A/N: Hi all. Good news, my grandfather is out of the hospital and back to his old self - he's 93 so as well as he can be. It was touch and go for a while but all's good now... thank God.
I love the support this story is getting, and keep it up!
Enjoy and comment!
Nothing was more comforting to the Crown Prince of Westeros than the vast expanse of stars that twinkled above in the cloudless sky. Walking along the edge of the gardens at the summit of Aegon's High Hill, Prince Daemon bundled his cloak tightly about his shoulders to ward off the nightly breeze. He gazed above, hoping to find peace.
Oftentimes north of the Wall he'd be in this same position. Far colder, huddled underneath a fur cloak to keep warm, Jon would watch the Northern Lights and vast constellations. As a dragonrider, he could ascend from the earth to touch placed no other living being could, but never the stars. A mystery known only to the gods themselves, which therein laid their fascination.
He was but a speck to the stars. A speck with problems just as tiny. It had grounded him, steadied him throughout the war, but lately all he could feel was blackness. A cold emptiness deep in his heart and soul. Jon knew why it existed and lamented it. Prayed desperately for it to go away - but no matter what he did, the emptiness stayed.
It was why he would compete in the Tourney, why he went with the odd junkets of his sisters' doing… why he was here looking at the stars.
One sliver of hope, of feeling to reach him once more.
"It's not going to work, your Grace."
Jon sighed. "Perhaps this time will be different, Arthur." He ruffled Ghost's fur with his gloved hands. Ghost helped… Vhagar helped, but they merely calmed him. He still hadn't found peace or feeling yet.
Sandor snorted. "And perhaps tomorrow I could grow fucking wings so I can fly up into the air with you and keep you from doing your stupid fucking bullshit." Ever erudite, the Hound was.
Groaning, Jon turned around. His eyes narrowed at his two guards. "Well what would you have me do? Give up?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, your Grace. Simply tell your family what happened to you."
"I'm not doing that."
"You should."
Reaching a bench, Jon sat upon it. "I can't do it… it'll hurt them too much and I can't see them in such pain." Everyone who had witnessed what happened to him was sworn to secrecy under the heart tree. The wroth of the old gods followed those who broke a vow in their presence. "They would be destroyed if they knew the truth."
"You're a fuckin' pussy's what you are. They can take it. I saw that sister of yours butcher a man with a quill once… a fuckin' quill." Sandor looked at Arthur. "Who the fuck does that?" Arthur shrugged.
"Watch your mouth, Sandor." Jon seethed at his words.
"No, fuck you, little Prince. This has to be said." While Arthur sat next to the boy, Sandor towered over him - Ghost, the fierce monster that he was, simply laid on his side on the grass. "Yer' father is the King who walked into a funeral pyre and came out with a fuckin' dragon… you can tell him."
Jon bit his lip… "I can't argue with that…" Did he want to bring his kepa pain? Jon didn't, but there was no denying that Rhaegar could handle it. "But no one else."
"Jon… your sisters love you. Tell them."
"What do you mean?"
Arthur groaned. "Please stop being dense, your Grace. Rhaenys and Daenerys, they both adore you."
"No they don't."
"It's true, yeh fuckin' nitwit," Sandor stated. "I can see it plain as the fuckin' day."
Closing his eyes, deep down Jon knew what they said was true… "I can't hurt them… if kepa would be hurt, they'd be shattered beyond repair.'
"Perhaps you should just trust them."
Another sigh. "Go, let me think."
Arthur rose. "Come on, Hound, we'll wait for you to be finished, your Grace."
"Don't be a fuckin' pussy!" Was the last thing Jon heard from his guards before he was left alone with Ghost.
As if sensing his father's distress, Ghost wandered to him and climbed on the bench - stretching out so that his large head rested on Jon's lap. "Damn it, boy, why does my family have to be so messed up?" Ghost cocked one eye at him before dropping back into his lap. "Those two… I… I may love them, but I can't expose them to my darkness, they deserve better."
Perhaps he did need to trust his father.
"Gods… what is wrong with me?!" While lately her chambers had been filled with her friends and dearest family - seasoned women of the North to bless her with the ability to properly break past her fears and get Jon to be her man - now it was empty. Only Hura kept her company, and she supposed she was ranting to the adorable, ever perniscent direwolf. "I had him right in front of me and I choked. I fucking choked!"
