Wolves Aflame Chapter 2b: children without mothers, a game of thrones fanfic

HERE COMES PART TWO!

(which is literally longer than the other two chapters combined, goodness gracious.)

TITLE: Wolves Aflame

AUTHOR: 372259

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters, plots, and settings are property of GRRM. I, unfortunately for my crescive student load debts, make no profit off of this. All I get in return is sleep deprivation and anxiety over whether readers will like it enough to review/hate it enough to flame ;)

PICTURE CREDITS: Photos are from pinned pages on Pinterest, and despite my online stalking, I cannot find the original creators. If someone knows how to do this, please let me know!

STORY SO FAR: Rhaegar Targaryen loses in his one-on-one against Robert at the Battle of the Trident, but Lewyn kills Robert by stabbing him in the back. Rhaegar has his knights bring Lyanna and their newly born son (Jon) to King's Landing, where he crowns Lyanna as the Second Queen and starts dealing out "Rhaegar's reparations" (essentiallypunishing families who didn't support him as well as he feels they could have, or those families who supported the rebels). Lyanna becomes the second queen. Elia dies shortly after the rebellion ends. Lyanna dies giving birth to Rickon. We see a cut out scene where a pair of kiddos (who do you think these boys are ? ;) ) are in lessons with their Maester. We learn that there are some people who believe that Robert should have been King (calling him Robert the Wronged instead of Robert the Rebeller), and that there is already whispers of sedition being seeded around the Kingdom. In Part 1 (Chapter 2) of this chapter, we saw why Rhaegar was so brutal with his reparations, as well as how Cersei and Stannis came to care for each other (with some hints as to what Maggy's new prophecy to Cersei was).

A/N : responses to reviewers are at the bottom. As is an updated timeline. Forgive the "kiddy-ness" of the kids' chapters – they're young in these ;) I know the first one from Rhaenys's six-year-old POV may be a bit hard to get through, but have patience LOL. Also, as you will obviously notice below, I have taken creative license with the ages of characters (Jaime, etc.) because, well, it's fanfiction.

P.S. If you are a Gendrya fan, check out my other GOT/ASOIAF fic (The Great Games) and be on the lookout for my upcoming one (Gendry thrust back in time, but as a trueborn Arryn). Also if you follow Supernatural, Bleach, Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Degrassi, or the Vampire Diaries - check out my other fics :D

P.P.S I definitely would consider this chapter quantity over quality, but honestly, I just REALLY want to get to the main plot in Chapter 3. And the sooner this "fill in the gaps of the past of this AU, convey the new relationships and alliances" arc is done, I can get on with the plot, which will only ever make sense if I preface why certain people are allied and why certain people aren't.

.x-X-x.|*|.x-X-x.

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach. He may never get the chance again."

~Renly Baratheon, A Clash of Kings, Chapter Catelyn III

"Promise me, Ned... Promise me."

~Lyanna, A Game of Thrones, Chapter Ned I

"The best part of him died with her."

~Gerion, A Storm of Swords, Chapter Tyrion V

"It should have been you"

~ Catelyn [to Jon], A Game of Thrones

.x-X-x.|*|.x-X-x.

.x.

Wolves Aflame

Chapter 2: children without mothers

(Peaches & Promises & Penance)

Part 2

.x.

Rhaenys does not hate Lyanna

(despite everyone thinking she should)

285 AC

Rhaenys notices things.

For example, she notices that when Lyanna first arrives to the Red Keep, everyone seems grumpier. Well, everyone except for her father.

Then again, people started being unhappy long before the second Queen came.

Back then, her mum was the only queen. Then there was a long time where everyone in the Red Keep was very scared and very quiet. And then there was a long time when her father was gone. That time had been the most terrifying; her mum would barely let her or Balerion (her cat companion and bestest friend) leave her room. Rhaenys was actually okay with her mum's decision, because at that time her King Grandfather was still alive. Rhaenys had very much disliked the old raisin. His breath always smelled awful, his nails were yellowed and almost as long as her fingers, and he never ever smiled. Well, except for once…

'Perhaps trial by fire.' Rhaenys remembers his hoarse voice croaking, his breath rattling through crooked lips. 'To prove the Dornish girl to be a true Targaryen.' That had been the last time she saw the old King before her mum confined her to her rooms.

Her grandfather's frightening words still shake her, only now she is old enough to realize exactly what he had meant. Her history lessons let her know for certain that he had been a horrible man, not just a horrible grandfather.

But there were good people in the time before the second Queen, too. For example, her grandfather's horrible words were from some of the last nights when her grandma lived with her too. Rhaenys had liked her grandma, even though the older woman always flinched when Rhaenys gave her a hug. Grandma Rhaella was pretty, kind, warm, and would always smile at Rhaenys and say: 'Oh sweetling, the coin fell the right way with you.'

To this day, at six-years-old, Rhaenys still does not know what Grandma Rhaella meant. But coins are shiny, so Rhaenys does not mind having been compared to one.

But Grandma Rhaella went away.

People tell Rhaenys that the kind older woman isn't coming back. Viserys went away with Grandma Rhaella too. People get sad when she asks where he is, then tell her he isn't coming back either. Aunt Ashara went away first. People never answer when Rhaenys asks about her.

No one ever comes back, except her father, who she never sees anymore, so he may as well have never come back at all.

For a while, at least Rhaenys had her mum. (Until she didn't, and sickness took her mum away too.)

Just when it seems like everyone leaves or is taken, Lyanna is the only one who stays. The new Queen is the only one who plays with Rhaenys. All the others are too busy running around being "busy". But Lyanna is nice and cheers her on as Rhaenys climbs peach trees - the ones from Dorne that Viserys had taught her to climb. They were named after her mum and were a gift from her Uncle Doran in the south ("Elia's Grove," she had heard courtiers call the biggest group of trees).

Lyanna also helps Rhaenys find Balerion.

Balerion may be her very best friend, but he is also a very bad pet. He always disappears into the underground tunnels below the Keep. Their dark depths scare Rhaenys, so she is always too afraid to chase after her friend alone. Her new Kingsguard knight – Ser Darry – could be coerced into coming with her. But he is always grumpy about it, bemoaning how she should just get a new cat.

"One with two whole ears".

She doesn't like Ser Darry very much after that comment. Rhaenys misses Ser Jaime. 'He was fun,' she thinks. 'But now he is just another person who isn't coming back.' As revenge for her new knight's insult to Balerion, Rhaenys takes to calling him Ser Hairy in her mind.

Lyanna never tells Rhaenys to get a new cat. The woman even pets Balerion's head and scratches his tummy.

Rhaenys notices that Lyanna is sad sometimes (a lot of times). But, when Rhaenys gives the second Queen a hug, that seems to make Lyanna feel better, just like her hugs used to do for Grandma Rhaella.

"Why are you sad?" Rhaenys asks Lyanna one day, when a hug doesn't work. Rhaenys's words come out garbled because she says them as she bites into a plump peach. She knows it isn't very polite, but also knows Lyanna is one of the few people who will not reprimand her for it. So, Rhaenys grabs another sweet fruit from her dress pocket, one of the prizes from her most recent climb, and offers it to Lyanna. 'Perhaps a peach will do what a hug cannot?'

The pretty Queen smiles and takes her proffered share, thanking Rhaenys before responding. "I miss my brothers." The older woman says quietly. They both sit on a stone bench in the courtyard, but with her answer, Lyanna's eyes stray off the peach to look somewhere far away.

Rhaenys works to raise a single brow. (She is proud of her expression. She had practiced it in front of her mirror for an entire day after Ser Hairy gave her the look when she accidentally called him his nickname aloud.)

Rhaenys is very unimpressed by the Queen's explanation. How can Lyanna miss brothers? All brothers do is cry and whine and smell like poop. Once Aegon even threw up on Rhaenys's prettiest dress! So she does not understand why Lyanna misses her brothers. 'Maybe they are more interesting than Aegon and Jon?'

"Why don't you just ask them to come to our castle?" Rhaenys asks.

Lyanna sighs wearily. "They don't want to see me."

Rhaenys gapes, offended on Lyanna's behalf. "But why?! You're fun! And you're the Queen, they can't say no to you if you invite them!"

Lyanna's smile turns into a forced thing, and Rhaenys doesn't like it. "Oh Princess, a Queen should not use her crown to command someone to do something they don't want to do." Lyanna pauses, and her eyes seem to glaze over. "So many things could have been different if everyone in power learned the same lesson." Rhaenys feels like Lyanna is saying something deeper with her words, but can't quite understand what the hidden message is. So, Rhaenys takes their conversation back to something simpler instead.

"Why don't they want to see you? I like you."

Lyanna's eyes go warm before they turn sad again. "I did something wro—" Lyanna shakes her head. "Something they disagreed with, and now they are angry with me."

Rhaenys nods, still not quite understanding. "Why don't you send them a letter then? I'm learning my letters now. That way you can talk to them, even if they won't talk back to you." Rhaenys is quite proud of her answer, she thinks it very smart.

Aegon and Jon can't even read. Or write. They are that boring. 'They can't even talk proper!' Rhaenys justifies. She can. Maybe not perfectly but she did have her own opinion at least, and that was more than could be said of her little brothers. All Aegon did was cry since mum went away, and Rhaenys would get in trouble by Septa Eglantine whenever she tried playing with her youngest brother (unless Lyanna was there, no one stopped her from approaching Jon when Lyanna was there). But either way, Jon just slept.

She had one brother who spent the day crying, and another who spent the day sleeping.

'Brothers are dull things.' Rhaenys eyes latch onto Lyanna's giant stomach. 'Perhaps my next one will be interesting?'

And Rhaenys knows it will be a boy, regardless of what her father wants. She overheard him, talking with the Maester. Not Maester Pycelle, but the other, newer one she sometimes saw around the keep. The one who had a link made of a pretty rippled metal. "This one needs to be a girl," Her father had said. His words had confused Rhaenys when she overhead them. Because her father already had the best daughter (Lyanna even told her so). But Rhaenys did not just overhear her father want for another daughter once, it was many times.

Rhaenys starts to get a dark, scary feeling in her gut when she hears her father talk about how much he wants another daughter.

"Lyanna?" Rhaenys ventures, a new thought crossing her mind as she sees the Queen distractedly eat her peach with one hand and rub her stomach with the other.

"Yes, Rhaenys?" Lyanna seems to still be half in her head, but turns to face Rhaenys anyways.

"Why did you eat my new brother?"

Lyanna's eyes widen at Rhaeny's somber question, before the older woman is laughing so hard, that bits of peach and spittle fly out of her mouth.

"Oh my," Lyanna says, holding her enlarged stomach and trying to catch her breath. "Oh, you are a delight!"

Rhaenys huffs. Lyanna still didn't answer her question, which is a very legitimate question as far as Rhaenys is concerned. 'Why eat a baby if you have to throw it up later?' But Lyanna is smiling now, so Rhaenys supposes she'll just ask again later. 'Perhaps Ser Hairy knows the answer?' For now, Rhaenys continues to munch on her peach, reveling in its sweet taste and slippery juices, as she spends the afternoon sitting side by side with the only person she has left.

The next time Rhaenys sees Lyanna, it is the last

"Sweet Rhaenys, come here," requests a fevered Lyanna from her sweat-drenched bed. Rhaenys approaches the ailing woman cautiously. Lyanna looks even sicklier than her mum did before she went away.

