A song of Rings, Tears, and Wrath

by Lorithomar

When Fëanor and his followers sailed out of Valinor in the pursuit of Morgoth, and Fingolfin and his people crossed the Helcaraxë, both parties emerged onto a much different continent, far to the East, a continent of men, where the heirs of Finwë could forge a new nation. But within this continent, a strange melody, a song, is playing, both of, and not of, Eru's harmony...

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4. Reign of the Elf-Friend: Cats and Brides

The Elf-Friend

Long through the night did Jae and his new small council argue and debate and agree about various issues.

"What about a lord of Coin?" Jae then asked. "Lord Celtigar's tenure has left us with a great deal of unpopular taxes. Many are all but howling for them to be taken down."

At that, many names were passed about; Lord Manderly of Dunstonbury, The Lord of House Frey, and many more.

Then, Lord Massey cleared his throat. "I actually have an idea of who we could pick. But I will warn you, he can be a bit… much."

Jae raised a silvery eyebrow. "Oh? Who is it?"

Lord Massey interlaced his fingers. "Tell me… what do you know about the Red Cat of the West?"

---

The Red Cat

The Westerlands

Several months ago, before the return of Jaehaerys, …

He held their attention.

He held their attention as he flipped a golden dragon onto the table. It was not the first he had spent. Far from it, the other passersby had lost count of how many he had flipped onto that particular table, at least at this particular tavern.

He had flipped many on to that table, and to all watching, it seemed that he was almost incapable of running out of them

The man seemed a strange sight; willowy and lean, whilst dressed in bright and expensive clothing that almost bordered on garish.

But what drew the eye of many were his hair and beard; both were of a bright, almost fiery crimson, while his mustachios were painted a shining gold. Gold, like the coins that seemed to but drip from his fingers. His smile was also a flash of pure ivory.

"Ah, my good man," the flamboyant man declared to the innkeeper, who could not stop smiling at his good fortune. "Another round of food and drinks for all my friends in this tavern!"

That earned him a few cheers.

He had been at the tavern since yesterday.

By his side, the golden man's companion shook his head. He was tall like the golden man, but probably weighed at least a stone or two more of pure muscle, which was evident even through his simple clothing. Arms as thick as tree trunks were crossed against a solid, barrel of a chest. His hair and beard were also red, though less fiery or shiny than the flamboyant man's.

For the past several weeks, these two had been going from tavern to tavern, town to town, and had spent ample amounts of gold and silver in frivolous ways, sometimes even just tossing it to any and all passersby.

No one really knew who they were.

The muscled man sighed. "Tu, we really need to get going."

The flamboyant man waved him off flippantly. "Yes, yes, and we will Roy, we will."

He then stood dramatically upon the table. "Alas my friends, but my dour companion is correct, for it is time that we took our leave. Still, you have all been most gracious, most welcoming, and most kind. So, a final round on me, and a final toast!"

He raised his flagon of ale high. "To gold! May it never lose its luster!"

"TO GOLD!" came the rousing reply.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

The clip-clops of the cart's two horses sounded out through the forest, the inn and town now long and far behind them.

"This is getting annoying, Tu," Roy grumbled. "In fact, this entire plan of yours is idiotic. Why in all the seven hells do you believe that it would ever work?"

"Oh please. Have a bit of faith in me, old friend. Besides, when have I ever steered you wrong?"

One of Roy's russet-red eyebrows slightly rose.

"Not counting the… one time in Harroway town," said Tu.

Up a bit more went the eyebrow.

"And that time with the irate smith."

It rose higher.

"That innkeeper had been a very rude and uncouth sort. I had not touched one hair on his daughter's head. I was just making some casual conversation with her!"

If the brow could rise any higher than that brow would have been set in the annals of history as the only brow that could say so much with so little, as well as being able to completely leave a human face.

Ty simply looked away and pouted like a child, leaving Roy to finally lower his brow, and sigh. For a bit, there was nothing but the creak of the cart's wheels, and the clip-clop of the hooves of their horses.

"This will work, Roy," Tu said adamantly. "It has to."

Roy let out another sigh and just shook his head, but said nothing more.

Then, as they continued through the woods, Tu brought the cart to a quick halt.