Hura whined, not liking to see her muna in distress.
It wasn't exactly what it was like with Frostfang, but Dany understood her wolf rather well. "Well what am I supposed to do? That man is the one I love… the only one I love. I can't really take it slow and let it happen cause then someone else is gonna rip him away from me."
The poor Princess had spent the evening alternating between sullenly eating her supper and going into draconic rages that spat fire on the ceiling and brought blizzards to the Red Keep. Luckily, the only recipient of these rages was Hura… who merely trotted to her side and tried to lick her cheek. Her slobbery licks were all that kept her from falling apart.
Falling onto the bed with a huff, one particular image came to mind. "Rhae…" Normally she mentioned her slightly elder half-sister with reverence… a sisterly affection that transcended that of normal siblings, but now it was spat in anger. How does she dare?! How dare she muscle in on my man!
Oh, Dany believed she loved Jon. Who couldn't love Jon to some extent, he was perfect… but while Dany was entranced by him since even before they were sundered by the wars while she was absolutely convinced that Rhaenys' infatuation with their brother was merely a recent occurrence.
"You cannot love someone that desperately overnight, Hura, you just can't." The direwolf cocked her head, as if skeptically. "Yes yes… I know munas and kepa fell for each other almost instantaneously, but we've known Jon all our lives and he us… why would she only now feel it?"
There was only one explanation… that Rhae was after something. There were ulterior motives.
Just the thought of it made Dany's heart ache as painfully as it would have if something bad happened to Jon. She wrapped her arms protectively around her body. We've been together since the cradle, she, Jon, and I. Why would she betray us so?
Hura all of a sudden began whimpering, flattening herself in the corner and covering her eyes with her paws. "What's wrong, girl?"
The furious pounding at the door answered Dany's question. "Open the fucking door, Daenerys!"
Speak of the Great Other… Recognizing the voice, Dany walked to the door and turned the latch to reveal Rhaenys. ...and he shall appear. Her sister was furious, fire in her violet eyes. Such a look from her would intimidate even the late Gregor Clegane, but Dany just grew bored and crossed her arms. "What do you want, Rhaenys?"
She didn't take a hint, shoving her way in. "I'll tell you what I want, little sister. Stay the fuck away from Jon!"
That stumped Dany for a bit. Out with it immediately, sister? But she recovered, scowling. "Why should I stay the fuck away from him?" Dany parroted back each of Rhae's words. "He's our brother, of course I'll be with him."
Rhaenys was in no mood for mind games. The image of Dany obviously flirting and seducing Jon in the Dragonpit had filled her mind. No one could calm her. Not Ari, not Sunfyre, not her own muna, though she didn't tell them jack shit about what she was really feeling. Not until now… and even seeing Dany before her stoked her fires higher. "Don't lie to me! You want him as your lover, don't you?!"
Dany stood straighter. Rhae was much taller than her, but she wouldn't back down. "I want him to be my husband and the father of my children."
"Well tough luck. He's mine." Rhae poked her chest. "Stay away from him," she growled.
The dragonwolf batted away the hand, scowl turning to a snarl. "Oh, and why should I?" Dany poked her back, actually pushing the surprised taller woman back. "I actually love him, unlike you." She dug the knife deeper, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Perfect Rhaenys Targaryen, the most beautiful woman in Westeros." That statement made Rhaenys' anger soften slightly, a tender look crossing her face, but Dany was too far gone to notice. "All she needs to complete her pedestal is her brother the Crown Prince, and then she can be perfect. Well fuck you!" Dany glared. "I'm not some manipulative slut trying to tug at his heartstrings for her own benefit!"
Her eyes widened for a moment before the dragon anger burst. "You dare?! YOU DARE?!" Hura raced out of the chambers with her tail between her legs but neither girl noticed. Rhaenys' fists clenched with rage. "Never doubt my love for my brother, and he will be mine! I will give him all that he deserves, not like you."
"What do you mean?"
"You know." Whatever she felt for Daenerys, now it was subsumed in a tide of anger so massive as to recreate the Fourteen Flames of Valyria. "Power hungry Daenerys Targaryen, planted at court with no martial skill… only through manipulation can you actually rule, and once you sink your claws into our brother then you can finally rule through him like you always wanted!"
SMACK!