"Tell me sweetling, what did you do today?" Lyanna asks, her voice quiet and throaty.

And so Rhaenys tells her. She tells Lyanna how she spent her day first at lessons ("I'm learning the harp now!"), then trying to teach Balerion some tricks ("But he wouldn't do any because Ser Hairy was there, and Ser Hairy scares Balerion, but he wouldn't leave no matter how much I pushed him, so Balerion didn't do any tricks at all, and then Ser Hairy said I should get a dog! A dog, can you believe it?"), and then climbing peach trees to grab the plumpest and ripest ones.

"I brought you some!" Announces Rhaenys, smiling brightly. "And one for my new baby brother too!"

Lyanna's eyes go glassy, her mouth curved into a fragile smile. "I will miss you."

Rhaenys feels her stomach drop. Her chest feels empty when she asks, "you're leaving me too, aren't you?"

Lyanna nods weakly, eyes now truly watering. "I do not wish to."

The younger girl slowly nods back. Rhaenys is growing quite used to people leaving her.

Lyanna coughs so hard that her forehead cooler falls off, and Rhaenys reaches out quickly to carefully put the wet cloth back on Lyanna's forehead. It feels much too warm to be a cooling cloth.

"Will you look after him? Please. I know it will be a boy - and your father wants a girl." Lyanna's words grow faster, her eyes growing even more watery, and Rhaenys knows this is what the Maesters mean when they whisper 'fever speech'. "Please look out for him, Rhaenys."

'Lyanna is dying,' Rhaenys realizes. 'The Stranger is coming to take her away, and when he does, I will have no one left.' She looks to Lyanna's covered stomach. 'He will have no one too… No. No, we can still have each other. We will have each other, even if we have no one else.' Rhaenys speaks through her own budding tears. "I will protect him. I will be his very own knight, guard him like the way Ser Hairy protects me."

Lyanna sighs with a sad smile. "Oh, sweetling, he will need your love more than your sword." Rhaenys is confused, of course she will love him. Aegon and Jon are boring, but still she loves them.

"Promise me, Rhaenys. Promise me."

Rhaenys holds Lyanna's limp hand with both of her smaller ones. She looks first at the hump under the blanket, where her brother still is (even though the Maester said he was supposed to be out weeks ago). "I promise." Rhaenys vows. "I promise." She says again, stronger.

Lyanna seems soothed by this, and her eyes starts to close. Rhaenys grows even more worried then, afraid that if Lyanna closes her eyes, she will not open them again.

"What is his name?" Rhaenys demands, pulling sharply on Lyanna's hand, pulling her away from the Stranger's eager embrace. "You must tell me the name of my brother."

"Rick-on." Lyanna breathes out with half-lidded eyes. "Half my father, and half Brandon. Rickon will be his name."

Lyanna's eyes are glazed, but she is still awake, still fighting for consciousness.

'Fight!' Rhaenys screams in her mind. 'Fight!'

But even Rhaenys can tell this is a battle Lyanna will not win. And then Rhaenys starts to panic. She does not want to lose anyone else. She refuses to. She can help keep Lyanna from the Stranger, the way she couldn't save her mother. "But you will be okay." Rhaenys says, voice thick. "I command you to be okay. So we both can be his protectors! All three of us can go searching for Balerion, and you can watch us climb peach trees, and I can even teach him the harp if he wants!"

Lyanna looks at her with tears melting into her sweat-drenched face. "Oh my sweet girl, you were a gift. Sometimes you were the only light in this dark place. You will be that for him. I think you will be the light all these Kingdoms needs–"

The door to the chambers is slammed open, interrupting the Queen. Rhaenys nearly snarls at the intrusion. She turns to see Maester Pycelle swaggering in, all pomp and circumstance, telling Rhaenys she must leave. Rhaenys doesn't want to, but Lyanna gives her a soft nod. Rhaenys feels her throat tighten when she hugs Lyanna, and yelps when she is pulled away by the Maester sooner than she'd like. The stupid Maester directs her heavy feet towards the door. Desperate, Rhaenys looks over her shoulder just once more to see Lyanna attempt a smile.

'Goodbye.' Rhaenys wants to say, but then the door is shut.

Rhaenys stands in the hallway, facing the hardwood paneling of the door, until she senses another presence. She turns and finds Ser Hairy waiting for her on the opposite side of the hall. He offers her a handkerchief, but Rhaenys just throws her arms around his thick leg instead.

She doesn't know how long she stands there, her shoulders shaking and her grip tightening on the man's thigh. But eventually she hears her father talking with a Maester, the new Maester with the rippled chain. Her father's voice grows in volume with every word he hisses out, yet the Maester's tone remains calm and clear as the duo come closer to the Healing Chambers.

"…choose child or mother, your Grace. I cannot save both."

"You've yet to tell me whether it will be a girl or a boy!"

"We cannot be certain until they arrive. The babe is high set, which can mean a girl, but not always."

"Save my wife." Rhaegar says. There is an uneasy pause. "…Unless you suspect it to be a girl."

Rhaenys refuses to hear anymore. Cannot hear anymore. She does not think she will ever forgive her father for such callous words.

'You have me. You have Lyanna. But you would push us both to the Stranger for another precious daughter, wouldn't you? Why am I not enough?!'

(The dark thing in her stomach grows, begins to claw up her throat, scratching it with violent claws and nearly bubbling out from her lips.)

"Take me to Balerion please." Rhaenys mumbles instead, speaking against her knight's thigh, then clinging to him even harder as she hears Lyanna start to scream.

(Lyanna's piercing wails will haunt Rhaenys for the rest of her life, she knows. She will never be able to remember the woman's laughter without the sound of her wails poisoning the memory.)

"Aye, we'll find the one-eared beast." Her Kingsguard says quietly, gently guiding Rhaenys away from a raging Rhaegar and a dying Lyanna.

Lyanna had never meant for her family to break

(but it happened, anyway)

Lyanna had not wanted a crown

She had wanted Rhaegar.

She did not want Robert. She did not want to marry a man who loved the idea of having her, yet would dishonor her at every turn. A drunkard and a whoremonger, who already had a bastard. Lyanna could not believe the fate her family had sold her to.

Lyanna is well aware that "The Mummer Queen," is just one of the… affectionate… monikers the people call her. They don't remember Robert as a drunkard and a whoremonger. They look upon him through a rosy lens, they sing of him as "Robert the Wronged"; an innocent man who died for loving his betrothed. And her? They think of her as nothing more than a whore who had led her family and thousands of others their deaths by reneging on her duty, by letting the Kingdom think she had been taken against her will. How was she supposed to know that was what her family would think? That they would raise their armies? That Aerys would kill those she loved?

She didn't want Robert. But she had not wanted father or Brandon to die either.

'Perhaps you'll be like them,' she thinks, rubbing her stomach. 'With father's steady presence and quick wit, or perhaps with Brandon's easy laugh and reckless wonder.' Tears come to her eyes unbidden, and she does not stop them from streaming down her face.

Perhaps this is her punishment. "The Duty-Dodger Queen", according to the whispers of the Kingdoms. And the Old Gods do not forgive those who forgo their duty. 'I left my brothers, and now I am being taken from my sons.'

The Maester had already told both her and Rhaegar that she was not likely to survive, and Rhaegar had been inconsolable. Raging and grieving, looking at the child in her stomach as if he wanted nothing more than to tear it out of her, if only that would save her.

'I'm so sorry,' she thinks, 'Jon, Rickon. I would not leave you if I had the choice. I promise, I would not leave you.' She feels so guilty when she remembers the other child she has come to love. 'Rhaenys, sweet Rhaenys, who must watch on as yet another person who she trusts leaves her.'

("Everyone leaves me. You are the only one left." Whispered a five-year-old Rhaenys, clinging to Lyanna's skirts the day after Elia's burial.)

This time before Lyanna leaves, she writes letters.

It had been Rhaenys who had inspired her to write them. Lyanna had the letters she wrote to her brothers sent North already, and had given the ones for each of the children to an emotional Rhaegar.

"Protect my children." She tells him, voice as firm as she can make it. She knows he will look out for Jon, their first child, the one born at a time when they had just won the right to be with each other. But she worries how Rhaegar will treat Rickon. She can see the thick resentment as Rhaegar only stares darkly at her stomach in response. "Please, my love. Do not blame him for this."

Rhaegar merely storms out of the room, saying something about talking with the Maesters.

Lyanna thanks every god that exists when Rhaenys comes to her rooms a short while after.

Rhaegar looks at a newborn Rickon, and sees only a leech that sucked away his happiness

Rhaegar regrets ordering Shireen Baratheon's branding the moment the command leaves his lips. Lyanna would have never wanted such a vile act to commemorate her passing. And yet, Rhaegar does not rescind his directions, even as the child's cries grow louder and louder.

(In a dark part of his mind, he sees Rickon instead of Shireen meeting the blade.)

It is the memory of Lyanna – and Elia's words – that make him send for a Maester to at least attempt to minimize the disfigurement of the girl's face. There is a part of him that knows Tywin Lannister will not forgive this, but a larger part of him that doesn't care at all.

Lyanna is dead. Dead, because he chased a prophecy that was supposed to save the Realm. Because he chose his heart over his duty, and she did the same. But they didn't save the Realm, and they didn't live happily ever after. They started a war that ravaged the Seven Kingdoms, and left him with three children that remind him of all he lost.

And a newborn babe that killed the person he loved most in the world.

'Murderer. Nothing more than a pestilence that sucked the life out of the woman I loved more than anything. She did not deserve to die… It should have been you.'

Lewyn faced an impossible choice: duty or honour

290 AC

The years after Robert's Rebellion were dark and difficult. Rhaegar did the crown no favours with those ridiculous reparations he ordered. The taking of Jon Arryn's head, the branding of the Baratheons; it was all to assert the image of control, Lewyn supposed. And there is control now, years after, stability even. But, it is hardly built on an amicable foundation.

No, it is like trying to temper a fire with a wet wooden cage. At first the water keeps the flames at bay, until the fires chase the soak into the sky. And then all that remains is a hungry flame and a pending inferno.

Lewyn wonders as he wanders through Elia's Grove, watching Princess Elia try to teach young Prince Rickon how to climb.

Princess Rhaenys, he corrects his thoughts, shaking his head. Rhaenys even at eleven years old is the image of her mother, without Elia's unfortunate frailty. In truth it is almost a scene from his past. It is easy to picture Elia and Oberyn in lieu of Rhaenys and Rickon, by their interactions if not the similarity of their looks. Rhaenys and Rickon are, in truth, the least like their father. One could argue they had no Targaryen features at all, Rhaenys a pure Martell and Rickon a pure Stark in their colouring and features. Even young Jon had a hint of his father's eye colour and the Targaryen pale skin. And wasn't that the most interesting part, the unexpected way that Rhaegar's children paired off…

He hears a squeal of joy from the younger boy – 'How old is he now, six?' – and looks towards the idyllic scene. He watches them from afar, reminiscing over the innocent times he had with his own family.

Things had been dark, yes, after the war. But they are slowly getting better with time. 'Or at least superficially so.' Lewyn muses, as he sees some passing courtiers whisper and look at him, the very opposite of subtlety.

Lewyn still thinks of the war, of the Battle of the Trident, more than he supposes is healthy. He had a choice that day: his duty as a Kingsguard, or his honour as a warrior.

