dire need of you today." he said and that seemed to do the trick.

Less than an hour later the horns rang out and the battle commenced, cavalry charged and the elephants roared and Daemon with his bag of many faces, prepared to play his part.

Randyll Tarly.

He'd almost thrown the Eunuch from his tent, as he had no wish to spend a moment in his presence. Even the man's words informing him that he had news of import to share were almost not enough for him. Randyll offered him no wine, no refreshments, and very little civility. Instead, he bid him say whatever it was he'd come here for and to leave. Never had he expected it to be what he'd heard and even knowing the source, he found himself longing to believe it.

In that he was not alone, Mathis Rowan, Lorent Caswell, Alyn Ashford, Martyn Mullendore, and Artos Oakheart acting in his mother's stead, all had been visited by the eunuch too and all had listened to the words he'd said and welcomed them as eagerly as Randyll did. So when the parley happened, he was not the only one who watched it with a Myrish eye and saw the truth of those words. A son of Rhaegar's lived, he'd come to take back his family's throne, and there beside him was Jon Connington, proving even more true the words that Varys had said to him a number of nights earlier.

"What do you want, eunuch?" he spat.

"A moment of your time, Lord Tarly, no more. This battle you ride to, would it concern you to know you do so on the wrong side?" Varys asked and Randyll sighed, he knew he was on the wrong side, there was no need for anyone to tell him that "Mayhap it would pain you to know who it is you ride to fight against?"

"The Golden Company, you think I care that I ride against them?" he asked curiously trying to figure out what the eunuch's intentions were.

"Not the Company itself, the man who leads the company."

"And who be that?"

"Aegon Targaryen, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms." Varys said.

He'd laughed, then became irate, and then finally he'd listened. The tale was one he'd both not believed and very much wished to. Finding out from Mathis later on that he too had wished to believe it to be true and that he was not alone in that, had been a boon to his spirit as it showed he was not being a fool or was at least not alone in being one.

"And were it to bet rue?" Mathis said almost eagerly.

"Ask your question, Mathis, the one you truly wish to and do so without fear of any but us speaking on it." he said and Mathis nodded.

"If it's truly Rhaegar's Son, Randyll, then who do you fight for?"

As he looked down the lines and saw them lead their own men, the good men and true that he'd thrown his lot in with. The Leal few who had given their Liege lord one last chance to prove himself to them and had seen him fail once more, he knew it was time to answer that question. When the horns blew and the charges began, his own horns blew out twice as loudly and his men, Mathis', Alyn's, Artos', Martyn's and Lorent's turned their cloaks and fought not with Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell, but with their king, their true king.

"For the Son of the Dragon." Randyll shouted loudly and five and ten years of hurt finally began to heal.

Kevan Lannister.

It was a disaster, an absolute and total disaster. Around him, there was complete and utter panic and he could see no sign of his brother or of Mace Tyrell. He'd thought it had started so well, the numbers they had to call upon even without the Dornish were more than enough to see them win the day, and then he'd looked on in horror as their advantage was soon wiped out.

To see horses fall and riders being thrown from their backs was one thing. Something or someone had interfered with their horses and he thanked the seven it was not all of them. It was watching as men seemed to not know what they were to do, as lords that were trained in the art of war seemed to forget everything they were thought and how because of it, their well-drilled lines soon became a rabble, that Kevan couldn't understand.

Lord Brax had disappeared and been named a craven by his brother. The Lords Serret, Swift, Banefort, and even Lyle Crakehall had actually slept late. On the morn of battle, they'd actually kept to their bed and had only awakened just before the battle itself had commenced. Tywin had been wroth and had this simply been a day's marching, then those errant lords would have felt the full brunt of his brother's displeasure. Kevan expected that once this battle had been won, they'd still do so. Yet it seemed sleeping late was not the full extent of their failures this day. As looking down the lines it seemed they'd been lax in their orders and their men because of it, knew not what to do.

Was that all that they'd had to face then it would have been enough to put their victory in doubt, but he looked on as Reach Lords turned their cloaks. Being in the midst of a charge only to find that you had less than half the men you'd set off with and those others were now your enemies as well, that was disastrous. Kevan looked ahead of him at the Golden Company, behind him as the Reach Lords who'd torn into their own lines and he sought his brother as he always did only to find no sight of him, and then he heard their roar.