Rhaenys staggered back, almost tripping up on a footstool. She stared at Dany in shock, feeling where her own sister punched her in the jaw. It was almost… impressive. "Stay the fuck away from my man…" Daenerys began but was suddenly punched in the gut. She doubled over, Rhaenys glaring at her.
"Touch me again and I'll fucking end you." That didn't deter Dany, who screeched a wolf howl and leapt on her sister, pulling her hair with one hand while the other hit at her temple. Rhaenys cried and threw the both of them to the ground. The chambers descended into a mess of screaming, flurried punches, and nails scraping against skin for time eternal…
"ENOUGH!" Two powerful sets of hands ripped the fighting sisters apart, one belonging to Ser Jaime and the other to Ser Brienne. The steely eyes of their grandmother bore down on them like the fires of Balerion the Black Dread. "You do this under our family's roof!" She was completely furious.
It chastised them. "Grandmother…" Dany spoke softly but was cut off.
"No, you don't fucking speak!" She was shaking. "What in Seven Hells is the matter with you?! You're dragons, Princesses of House Targaryen reduced to snarling whores catfighting on the brothel floor. You disgust me and bring shame to our house! Over what… no, it doesn't matter!"
"Please, grandmother," pleaded Rhaenys. The anger leached from her and was replaced with shame… and fear. "We didn't mean for it to go this far…"
"The both of you are confined to quarters in the Maidenvault until I figure out what to do with you! Jaime, Brienne, escort them there."
Jaime sighed and pushed Daenerys forward. "You really fucked up, your Grace."
A comment both Princesses took to heart.
"Did you do it?"
"Yes, I did it."
Jaehaerys nodded, eyes peeking from around the large tree in the gardens. "I hope you weren't seen."
Huffing, Arya looked affronted. "Who do you take me for? The Hound?"
"Well you do snore a lot."
"Shut up." Quieting down, Arya found the perfect vantage point from which to watch their handiwork come about.
It was clear the two sparring partners were evenly matched in terms of skill… though their skill sets did differ. Visenya's strikes were as wild as her northern blood, ferocious and wide… yet they weren't sloppy - her practice blade was adept in her hands, one that could force anyone on the defensive.
Ser Gerold Dayne's blows were more measured. Clean but fluid, circumspect as to lure an enemy in and tire them. While he was undoubtedly stronger than Senya he didn't use such strength, husbanding it until the fierce dragonwolf exhausted herself. Meanwhile, he refused to let the Princess force an opening even though her assaults were perfectly executed.
Grunting, Darkstar parried a downward strike with his longsword, quickly throwing his body at Visenya. He missed, but she was forced back. Finally bringing out his strength, he chopped down twice in quick succession, the Princess forced to buckle…
Foot rocketing up, Visenya bellowed a dragon roar as she kicked at Darkstar's leg. He let out a pained grunt but remained firm… managing to block her wild slash at his shoulder. "She's having fun," Jae observed.
"Just like Aunt Lya," replied Arya. She refrained from cheering for Senya. No one could know they were watching.
Suddenly, the fight broke decisively. Hands tingling throughout the match, Darkstar was a powerful enough warrior to ignore it. But the tingling grew and grew until his hand seemed on fire. Itching like mad. He gritted his teeth through it but the grip slackened, leaving the practice blade in the unfortunate position of meeting Senya's… The blade clattered to the ground.
Her bastard sword aimed at Darkstar's chest, Visenya grinned. "Yield."
Darkstar groaned, scratching madly at his palms. "I yield!" He let out a cry of anguish. "Did you cheat?"
"No, I'm just better than you," Senya teased… That's how she was to those she cared for.
Normally Darkstar would've flirted back and accepted the kiss she offered him, but instead he stepped away. "No, you cheated. I'm sure you did!"
Senya was confused. "What? I wouldn't cheat. Why do you think I cheated?" There was hurt in her eyes.
Seeing that hurt, still itching like mad, he merely stomped his feet and sighed. "I'm sorry. Fuck… I have to see the damn Maester!"
From their perches, the cousins were struggling to hold their laughs. "He'll have a fucking hard time getting that off his palms," Arya chortled, falling onto her back into the glare of a shadow...
Arms crossed, the tall specter of Prince Viserys loomed large over Arya and Jaehaerys. "Come with me, now."
"Uncle…"
He held up a hand, silencing his nephew. "I will not cause a scene in public, so you two come with me or else everyone's parents will get involved." Neither youth wished that, so they glumly rose and trudged ahead of Viserys. "We'll go to my chambers."