Rhaegar and Robert had been engaged in a one-on-one match, no archer nor other knight from either side dared to intervene. They could not. It was clear that this was a duel – the duel – that would end the Rebellion. Lewyn had not planned on intervening, not just because of some unspoken code amongst the fighters, but because he had faith that the Gods would see to Rhaegar's victory. In Lewyn's distraction, he himself had nearly been slain by the arrogant fool Lyn Corbray. At the time, Lewyn had just barely avoided the man's wild swing at his neck.

After Corbray was slain, swiftly, Lewyn looked back to see Rhaegar on his knees. And in that moment, Lewyn knew his choice. It had been a fair fight, yes, but Rhaegar was the Crowned Prince, while Robert Baratheon was nothing more than a rebel. And so, breaching the conduct that every man on that field had silently agreed to, Lewyn rapidly approached the duo and plunged his sword into Baratheon's back.

"Dishonourable." He knew that, to this day, the survivors from the battle, and those who had heard their stories, all hissed the same insults. They think him dishonourable for killing the victor of a fair fight. They don't say it to his face, just keep feeding whispers. He supposes there must be a few who are neutral to the entire affair. But there are even fewer who are vocal about their support of his decision, even amongst his sworn brothers. Well, except one.

Surprisingly it had been young Jaime Lannister who had reached out to Lewyn first. Before the young knight left sans-Cloak for the West to his Tully wife, the fledgling Lion had approached his senior with a dulled swagger.

"So many vows...they make you swear and swear. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other."

The boy prodigy's words had felt like a dagger in Lewyn's gut, so accurate they had been. Jaime's words were non-judgmental, understanding even, as though he had faced a similar battle. His reassurance seemed to be set on repeat in Lewyn's mind to this very day, and often are accompanied by Lewyn reliving the boy's knighting.

( "Jaime of House Lannister." Announces Ser Arthur as he touches the young blond's right shoulder with his sword, everyone at the tournament enthralled. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you protect all women." With each sentence, Ser Arthur's sword is placed on the other shoulder of the boy being knighted. "Look up towards me, and tell me true. Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your King? Do you swear to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

"Yes." Jaime answers solemnly, though anyone close enough – like Ser Lewyn is – can see the boy is vibrating in excitement.

Arthur grins at the eager youth, who had proven so adept with a sword during their hunt for the Brotherhood. "Then rise, Ser Jaime, Great Lion of the West, youngest knight of the century!"

And Jaime Lannister – only 11 years old – is beaming as he rises to a thunderous applause. Even Lord Tywin seems a bit less stern to those who are familiar enough with the Hand's expressions. The corner of Tywin's mouth remains slightly upturned, until King Aerys halts the festivities by announcing that such a skilled prodigy should be brought into the folds of the Kingsguard.

The applause from the nobles dies quickly.

Lord Tywin leaves Kings Landing that very afternoon, leaving an heir and a Hand's pin behind.)

It is a haunting thing for Lewyn when he remembers Jaime during the blond boy's first year donning a white cloak. He mirrored his golden armor: bright and eager to learn everything, laughing loudly in the training yards as he chased after his seniors to teach him more.

Jaime seemed happy enough in King's Landing until he began watching over Queen Rhaella in the evenings.

Jaime's laughter dimmed quickly after that. And when Aerys started burning bodies? Lewyn doesn't think Jaime ever even smiled after that. Fake ones, yes. But not the true ones of a boy who thought the world a place of good.

'King's Landing broke that boy… perhaps I helped it.'

Lewyn frowns, another memory materializing unbidden before his eyes.

("We are sworn to protect her as well!" hisses a young Jaime, clearly distressed as three of the Kingsguard stand outside the royal chambers. It is the boy's first night guarding the Queen.

"We are… but not from him." says Ser Darry. The older man does not waiver in his post beside the closed door.

Jaime looks to Lewyn then, despairing over the other knight's ambivalent response.

Lewyn doesn't say anything to contradict Jon, and just leans his head back against the cold stone lining the walls of the halls. In truth, it was refreshing to feel the chill when one was trying to numb their other senses.

"Knights are sworn to protect women; we are sworn to protect the Queen!" Jaime cries.

"Your duty is to the King first, Jaime." Lewyn finally says.

Jaime looks horrified, gaze flailing between both of the senior White Cloaks, before another high-pitched shriek from the Queen makes the young boy's golden complexion turn pale as a ghost.

Lewyn merely watches on as Jaime spends the night with glassy eyes, glaring harshly at the floor, the boy's shoulder's shaking every time Aerys' manic laughter echoes through the hall.)

Elia's – Rhaenys's – tinkling laugh thankfully pulls him out of his dark reverie.

The Princess is chasing Lyanna's son about the trees, the Prince shrieking in delight every time Rhaenys catches him. Lewyn smiles at the duo fondly. It is easy to favour Rhaenys and Rickon. They are happy children, who spend every second of every day chasing each other around the Keep and chatting with nobles and servants alike. They can be rambunctious at times, but they are good-hearted children.

Aegon and Jon are not.

Lewyn feels a dark ice chill up his spine, thinking on his great-nephew (his charge) and Lyanna's first son. Aegon treats Jon as a minion of sorts, and the second Prince follows Aegon around as faithfully as a shadow. Lewyn has never known winter, but he imagines its biting winds are as cold as Aegon's icy glares towards the youngest Prince.

'And what a blade in the back it must be for Rickon,' Lewyn thinks morosely. 'To have Jon always choose Aegon, instead of protecting his younger brother against Aegon's loathing.'

Rhaegar does nothing to reprimand Aegon and Jon's unrelenting bullying of Rickon. In fact, Rhaegar has not even assigned the youngest boy an official Kingsguard member. The remaining White Cloaks, of course, keep an eye on the roaming royal boy when they can, but always at a distance.

'Rhaenys is the only true shield Rickon has.'

This in itself only seems to increase the tension between Rhaenys and Aegon, the former clearly trying to serve as an intermediary and the latter jealous over his only full-blooded sibling's overt preference for the youngest.

This embitters Lewyn, who cannot help but wonder sometimes if it had been worth his honor to save a King that dishonored Lewyn's own niece, branded others' children, and neglected his own. Rhaegar had been vengeful after the war, but Lyanna's death had left the man desolate. Rhaegar had been a good man, once. A man - a friend - who Lewyn thought would be the King this Realm needed to prosper. But that man was gone.

The best part of Rhaegar died with Lyanna Stark.

Rickon is not born hating his brothers, he learns to

292 AC

Rickon idolizes Rhae.

She is his most precious person, her and Balerion. He spends all of his days with them, only leaving Rhae's side when he absolutely has to (is forced to) part from her. He is still quite proud of the magnificent fit he had thrown when that dreadful bore Septa Eglantine started forcing Rickon to attend lessons with his brothers instead of letting him continue to sit in for Rhae's. He calmed only because his sister had been quick to promise that she would be with him after their lessons, and his wailing four-year-old self had been somewhat appeased.

Yet as they grow older, Rhae is being pulled away from him more and more. Supposedly for her "Lady Lessons" per wrinkly sour Eglantine, and for "entertaining" visiting noblewomen and noblewomen.

Rickon hated sharing Rhae. Rhae is his closest friend, and his only family member who actually spends time with him.

Aegon is… scary. His older half-brother glares at Rickon whenever they near each other, and shoves him to the ground when no one can see them. Jon ignores Rickon whenever he tries to seek the dark-haired boy out, which hurts even more, because Rickon knows that he and Jon are full brothers. And shouldn't that mean something?

'No, blood doesn't matter.' Thinks Rickon fiercely, shaking his head firmly. 'Rhae is only half my sister by blood, but she is my truest family of them all.'

Rhae is gone today, again. Not just for a few hours, but for four whole days. She was forced away by that ugly raisin Eglantine, in order to visit Baelor's Sept for some sort of special "Faith Training", or some such foolishness.

'I am alone.' Thinks Rickon gloomily, as his eyes slowly trace one of the stone-laid hallways of the Keep.

Then, a black bundle of fur shoves at his leg, clearly affronted at Rickon's thoughts.

'Not quite alone.' Rickon corrects himself, as his lips curve into a smile and he leans down to pat Balerion on the head. Rhae left the dark feline with Rickon, as she often does when Eglantine forces her to leave the Keep. The young Prince is about to ask his fuzzy companion to accompany him on another secret escapade to Flea Bottom (the only thing in the entire Realm he keeps from Rhae, because she worries too much), when he hears his eldest brother's voice nearby.

Rickon's fingers pull too tightly on Balerion's scraggly hair, and the cat screeches in response. When Rickon turns to pinpoint the familiar voice at the end of the hall, he sees the dark hair of Jon first, who is trailing beside Aegon. Aegon is smirking, strutting down the length of the corridor, and whipping about a dagger. A dagger with bells.

Aegon sees Rickon, and smirks. "Are you jealous, bastard? I've got a new blade. My Uncle, Prince Oberyn, had it made especially for me."

Rickon hated it when Aegon called him that ugly name. At first he didn't know what it meant, just that Aegon only used it when no one else was listening, so it must have been a bad thing. When he asked Rhae one day what the word meant, he was even more confused. He didn't understand why he was a bastard, but Aegon thought Jon wasn't.

Rickon tries, really truly tries, to hold his tongue. Rhae always tells him to do that when he gets angry. He even tries counting to ten in his head, like she always says to do. But Aegon just keeps talking. "Bet you're jealous of a lot of things. Like how father loves me, and wishes you had stayed a stain on a brothel's sheet."

Rickon bristles, not entirely sure what Aegon means, but knowing it's something insulting by his tone. "Why would I be jealous? It's dumb to have bells on a dagger!" Rickon shouts. "Your enemies would hear you from leagues away!"

Jon sighs, shaking his head. "Gods, you're so stupid, Rickon." A cross between exasperation and annoyance (and perhaps a hint of trepidation), flashes in Jon's greyish purple eyes.

Aegon's smirk turns into a scowl. "Stupid is right." Aegon snorts. "The dagger has bells because it's for training. It teaches a knight how to be stealthy, by walking in a way where the bells don't ring."

"You have too loud a mouth to be stealthy." Rickon mumbles back, looking down but not fast enough to not see Jon roll his eyes.

There is a pause and then a long silence before Rickon hazards looking back up to his eldest brother.

Aegon's scowl… has turned back into an odd smile. He speaks, low and languid.

"Rhaenys is gone for the next few days, isn't she?"

Rickon gets a peculiar sensation, a feeling that bugs crawl on his skin, their little feet digging into his flesh.

Aegon breaks the second silence when he firmly clasps a hand onto Rickon's shoulder. At the heavy touch, Rickon's gut jolts and Balerion hisses in displeasure. Rickon's feet are kept in place only by the weight of Aegon's grasp. "You must be lonely," Aegon says, voice softer than before. "You could join Jon and I for the day; we were just on our way to the training yards."

Rickon's heart races in excitement.

"Really?" He exclaims, grinning widely. "I can play with you?"

Aegon's smile broadens, and the bugs move faster, scratching at Rickon's skin. "Of course. I have so much I can teach you."

Rickon turns to face Jon, wondering if Jon will let him come too. But Jon doesn't face Rickon, and instead focuses on Balerion, frowning at the cat's bitten ear. Then he quietly mumbles, "truly a wonder such a deaf thing still breathes."