There were some fallen trees blocking the rest of the path.

There was then a slight rustle of leaves.

Slowly, Ty and Roy looked up and around to see that they were surrounded. Roy grabbed for a long, cloth-wrapped item, but Tu put a hand on his arm and shook his head.

It was a motley bunch that surrounded them, all clothed in leathers and clothes that were camouflaged in the colors of the forests. They were mostly westermen, but there were also dornish, river-folk, essosi, and even some summer islanders among their ranks. It was also an even smattering of men and women.

These were bandits, robbers who had been terrorizing the roads of the West for a good several months.

The leader seemed to be a very tall bowman, with a bald, scarred pate, boiled studded leathers, and a pitch-black bow. Draongbone, it would seem.

He raised up an arrow and pointed it between Tu's eyes. "Surrender yer valuables," the bowman, known as Stevron Six-Strings, said, as he pulled back on his bowstring.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

Normally, when one was surrounded by a large group of thuggish and armed bandits, one was either defiant or begging for mercy.

But the flamboyant man was none of those things. This was shown in how he reacted.

He did not defiantly draw his weapon, or beg for mercy. Instead?

Instead, he laughed and clapped his hands for joy. To the surprise of the bandits, and the exasperation of his companion, the flamboyant figure even leaped nimbly off the cart, landed nimbly on his feet, and started to dance a happy little jig.

"Finally! Do you lot have any idea just how much gold I've been wasting over the past few weeks, trying to entice you lot to come after me?" he exclaimed.

That had not been what the bandits had expected. "…What?" Stevron Six-Strings asked.

Tu ignored him as he continued to pace about, even as the various weapons followed him about. "I mean, for the Seven's sake, have you any idea how much inflation I've already caused through my surplus spending of all that gold? I know for a fact that I have spent an average of about 300 gold dragons a day or 3,000 silver stags, or 30,000 copper stars! While it does go into the pockets of those nice innkeepers, and thus will circulate, most likely through other inns, brothels, and eateries, it was also witnessed by everyone in visible sight, and I had to do that sort of thing for at least twenty-one days. So, of course, that meant I spent/ wasted upwards of 6,300 gold dragons, which translates to 63,000 silvers, which translates to 630,000 coppers. At least, that's what it is supposed to be. The ratio will probably rise from ten-to-one to maybe 13.1-to-one, at least! Why, I've probably caused prices in those areas to dramatically increase by at least a steep 10 percent, if not in the entire markets of the Westerlands!"

Ty threw up his hands in exasperation as he looked at his friend. "Gods, the length I go to, eh Roy!?"

The bandits were all no less dumbfounded. "…What?"

The flamboyant man's companion sighed. "Tu…"

The dandy blinked, and then cleared his throat. "Right, sorry about that, my good sers and madams. Anyway, as I was saying, I am happy to have finally found you all."

"Why?" Doelle the Drummer asked, her fingers tightening on the thick wooden shaft of her large mace. "What do you want?"

The flamboyant man looked at them all and flashed a grin. "What do I want? I have come to offer you all a chance at employment."

That had not been what any of the bandits had expected. "E-employment?" Stevron Six-strings asked.

"Yes, em-ploy-men-t! As caravan guards, guides, and as my personal guards."

"…What?"

Despite how impossible that was, it seemed as if the forest had an echo.

Tu put his hands behind his back and leaned forward, as if he were a parent about to lecture a child about something important. "You have all been harrying trade and caravans and such in the Westerlands for well over five months now. That has been leading to a marked decrease in foreign revenue and importation by at least six percent."

As he spoke, his fingers began to unconsciously twitch. "Now, ordinarily, that really makes me upset. Actually, it does make me upset. And yet… the fact is that you lot seemingly have the ability to slip in and about the whole of the Westerlands unseen, like slippery eels, and in very quick time. Thus, it can only point to the fact that you obviously know some rather daring and ingenious shortcuts and whatnot. As such, if you were to accept employment as caravan guides and guards, why, it would probably cut travel time down by at least fifteen percent! Maybe even twenty! That, in turn, results in the products, especially the perishables goods, like fish and meat and such, to be fresher, and which in turn allows them to be sold at a better and higher markup! Can you not imagine it?!"