Prince Viserys' chambers had always been a pigsty before he had left for the North. Not dirty per se, but more like cluttered as the second son of Aerys II Targaryen really cared not about how his quarters looked as long as he could make heads or tails of it. Now though, they were neat and tidy with everything in its proper place. Amazing what a little discipline could do.
Arya gingerly perched herself on her uncle's bed. She had no blood relation to him - at least not a close one - but the older man was a presence in her life as he was in Jae's. "Uncle… I can explain…"
"Really, you two? Really?" He looked at them with an annoyed expression. "Just before a King's Tourney you go around making pranks with the contestants?"
"It's not what you think…"
"Jae, shut up. Neither of you speak until I'm finished." They obeyed. "Have you no shame? Itching powder on the sword hilt of Ser Gerold Dayne? Would I not find a pilfered jar from Qyburn's stocks right now?"
Arya rolled her eyes. "Come on, uncle. You don't even like Dickstar."
Dickstar? It took Viserys everything in him not to laugh at that - it was a good one and Arya was right, he hated that smarmy, arrogant jackass… but he was a Prince of the Realm and couldn't be the douchey womanizer he was before the war. "That is not the point, Arya. You and Jaehaerys both are behaving like children. Ser Gerold could have been badly hurt."
Sullen since being summoned here like a babe, Jaehaerys finally had enough. "Well if he wasn't trying to chew up and spit out Senya like a cunt, we wouldn't be doing this!"
Viserys blinked. "What the…" Now he was confused. "What about Senya?"
"It's what we've been trying to fucking tell you!" Arya was pissed. "Senya's infatuated with that turd… why I can't seem to fathom it cause fucking Gendry is right there for the taking. I don't get it!" She ranted. "First Sansa hooks up with Harry the Arse and now this."
"Arya… don't start ranting," Jae began but was cut off by Viserys, practically grabbing Arya by the shoulders. "Uncle, what the fuck…?"
"What did you say about Sansa?" Viserys' eyes were wide at hearing his love's name. Harry the Arse… Harrold Hardyng… no… If he heard they were betrothed then he had no idea what he'd do… "Just tell me!"
Confused as to his sudden burst of desperate anger, Arya stammered. "Sansa… she's… um… she's infatuated with Ser Harry too. I doubt she's done anything about it, you know her, but that always was her type no matter how stupid it is."
Taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself, Viserys looked back at his niece and nephew. "Jae, Arya, this isn't about you simply not liking Senya and Sansa's choices in men, right?" Two quick nods. "Then what is this about?"
The two cousins looked at each other. "I think they're being taken advantage of."
His heart pounded, blood pumping hotly at the thought of anyone harming his beautiful Sansa. She's not yours… "Do you know of this?"
Jaehaerys shook his head. "Just intuition. It can only be that… I've heard Darkstar speak before and he's always been looking at Rhaenys with… possessive eyes. Why change?"
"And Harry's just an arse. He's always felt insecure from what I've heard, and why would he take the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell as a bride? He wants someone else to inflate his ego, I can feel it."
Blood boiling, Viserys believed them but knew few would. They had nothing but suppositions against two very distinguished knights. "Your sentiment is noble, but you're going about it the wrong way. Pranking them will solve nothing."
Arya crossed her arms. "And what do you suggest?"
His own mind was spinning. "Go have fun with the King's Tourney… leave those two to me." Viserys would make them regret they had ever been born.
Rubbing his face, Ned Stark had dragged himself out of bed and halfway through the Red Keep and he was still half-dead to the world. Gods, I hate being old. In the past he and Robert and Elbert could drink, fight, and be merry all night and then into the morning. Now… Robert was dead, Elbert was bald, and he always woke up with a creak in his back.
Perhaps the creak would go away if he didn't pleasure his beautiful wife most nights, but Ned would never give that up. Even if I wanted to, Ash would skin me alive.
In any case, he had been thankfully dressed when a brusque guard banged on his door and informed him that the King requested Ned's presence in the Small Council chambers. Seemed a bit… impersonal for his goodbrother but Ned couldn't refuse such a command. No matter how soft and warm Ashara's body was.
"Lord Stark? You as well?"