Rickon doesn't understand, but Jon often says strange things, and speaks as though he is an old man instead of just two years older, so Rickon decides to take Jon's lack of refusal as acceptance.

"Will you teach me how to fight?" Rickon asks enthusiastically as he walks next to Aegon, eager to be near his eldest brother now that the flaxen-haired boy is no longer glaring at him.

Aegon nods, as his grip on Rickon's shoulder turns the younger boy in the direction opposite from the way towards Rickon's secret tunnel to Flea Bottom. Balerion tries to come along as well, but Jon pushes the cat in the other direction. Rickon wants to oppose this, but is too scared of messing up the first chance he can remember of being able to play with his brothers.

'I'm sorry Balerion. I'll find you later, I promise.'

The trio approach the training yard, and Aegon speaks once more. "You aren't allowed here yet, are you?"

Rickon looks immediately to the ground, disappointed and afraid Aegon will send him away. Instead, Aegon says, "we can find somewhere a little further away from the other Knights, I'm sure."

Aegon turns to the two Kingsguard following a respectable distance behind the trio. 'Weird,' thinks Rickon, as Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arys Oakheart are ordered by Aegon to take a break. 'It's usually Ser Lewyn and Ser Selmy who follow Aegon and Jon around.' The armored duo seems hesitant, and both knights eye Rickon with a look the younger boy can't really interpret. Aegon's voice hardens and he points to the busy training yard, saying something about having sufficient guards. When the two knights begrudgingly let themselves be sent away, Aegon faces Rickon once more. He whispers conspiratorially. "Since you aren't allowed in the main training yard yet, we can find somewhere a little further away from the other knights. A place to teach you something useful." He ponders for a moment before nodding. "I know just where we can go."

Aegon leads Rickon and Jon to a secluded area behind some trees. Amidst the foliage, there are multiple sets of arrows and targets, and no other occupants.

"Let us start with the basics, hmm?" Says Aegon.

Rickon nods zealously. He has never been allowed near the bows and arrows before, and had only ever used the wooden play swords. Rickon looks on in awe as Aegon fluently picks up a bow, draws back an arrow, and launches it. The arrow hits the third ring of one of the further targets and Rickon claps, amazed.

'It is so far away, but Aegon hit it!'

Aegon smirks, before stepping closer to Rickon and displaying the bow, teaching him the different parts, using fancy words like armguard, bowstring, button, bowyer, crown, crest, quiver, quarrel, riser, and shaft. Rickon soaks up every word that Aegon speaks, memorizing them as best as he can.

'This is what it is like.' Thinks Rickon, grinning as he looks upon his eldest brother, who is righting the way Rickon holds his bow. 'For Aegon to like me. He can be kind too, just like Rhae.'

Off to the side, Jon shoots his own arrows, but isn't as good as Aegon. Which is surprising, because Rickon remembers seeing Jon shoot once while he was walking with Rhae, and from what he recalls Jon had actually been quite good. But, there is no time to follow that thought, as Aegon nudges Rickon's elbow and drawls, "stop aiming and shoot already."

Rickon's first shot is nowhere near the target, and his cheeks puff up in embarrassment. He expects some sort of jeering from Aegon, but instead hears:

"Rickon, could you grab the used arrows? We're running low."

"Okay!" yelps Rickon, desperate to keep Aegon's newfound favour despite his own abysmal skills.

Rickon runs over to the fallen arrows as quickly as he can, bending over to pick them up. When he finishes with the ones on the ground, he uses his left hand to try to pull the ones wedged into the closest target.

It goes well, and the last lodged arrow is almost removed, before Rickon feels a searing pain in his upper arm.

'An arrow,' Rickon registers before the overwhelming pain causes him to wail. Rickon looks forward to see a bloody arrow embedded in the target, next to the one he almost removed. The new arrow had cut Rickon's arm, but could have easily embedded itself in his head or back instead.

Aegon and Jon come running over.

Rickon looks up to see them, and is horrified by Aegon's smirk. "First lesson, Rickon. When fighting a stronger opponent… know how to dodge."

And then Aegon laughs.

He hears the heavy footfall and clanking metal of incoming knights, and then Jon's voice.

"Would you stop your screeching?" demands Jon. "It was just an accident Rickon. Don't make such a scene."

Rickon isn't sure why he expects Jon to help him, Jon never does. And yet, some part of his chest goes cold when he hears Jon relay a modified story to the approaching knights.

("Accident… Silly boy… Ran into Aegon's arrow… Accident… You know how incorrigible he is. How he doesn't listen to instruction… Accident… And really, if Rickon just learned to do as he's told, he wouldn't have gotten himself hurt…")

.x.

"Lucky for you, young Prince, that the arrow missed your tendons and the bulk of your muscle. It could have been much worse. Why, you could have been deformed and crippled for life!" Grand Maester Pycelle tuts, "what a terrible accident!"

After hearing Jon's account, the knights had taken a sobbing Rickon to the Maester's quarters, and delivered Rickon to Pycelle. Jon had been left to watch over him as the Grand Maester wrapped the young Prince's wound.

Rickon screams back at the man. "It wasn't an accident! Aegon hit me on purpose because I made fun of his stupid dagger!"

Jon, who is standing by the door, gives a large and exaggerated sigh. "Stop lying, Rickon. I saw what happened, and it was an accident, your fault if anything. You shouldn't have stepped in front of the tree; you shouldn't have made yourself a target."

Rickon looks at Jon, numb now, after realizing exactly how little his full brother cares for him. And Rickon is desperate for someone to care. Because Aegon could have hit his head instead, killing him. Aegon could have hit is back, crippling him for life. It is that same desperation that powers his steps towards the King's solar. As Rickon approaches the heavy doors, he notes that it is Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Lewyn Martell who are guarding the entrance.

Ser Lewyn sees the fresh bandages around Rickon's arm, and his dark eyes widen. "Price Rickon, what happened?!"

Rickon scowls, hissing out his response. "Aegon."

Ser Lewyn and Ser Arthur share a look Rickon can't decipher. Rickon's scowl deepens. "But I bet you both don't believe me. No one ever does." 'No one but Rhae, and she is gone for three more days.'

"Just let me in to see my father, please. I need to tell him what happened."

Lewyn's eyes widen further. The Dornish Kingsguard begins his response cautiously. "Prince Rickon, that might not be the wisest choice—"

'That's it!' Rickon seethes, fed up. "I don't care! He never talks to me or looks at me, but even he should care if Aegon could have killed me! I'm his son too!"

Ser Arthur sighs, looking at Rickon with something too close to pity. Rickon glowers at the two Kingsguard before turning his glare downwards, once more meeting the intricate stone floors. "Just let me in. Please."

.x.

Ser Arthur knocks on the large doors and announces in a steady, deep voice, "Prince Rickon, your Grace."

There is silence on the other side.

Ser Arthur knocks again. "Your Grace, your son—"

Rhaegar's voice reeks of annoyance as it seeps through the door. "Let him in, then."

Rickon loses whatever courage he had the moment he hears his father's callous voice. He stays standing in the hall, scared to move, before Ser Lewyn puts a warm hand on his shoulder and gently guides him through the door that Ser Arthur opens.

Rickon hears the heavy door slam, Ser Arthur and Ser Lewyn remaining on the other side, and all he feels is regret. 'I should not have done his. I wish I had not done this.'

His father sits, an imposing figure, writing and signing documents behind his desk. His hand seems just a bit unsteady, and then Rickon remembers his father lost not just his sword arm but also his writing hand in the Rebellion. 'It must have been hard, learning to write again.' Rickon continues to sink into his thoughts, as the King has yet to look up from his papers. Rickon just continues to wait, only a step away from the closed door. The time ticks by, and still his father refuses to acknowledge him.

'Father ignores me, Jon avoids me, and Aegon gets to hurt me. It isn't fair.' Rickon is just about to open his mouth when his father finally deigns to speak.

"What." The King demands, though his eyes don't leave the parchment he is writing on.

Rickon – upon hearing the frosty voice – is scared silent, again.

"Speak." The King orders coldly. "Or leave my sight."

'Be brave' whispers a kind voice that sounds like Rhae. And Rickon listens to her. He tells his father exactly what happened in the area by the training yard, and with the dagger before that. He is shaky with the explanation, but a recount of the entire affair eventually makes its way out despite Rickon's stammering.

His father still doesn't look up from signing his papers. Does not react to Rickon's retelling, even when he mentions the arrow that Aegon cast into his arm.

'You must care about this.' Thinks Rickon, desperately. 'You must care that Aegon hurt me; you must at least care that Aegon could have killed me.'

His father's eyes are hard when they finally look up at Rickon.

"You would waste a King's time with this nonsense? Get out."

.x.

When Rhae returns to see Rickon's wounded arm, she screams at Aegon and Jon - berating them for their horrible actions. She chastises them both so loudly that at least half the castle hears and so harshly that neither of the duo can face her for over a week.

And then she introduces Rickon to Sam.

"This is Lord Samwell Tarly." Announces Rhae, as the three of them meet in the Maester's library. "He is Grand Maester Pycelle's student. Essentially a Maester-in-training from the Citadel, doing part of his education here for the next few years. You will be having your lessons with him from now on, not with Maester Tarot and the other Princes."

'Lord Samwell Tarly is a very chubby thing,' thinks Rickon as he appraises the rotund Lord from the Reach. 'Shy and unsure of himself, but his smile seems kind.' Regardless, Rickon would do near anything to escape from being trapped in a room with his brothers and the creepy Maester with the rippling chain. So, Rickon doesn't bother indulging any doubts, and happily chirps, "Hello, Lord Tarly." Then he bows properly, the way Rhae taught him to do it, with a straight back and straightened legs.

Lord Samwell seems embarrassed by the formal address. He bumbles out, "S-Sam will do just fine, Your Grace."

Rickon feels a smile grow between his cheeks. He thinks he will like Sam much more than he would Lord Samwell. "Then Rickon will do just fine as well, Sam."

.x.

Next, Rhae pulls a shy Rickon before Ser Arthur Dayne.

"You shall teach Rickon all he needs to know about how to be a knight. You will train him every day."

Ser Arthur seems discomfited as he stares at them both with a sad gaze. "Princess, your intentions are good. But Prince Rickon is not yet even seven years old."

"The master-at-arms started Jon and Aegon even earlier than his age." In that moment, Rhae's entire countenance morphs. "Ser Arthur, you will train Rickon. I expect to be kept informed of his progress, weekly."

Rickon stares at this new side of Rhae in awe. There is no gentleness to her commands, just power.

Rhaenys sounds like a King.

"I am the Princess, and in the absence of the Queens, I am the Lady of this Keep. Ser Arthur, you will obey my instructions as such."

And so, because of Rhae, Rickon finds himself living out every boy's dream: being trained by the legendary Sword of the Morning.

How can a father not love their son?

294 AC

Sam knows things could have gone very differently. That if his father had his way, Sam would be at the Wall, freezing amongst rapists and thieves. It had been an offhand comment by Dickon that had spurred Sam to head to the Citadel instead of the North. ('Oh! That makes much more sense. Thank you, Sam. I don't get why you don't just teach me numbers instead, you're much better than our Maester at it!')