"Turn, Turn." he shouted out to no avail, the charge was in full flow and it was not a shield wall or pikes they soon found themselves face to face with, it was elephants and they didn't yield or give way.

His cavalry had been his pride and joy, his own personal part of the Lannister army. The best horses, the best men, trained and drilled so that it was second nature and now he watched them being swept away as if they were nothing. The elephants bore large blades on their heads and their sheer size even without them would have allowed them to crash through his lines, with them, they tore through them. Blood, flesh, bone, it mattered not and the finest cavalry in Westeros was soon down to a few men on unharmed horses and him amongst them.

"My lord, My lord?" one of his men called out, seeking guidance as men marched their way, and yet he was to find none, for Kevan had none to give him.

"What are we to do, my lord?" another voice called out and Kevan shook his head, he tried to focus, and when he did he wished he had not.

Had he looked a little earlier he'd have thought they were saved, seeing the Dornish Army march and their spears lowered he'd have believed the day was theirs. The extra time he'd spent trying to come to terms with their losses though had made something abundantly clear. Dorne was not here to help them, they were here to end them and as Kevan ordered the few men he had left to retreat, he feared he'd never see Dorna or his children again.

Garlan Tyrell.

He crossed blades with yet another man in gold, though it was those wearing the colors of the Reach that his eyes were on. They'd been betrayed by their own men. Men he'd called friends had turned their cloaks and a battle that his father, Tywin, and he himself had believed they'd win was now a foregone conclusion. Where his father was he knew not. Whether he lived or died was a question he feared he'd never know the answer to.

Garlan took comfort in the fact that Loras was with Margaery and his mother and grandmother in King's Landing. As he cut down yet another man in gold, he took comfort knowing that Leonette was far from here, though her family, his Goodfamily were out there on the field somewhere. How this had come to pass he knew not. Why Randyll Tarly and so many others had deserted them was not something he could know for sure, though it had been something that his grandmother had always feared. It was why they'd been so desperate to see Margaery as queen, why they'd joined with the Lannisters of all people and he could almost laugh at the irony of the situation they were now in.

In making a move to secure the future of their house and the loyalty of their Bannermen, they'd actually managed the opposite. By allying with the Lannisters, a family that represented the very worst that Westeros had to offer, they'd sealed their doom. He should have spoken up more. Garlan knew he should have raised the concerns he had in his heart over them allying with a family that had seen Guest Right and a Wedding, as an opportunity to kill their enemies. The gods were punishing the Lannisters now and his family too deserved their fate for taking their side.

"Tarly." he spat when he saw Randyll and his men ride his way.

"Drop your sword, Ser Garlan, there is no need for you to die here this day." Randyll said and Garlan moved to the man ready to cut him down only for the horse to crash into him and for him to fall to the ground.

"Your grace."

"Your grace."

"See Ser Garlan is treated well, Lord Randyll, the battle is all but done, we'll speak when it is so."

"Of course, your grace."

Blood dripped from his forehead and his eyes were heavy as he lay on the ground and watched the exchange. He could see silver hair and what seemed to be a sword that he'd only heard about and had never seen before. Blackfrye was being held in the hands of what could only be a Targaryen King given how respectful Randyll Tarly was being with the man. As he drifted off into unconsciousness, he pondered on his fate and that of his House, and Garlan wished that death would take him so he didn't need to live to see it.

Oberyn.

They arrived in the middle of the battle, his spearmen and cavalry eager to play their own part. Looking out to the field in front of him was a glorious sight to behold. The Lions were being overrun and it was time for him to do what he'd waited so long for.

"For Elia, For Rhaenys, For Aegon." he shouted and their charge began.

To one side he could see the elephants still charging through the Lannister lines. In the distance, he could see a silver-haired man cutting down men on horse and foot as if they were nothing. The sword in his hand could only be Valyrian Steel which named him as Daemon Targaryen to Oberyn's mind. He searched the field for the Old Lion and found him at the back of it. Tywin sitting astride a white horse while around him his army was being routed.

It was to him that he charged and as he did so, he could see just how extensive the victory here today had been or would soon be. The Golden Company had suffered some losses but compared to the Lannister's they were few. Obara soon pointed out that there were Reach Lords fighting on the same side as the Golden Company and Oberyn chuckled. Old loyalties die hard and there were men of the Reach who held theirs to the dragons most of all. Daemon, it seemed knew this and had planned for it, just as it seemed he'd planned for so much before he'd ever even come to Westeros.