Blinking, Ned adjusted his vision to see Ser Davos Seaworth approaching him. One of Jon's closest confidants during the War for the Dawn, the former smuggler had been quite well rewarded upon his arrival in King's Landing. Ned liked him. "Do you know what's this about, Davos?"
Davos shrugged. "Not a clue, though I think it involves poor Daemon."
"Why do you say that?"
"Just a feeling."
The Small Council chambers had been renovated by Elia to be made larger and grander. Its table could hold thirty with plenty of room for double that number to mill around behind… which made it all the more jarring to see only three people gathered around Rhaegar at the head of the table. Dowager Queen Rhaella Targaryen, Ned's goodbrother Ser Arthur Dayne, and… "Ned, what did I say about slouching?"
He groaned sleepily. "Yes, mama."
Rhaegar snickered at his goodbrother scolded by his mother, only to get a smack on the head from Rhaella. "Your posture needs work too."
"Yes, muna." Now he looked to Ned with a shared sympathy. "Now that everyone's here, can you please tell us what you wanted to tell me?"
A grimace crossed Rhaella's face. "Daenerys and Rhaenys were in a fight."
"So?" Arthur mused. "They fight like… well… siblings."
"No, this fight went physical." Everyone was shocked, Rhaegar especially. "I've locked them up in the Maidenvault lest this gets out into the world. I don't think any of the servants saw but you can't be too careful."
Lyarra muttered under her breath. "I told those two idiots not to do this."
"What are you talking about, mama?" Ned asked.
"She's talking about the bet Lya and Elia had over which of my daughters would be the wife of Jon." Everyone stared at him as if he sprouted two heads. Ned, Davos, his mother, and Arthur because this was the first they were hearing of this, and Lyarra… "Oh goodmother, you can't think I'm as clueless as my brides portray me as. I may not like playing their games, but I'm observant."
Ned shook his head. "Let me get this straight, my sister and goodsister are actually running a bet over which of my nieces is a better wife for my nephew?" It still made him slightly queasy at the Targaryen family practice, but he'd gotten used to it well enough.
"That… sounds like the Queens," Arthur laughed. "Too competitive for their own good." Even Davos chuckled at that, while Rhaegar chortled.
Lyarra glared at them. "That's not funny. This is serious. They could hurt my grandchildren rather badly over this."
Rhaegar tried to compose himself. "No… I'll deal with them when the time comes, but for once their stupid bets work to our advantage. See, all will be well cause I intend on having Jon take both of them."
"What?" Now that made Ned rather uncomfortable.
"This one still hasn't come to terms with the fact that his sister's eaten as much cunt as I have."
"Ewww!" came from both Starks. Arthur almost bawled over laughing, while Davos just looked like he wanted to be elsewhere.
"Rhaegar!" Rhaella scolded. "Gods, now I know where Daemon gets it from."
The King grinned. "I'll take it as a compliment." He leaned back. "Now just listen to me… I have the perfect plan to fix all of this and finally one up those scheming wives of mine."
Certainly much simpler when it was just me drinking with Robert and Elbert.
Watching the images before her, Naerys shook her head. "Those poor dears." Her gentle heart broke for Jon, Dany, and Rhae, watching them either emotionally falling apart or painfully unaware of their own hopes and buried under a sea of emotional anguish. "They can't continue like this."
"You're right, sweetheart." Hugging her, Aemon never stopped questioning his luck. While he couldn't have her in life, he had the only woman he could ever love for eternity and he was content with that.
"It's fucking clear that they love each other." Biting into an apple, their cousin Daena dangled her leg as she got comfortable on the couch next to her husband - a powerfully built, steely-eyed warrior. Many confused him for their brother Daeron, only for their eyes to bug out upon realizing he was Baelor rather. "Can they get their heads out of their ass?"
Daeron 'the young dragon' shrugged. "People can be pretty clueless about their hearts…"
"Can you idiots shut the fuck up?" Aegon - their cousin and brother Aegon - shoved cookies into his mouth from a platter resting on his ample belly. It wasn't neat, crumbs going everywhere. "I'm trying to watch this!"
Daeron willed himself not to yell… he'd promised Aemon not to blow up and beat his ass this time. "Cousin, we're trying to have a conversation here…"
But the one called 'Aegon the Unworthy' by the histories was not one to give any sort of crap about his family's wishes. "And I'm trying to watch something rather hot and you're ruining it with your fucking chatter." His eyes were glued to the image, watching as Daenerys and Rhaenys attacked each other - rolling around on the floor pulling hair and punching. "Yeah! Take off her top!" He clapped in approval.