And like the Wall, once the Citadel had Sam, there was no way for Lord Randyl Tarly to grab a hold of him. Despite the man thinking learning a "womanly" interest. The Citadel was considered an independent city-state, despite straddling the border between the Riverlands and the Reach. It often gathered visitors to the public domains of its library, the largest library in all of Westeros.

Sam's thoughts are interrupted by a slamming door.

Not jolted – far too used to this occurrence to be startled anymore – Sam calmly turns to see a fuming Prince.

Prince Rickon Targaryen, at 9-years-old, has become something of a friend to Sam over the past two and a half years. And part of it, Sam suspects, is because Rickon has so few people in the Red Keep to rant to about the actions of the other males in the royal family.

Rickon paces along the Maester's Library, hands alternating between fisting at his sides and pulling at his dark brown curls. Sam just watches on as Rickon silently seethes, letting the younger boy gather his thoughts. By his attire and slightly dulled blade, Sam has no doubt the Prince had initially tried to let his anger out at the training yard ('Or perhaps against a tree, his sword is quite blunted compared to yesterday.')

Finally, Rickon huffs out a sigh before planting himself on one of the benches. He leans back, face towards the ceiling and eyes closed, as he speaks. "I shouldn't be surprised. When the King bothers to favour anyone, the King favours Aegon. And if not Aegon, then Jon."

Sam wants to ask what happened, his curiosity as much as vice as it is a virtue, but Sam holds his tongue. Rickon is clearly still sorting through his emotions in his head, and Sam has learned to let him do so.

The Prince's next words are so quiet that Sam has to strain to hear them. "He hates me. He never even calls me his son; did you know that? How can a father not..." Rickon's words drift off, but Sam hears what Rickon doesn't say. How can Sam not understand the unspoken thought, when he himself has had the question for years.

'How can a father not love their son?'

Sam knows then, what Rickon needs to hear.

"I had a father who preferred my brother over me as well." Sam begins. The next words are hard to say, Sam has never said what happened aloud before, but he pushes the story out anyways. "I suppose this is a secret, since I have never told anyone and would really like for no one else to know." Sam sees that Rickon's eyes flare in a bright curiosity of his own. "I never intended to leave Horn Hill. But my father is Lord Randyll Tarly, a man who values martial valor and strength in combat over anything else. So three years ago when I turned 15, and still had none of either of those things, he took me aside. Brought me to the nearest forest, just him and I, and ordered me to take the black and join the Night's Watch. He wanted my younger brother, Dickon, to inherit our lands and his title." Sam sees Rickon frown, and the Prince looks as if he wants to interject and say something, but Sam makes a settling motion with his hands. 'That's not all,' thinks Sam, as he relives the worst moment of his life. "Then he told me if I wasn't gone within a moon's turn, he would take me on a hunt in the woods." Sam pauses to swallow, his throat dry and his eyes becoming glassy. "And then he would… and then he would kill me. In a way that appeared as an accident, to 'spare our House the stain of my existence.'"

Rickon scowls, stands off the chair in a fury with his hand on the hilt of his sword, appearing for all the world like he will march to the Reach to take the Lord of Horn Hill's head. He begins pacing again, more agitated now than even before, and Sam wonders if he has erred in telling the story of what happened in the woods.

Rickon's pacing comes to a halt, and then the Prince looks at Sam with some unidentifiable emotion. He looks Sam right in the eye when he says, with the solemnity of a Septon and the barring of a royal.

"You deserve better than your father."

'So do you.' Sam cannot say, but suspects Rickon hears him anyways by the upward quirk of the boy's lip.

"You're worth a thousand Randyll Tarlys, Sam. You're smarter than anyone I've ever known, and one day, everyone will see how brilliant you are." Rickon's sincerity is jarring, and it leaves Sam bumbling (and feeling warm in a place where Randyll Tarly's words had left him cold). In a way, Sam had never left that forest. But here Rickon was, a fellow abandoned son, offering to find their way out together.

Rickon takes a step closer to Sam, and pats his shoulder in a reassuring way. "You should probably start teaching me something, before we start hugging and crying and I ruin your pretty Maester-in-training garb with whatever I've stuck on me from the yard." Rickon jests with a teasing smirk, and Sam can't stop the wet laugh that gurgles up his throat.

"Splendid idea." Sam agrees, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. Smiling came so easily with Rickon, who seemed to always know just when to lighten the mood, despite his young age. "How about we continue where we left off? We just finished the First Blackfyre Rebellion. How about we discuss the Second one next?

The Prince listens to the story with rapt attention. During the part where the more skilled Daemon contests Daeron's claim, Rickon's eyes take on a strange glint (but it is something Sam will not recognize for the hazard it becomes until many years later.)

Sam just finishes telling Rickon about "the Hammer and the Anvil", a crowd favorite from the bards which immortalizes the Battle of the Redgrass Field, when a soft knock on the door is heard.

Sam looks towards the door as it is slowly pushed open, and smiles. "Princess Rhaenys."

The Princess gracefully walks into the small space, with a warm expression. "Lord Sam." She nods towards him, before turning towards a seated Rickon. She gives his soiled clothing an unimpressed raised brow. "Prince Bath-Averter."

The Prince sticks his tongue out in response to the new moniker.

Rhaenys lets out a tinkling laugh before stepping forward to rustle the boy's hair. He fakes a struggle, but clearly basks in his older sister's attention.

"How are lessons going?" She enquires politely.

"Well, Princess. I hope your lessons at the Sept went well, as well." Sam internally bemoans his inability to speak properly around the Princess. Only fourteen years old, and already her beauty is sung about by bards, sought after by Lords, and capable of turning him into a stuttering ball of nerves during their interactions, despite their acquaintance.

Rhaenys smiles indulgently and Sam feels his stomach twist. "Again, I thank you for taking the time to teach my baby brother, I know he can be a handful."

Rickon snorts at that, before getting off of his chair to strongly embrace his sister.

"I missed you." He says quietly as they loosen their hug.

"And I missed you." She responds warmly. She playfully frowns then, bringing her hand onto his head, which is almost of height with hers. "Soon you might just be taller than me, and you're not yet 10 years old."

Rickon grins, standing up straighter.

Rhae's smile turns teasing. "Don't get too proud about it, lest your head swell and grow even more inflated than Aegon's. I just came from a meal with our dear brothers and father. Never has there been a duller affair. I kept looking out the window, wishing I were a dragon that could fly away."

"Fly, huh?" Rickon smirks.

Then the Prince bends his knees, and quickly pulls the Princess over his shoulder. 'He's strong,' thinks Sam in slight awe, as he watches Rickon spin the Princess around and around. The Princess laughs readily in between her half-hearted protests.

And then she coughs. A haggard, wet cough.

Rickon immediately sets her down, and brings his hands upon her shoulders. There is clear distress furrowing his brows.

Having previously taken a step back to avoid the spinning siblings, Sam now approaches the duo quickly. He looks the Princess over for other overt signs of sickness, concerned by the foreboding sound of such an ominous cough. "Princess, are you well?"

She nods, her cheeks flushed, ostensibly from the spinning. "Very much so, Lord Sam."

Rickon frowns, his hands still firmly on her shoulders. "That cough didn't sound well."

The Princess smiles while patting Rickon's cheek. "Thank you both for your concern." She then pokes Rickon's nose, which is scrunched into an anxious frown as he continues to worriedly examine his sister. "But, I am perfectly fine."

Rickon cannot lose Rhaenys

(especially not like this, dying in a bed like his birthmother had)

Rhae is everything to Rickon. A sister. A best friend. A teacher. A mother.

So seeing her in lying prone in a bed – the same bed she has been in for a week – in a pale and sickly state is gut-wrenching. Rickon spends every night by her bed, changing her fever head cloths for cooler ones. Balerion is the only one who keeps an equally steadfast vigil.

"If she doesn't improve soon, she may never improve at all." Says Maester Pycelle. Rickon nearly claws off the old man's face off when he says it, but is stopped by Sam. Sam who he trusts, and Sam who agrees.

'Rhaenys is dying… The Stranger will come to take her away, and then I will have no one.' Rickon looks to her damp skin. 'I will have no one … I don't know how to be without her. We have always had each other, even when we had no one else.' Rickon speaks through his own budding tears. "Don't leave." He begs. "Please don't leave me."

The eighth day, her fever peaks, and Maester Pycelle announces she will be dead by nightfall. "Fight!" Rickon orders her, crying as he shakes her arm. "Fight!" But her fever stays, cooling cloths do nothing, and Rickon fears every minute will be her last.

Rickon isn't much for praying (he prayed for years for his father and brothers to love him, and look how that turned out). But that night, he prays to every god Sam has ever mentioned, every one he's ever heard whisper of. He prays to each of the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, the Lord of Light, the Many-Faced God, the Great Stallion, Mother Rhoyne, the Great Shepherd, the Lady of Spears, the Black Goat, even the Weeping Lady. 'If anyone is listening' pleads Rickon. 'Save her. Please, please, please save her. If you save her, I swear on my life I will do whatever you ask of me.'

Her fever abates somewhat on the ninth day, but she remains unconscious. "Still knocking on the Stranger's door." According to Maester Tarot.

It is the tenth day into this hell, that Balerion's hackles rise. Rickon looks away from his sister only when he hears something strange echo along the halls outside the room.

Rickon hears the faint jingling of bells.

.x.

It is terror of being alone with his lifelong tormentor that sends Rickon to shoo Balerion away, and toss himself under the frame of Rhae's bed. He commands himself not to make a sound. There is no intent to spy, just escape.

And yet, what Rickon overhears that day, while fearfully hiding underneath a Healing Chambers bed, changes everything.

They cannot crown a corpse

When she awakens, Rhaenys is unsurprised (and immensely relieved) to find Rickon by her bedside.

The others come and go into the room, paying lip service to how glad they are that she is better. They say how grateful they are that she is expected to make a full recovery. They enter the room, say their words, then depart.

'Years later, and people still always leave.'

Rickon doesn't leave, serves as an intractable sentinel by her bedside. His hand tightens on hers when Aegon and Jon make an appearance, and she fears in that moment what they could have done to her youngest brother while she was not there to deter their nastier impulses.

Rickon does not seem to calm even when their brothers leave. Instead his breathing increases, his grip on her hand tightens further, and Rhaenys sees an ugly hatred in Rickon's eyes as he stares upon their retreating backs. 'What did they do to you?' A terrible apprehension claws in her gut. Rickon had until now been afraid of Aegon, and mostly numb towards Jon. But now his eyes… Rickon's northern grey eyes are searing in their fury. 'It is nothing so tame as hatred now.' Thinks Rhaenys, with a growing wariness. 'This is something much, much worse.'

Rickon turns towards her fully. His eyes remain hard. When he explains himself, Rhaenys's heart breaks.

"It was Aegon." He says, looking her straight in the eye, unblinking. "He poisoned you."

Rhaenys wants to say Rickon is wrong, but something knocks at the back of her mind and says that Aegon has already proven himself capable of hurting those of his blood, while Rickon is incapable of lying to her so convincingly.

He tells her a tale, of a boy who crawled under a bed to getaway from a monster. And then how the monster came into the room, unknowing of the audience, and said outlandish things to a dying Princess.

"He said he was having the same nightmare, again and again. Where the King gave you a crown. And then you place it on me. And then he said you were too much like your mother, that you had the face of a well-loved martyr. He said you are too treasured by the nobles to ever be opposed by those who wanted a King instead of a Queen if your father crowned you. He said he would mourn the loss of his truest sibling, but he had no choice. Then he said… then he said, 'Well I suppose it will no longer be an issue. They cannot crown a corpse.' And then he laughed."