As he babbled and his fingers twitched, many of the bandits lowered their weapons, now very perplexed, if only by many of the strange words emanating from his mouth. The man's companion, at this point, had simply cradled his face in his hands, rubbing it in exasperation.

He often rubbed his face with his hands. It could be considered a true wonder that his face was not worn smooth after all this time.

Then, Stevron cleared his throat. "Uh… why should we accept this employment of yours?" he asked, arrow still offhandedly aimed at Tu.

The flamboyant man stopped rambling for a moment, and then looked at each and every one of the bandits, his face somber. "I can understand, to a point, why you all are doing this."

"What the fuck do you know about it, fancy man?" Willard White-eye retorted; his grip tight on his ax.

Tu shrugged. "You're all scared. You are scared people who, if I were to hazard a guess, would rather not be doing this sort of thing at all. You were all at the battle of the God's Eye, weren't you?"

"How in the Seven Hells could you know that?" Dorelle asked.

Tu gestured about. "You're all in the sort of formation that just screams 'military.' Plus, most of your targets in the past several months have been caravans all belonging to houses who have been verbally adamant in their loyalty to Maegor. All of them were carried out with a sort of precision not ever quite seen in simple robbers and bandits, all without any casualties, which also points you all as being an honorable lot."

The bandits all looked at him dumbfounded. He shrugged. "Shall I continue, or can we all quit wagging our tongues so you can accept my offer, and thus have access to warm food, better clothing and armor, solid pay, and, more importantly, protection from Maegor?"

The bandits were all silent for a moment, the air as tense as a drawn bowstring.

Roy inched his hands down towards the cloth-wrapped item behind him.

Then… they all began to lower and sheathe their weapons.

"Who are you?" Stevron asked as he returned his arrow to his quiver.

The flamboyant man smiled another ivory grin, and then drew back his cloak in a dramatic flourish, revealing to all the golden, roaring lion on crimson that had been hiding underneath. As all the faces of the bandits collectively paled (one even pissed himself), the Red Cat let out a loud and lusty laugh from deep within his belly. "Oh, did I forget to mention? My name is Tybalt-Tuor Lannister. In addition, I am the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and the Head of House Lannister. I am most pleased to finally introduce myself to you all. But please, you can just call me Tybalt, Tuor, Ty, or Tu, once we become close friends."

Back on the cart, Roy, otherwise known as Red Royland Reyne, picked up the cloth-wrapped object, unwrapped it, and then casually unsheathed it in one slow motion, showing to all present the famed and feared crimson blade of the Valyrian steel sword, Red Rain.

Ty... Tu…Tybalt…Tuor… Lord Lannister's grin then turned a bit predatory as he looked upon the stunned and pale bandits. "So… what say you all to my offer?"

Two days later, Tybalt-Tuor Lannister, the Red Cat of The West, returned to Casterly Rock, followed by a large and motley group of now-former bandits.

They were all chatting as if they were old friends….

---

The Elf Friend

Now

Despite himself, Jae burst out laughing. "Surely, some part of that tale must be exaggerated?"

Albin Massey shook his head. "No, my lord. The Cat of the West's silver tongue is reputed to be able to charm the very clouds out of the sky, and it is tempered only by his knowledge for sums and figures."

"And would he be open to becoming my Master of Coin?" Jae asked.

The lord shrugged his twisted shoulders. "Perhaps. Despite his aptitude for sums and figures, Lord Tybalt-Tuor is a bit of an odd, flighty, and eccentric sort. But I do think that he would not be averse to accepting the position… so long as he felt himself to be suitably entertained."

Jae nodded, and then turned towards Celeborn.

"The message shall be sent out by morning, your Grace," the Hand said.

"Excellent," Jae said. He then stood. "My lords, all that we have discussed here at this table, and all that we will discuss here, will be sure to help bring the Six Kingdoms into many years of peace and solidarity. For that, I thank you. But, for now, I bid you all a good night. Until the morrow, my lords."

With that, the lords all silently departed, until only Jae and Celeborn and Russ were left within the room.

