A/N: Sup guys. Flying out tomorrow to take care of my sick grandfather, so this update's going out quick. Luckily I've got the entire story written, lol.
Be sure to check out all my other stories :D
Enjoy and comment!
Rhaenys had been in battle. She had fought and bled and nearly died fighting the enemies of House Targaryen. Riding Sunfyre against her foes, raining fire upon them, she had almost fallen off more than a half-dozen times in spite of being a near-expert dragonrider… none of those times had made her feel as nervous as the prospect of an outing with Jon would be. "What am I gonna do?"
"Too late for you to back out now, cousin," Arianne smirked. "You're stuck… going out to the city market with him."
Shireen Baratheon, Rhaenys' current lady in waiting, looked rather shocked. "Going out shopping in the city? I suppose a sweaty sparring session or dragonride or even a horse ride in the Kingswood would have been characteristic of you, but this?"
"It's like the Rhaenys we knew is possessed by a demon or something."
"Shut up, Tyene," Rhaenys grunted. "Fuck, I made a huge mistake." She was never the sort to like such things like shopping or dances, even for Jon. I mean, muna doesn't do any of that. It was often said she was more like Lyanna than even her half-sister.
Margaery shook her head. "You made the opposite of a mistake, Rhae. If anything, doing the exact opposite of your normal, abrasive self will work wonders in getting Jon to see you as a lover rather than a sister."
"What the fuck do you mean?"
Snorting, Margaery pinched the bridge of her nose. "See, that's what I mean. If you continue to act like that then he'll always see you as his sister rather than as a lover. You gotta make a change so he sees you differently."
Closing her eyes, Rhaenys sighed. "You're right." She ran a hand through her silky hair. "So what do I have to do?"
"Well, first you're going to need a proper outfit… and you know what that means?" Margaery grinned at Ari, Shireen, and Tyene. "Makeover!"
Rhaenys' eyes widened. "No… no fucking way…"
"It's the only way," smirked her cousin.
"Over my dead body…" But a mere five minutes later, she was planted in front of her duvet, scowling as her friends and cousins primped her up. Brushing her hair and trying out different types of rouge and eye-liner on her face. "This is fucking humiliating."
Giggling, Shireen shifted through a rather knotted tangle in the dark hair. "Oh please, don't you want to look good for your man?"
"By the time we're done, he'll want to pin you against the wall and ravish you." Tyene traced the line of her eye. "And Jon is a man who could probably hit places that you didn't even know existed."
The image was rather… delicious. Rhaenys closed her eyes, imagining it. Oh yes… please, old gods and the new, let it happen. "Alright… just make it quick."
"You're more disheveled than a completely fucked whore," Tyene chuckled. "And that's more what you want to be rather than be right now."
"Shut it."
Emerging from her closet, Margaery and Arianne each held an armful of dresses. "We come bearing gifts." They deposited the many dresses onto the bed. "Gods, Rhae, your mothers have the finest outfits made for you and you'd rather wear training leathers and armor."
Rhaenys groaned. "Don't you start. I already have to put up with that from muna… oh no, I am not wearing that in public."
Arianne held a rather skimpy blue dress of lace and silk, exposing the midriff for all to see. "Now, I have a feeling aunt Ellaria got this for you."
"If you must know, that was one of Missandei's dresses that she was kind enough to give to me, but I was only planning to wear it for my future husband in the privacy of our chambers… or Dragonstone." Clicking her tongue, Rhaenys smirked softly. She'd gotten that dress not long after Jon commented on how wonderful Dany looked in the Essosi outfits… Seems I always wanted him as my one and only lover. She'd saved herself for so long, and now Rhaenys knew it was for Jon. "Can you find something else?"
Nodding, Margaery rifled through some of the other dresses. "We avoided your formal gowns cause you wear them enough, especially in the last several weeks. Something casual yet stunning."
"Yeah, one that shows enough to tempt a man while also concealing enough for it to be a mystery." Arianne lifted up a crimson dress from Braavos, one that cut off mid shin and showed off her arms. "What do you think? Classy yet one that shows off all your assets. I'd certainly salivate over any woman of your figure that wears this."
Rising, Rhaenys took the fabric in her hands. It was smooth cotton - not overly expensive or fancy, yet it wasn't beneath her status. Jon would certainly drool over it - any man would, but she only had her eyes on one. "This is good… very good."
"Combine it with a black cloak and purple scarf," stated Shireen. "The Crown Prince won't know what hit him."
Hopefully, at least.