Joffrey, the Mountain, Walder Frey, and his kin at the Twins, Dorne being brought to his side, and the Golden Company all playing their parts in seeing the Old Lion finally pay what he owed. The Reach Lords were just another part of that, another piece on the board, and Oberyn found himself eager to speak to the young man when this was done. First, though it needed to be done and so he used his lance to cut down any in his way, and just as he got close enough so that he could see the green of Tywin Lannister's eyes, he found obstacles to his path.

The Old Lion had kept men in reserve and it was these he and his cavalry faced. A true shield wall stopped their charge and so it was on foot that he faced them. It was bloody and time-consuming and by the time he and his men had cut through those facing them, the Old Lion was nowhere in sight. Calling out for a horse and then waiting until one was brought to him, Oberyn found himself almost on the verge of panic, not through fear as the day was won, but in believing that Tywin Lannister had escaped justice once more.

"We find him, if we have to chase the fucker to King's Landing, we find him." he said as his daughters, his men and he rode off to chase Tywin down.

Tywin.

It took some time for the truth to settle in. At first, he refused to believe it, refused to even countenance such a thing. He'd lost battles before, though never so true as it seems he was to lose this one. He'd looked on as Mace Tyrell was pulled from his horse and as Reach men turned on each other. Seen his brother's charge falter and watched as his lines were overrun. When he'd seen the Dornish army arrive he'd felt a momentary relief. The day would end with him victorious once more he'd thought and so he'd even begun planning the punishments that he'd dish out.

Tarly, Rowan, and the other Reach Lords would lose their heads and their lands. The Tyrells would be cast down because what use were they if they couldn't bring their Bannermen to bear. His own errant lords would feel the full extent of his ire, they'd shamed him and so he'd return that tenfold. Soon though it became clear that Dorne hadn't risen for him, instead, they sought to end him. He'd seen it in Oberyn's face more than once and yet he'd ignored it because it suited him. So keen was he to put the last vestiges of danger to his dynasty to bed that he'd ignored it and now he could very well end up paying for it with his and his family's lives.

Bidding his reserve to form up, he looked to the field for the silver-haired fuck who'd handed him this defeat. Through the battle, he'd looked for him and had sent men to end him. This so-called Targaryen who'd come back to haunt him and deny him what he'd fought so very hard for. One moment he'd be on the left of the field and then on the right, in the middle or at the back and it had vexed him greatly. There was no way he could have moved without him seeing him, his silver hair was worn loose and he wore no helm. Yet time and time again he'd disappear from his sight only to pop up far from where he'd last seen him.

"The lines are about to break my lord." one of his honor guard said and Tywin looked down to see he was right.

"We ride and ride hard. To King's Landing." he said as they turned and rode away from the battle, a battle that had long since been lost.

He would secure the city, regroup and mayhap even withdraw from it. Casterly Rock may be a safer place to await the army that would soon come his way and yet even that may not be safe enough. As they rode, he considered Essos as a place to bide his time and make his plans. His accounts in the Iron Bank were full and he'd need coin to plan his next moves, coin, and time and while he knew he had enough of one, he feared he was running out of the other. Something that was proved true only a few moments later.

The arrows flew and around him, men fell, riders soon approached and he ordered some of his men to face them down, to end them while he and others rode on. Beneath him the horse tired and yet he forced it ever forward. When they reached the stream he bid the men rest but briefly and as he was filling his pouch with water, the remnants of those he'd ordered to make their stand arrived. There were less than half but that there was any at all bode well. It meant that those who'd ambushed them had been dealt with and while they'd have more at their backs, they now had some breathing room.

"We make for King's Landing, no stops. You three, ride on ahead and find fresh horses where you can." he said to three of his men who did as he bid.

As he swallowed down some water, he considered his options once more only to find out he had none, or to be more precise, his time had run out. The knife at his throat pressed against his flesh and left him in no doubt that he'd be dead before one of his men could end his captor. So when he was told to tell them to stand down, he did so.

"Tell them to remove their arms and to pile them up before stepping away from them." his captor said and Tywin did as he was bid.