With a sigh, Jae collapsed back into his chair. "It is utterly amazing how, in all the myriad tales of kings and emperors and princes and such, they never seem to have to deal with the minutia of economies and infrastructure and peace treaties. And I have to do this until the day I die. Ah, but the burdens of kingship, I suppose."

"Such tales rarely ever do mention such things, your Grace, else they would not be as entertaining," Celeborn replied. "But, so far, you are holding yourself admirably. You shall be fine."

Jae gave a tired smile. "Thank you, my friend."

As Lord Celeborn then quietly left, Jae looked out one of the windows of the council room. The moon was bright and full.

Kingship.

Indeed, they left a great deal out of the tales.

But he would be strong.

He would not end up like his father.

He would be strong.

He then looked to Russ, still standing silently, like an immovable pillar. "Russ. Can we speak for a moment?"

---

The Protector

50 AC

Red Keep, Training Yard

Several months later.

The new recruits all stood at attention in the training yard.

Hand upon Blackfyre's pommel, Russandol looked over them all with a keen eye.

Since Jaehaerys' establishment of the Royal Guardians, many squires and knights had flocked to the Red Keep from across the realm, so as to offer their swords to the new order. A good deal of the knights had even been from the disbanded Faith Militant, at least those who had not joined the new Order of the Dragon. Russ had personally chosen the veteran knights and fighters that now filled the Guardians' ranks. However, he had asked that he be allowed to oversee the training regimen of the squires and green knights. To the surprise of many of the human courtiers and knights, he had even chosen a woman warrior, Jonquil Darke to serve among the ranks. But none had truly protested, as King Jaehaerys had made it quite clear that the management of the Royal Guardians would fall fully under Russandol's purview.

As Lord Commander of the Royal Guardians, it would be up to Russandol to make the squires worthy of the station of Royal Guardian.

As he was doing now.

Assembled before him were a variety of squires and freshly-minted knights, many of whom were second and third sons of noble houses, whilst others were hedge knights and lowborn squires.

He looked over them all with an appraising eye. They had all been standing there in silence for nearly half-an-hour in full armor (training armor for the squires), as an exercise in endurance and following orders. Most did not look at him. Some did. Of those some, a few looked upon him with fear or awe. The rest looked with disdain.

Perhaps it was time to begin.

He cleared his throat and spoke. "I look upon you all, standing here in this yard, with dreams in your head, and weapons at your waists. You may think yourselves the cream of the crop, that when I look upon you, I see something magnificent. To that, I disagree. All I see when I look upon you… is waste."

As they all looked upon him in confusion, he continued. "Each of you has potential, that is true, but you also are burdened. You are burdened by false ideals and dreams of glory and honor, as well as the belief that your stations in life afford you certain privileges. That in turns makes you waste upon the battlefield.

"Combat is not a thing of glory. It is not a way to achieve prestige. It is not something that one should ever wish to seek out. More to the point, there is nothing honorable about it. It is a thing of madness, death, and pure chaos. It is not a thing about which songs should truly sing. If you think that it is, then you are a fool who has no business in a battle."

His eyes roamed over all of them. "You will learn to cast aside these farcical notions that your heads have been filled with from the time you were babes in swaddling clothes. As Royal Guardians, we have but a singular duty; it is not to gain glory or prestige. It is not to become legends. It is not even to gain honor. No, it is to protect the royal family and to kill anyone who would attempt to kill them.

"It matters not to me whether you are a lord's son, a peasant, a hedge knight…." His eyes then rested upon Jaehaerys, who, like the rest of the recruits, stood at attention. "…. Or even a king. You are here to learn how to truly fight, how to truly kill… and how to truly protect."

His hand closed around the hilt of Blackfyre. "Like in battle, there will be no honor here…. Only survival. Only duty."

He then heard one of the highborn green knights let loose a snort of derision. He was a tall human and seemed rather young in age. Upon his tabard were three death's-head moths with their wings spread. House Horpe, if Russ remembered correctly. "What nonsense."

Russandol looked down upon the young human. "You think that what I say is nonsense?"

All turned to the Horpe knight. To his credit, he continued forward, with an angry scowl at his face. "Honor is everything. If we are to be knights it is something that we must hold above all else. To ask us to abandon that is sheer lunacy."