Sansa Stark was not the hapless maiden many seemed to describe her as. Her father once a free-spirited drunkard and her mother a pious, prudish woman, their various experiences had led them to seek to mend their ways as the North passed to them with Rickard Stark's death in the First Wildling Invasion… and Sansa was the main beneficiary of this. She was a southern bird in a family of wolves and House Stark was alright with that, but time in the Red Keep had matured her greatly.
She learned her way around court from her cousin Daenerys, who learned it from her muna Elia. No better teacher existed and Sansa was confident that she would never be the same victim of the vipers her father, uncle Ned, aunt Ashara, and Aunt Lyanna warned her about. She was smart, she was cunning…
But the songs and stories she had read as a little girl still stuck with her, and the golden knight to sweep her off her feet was sitting beside her. Sansa was in love with Ser Harrold Hardyng, heir to the Vale and his uncle Elbert… or at least it was close to love. He was perfect - dashing, skilled, and ever so handsome. While her mother had fallen for her rugged, powerful father, Sansa was a wolf of the South and she was sure she found her mate.
Plucking a flower from the garden, Ser Harry tucked it behind her ear. "There, a beautiful winter rose to compliment your dress." He watched as she practically swooned. Much too easy.
"This dress is one of my favorites." A sparkling ice blue, it was a gift from her aunt Lyanna. Homespun wool much like those of the North, but thinner to be comfortable in the south. "Looks absolutely beautiful, but still rugged enough to ride a horse… or a dragon if you are my cousin Dany." Lyanna owned a dozen of these dresses each in a different color - Daenerys owned a half-dozen.
Harry grinned. "From what I can deduce, the flames of a dragon would be difficult to maintaining a dress."
Sansa chuckled. "Perhaps when Frostfang was but a hatchling… the dragons are quite well trained now." Biting her lip, she rested her hand on his knee. "Would you like to go with a ride with me, Ser Harry? I've heard of your skill on the jousting court and would like to see your skills for myself."
"I would love to go for a ride with you, my dear." Harry hoped he sounded genuine… imagining a woman that actually liked to ride with a man rather than sit in the wheelhouse and not bother him with her shit made him retch - but it was just temporary. By the end of this, Sansa was but a stepping stone to whom he truly desired. The one who'd make the perfect Lady of the Eyrie and secure his line with the power he so craved. "Let me put on my riding boots."
"Don't keep me waiting too long," Sansa giggled, batting her eyes.
A shame… Harry took the leather boots, sliding his foot through the opening. Like her mother, she's almost a proper woman. Grabbing the other, he just managed to slide his left inside as the right foot reached the sole…
Squelch.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he gave the boots a queer look. "What the?" The other foot went snugly inside, also squelching. "By the Seven…?"
Sansa blinked. "My knight of the mountain, what's wrong?"
"I'm not sure…" Pulling his foot out, suddenly Harry was assaulted by a rancid smell… His eyes widened. "What the fuck! Why is there horseshit in my boots?!" Turned out, both of his socks were now smeared with the noxious substance. "Seven motherfucking hells!"
Having been exposed to her share of pranks between her siblings and cousins, Sansa giggled when she should've known better. "It seems you're the victim of a practical joke, Ser Harry." Could've been anyone… probably one of her much younger cousins, or the Sand Snakes. They were notorious for harassing those that pissed them off.
Harry glared at Sansa. "And you think this is funny?!" Wretched woman! "This is not funny!"
Hearing his angry shout, Sansa's smirk changed to a panicked frown. "No… I didn't say that. Please forgive me…"
But he waved her off. "Nothing, forget it!" He rose to his feet, wincing as the smeared manure soaked his socks. "I'll get it clean myself… and I'll have my squire flogged for this…" he muttered under his breath, walking back into the keep.
Sansa sighed. "Damn it, Sansa Stark. Why'd you have to laugh at him?" It wasn't proper… if she was to be a good wife, she'd need to be supportive.
Snickering, both Arya and Jaehaerys watched as Harry stomped off, his woolen socks smeared brown. "That was perfect," Arya said in between chortles. "Sansa would have to see through him now."
Wiping his eyes of humorous tears, Jae shifted his gaze to Sansa and his face fell. "A good start, aye, but she still looks enamored with him."
"Gods, cousin. You're smarter than this…" Apparently her youthful dreams of a handsome knight sweeping her off her feet was too stubborn in Sansa's mind to be overcome by her good sense. "We're just gonna have to resort to drastic measures once we're finished with Dickstar."