Rolling her eyes, Elaena mimed a retch. "Aegon, stop being such a fat lecher."
"Fuck off, wyrm," he shot back without looking at his cousin, using the Valyrian perjorative for a 'false dragon.' But he wasn't done, dropping into a falsetto that had about as much a resemblance to his cousin as any mummer but the intent obvious. "Oh look, I'm Elaena Targaryen. I have thin lips and a strip of pee hair on my head."
She went red with rage. "Don't make fun of my hair! It's my best feature!"
"Don't make fun of my hair, I'm Elaena Targaryen… I'm so pretty." Aegon mimed someone doing a tiny little dance and then snickered at his joke, knowing his great-uncle and great-grandson would find it hilarious.
"Shut up, fatass!" Daena chimed in. Gods, in his youth he had been a cocky douchbag but at least he was fit enough to channel it into being somewhat fun to be around. Now he was all gluttony and rage - it was no wonder Bethany Bracken preferred to be dead young rather than share his bed one more day.
Aegon's face went red. "I'm not fat, bitch! I have an ample bone structure that magnifies my hearty girth, like great-grandfather Viserys."
"Oh please. Great-grandfather is a jolly, kind old man while you're a piece of shit." What the fuck did I see in you? She thanked the gods Daemon took nothing after him. "Is there one meal you don't eat that isn't filled with butter or sugar, fatass?"
It looked as if her cousin was about to explode. "Don't call me fat, you fucking Wyrm!"
Daena huffed. "I'm not scared of you. The only worry I have is that I'd need more than one arrow cause of the fat round your heart. Suck my balls."
A smirk crossed his face. "Oh, you did that if I recall. Enjoyed it too, while you were rather mediocre in my recollection."
At the lewd comment, Baelor rose, fists clenched. "Say one more thing like that and I'll kick your ass."
Aegon chortled, his many folds of fat jiggling. "Like you could beat up an ant. I'm sure I saw a glimpse of Rhaena's ankle, cousin. Better fast for two years as penance."
"I'll break your jaw so you'll have to fast for fucking forever!"
Baelor advanced on his cousin, but Aemon was off his seat and positioned himself between the two. "Please guys. Let's not fight, this was supposed to be fun."
"Fun and your brother do not go together. He is where fun goes to be fried in butter and scarfed down with pie and cake…"
Tossing the now empty silver platter to the floor, crumbs flying everywhere, Aegon stood… rather difficultly but he managed. "Alright, that's fucking it." He rubbed his hands. "I've had enough of you cocksuckers acting so high and mighty. Screw you guys, I'm going home"
"Brother, come on." Aemon rose, his hands up in pleading. "Don't do this."
But Aegon shook his head. "No, you hiah." he mimed Aemon remaining in place. "Me niah." He pointed away. "Screw you guys, I'm going home."
The door slammed behind him as he trudged off, leaving a tense silence between the remaining siblings and cousins. None knew truly what to say… "What an asshole." Rhaena broke the silence from her perch at the edge of the family, immediately embarrassed…
Daena burst out laughing. "No, that was rather pithy and apt. Yes, he is an asshole."
Aemon sighed. "He never took our mother leaving well… none of us did, but he was closest to her. Father grew bitter and he grew bitter and angry. I don't blame him for that, much as I hate what he became," lamented the Kingsguard, ever dutiful to two worthy Kings and two unworthy ones.
Baelor knew he was one of the latter, and it took Daena's love and his own latent dragonblood to emerge from the hole the various quacks and hustlers managed to drag him into. "That still doesn't absolve him for his horrid behavior." His own failings wouldn't stop him from criticizing Aegon. "You know, I'm glad that Daeron was your son, Aemon, and not his."
"Me too," Daeron announced, laughing. "The only bastard of his that ended up anything like him was Bittersteel, and the Realm bled for it."
"At least Jon, Daenerys, and Rhaenys have a chance to fix up all the mistakes of our era… if they can get their heads out of their asses." Easier said than done.
A/N: Fuck, the two sisters went all Jerry Springer on each other. Not good
Jon still knows nothing.
And we have Aegon the Unworthy in all his glory. Can anyone guess who I modeled him after? ;)
20 reviews gets a Monday update :)