Russandol tilted his head at the young man. "What is your name, human?"

"Jorrin. Jorrin Horpe. Nephew of Harry Horpe. One of the six knights that you killed at the Trial of Seven-and-One."

Ah. Interesting. "Very well, Jorrin Horpe. Since you have a grievance with me, then perhaps now is the best time to settle things."

As he spoke, he walked over to the training-weapon rack and picked up a sparring sword. He then tossed it to the slightly startled Horpe knight, who fumblingly caught it. "Take up this sword. Fight me 'honorably.' Prove me wrong," Russandol said.

The Horpe knight looked unsure for a moment, but then grew a determined look in his eye, as he buckled his helmet on with a snarl.

He then strode up to Russandol. "Per the rules of chivalric honor, I shall wait until you yourself are armed."

Russandol nodded. "Very well. Truly, an honorable way of beginning a duel, ser Horpe."

As he turned to grip at the sparring blade, Russandol then drew it, pivoted, and slammed the flat of his training blade against Jorrin's helmet in a surprise attack. As the man reeled back in a daze clutching at his helmeted head, Russ bashed him once in the chest, then swiftly kicked him to the ground, knelt upon his chest and sword-wielding arm, and pressed the edge of his blunted sparring blade against the knight's throat. "An honorable man would have allowed you to regain your bearings. You just tried to fight with honor. I didn't. And so, was this a real battle, with real blades and weapons, you would be honorably dead. You would have died with honor, but you would be dead nonetheless, whilst I would live because I fought dishonorably. If you truly wanted to win, you would have attacked me when my back was turned. At least then, you would have stood something of a chance."

He tossed aside Jorrin's helmet so that they were now eye-to-eye. "If you still think honor should be prized above all, then go ask the widows and families of every honorable knight and soldier who died in battle. Ask them if it is comforting to them that their loved ones died honorably. I suspect that you would not like the answer."

He rose, tossed aside his training blade, and then swiftly hoisted the still-dazed Jorrin Horpe to his feet, before turning to look over the assembled knights and squires. "So, remember this, all of you; it is better to survive a battle through dishonor than to die honorably in battle. Honor can always be regained, but a life? A life is irreplaceable."

He noted how all watched him with rapt attention now, even Jorrin, as well as the others who been derisive to him.

He then nodded. "Now, if there no other objections, we shall begin. Today, you will spar. It shall be three on one, one fighter against three of their compatriots, mixed in with the castle men-at-arms. When the bouts begin, your goal is to either 'kill' your opponents through any manner possible, or at least survive for a half-hour. Upon that half-hour, you will rotate. However, any who falls within the first half-hour must do thirty pushups and ten laps around the yard, in your full armor. If you complain even once, then you will face me, after which you will do forty push-ups and fifteen laps. Am I understood?"

No one said anything. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you have now all become deaf. I said, am I understood?"

As one, they all hurriedly answered with a collective "Yes!"

"Good. But, since I believe in there being more than once choice, I will give you an alternative; if you so wish, instead of the push-ups and laps, you will have the option of facing my daughter or my son."

He gestured to the side, where his children stood. Nerdanel rested her hand on the handle of her bastard sword, while her brother Mahtan stood still and tall.

After giving the squires and trainees a moment to size up his children, Russandol spoke again. "Now, enough empty staring. Begin!"

As they were all squared off into groups and started to fight with varying degrees of skill, Russandol briefly ruminated upon his current position.

Thousands of years ago, Maedhros had been a prince, a leader of his people's armies. Maedhros had fought against ancient horrors… and he had murdered in cold blood. Even now, he could still hear the screams of the telari as they were butchered… he could even feel the flames of the burning ships upon Maedhros' face, drying his tears against his cheeks.

He remembered Maedhros' father, dying against the Traitor, upon that field of Ice and Fire.

Mostly though, he remembered that damned Oath.

All for three beautiful gems.

It had all been so foolish.

Now, in penance, he had been charged by High King Fingolfin to protect this strange human family of dragon riders. To protect them, and help them to grow. In the face of what he had done, this task seemed… noble.

Yes, Maedhros had been a murderer and a fool. But Russandol…. Russandol would be a protector. He would regain his honor.