"Drastic measures? What does that mean, I ask you?"
Arya grinned. "My turn to plan something." She looked like a hyena, and for a moment Jae was a bit apprehensive for what his cousin could come up with.
But this was his sister and his cousin so nothing could be beyond the pale to protect them. Plus it was pretty godsdamned funny.
Years ago, when she, Dany, and Jon were much younger, Rhaenys had heard whispers around the Red Keep of her and Jon's coloring. How it was almost like Daeron II's children come again, the Crown Prince and eldest Princess holding few of the Targaryen traits. 'At least Princess Daenerys looks Targaryen,' they had said, while the others were so deprived of the Valyrian look that questioning their parentage was reasonable.
One of those… someone named Slynt if Rhaenys recalled correctly, was personally beheaded by their father for his insolence. And once she and Jon bonded with their dragons all the whispers stopped. No one doubted they were Targaryens.
But in this moment she was thankful to have taken most after her mother in features. Wrapped in a cloak and with a scarf tied around her head, Rhaenys got a little thrill of being able to pass through the city without being recognized as a Targaryen Princess.
Well… most of that thrill was due to whom she was walking through the city with. "I have to say, being without Ghost is making me a bit uncomfortable." Jon was dressed down in a simple grey gambeson and trousers underneath his cloak, black hair let free down his shoulders. "I know you didn't want to be spotted, but still…"
Laughing, Rhaenys looped her arm in his… relishing the close contact with her brother and hidden love. "You have me, dear valonqar. I would think the two of us are enough to take on any threat." Blackfyre and Dark Sister were perched under their cloaks for that particular eventuality, though Dany's efforts to rejuvenate the goldcloaks had cut down on street crime considerably.
"There's no doubt that we can defend ourselves, sister, but I wouldn't want to risk even a hair on your head." He said it with conviction.
She felt a shiver of love and lust course through her body. Leaning closer against him, Rhaenys screamed a little internally when he merely wrapped an arm round her waist. Gods, it felt good.
All around, there was a festival atmosphere within King's Landing. Two triumphs brought large armies and the tavern-owners and brothel managers took advantage of the extra customers. Widlings, gifted with gold and silver from the treasury for their many sacrifices, were flooding the Street of Steel to buy new weapons and equipment for their new lands in the Gift, joined by every hedge knight or third son seeking glory in the King's Tourney. Families with any sort of coin - and many without - flooded in for the festivities, every variety of street vendor and peddler hawking their wares.
Jon forked over a few bronze stars for two scoops of honey-coated nuts wrapped in parchment paper, Rhae moaning as she popped one in her mouth. "This is so delicious. Like the honey tarts from the keep's kitchens"
"Remember when we were toddlers, the palace cooks always pilfering those to give to us?"
"Toddlers? They do that for us now," laughed Rhae. "You and Dany have such a sweet tooth."
"This coming from someone that steals from Sansa's tray of lemon cakes whenever she's not looking." He snickered at Rhaenys' blush. "That's a particular taste I don't understand."
"Oh please, I have great taste, valonqar." I love you, after all. If anything proved that she had good taste… "You're just jealous that the food in the North is bland and tasteless."
"You're exaggerating."
"I know you always have Ari sneak some Dornish peppers into Vhagar's saddlebag whenever you visit Winterfell." He looked surprised. "Really? You don't think she tells me everything."
Jon rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd hope… she doesn't tell you everything."
Rhaenys was confused for a moment as they walked through the marketplace… until she realized what he must be referring to. Ari had told her of the past, of how she and her brother fooled around… then, Rhaenys forgave her - there wasn't really anything to objectively forgive - but with her love for Jon having blossomed a sudden feeling of jealousy welled inside her. She gripped Jon tighter. Mine… he's mine.
But is he yours, really? Biting her lip, Rhaenys sighed. "Jon?"
"Yes, Rhae?"
"I… I want to tell you something." Her heart was beating out of her chest when his grey eyes met hers… and the bold, powerful Princess Rhaenys Targaryen choked. She just… Something caught her eye. "Let's dance."
He blinked. "What?"
Grabbing his arm, Rhaenys pointed to a group of minstrels gathered in the open courtyard of the marketplace. Many smallfolk were dancing to the jaunty tune, laughing and smiling as they threw aside their worries for a moment of mindless frivolity. "There, dance with me."
Jon gave her a puzzled look. "Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" Rhaenys never liked such feminine pursuits such as dancing or feasts, even if as a Princess she was taught to be an expert.