Rhaenys, for more than a moment, cannot breathe. But then she feels the bracing sensation of anger burning through her veins. She tries to sit up in the bed, but is quickly halted by Rickon stopping her ascent.

Rhaenys scowls. "We must tell someone what you heard."

"NO!" Rickon yells, glowering as he lowers his voice. "No, they never believe me. No one ever believes me about him. Except for you." There is a pause where Rickon's mouth keeps making as if it wants to move to fill the quiet. He clearly has more to say, but seems hesitant to phrase his thoughts. Rhaenys waits.

Rickon's eyes blink, and then they begin to shine. "You must leave."

Rhaenys starts at the suggestion, then shakes her head emphatically. "No." She says sternly. "I will not leave you here alone."

Rickon's voice gets thick. "If you stay with me then I will lose you, and that will hurt me worse than he ever could. Please, Rhae. You must leave."

Rhaenys frowns. "If I am wanted dead, it will not be enough for me just to leave the Red Keep."

Rickon seems to hate himself with his next suggestion. He sighs, tiredly. "If you are no longer a Targaryen, he will leave you be."

Rhaenys hates the way her logic knows he is right. So she considers his request. Her hand must be given to an heir of one of the Kingdoms, so her options are limited.

The first land she thinks of is the Reach. Willas Tyrell is of age with her, and High Garden would still be close enough to have Rickon visit her. But she discards that option quickly. The Tyrells want their daughter as Aegon's wife, which will not happen if they already have a royal wedded into their family.

The Stormlands and Westerlands are impossible, even if they were to be considered. Stannis Baratheon has but a single daughter, while Jaime Lannister's wife had only produced stillborn after stillborn. Even if either Lord had a male heir, Rhaenys is well aware of exactly how she would be treated in those lands, after the Baratheons' Branding, as well as her grandfather and father's repeated insults to Tywin Lannister.

The Iron Islands would serve well to get her far away from King's Landing. But Lord Rodrick Greyjoy had only had one young son so far, one who was years younger than even Rickon. His youngest brother – the only one of the Greyjoy men not wed or betrothed – is of age with her, but no one in King's Landing will stand for her being wed to a third son.

The Eyrie would be the only place worse than Storm's End and Casterly Rock. Her father had destroyed the Great House of Arryn. Currently it was ruled by young Roloph Arryn, born a Gulltown Arryn, who was the nearest male heir best related to the old Great House. Again, even if she suspected the Vale would take her (which it wouldn't, it would spit on any betrothal offer and shove the messenger through their Moon Door), she is quite certain from Septa Eglantine's lessons that Roloph is already betrothed to a Yronwood girl.

Then there is Dorne, which is not an option at all. The heirs are her first cousins, and in truth, her father would gain nothing from marrying her there. The Martells were already loyal to Elia's children.

That leaves… the North.

Tricky. Robb Stark is only about three years younger than her – a year older than Jon. How would they receive her? She supposes it would depend on if they hated Queen Lyanna or the Targaryens more. And then another consideration: would Dorne be insulted to have Queen Elia's daughter sent to Queen Lyanna's homeland?

Rhaenys turns her gaze to Rickon. 'Rickon can easily become a ward of the North. So, no matter how they might receive me, I will make the most of it. This is the only way I see where I can save Rickon too.'

('Promise me, Rhaenys. Promise me.')

'I'll not leave you here.' Rhaenys thinks fiercely, remembering Lyanna's plea. 'I know what it is like to be left… And I will not leave you to the mercy of our increasingly volatile brothers.'

She has been pushing away what Rickon said, compartmentalizing it behind a door in her mind that she will broach another day. She tries her best to ignore it in the interim because it hurts to much to even consider. True, Aegon had been cruel to Rickon multiple times, but an optimistic part of her had always hoped he would grow out of it, even after the arrow incident. After all, he grew out of refusing to spend time with Jon when they were younger. And Aegon had only ever been kind (polite) to her, even when she admittedly grew colder to him after the arrow incident. They never really played together, him being the heir and having very important lessons. But she had never thought that he fostered such deep seated resentment for her. And where there was Aegon, there was Jon.

'We may not be close, but I love them too.' She thinks, her chest hurting with every beat. 'How could they?'

.x.

A week later and she finally regains her strength. Or at least enough of it for her and Rickon to approach the King.

They arrive in their father's solar, heralded by a wary Ser Oswell.

When she enters on Rickon's arm, she takes a good look at the man sitting behind the large oak desk. The man who sired her has silvery-white eyes, a gaunt face, and dead eyes. For a moment, she sees her grandfather instead.

('Perhaps trial by fire' he jeered through disgusting smile on a wrinkled face.)

Then she registers the lack of an arm, and is pulled back from her memories.

'I see none of Rickon nor I in you, Father.'

Beside her, Rickon is still as stone. Rhaenys is aware of how much Rickon fears and hates their father in equal measure, so proposes the betrothal and wardship on her own.

Rhaegar's violet eyes stay on her; he does deign to even acknowledge Rickon is in the room and that makes Rhaenys's blood boil.

('…prove the Dornish girl to be a true Targaryen.')

Finally, the King speaks.

"I will send you North." He looks to Rhaenys. "You will be Lady of Winterfell." Then he frowns, glancing towards Rickon. "The boy stays here."

Rickon stiffens, but does nothing other than glare at the floor. Rhaenys does not take her father's decree so easily.

"Then I will not leave either." She says, chin up as she defies the King.

Rhaegar sneers. "It doesn't matter what you want. You may be a Princess, but I am the King, and your Father besides. You obey me." He scowls. "Do not question me again, daughter. Learn your place."

In that moment Rhaenys knows fear. As much as she never wanted to leave Rickon alone, Rickon was also a layer of protection for her in the North. He had Stark blood if not the North's love of those holding the Stark name. 'What will they do to me, without him beside me?' She remembers the words of her Septa then, 'savages, brutes, heathens, cannibals.'

"Send her to Dorne first." Rickon speaks up.

Rhaegar still refuses to look at Rickon, and does not acknowledge her brother nor his suggestion.

Rickon continues, speaking up for her despite the dread she knows he must feel in addressing their father. "Dorne is already angry at you for so much, do you think that they will react warmly to you sending Queen Elia's image to wed into Queen Lyanna's family? Send her to Dorne for a few years at least to appease them."

Rhaegar scowls, an ugly thing that warps his face into something terrible.

"You dare speak? Get out. Both of you. Leave my sight, before even the memory of your mothers cannot save you from the punishment given to those that defy their King."

.x.

In hindsight, trying to sneak away with Rickon to Dorne under the cover of night had been a stupid idea. They were caught before they even left the castle, only the Kingsguard followed them long enough to ascertain a destination and to see if they had any co-conspirators. Which, of course, they didn't. Rhaenys's only plan had been trading in the jewellery she grabbed for their passage. It was hardly a well-thought out escape. It had been one of desperation.

"Please, Ser Lewyn." Rhaenys implores. "Do not bring us back to him. Let us leave. If you ever held any affection for my mother, you will let us leave this horrid place."

For a moment it seems as though Ser Lewyn hesitates, but only a moment.

.x.

This time when they are brought before their father, it is not in his solar but in the empty throne room. He sits ramrod straight on the Iron Throne, glaring at his wayward spawn from his place above them.

'A throne forged from a thousand swords of the vanquished, per legend. But truly only 283. I know, I counted.'

The King rises from the Iron Throne, and his glare does not abate. His voice is sharp when he speaks, glowering straight at her. "Are you so ambitious for your brother's crown?"

Rhaenys jerks back, completely thrown. "What?" She asks, inanely.

Her father comes down the steps with harsh footfall. When he reaches her, he yanks her towards him by her arm, holding it in a bruising grip. She yelps in pain, and hears Rickon struggle from where he is held beside her by two of the Kingsguard. "You run away to support the Prince that is loved by all, usurp your brother, the rightful heir. Treason." He shakes her roughly, his grip unrelenting and increasingly painful. He his breathing is raged when he continues. "Clearly, I was too lenient with you. Too tricked by your face. Allow me to rectify that."

He releases her arm, and she is relieved but for a moment. Then she sees him lift his hand up to the side, clearly with the intent to backhand her. She shuts her eyes, flinching and expecting a sting upon her cheek, but instead feels herself being covered.

'Rickon.' She knows.

And when she opens her eyes, she sees the sight she expected. Rickon with a reddening cheek, having taken the blow in her place after he somehow extricated himself from Ser Darry and Ser Dayne. Ser Lewyn remains standing on her other side, too far to stop the Prince (or perhaps he had chosen not to).

The King's expression grows even more infuriated. "Was it your idea?" He spits out at her brother. "To take my daughter away."

Rickon stands in front of her, still a couple of inches shorter than her but shielding her the only way he can. "With all due respect," Which everyone in the throne room knows is absolutely none felt from the boy towards the King. "I am not the Targaryen known for stealing ladies, Your Grace." He finishes mockingly.

The King looks enraged enough to call for her brother's head, but then her father's expression turns pensive. His eyes flit between her and Rickon. Before long suspicion radiates off of him, the same way Rhaenys remembers paranoia used to seep out of her grandfather. ('Perhaps trial by fire. To prove the Dornish girl a true Targaryen.'). Rhaenys hastily shoves aside the echo of her grandfather.

"I should have known to worry for this." The current King derides. "You both are too close, have always been too close. Perhaps you've some Targaryen habits if not the Targaryen looks."

Rickon and Rhaenys both reel at the implication, and even the three Kingsguard seem taken aback by the King's accusation.

It is Rickon who recovers enough to respond first. "That's sick! I love her as my sister! I'd never marry her!"

"It doesn't matter what you feel. Rhaenys will leave for Dorne at dawn. The next time you see her, she will be wedding Robb Stark. And in the years between, you are banned from writing to each other." The King speaks his commands calmly, unperturbed by what his words steal from his children. "I will not have you conspiring together against the Crown."

Rhaenys is shocked into stillness, Rickon is too. The King is doing what no one has ever done, tearing them both from the safest person they know.

Finally, Rickon breaks the silence. "Why? You've let Aegon and Jon be cruel to me for my entire life, and now you rip away from me the only family I have. How could... why do you hate me so much?"

Rhaenys wonders the same, has wondered it for a long time. 'How can a father hate their son?' She has long suspected the answer, of course, but doubts her coward of a father will ever voice it.

Since King Rhaegar has always dismissed Rickon, no one expects an answer to her brother's question. But, to everyone's surprise, the King does respond to him. "You were born late."

Rhaenys and Rickon are both baffled at the apparent non sequitur.

"What?" Spouts a confused Rickon.

The King continues, his voice turning colder with every sentence. "You would be larger, the Maester warned me. The birth would likely have complications. So he told me to choose. He could save either you or your mother."

Rickon growls then. "How can you hate me so much, then? You chose me."

"No." The King's words are ice. "I chose your mother, and yet you breathe while she does not."

Rickon stumbles. "W-What?"

Rhaenys cuts in, remembering that conversation too well (it has haunted her for years). "Liar." She hisses. "You sentenced Lyanna to die for a daughter, and were angry when the gods gave you a son instead." Rhaenys does not know what possesses her to continue, but she does. "You make me sick. You show your true colours today, Your Grace."