Perhaps he would even truly become a hero.

He shook his head free of the memories and turned his attention back to the training yard. "Denys! You have just died. Thirty push-ups and ten laps. Then try again!"

He had much to regain, and long was the road before him. Long, winding, and perhaps more than a bit treacherous.

But all it needed was a single step forward.

He looked down at his stump, at the sword in his hand... and then towards the west.

Sacrifice. Duty. Redemption.

If he was lucky, they would come.

Then, perhaps... his children would be free...

He then turned back to the training Yard. "Erred Morrigen! You are dead. Push-ups and laps, or face one of my children! It is your choice! Do not tarry, or you will face me!"

---

Rogar and Celeborn watched from atop a balcony above the training yard as the King sparred against three of the Red Keep's men-at-arms. It had been a slow day for the council and thus had not required the king's attention.

Rogar watched as Jaehaerys wove around one squire's blow, and punched another in the face.

"The king takes to his martial training well," he mused.

"Indeed. Even in Beleriand, High King Fingolfin saw to it that he was trained in the martial and cerebral arts," Celeborn said from beside him. "He has grown into a fine young man. He will be a good king."

Rogar nodded. They watched as the king fell to one knee from another squire's lucky blow, and then returned the favor, getting back to his feet as he did. They then watched as Russandol's tall daughter utterly trounce a Morrigen squire with what seemed as hardly an effort.

As the half-hour came to a close, Russandol called for a ten-minute break. As the weary and bruised squires all rested, Rogar saw Jahaerys look up as a small group approached. Rogar followed his gaze and saw young Princess Alyssane, accompanied by her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, once of whom was a tall elf-maid with long black hair that fell past her waist. The ladies all handed out small pitchers of wine and water to the squires and the knights. The elven maiden, who seemed as austere as a queen, coolly handed Lord Russandol a pitcher of water.

Rogar watched as the Targaryen cousins exchanged smiles, and he noted how their hands intertwined briefly, and how their gazes lingered for a moment longer than could be called platonic. His smile vanished from his bearded face as he saw this.

He looked up at Celeborn. "Lord Hand. Would you walk with me?"

The elf nodded. "Of course."

As they walked away from the training yard and back into the red keep, Rogar spoke. "It has just occurred to me that, having already reached his majority, the king is now ready for marriage… as is his cousin."

Celeborn looked at him. "I take it that the only reason you are even bringing this up is to find a way to prevent King Jaehaerys and Princess Alyssane from marrying one another."

Rogar looked up at the elf in shock. Had he read his mind?

Still, best to move forward. "I can only thank the gods that both were not born of the same parents. The last time a Targaryen was married to his sister, the Faith rose up in revolt. They have been pacified, especially with Jaehaerys' disbandment of the Faith Militant, reforging them into the Royal Order of the Dragon, making the monarchy the Defender of the Faith, as well as his pardoning to any who rose up against his siblings… but mollification is, at best, a tenuous thing," Rogar said. "It has helped that Alyssane's mother was the niece of the High Septon... but she is also the daughter of the monster."

Celeborn stroked his chin in thought. "You are perceptive. But young Jaehaerys, though intelligent and well-meaning, is also willful and arrogant and headstrong to an extent. If we were to press a forced betrothal upon either him or his cousin, they will most likely just elope, the consequences be damned. And given the Faith's last reaction to such a marriage… the results would not be favorable in the least."

Rogar nodded. "Indeed. Yet, all can see it, the way they look at one another, especially the boy's mother. They spend as much time together as they can, eating, reading, even bathing together! As such, can you think of any way to peacefully resolve such an issue? The Valyrians have bred brother to sister for centuries. Yes, they are not siblings, but still first cousins! Most likely, were they to marry, Jaehaerys and Alyssane's children would marry one another as well. Then, we could end up with another Uprising of the Faith! Perhaps even ones in multiple succession! You can muzzle a wolf, but even good leather can still be snapped and broken. Have you any suggestions as to what we can do to even try to avert this?"

The elf lord was silent for a moment. "Yes, but it is a bit…. extreme, to say the least."