"Don't tell me you don't find yourself up to the task?" she replied with a raised eyebrow.
Scoffing, Jon took her hand. "You'll pay for that, sister." Letting him lead her to the square, Rhaenys was eager to see what he meant by that… "Whoa…!" almost as soon as they made it did he pull her flush against his body and they glided across the courtyard.
The motions were rapid, and it took quite a few moments before Rhaenys could adjust. But her feet steadied after some stumbles, quickly recognizing the tune as a popular one from Dorne. Spinning her, Jon's eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to pour out his best. Oh, game on, valonqar…
They danced and danced, time seemingly both endless and slowing to a crawl. Others began watching them and clapping at their skill but for Rhae all she could feel was Jon. His powerful body flush against hers, the strong yet gentle way he held her, his beautiful features… How had she ever denied her love for him? It was meant to be. Such burned through her body as the music stopped and he dipped her.
As the crowd began to clap and cheer the performance, both Jon and Rhae stilled. Their hearts were beating and breaths rapid, locked in their dip. Rhae's arms looped around Jon's neck and Jon's strong arm holding onto the small of Rhae's back. Flushed, the Princess met her Prince's dark grey eyes. Is he… aroused…? They stared at her lips, her face.
Her heart pounded as Rhaenys thought he inched forward. He's going to kiss me… yes, yes, yes!
Just as the moment came, it seemed to end. Blinking, the haze Jon had been under lifted and he was aware of what this was. Looking back at his sister, a blush came to his face and he eased her up. "Sorry," he murmured to her. "Would you like a mug of ale or anything?"
"Sure…" she murmured, still a bit breathless. "I'd like that."
Nodding, Jon placed a kiss on her temple. "Be right back."
Watching him walk away and rubbing where he had kissed, Rhaenys did her best to hide her disappointment. Her heart swelled with love for him, but their happy moment was ruined by his own damned honor. He was going to kiss me, I know it.
This was gonna be a lot harder than she thought.
It was rather ironic to Ashara Stark. Lyanna, her best friend and goodsister, was the wild she-wolf of House Targaryen. Nothing stopped her from doing what she wished and such wishes were oftentimes the most wild of actions. Participating in tourneys as a mystery knight, riding alone in the Kingswood dressed as a simple smallfolk girl - never without a sword - or challenging some arrogant Lord or knight to a spar and proceeding to kick their asses into the ground. Such had followed her into the battles of the North and imprinted on most of her children.
Not so with Princess Daenerys. Most people saw nothing of the northern Queen in the sweet, quiet Valyrian royal. She was fearsome upon her dragon, but that was more akin to her grandmother Rhaella than Lyanna Stark. If it weren't for her almost innate skill on horseback, few would think the silver-haired, violet-eyed beauty had anything of her mother in her.
That majority didn't ever see her when she was angry. Truly, powerfully angry. There was the familiar dragon temper, but also something more powerful… more icy.
Like a wolf.
"Who does she think she is?!" Pacing up and down her chambers, the Princess alternated from brooding silently, to ranting, and simply tugging at her hair and growling in frustration. "What is her angle?!" Shaking her head, Ashara bit her lip and wandered away from where she listened in on the conversation. This was going to end badly between the two sisters, just as she'd feared.
"Calm down, your Grace," Missandei cautioned. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation…"
"You want a reasonable one? I got one." Pushing herself off the bed, Val walked over to Daenerys and grabbed her shoulders. Making her stop pacing. "Your sister is making a move on your man."
Dany shook, though in her eyes there was just as much betrayal as there was anger. "Why? Why would she do this?" Pulling away from Val, she grabbed her hair. "I've been the one in love with Jon for years, and she suddenly wants him? I don't fucking get it!" With a screech, she kicked at a stool, knocking it halfway across the room.
Missandei was at her side, as was Myrcella. "Your Grace, please breathe. Don't hurt yourself." Dany complied, inhaling and exhaling slowly - easing the rapid beating of her heart. "You shouldn't jump to too many conclusions," the translator commented.
"I agree." Soon to be the wife of her cousin, Robb, Myrcella Baratheon had also been Dany's Lady in Waiting many years ago - they were very close. "Rhaenys is your sister. This could all be a misunderstanding…"
"You're all idiots." All eyes were drawn to Asha, who was nonchalantly picking dirt out of her nails with a knife. "This is pretty simple. Your sister finally got her head out of her ass and noticed you're in love with Jon, so it made her jealous. Classic pretty girl, never wants something unless someone else wants it… then she has to have it."