The King's face morphs into bewilderment with her last words. He looks at her strangely then, eyes hooked onto her as if he is seeing someone else in her place.

He shakes his head then, returning from his mind. His eyes still linger on her though, despite his bitter words being directed towards Rickon.

"You ripped through my happiness, and now I send away yours." Their father signals the Kingsguard. "Have the boy confined to his quarters. Rhaenys will be kept in the Maidenvault while the servants pack her belongings."

At his words, Rhaenys feels something sinister twist her gut.

'Why the Maidenvault?'

Rickon is the only one who sees Rhaenys

(everyone else sees Elia)

Rhaenys is fourteen and fuming, furiously pacing in some unknown room of the Maidenvault.

('Promise me, Rhaenys. Promise me.')

'I'm sorry.' Rhaenys feels her eyes water, again, and she rubs at them punitively. 'I do not know what to do. I do not know how to save him.'

Rhaenys is shocked from her brooding by a loud knock on her door. Rhaenys frowns, curious as to who Ser Darry could be announcing at so late an hour.

'Rickon?!' She suspects, and turns with a hopeful smile, only for it to sour when she sees her father instead of her brother.

Well, first she sees him. Then she smells him. The King reeks of ale.

He wobbles over to her, his gait unbalanced and his eyes not straying from her face. He approaches her with his pungent odor, but Rhaenys stays her ground. Her back holds erect, and her chin up. She will not allow this awful man to see her scared and meek ever again.

He steps towards her, swaggers, then grips her shoulder with his remaining hand to steady himself. He is too close, and the air is saturated with alcohol.

He smiles at her, and Rhaenys nearly keels over on shock. She has not seen him smile in … in years.

He brings his remaining hand up to her hair, fiddling with the inky locks.

"You truly do look so much like your mother." He slurs out, his finger swirling about a strand. "Before Lya, things were different. Elia and I were not in love with each other, but we were fond of each other. And she was truly a sight to look at." His palm moves to her cheek, stroking it in a way that sends uncomfortable chills up Rhaenys's arms. "You have her beauty, but without her frailty." His face is flushed and his eyes droop low, his gaze half on her lips and half in the past. "How badly do you want to be Queen?"

Rhaenys realizes with horror what Aegon's dream truly meant. And further realizes that had he not tried to kill her, she may have done it. May have given herself to her monster of a father thinking it could save Rickon. 'A Queen has powers a Princess never will.'

But Rhaenys knows better now.

She remembers her grandmother. 'Queens can be raped.'

She remembers her mother. 'Queens can be replaced.'

And then she remembers Lyanna. 'Queens can be killed.'

The King steps even closer, his breath rancid. His only hand falls onto the slope of her neck, and Rhaenys is horrified. It is clear that he no longer sees his daughter, but his dead wife. The woman he had bedded, who had given him children. He is drunkenly desperate for the past, a time when his first wife's life meant his second wife still lived. She looks with urgency to her Kingsguard, eyes pleading for him to do something to stop this. But Ser Darry, the man who has guarded her since she was a child, the man who spent years at her side, the man who she trusted does nothing but keep his gaze firmly on the opposing wall.

Rhaenys feels something in her chest crack.

(Later, when she looks closely at the growing ache, she will realize it comes from the same fissure first opened by 'they cannot crown a corpse'. The insidious fracture grows wider with every betrayal, a gaping hole that drains her light.)

She is alone; if she wants to be saved she best save herself, because there will be no one to come to her aid.

Rhaeny's eyes harden as she faces the drunkard. "I'd sooner slit my throat than be your Queen."

Rhaeger seems shaken at that, and his maudlin eyes appear to clear with her rejection. And then he strikes her across the face so suddenly, that she is thrown across the floor.

(This time his strike hits, there is no Rickon to shield her from it.)

Her eyes water from the pain, so she doesn't see him looming even closer until her head is being pulled up by her hair.

She cries out in pain.

"You really are just like your mother." He spits it out, venomous now as his mouth brushes her ear. "Enjoy Dorne, my sweet. The Martells will treat you so very well." She feels the way his face snarls into a manic parody of a smile. "But, when I ship you North, well… from what I hear, Robb Stark will quite enjoy tempering your tongue. A savage boy eager to show off to the Northern Lords just how much power he holds over his Targaryen bride. Why, I can only imagine what sordid things he will do to you."

He releases her hair and she drops to her knees, tears of relief streaming down her face when she hears the door to her room slam shut.

'It's over. I survived.'

She brings her still shaking hand up to her cheek, then flinches away as her palm meets the throbbing skin. Her face burns, her eyes burn, her veins are aflame, and then Ser Darry comes to her side and has the gall to ask if she is okay.

In that moment, Rhaenys has never hated anyone more.

"If he had not realized I wasn't my mother, would you have stopped him?" She spits out.

He looks conflicted, but she discerns his answer from the guilt flaring in his eyes.

Rhaenys fumes. "You would have let him drag me underneath him? You would have stood by and done nothing as I begged for you to stop him, while he moaned my mother's name and set a bastard inside of me?"

Ser Darry looks nauseous. "It would not have come to that—"

Rhaenys shoves him away from her, forcing herself to stand. She despises the the tremors that shake her body, the tears that continue to trail down her cheeks. She is horrified that Ser Darry had not struck the Kings' hand from her - had not voiced a single objection. Ser Darry had protected her for years, and yet did nothing. It is clear that no one will ever defend her if it means raising a sword against their King. And the next King will be one who has already attempted to kill her. She has no one.

'No. Not no one. I will always have Rickon.'

At the thought of her younger brother, her closest confidante who is soon to be ripped away from her, Rhaenys feels her heart shudder.

('Promise me, Rhaenys. Promise me.')

"I should be thankful that Rickon has been barred from seeing me off. He might be the only person is this hellish place that would avenge the bruise growing on my face." She starts to walk away from a dumbstruck Ser Darry, eager to seek out Balerion's comfort.

She pauses in her steps, turning to face him over her shoulder. Her voice is dull as she echoes long famous words. "Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children? Do you swear to fight bravely when needed and to do the tasks laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Ser Darry shivers at her words. 'Good.' Rhaenys thinks maliciously. 'Let you feel off balance. Let you question your honour, your goodness; let you question your King. He is no longer the saint and saviour you all believed him to be. He has not been that man in years. In truth, I doubt he ever was. No, you all were just comparing him to the madness of King Aerys. And even know when you see his own burgeoning madness, you forgive it, because 'at least it isn't as bad as Aerys.' But which is worse? A man who repeatedly rapes his wife, or a man who would rape his own daughter?'

"It is a long journey to Dorne, Ser Darry. I suggest you use the time for some personal reflection, perhaps on what it truly means to be a knight."

"Promise me, Rickon. Promise me."

When she sneaks out shortly after the King leaves her chambers, Ser Darry does not even attempt to stop her, just silently follows while keeping a few paces behind her. From his stormy eyes, the man is clearly still reeling from the night's earlier events.

First they stop by Sam's room. And then she makes her way to the Barracks of the Kingsguard. And then she makes her way to both Ser Barristan and Ser Arys (who are guarding the rooms of Jon and Aegon, respectively). On the way, they pass by Varys, who eyes the mark on her cheek as long as he can before she is out his gaze. ("Surely the morning will offer more light, Lord Varys, should you wish to have a better look." She hisses. "Did you sell all your manners to collect your secrets?")

It is maybe two hours from dawn when Ser Darry and her finally approach their last destination.

It is Ser Arthur and Ser Lewyn who stand guard outside Rickon's door.

'Not protecting him,' seethes Rhaenys, 'imprisoning him.'

She stands before her brother's door and raises a brow. The two guards flinch, uncertain, but remain steadfast in their position.

Rhaenys feels her ire climb, and is just about to unleash her fury when she hears Ser Darry's voice.

"Let them." He says gruffly. "We owe them this, at least."

Ser Lewyn sighs, and Ser Arthur nods, both clearly relieved. The latter knocks on Rickon's door, mustering a tired smile as he tells the boy through his door that he has a visitor.

Rhaenys waits for only a moment before the door is opening, and a blur comes towards her, hugging her tightly.

"I'm sorry!" He wails. "I wish—"

"Shhh." Rhaenys shushes him as she runs her hand threw his dark curls. "Shhh."

And then Rickon sobs.

Once the heaving of his shoulders subsides, his face turns to her. His eyes are as red as their house banner, and his fury just as black as the banner of another house when he notes the burgeoning bruise on her face.

"I won't let him get away with it." Rickon vows, voice low and solemn. His arms tighten around her. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

Only the two of them know that there are three Rickon is truly referring to with his oath.

She smiles at him, warmly. Bringing her hands to his cheek, she kisses his forehead. "Look out for yourself, please. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you."

Rickon nods distractedly, eyes stuck memorizing the darkening welt on her cheek.

Rhaenys frowns. "That half-hearted nod is not enough. You must promise. Be careful and be smart about this, use your anger and do not let it use you." Rhaenys shakes his shoulders. "Promise me, Rickon. Promise me. I need you to take care with your actions and your words."

"I promise." He says, finally, before tightly hugging her again, and demanding a promise from her. His request is muffled in her shoulder, but she hears his words easily. "Promise me that I will see you again." Rickon sniffles, and Rhaenys is reminded that they are still just children. Rickon is nine, and she is four and ten, and they have been forced to grow and mature beyond their years in this pit of plotters. He is her brother, she is his sister, they are each others' truest friends, and now they will not see each other for years. Rhaenys feels her face crack, her own tears spilling despite her effort to remain strong for her baby brother. Rhaenys gently pushes him away. Rickon seems confused, until she bends down to her side and lifts up a familiar tuft of black fur.

Rickon seems scandalized. "No! Balerion is your cat."

Rhaenys offers him a watery smile. "He is. You are just borrowing him. And you will take care of him." 'And he will take care of you, when I cannot.' "And when we see each other again, you will return him to me." She is trying to convey that no matter what, they will see each other again.

She considers it a victory when Rickon smiles back, understanding her message. "A loan?"

'A shield for your heart, someone nearby to love you even when I am far away.'

Rhaenys lets out a congested laugh. "Yes, a loan."

Rickon reaches out for their familiar carefully, slowly pulling the feline into his arms. The cat squawks a bit at the transfer, and Rickon pulls on its remaining ear, whispering his jest loudly. "Keep quiet, Balerion. I have a window. Don't tempt me to see if you can fly as well as your namesake." The cat crawls up the Prince in retribution for the taunt, and takes a seat on the back of his head and neck. Rickon sighs, patting the cat affectionately as it makes a home amidst his wild curls.

Rhaenys looks at them, carves this last innocent image of her heart into her mind.

('Promise me, Rhaenys. Promise me.')

Rhaenys does not die, but Rickon loses her anyways

Morning comes too quickly, and before she knows it Rhaenys is in the middle of a courtyard, her items packed in carriages that are ready to take both her luggage and her to the pier.

Rhaenys is polite and stilted when she exchanges farewells with her brothers. Her father is noticeably absent, for which she is abundantly grateful.

Her skin tingles when Aegon hugs her. There stopped being even a superficial ease of such familiarity between the three of them after the arrow incident, so the act surprises her. She is helped into the carriage by Ser Darry, still refusing to speak to him. Once she is seated in the stifling carriage, she cannot help but look through its overly adorned window as she is taken away from the only home she has ever known. As she watches on, Aegon and Jon become smaller and smaller until they are nothing. She wonders if her father watched her departure from one of the many windows of the Keep?