Rogar raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

"At the next council meeting, one of us will gently broach the subject, but it must be merged under a suggestion of how our young king can appear strong to his subjects. His family's rule is currently teetering on a knife's edge as it is, as the wounds of Maegor's rule are still somewhat fresh. Jaeharys needs to show strength. One way to do so would be to emulate his grandfather. We could suggest to the king that he follow his grandfather's example. Take two wives. Allow him his cousin and… one other. Allow, for now, a precedent that the reigning Targaryen monarch is allowed to have two spouses."

Rogar crossed his arms. "And why in the Seven Hells would we suggest that?"

"So as to avert future troubles, to a point."

"How do you mean?"

Celeborn clasped his hands behind his back. "You and I both know, no doubt, what the results of incest are, the damage it can do to a bloodline, whether animal or human; infirmity, defects, lesser mental capabilities…. Even madness and cruelty. One but need look upon Maegor's example and the terror that he inflicted upon this realm in his madness. It even happens with first cousins. Yet, incest is how our young king and his cousin were raised. To them, unfortunately, it is not something they deem as wrong. That can be hopefully changed if we show him physical proof of the detriments of such couplings… even if that proof has to be born from such a coupling."

Despite himself, Rogar kept listening. "Go on."

"If we attempt to push, then Jaehaerys will most likely just marry Alysanne behind our backs. But if he were allowed to marry his cousin by the Realm and the Faith, to have two brides… then, perhaps, he will have two sets of children, with which we can show him. One bloodline born of healthy relations… the other born of incest. Perhaps, at the very least, we will be able to dissuade him from allowing his future generations to marry brother to sister, blood to blood, in the future, and thus avoid any more future collisions with the Faith.

"Besides, such a marriage would help to bring in the Reach, and to mollify those lords and ladies who still hold loyalty to Maegor's memory, twisted as though it might be."

Rogar mulled over what the Hand was suggesting. As he had said, it was…. Radical. "A… interesting proposal, Lord Hand. But, who would you have in mind for this… second wife? Where would we even look? Very few nobles would ever stomach such a proposition, despite the prestige of having a daughter be a queen."

In lieu of a verbal answer, Celeborn simply raised his hand and pointed south. At once, Rogar got the message. "Dorne?"

The elf nodded. "Indeed. It is the only one of the Six Kingdoms that was never truly and fully folded in. Marrying a daughter of house Martell would go to great lengths to bringing them into the fold, to solidifying peace. Besides, and if I may speak delicately, there are those among the Dornish who do have a certain…. Open-mindedness about matters of physical intimacy."

It was a bit of a longshot, but… perhaps it could work. Rogar stroked his beard. "The current Prince Martell does have a daughter who is of an age with the King. A raven could be sent off, with the King's permission, of course. Though, there will have to be other things offered as well, perhaps."

"All things can be negotiated on that front, Lord Baratheon," Celeborn said.

The elf was right about that, at least. "But what about the Faith?" Rogar asked.

Celeborn smiled grimly. "Much as it pains me to admit… men are easily tractable. The seat of High Septon is still empty ever since the previous one's demise. A new one could be elected, one who would be willing to let the issue slide, though the exact method of convincing the Faith will be left up to the King, of course. If King Jaehaerys agrees to the proposal, then things will move forward. Besides, it is as you said; her mother was the niece of the High Septon, the mouthpiece of your Seven..."

On through the Red Keep did the Elf and the Storm Lord walk and converse…

---

The next day, the Small council convened early in the morning.

Despite his youth, King Jaehaerys insisted on attending every meeting, as well as giving his own input.

King Jaehaerys turned to Maglor. "My Master of Whispers? What news have you?"

Maglor shrugged artfully. "As always, I have plucked my strings, and yet, the vibrations have revealed very little, your Grace. A few tidbits, but none that needs revealing at this very moment."

The King arched a silver-gold eyebrow at that but made no comment. He then turned to the Master of Coin.

Tybalt-Tuor Lannister had settled in quite well into King's Landing, and into his position as Master of Coin. At the moment, he was leaning languidly in his chair, a copper star dancing along his fingers. Standing ever by his side was Red Roy Reyne.