Myrcella rolled her eyes. "Come now, Rhaenys isn't that petty."
"She's a girl, isn't she? Of course she's that petty." Rising, Asha looked Dany in the eye. "But I doubt your mother will want you to get into a catfight with your own sister… that's just bad form, and knowing Rhaenys she'd probably enjoy it."
Dany groaned. "Stop it. Rhaenys may have the same tastes as our munas, but she doesn't think of me in that way." Gods, Asha was such a pervert sometimes. "And stop snickering, Val, I swear to the Seven…"
The wildling couldn't help herself. "I'm sorry… but underneath these fancy dresses and sweet-smelling perfumes you southerners are just a bunch of spearwives bitchslapping each other in the face." It didn't take her long to realize they weren't all that different. "Now, way I see it you can go about this two different ways. You can tell Rhaenys to back the fuck off, or you can just ignore all that jizz and instead nab your brother for yourself. You actually love him, so it shouldn't be hard."
"Yes, sweep him off his feet!" Myrcella said, giggling.
Nodding, as she thought the prospect seemed rather… daunting to Daenerys. "And how am I supposed to do that?" While she could speak at length of how his eyes sparkled when playing his lute, or how his muscles flexed while he sparred, Dany had no idea how to approach him in his romantic life. What did he like? What was his favorite idea of a romantic evening?
What sort of lover did he prefer? Dominant or submissive…? Just thinking about that put a blush on her cheek.
"Well, if I were you I'd just wait in his chambers without a stitch of clothing on me, but knowing Jon he'd probably insist on giving you his fur cloak…" Val groaned, rolling her eyes.
"How do you… never mind." Dany lifted up her hands. "I really don't want to know."
Pursing her lips, Asha finally snapped her fingers. "Got it. I bet the Crown Prince was shocked someone like Rhae would suggest going out cavorting among the masses like a lovesick maiden. You just gotta find something equally as shocking for yourself and he to do… but not something you wouldn't be good at."
"You could challenge him to an archery competition," Myrcella brainstormed.
Thinking on it, Dany shook her head. "No, I'm better than him and beating him easily wouldn't be conducive to romance."
Val grinned. "Not necessarily." She wrapped an arm around Dany's shoulder. "Imagine, his little twin sister beats him at something quite manly. His ego is bruised and he's dying to prove his masculinity, so he rips off your dress, pushes you to the ground, and takes you right then and there… mmmmm-hmmm. Wonderful, no?"
Gulping, Dany felt her mouth go dry and eyes flutter closed. Just imagining it made her smallclothes damp… "As wonderful as that sounds, I still should find something a bit more… evenly matched between us."
Silent for a while, Missandei spoke up. "I think I have the perfect thing, especially in regards to you." Listening intently, soon a wide smirk appeared on Dany's face. Oh, that's just perfect.
"Refresh my memory again, nephew," Daemon remarked, practically pinned to the seat as Rhaenyra snuggled against his arm - it was normally something he didn't mind, but his arm was falling asleep and he had a slight suspicion that the brood of his brother were trying to keep him from reacting badly. "You're saying that Helaena has been seeing someone for the past century and hasn't told us?"
Young Daeron rolled his eyes. "Uncle, she's told people, just not you."
Daemon frowned. "And why is that?" He had thought that the passage of time had healed all wounds… especially as certain lies were cleared up.
"Because you'd try to take Dark Sister and ram it through the mystery date's torso," Prince Aemond remarked, leaning back with a large flagon of wine and simply relaxing. Over a century and a half since the Dance and it wasn't enough to work out all the stress.
"I don't even have Dark Sister anymore. Aunt Visenya's taken the heavenly copy of it for herself and I doubt Princess Rhaenys would allow the real thing to cross from the earthly realm." Who would want to part with Dark Sister? That blade's gotten me through some scrapes. Aemond being here belied that, much as Daemon felt guilt for such.
To his credit, Aemond simply didn't care about the old grudges and dick-measuring contests anymore. "Fair enough, but you'll still try something. Can't kill a person here, but it still fucking hurts as my sweet brother can attest."
Crossing his arms, Daeron frowned. "For the last time, I let Aerion Brightflame run his sword through my side so I could get his throat."
"Sure you did, valonqar," Rhaenyra giggled. Her husband still scowling, mumbling under his breath, Nyra leaned in and kissed his chin. "And you would, my love. You're overprotectiveness of dear Helaena is sweet and all, but she's a grown woman and she deserves some love."