('You really are just like your mother.')

Rhaenys is left with her thoughts, a dangerous thing, she has come to learn.

'I raised Rickon. But, who had been a mother to Aegon and Jon?'

Is she to blame for their hatred of her? She had been a mother to Rickon. What had she been to Aegon and Jon? She thought she had been their sister. But maybe they never saw her as family.

Maybe they too only saw the face of Queen Elia. Perhaps they – like the rest – saw only the shadow of a well-loved Queen.

And perhaps in their minds, that shadow morphed into a threat.

'Did you plot my death together?"

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The fissures continue to spread.

So that monster of a chapter sucked some life out of me. Literally 42 pages on my computer. PLEASE review, so I know people are actually reading this :P It is so utterly heartbreaking to see so many views on the story but so few reviews. In my head, it translates to people giving the story a try and then hating it. And even if that is the case, I wouldn't mind some constructive criticism on how to make the story/my writing better. So please review, even if it's just a review saying you read the chapter and are somewhat happy with it, I'll take it ;P Or better yet, reviews pointing out any grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes (which I'm sure are plentiful, this chapter is too long for me to be capable of editing and still remain fully alert). What did you guys think about Sam? What role do you think he'll play in later chapters? Did the Rickon and Rhaenys sibling bond make you happy or annoyed? Rhaegar is terrible, I know, but non-Joffrey and non-Ramsay villains are needed LOL What do you guys think about Jon? Anyone sense something off about him? Remember, we have not seen Jon and Aegon's POVs yet! If there is one thing you might gather from my other Game of Thrones fanfic, it is that I love playing with unreliable narrators.

(Something to consider: be wary of stories told by someone rather than something you read... this plot has an underbelly...)

Below are the Updated Timeline and Responses to Reviewers and Preview for Chapter 2 Part 3.

Also looking for a beta to help edit future chapters, anyone interested?

Updated Timeline

275 AC: Cersei hears Maggy's prophecy (no valonqar)

279 AC (Year -2): Rhaenys Targaryen is born. Elia takes a long time to recover from delivering Rhaenys.

281 AC (Year 0): Elia pregnant with Aegon. Maester Pycelle tells Rhaegar that if this second child doesn't die during labour and/or kill his wife, the next one will. Harrenhal tourney (and thus the QOLAB passover) is thus even more shocking because it happens when Elia Martell is pregnant. Aegon Targaryen is born. Lyanna 'abducted', Brandon Stark and Rickard Stark die per canon, Robert's Rebellion starts, including Ned's marriage to Cat. Willas Tyrell is 2 years old, Loras Tyrell is 1 year old, Renly Baratheon is 4 years old.

282 AC (Year 1): Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell born. Viserys and a pregnant Rhaelle sent to Dragonstone for protection, but when Baratheons seize it, they run away via ship. Stannis chases them, but due to a storm, cannot find them. They are considered lost at sea and dead.

283 AC (Year 2): Jon Targaryen born and Robert's Rebellion ends. Lyanna Stark crowned the "Second Queen". End of war reparations (infamously known as 'Rhaegar's Reparations') announced. This includes the beheadings of Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and Balon Greyjoy; Stannis and Renly getting traitor brands on their arm and hand, respectively; Lannisters paying reparations to the crown; and Tyrells being denied the betrothal of Margaery to Aegon at the time (though Rhaegar tells the Tyrells she is still one of the females to be considered in the future). Ned returns to the North sans fake-bastard.

284 AC (Year 3): Stannis marries Cersei Lannister. Elia dies leaving behind three-year-old Aegon and five-year-old Rhaenys. Rickon Targaryen conceived. Sansa Stark born to Catelyn Stark. After stint in Maidenvault to ensure she wasn't pregnant with an Aryrn heir, Lysa betrothed to Jaime Lannister.

285 AC (Year 4): Shireen Baratheon (born to Cersei Baratheon). Rickon Targaryen born (Lyanna dies while giving birth to him). Arya and Bran – twins – born to Catelyn.

292 AC (Year 11): Aegon shoots an arrow into Rickon's back. Rhae arranges for Rickon to get lessons with Sam (instead of with Aegon and Jon), and for Arthur Dayne to teach him.

294 AC (Year 12): Rhaenys poisoned. Rhaegar agrees to betroth Rhaenys to Robb, but refuses to let Rickon ward there. They try to run away, but are stopped by the Kingsguard. Rhaegar propositions Rhaenys in front of Darry, she declines. She is sent to Dorne.

Responses to Reviewers

(beware spoilers)

BIG thanks to all the reviewers, you lot are literally the reason I keep posting, and why I powered through this monster of a chapter (despite an upcoming exam, whoops? ; P )

Xanmelton – To your point re: Lewyn and honour, hopefully the above chapter cleared it up a bit. I get what you mean about it being war, but in this fic, the reason why everyone is saying it was 'dishonurable' is because Rhaegar and Robert were essentially engaged in a 1 on 1 and he stabbed Robert after Robert had clearly won. Some people feel Lewyn did his duty as a kingsguard by protecting the prince, but more people (further powered by their dislike for Rhaegar) say he's dishonourable for killing the victor of a fair fight. Hopefully that makes it a little bit more believable? What did you think of Lewyn in this chapter?

Aggiefan15 – Thanks for your review! Happy you enjoyed the Stannis and Cersei interactions, I was initially armouring up for a lot of negative reviews about the pairring, so I'm happy you liked it. Which part of their interactions did you like the most/least? They'll be back soon, hinted at in Part 3 ;) Any other pairrings you'd like to see more of?

Marvelmyra – Thanks for your review! Hopefully this chapter soothed a bit regarding Lyanna. What did you think of her interactions with Rhae? I still think not wanting to marry Robert was a piss poor excuse for eloping with a married guy, but I guess we'll agree to disagree there ;P Hmm Lyanna and Oberyn would be interesting. I recently read a Lyannax Jaime on AO3 - one where Jaime essentially saves her from a disillusioned marriage with Rhaegar and found it pretty interesting, but I've never given Oberyn and Lyanna a try. Will definitely try a fic of them. Any recommendations? Lyanna's letter being stolen by Lysa and Petyr would totally be in keeping with their plotting natures, but I'm not sure if the canon timing / locations of them work out (esp. if she sent the letter from Winterfell or Dorne). Also agree that it was mucho unfortunate that Brandon didn't do us the favour of lopping off Petyr's head along with his finger. I totally did not know about the moontea bit, so thanks for that! Adds another dimension to the whole "stillborn after sillborn thing"

Laurenbull – I was really excited to try to create an AU where Cersei forgave Tyrion. I'm going to try to write a Tyrion POV in Part 3, but I may have to stuff it to Chapter 3 if Part 3 is anything like the monster this chapter was. SO happy you enjoyed Stannis and Cersei together. I was terrified of posting it, thinking I would get slaughtered in the reviews for such an 'out there' pairring, so I'm glad you enjoyed it! Which part of their interactions did you like the most/least? Oh man, you'll enjoy my plan for Rhaegar. There is essentially this scene between him and Rickon that helped spur this entire fic, and I can't wait to write it! Sneak peak on that Arryn fic - Stannis will have a twin sister who was married to Jon Arryn's heir. But no more hints until I get it out there ;) Glad to see you enjoed the Great Games too! Thanks so much for your reviews :D

saphirablue25 – I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on the whole Lyanna bit. Hopefully this chapter soothed a bit. I totally get that Robert was poor husband material, but I still don't feel like that excuses her for running off with a married man. If Elia was in on the need for a third child, I doubt she was in on being publically humiliated at Harrenhall. Trust me, I don't forgive Sansa at all for her selfishness. She is one of the characters who I despised for most of the series, and only really started being neutral towards (in the show) after the Battle of the Bastards. (And even then, when she suspected Arya, I gave up on me ever liking her as a character). It's mainly fanfiction time-travelling Sansa who I like. Thanks still for sharing your opinion : )

Guestling – LOL happy to hear from someone who isn't on my case about Rhaegar and Lyanna not being portrayed as saints. Thanks! I think changing the plot is one of the things I most struggled with. There are so many characters impacted, that its often overwhelming to try to keep a handle on the plot. Please let me know if you see any jarring gaps and I'll try my best to addres them. Also, SO happy you enjoyed Stannis and Cersei. As I wrote in my other responses, I was totally afraid people would hate the pairing and am so glad readers seem to be enjoying it. Which part of their interactions did you like the most/least? You'll see more of their interactions in Chapter 3, but will likely get a hint of them via Shireen in Part 3! Thanks for your review! Also love your name ; P

sr168 – Thanks for your review! SO happy another reader is happy with Cersei and Stannis. I was terrified people would hate the pairing and how I wrote them, so I am SO GLAD that readers seem to be responding well to them. Which part of their interactions did you like the most/least? You'll get a hint of them via Shireen in Part 3, but will likely see more of their direct interactions in Chapter 3! Renly you'll definitely see in Part 3, he didn't take his vow to protect Shireen lightly ; ) Thoughts on Loras and Renly?

Ashley (period) Crowly (period) 10 - thanks for your review! Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait ;) Which part do you like the best? Thanks for your review!

pokemonrot377 - Thanks for your review and kind words : )

Becky Blue Eyes - OHHHH your review gave me warm fuzzies! I am SO glad you liked the Cersei and Stannis pairring. You'll see Shireen in the next chapter, but unfortunately, her relationship with her mother might not be what you expect (dun dun dunnn). THANKS SO MUCH for such a lovely review! You'll also see Tyrion either in Part 3 or Chapter 3 (depending on how many words I get going in Part 3). How did you like Rhaenys in this chapter?

DiscordantSymphony - Thanks for your review! Oh no, the next chapter might break your heart a bit, but I promise there will still be Stannis and Cersei! And you'll see some Renly being overprotective with Shireen, which will hopefully tide you over until we get more Cersei scenes in Chapter 3 ; ) What part of the Cersei / Stannis interactions did you like the most/least?

Guest - Oh I am SO happy someone commented on this. YES, yes, completely my thoughts exactly. I was always flabbergasted by how Ned just brushed off Lyanna's actions. I mean, in canon it makes sense because she died, but had she lived I don't think it possible for even Ned to be totally chill with her actions and their consequences. You'll see more of Ned likely in Chapter 3. thanks for your review! What did you think of Lyanna in this chapter? And brother/sister bond between Rhaenys and Rickon?

Preview for Chapter 2 Part 3

-"So I prayed to the gods "Take him away, make him die". He got the pox and I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived. A murderer. I'd condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother, a woman he didn't even know! So I prayed to all Seven Gods "Let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him... And he lived. And I couldn't keep my promise. And everything that's happened since then, all this horror that's come to my family...it's all because I couldn't love a motherless child." ~ Catelyn Stark, Game of Thrones 3x02: 'Dark Wings, Dark Words'

-Sometimes... sometimes Rickon thinks Jon is even worse than Aegon

-I am cursed in more ways than one. A kinslayer, a slight to the gods with my very breath.

-One cannot rule a kingdom they despise.

-AND FINALLY – RICKON AND SHIREEN's MEETING

(with some overprotective Renly thrown in ;) )

Please review!