"I can make you a very wealthy man." he said to no reply "Name your price." again nothing "Whatever they're paying you, I'll double." nothing "Treble."

"It's not your coin I want, Lannister, it's your blood."

"Who are you?"

As he waited for a reply he saw the riders approach, men of the Golden Company and enough of them that it was clear that at the very best he was being taken as their prisoner. Given what his captor had said, he doubted it would get that good and when he saw Oberyn and the Dornish arrive, he knew it would not.

"Who are you?" he said when he was let go and he turned to face one of his guards and wondered why he'd been holding him captive.

In the blink of an eye, he saw the face as it changed, Walder Frey, Daemon Velaryon, and some others that he didn't recognize.

"My name is Daemon Targaryen, brother to Aegon and Rhaenys, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna and my god and I have been waiting for this for a long time." Daemon snarled.

Being stabbed was not something he'd recommend and how Daemon was able to do it so many times and yet not kill him, was not something he'd wish to know. On and on the stabbing went and how much blood he'd lost he knew not, only that it was most it not all of what he had inside of him. He collapsed to the ground and felt the stone as it bashed against his head, heard the words as it did so again and again.

"Half a hundred times my sister was stabbed, my brother was thrown against a wall so hard that it crushed his skill. Their fate is yours. You were the first name she put on her list, Tywin Lannister, Valar Morghulis."

The world went dark and Tywin Lannister paid the debt he owed, it was the last one he would ever pay.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed.. Up Next enemies and allies kneel and are judged. Sansa and Arya are reunited as are Daemon and Jaqen and plans are made to end one war and begin another one.

A/N2: In regards to my other stories.

I'm aiming to have another chapter of my Into the Dragonverse and a chapter of Winter King up this week. Next week will see hopefully a Live as a wolf chapter and certainly an Aemon the Dragonknight and Am I My brother's keeper chapter.

The Dark Prince will return in January and Different Song is currently being polished and rewritten where needed, so over the next couple of weeks, the chapters will be getting reposted as the work is on reflection horribly written in places.

I hope to do this quickly and certainly within a month from now and it will culminate in the final few chapters being added, should all go to plan.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Uncle Dork: Really glad you liked it.

Mrmcnasty: Hopefully this was worth the wait.

Celexys: Thanks so much for saying so, we'll be seeing more changes play out as we move north.

Leonel: Forgive me for that, life has been absolute haywire lately. Rickon has a big part to play in things to come, as the only known son of Ned Stark alive he's important as for Sansa, even more so. Varys still had a use, which now he does not. Doran wants what he wants, so that could be interesting going forward, for now, he's allied with Daemon, but as always with Doran, he wants what's best for him.

Victoria: Thanks so much my friend, I'm so happy you're enjoying this. Hope all is well with you.

Vfsnake: Well at least one of them lol, Tywin finding a man without a face to be too difficult an opponent we'll see how the rest fare.

Dunk: So glad you liked it. I figured that his training though not in military tactics would allow for him to come up with a plan that would work. In essence, planning to win a war or battle for him is the same as planning to kill a target, you create the conditions and set things up and then add in a contingency here or there and you're golden. With the added bonus of being able to do what a FM can do too. Hope you liked how the battle played out, Dorne was both needed and not. Stannis I think is the kind of guy that has that come to Jesus moment when he dies, or just faced his end. As terrible as his show end was, the one part I think they got right is the resignation to it, which I think would be Stannis in the end, resigned to his fate. I didn't want to stray too far from canon with Viserys, the timing didn't really allow it as for Dany, Daemon helped and we'll see her again. Rickon will be fun to see.

Iacopo: Grazie mille. Coloro che desiderano che i Lannister soffrano saranno più desiderosi di credere a Daemon, eppure ha ancora domande a cui rispondere.

Keb: As you see, yes there was a reason to keep Varys alive, there is none now, however. Sansa/Daemon is very much in its infancy and so I want to show there is an attraction there but not have them just rush right into it.

MalSer: So glad you enjoyed it.

Scarila: I wondered how trusting to make Sansa, I think she'd want to be so, and once she sees Arya, even more so.

Anom666: So glad to hear that.

Xan Merrick: Thank you, my friend.

Neverstopreading: A Jon Snow fic without Ghost is an abomination, so yes the white wolf will be making an appearance soon enough.