Perhaps they are right. Daemon deflated. "Suppose I am a little overprotective. You know what she's been through… at least tell me someone checked this fool out."
"Do Uncle Maegor and grandfather Baelon count?" Aemond asked, not bothering to look out from his seat. Daemon said nothing, conceding the issue to his nephews and niece-wife.
Entering, all eyes looked over to see Baela enter - looking worn. "Daeron, I did as you asked and simply extended the invitation to your brother to come here…" She sounded like she had endured her nephew Baelor's death march through Dorne, collapsing into her paramour's arms. "And I just had to endure a whole diatribe of how your sister is a whore so you owe me big." Poking Daeron in the side, Baela nevertheless pecked him in the cheek.
Daeron went red. "That little shit…"
"Sit down and shut up, brother," Aemon mused nonchalantly. "You knew what would happen when inviting that slob. And sending your woman to do it, weak."
"Still, how dare he speak of Helaena that way?! He's the whore of the two of them." Aside from the inability of Alicent and Rhaenyra to patch their dislike of each other, the only remaining feud of the Dance still around was that of Aegon against his sister… and uncle… and cousins… and now all three of his full-siblings not to mention his children. Mostly, he spent his time drinking with his great-nephew and Aerion Brightflame, bitching about this or that. "I should kick his ass."
Baela straddled him. "No, Daeron. Don't. It's not worth it." Cupping both his cheeks, the wild Targaryen and daughter of the Rogue Prince kissed him deeply, which he reciprocated.
Daemon averted his gaze. "Gods, do you mind not doing that in front of me?"
Nyra giggled again. "They're of age and in love, let them."
"She's my daughter, Nyra. I held her in my arms when she was still in swaddling clothes… and now look!" Both her and Daeron were practically humping each other.
A faint belly laugh was heard from far off. "I TOLD YOU, BROTHER! SEE HOW IT FEELS!"
Going red, Daemon cupped his hand over his mouth. "SHUT UP, VISERYS!" Eyes from Nyra, Daeron, and Baela trained at him, it took just a moment before they exploded in laughter at Daemon's expense.
Aemond, for his part, rolled his eyes. "I don't see how it's funny. No one wants to see you suck face, Dane… I'd much rather see you with our nephew beating up those two fat fucks… that's still hilarious even though it was forty years ago." He chuckled at the memory. "Would've been better had my eyes not been acting up."
"Sorry about that, by the way," winced Daemon.
He shrugged. "Don't apologize, I'm over it." He'd forgiven Daemon - he'd never forgive Lucerys for taking out his eye, but best not talk about that in front of Nyra. His sister was a delight to be around and he was still miffed at his mother and Criston Cole for sundering them. When a figure appeared to his side, Aemond groaned. "Finally! I was thinking I'd have to wait for the next Long Night for you to show up!"
"Fuck you, Aemond," Helaena shot back, not allowing herself to be silenced again. But there was a smile on her face, kissing his head. "Dane, Baela." She hugged the both of them. "Nyra." The sisters kissed each other's cheeks. "Uncle Daemon… now don't be upset…"
Daemon held up a hand. "I'm not going to say anything, just bring him in."
"Alright, give me a moment." She dashed out.
"Hurry up!" Aemond was getting irritated. "Daenerys is flipping out and I don't want to miss a minute of it."
Daeron shook his head. "I knew that direwolf in her was only covering up a true dragon temper. This is only gonna end badly for all of them."
"What can I say, Dane?" Nyra kissed Daemon's cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. "If there are no fellow dragons available, then it's almost fate to fall for a gorgeous, wild direwolf."
"I think you're exaggerating, sister."
At that moment, Helaena returned. Her hand wrapped around the wrist of a tall, dark man she was dragging in. He was dressed in a fur cloak and simple leathers, hair tied back in a topknot much as the Crown Prince's had been during the War for the Dawn. "Sister, brothers, uncle, this is Cregan Stark." She looked at him with adoration in her eyes. "Cregan, this is my family."
He looked confident, but with a slight apprehension in his eyes. "Nice to meet all of you."
Aemond glanced over at Daeron, smirking. "Well brother?"
"Shut it."
A/N: Rhaenys is bummed, but she had fun doing girly stuff with Jon.
Dany better bring her A game cause she's behind right now
Helaena for the win! Plus Viserys got his turnabout on the Rogue Prince.
Be sure to comment guys! 20 reviews gets a chapter Wed.