The Red Cat looked up and flashed an ivory smile towards the king. "The new taxes we have implemented in place of Lord Celtigar's have been much more successful, your Grace. At the current rate, along with the taxes that we have implemented on luxury goods, we will be looking at a surplus of at least one million gold dragons by the end of the year, which will help go a long way towards revitalizing our economy and repaying our many debts. Still, in the long run, a million is but a paltry sum when it comes to the economy of a kingdom. As such, with your permission, I would like the opportunity to reach out to the Iron Bank of Braavos for a few loans."

"The Iron Bank? Are you sure that is wise?" the king asked. "The Iron Bank is not known for its forgiving nature. Many of us have grown up with stories of kings and entire kingdoms that were brought low by failure to repay the interest on a single loan on time. Yet, you want to ask the Bank for a few?"

Lord Tybalt-Tuor nodded. "I will admit that it's not an attractive option, but it's the best we have at the moment. Rebuilding a kingdom, paying off our debts, and adding on new things, such as the dragon nests, and the roads? That requires an amount of capital that we currently have no easy or legal access to. Even with our new taxes on luxury items and castle renovations, even if we re-implemented Lord Celtigar's taxes (which I am sure none of us want, especially the smallfolk), hells, even if we took all the gold from every single lord and lady on the continent, it still would take us years, if not decades, for us to amass what we would need to begin, let alone complete, these projects. Though, while the third one would probably work, it would still cost all the gold in the land, and I'd wager that no one wants that."

He leaned back in his chair, as he stroked one of his golden-dyed mustachios. "While not truly ideal, at the moment, the Iron Bank is currently our best option for acquiring those needed funds within a much shorter timeframe. As for the repayment… well, leave that to me. I am sure that I can work something out."

"Very well," Jaehaerys said. "Though, I might have an idea on how we can further revitalize our nation's economy."

The Red Cat raised a red eyebrow. "Your grace?"

King Jaehaerys looked towards Lord Celeborn, who then cleared his throat. "His grace is referring to negotiating a trade agreement and Treaty of friendship between the Six Kingdoms and my homeland, Beleriand."

That drew shocked looks from many of the other human lords on the council, even Grand Maester Benifer and Damon Velaryon, who more often than not remained silent throughout the meetings of the council.

Lord Tybalt-Tuor's fingers began to twitch. "Trade?"

"Yes. After you are done, I trust you and Lord Celeborn and Lord Massey to set up the necessary arrangements? I can assure you that my Hand has High King Fingolfin's full support with this endeavor."

It was a rarity, Rogar mused; the Red Cat's famed silver and glib tongue struck dumb. After a long moment, the Westerman flashed another ivory grin. "I shall not disappoint, your grace."

"Nor shall I," added Massey.

"Well, then we are in accord," the king said. "Draw up the plans for the trade and your loans, and then bring them to me for study before you send them off."

"Of course, my king," Lord Tybalt-Tuor said with a bow of his head.

The king then looked over his entire council. "Well? Is there anything else that needs to be brought to my attention?"

Rogar cleared his throat. Time to enter the dragon's maw, it would seem. "As a matter of fact, there is."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It has been nearly a year since your return to Westeros, and you ascended to the Iron Throne. While you have done much to heal the wounds inflicted upon this realm by Maegor, the sad truth is that your family's power still teeters on a very thin edge. You need to project an aura of strength; else some might begin to think you may end up like your late father."

"And how would you suggest that I go about doing that, Lord Rogar?" Jaehaerys asked.

"Perhaps by following your grandfather's example?" Rogar ventured.

Jaehaerys' purple eyes narrowed. "Just what are you trying to get at, Lord Rogar? Speak plainly."

"What Lord Rogar is saying, your Grace, is that it is time you were married, so as to secure the succession and the bloodline," Lord Tybalt-Tuor then said.

Rogar looked upon the Red Cat with some surprise. It seemed that there were still yet many layers to the Lord of Casterly Rock's cunning.

Jaehaerys drummed his fingers upon his chair's arm. "Is that so, Lord Baratheon? Then, you should know that Alyssane and I plan to marry. Also, that until any issue is born, my niece Aerea is my heir."

"We understand, your grace," Lord Celeborn said. "And, despite what you may think, we are not here to try and dissuade you from going forth with your chosen marital plans. However, you might be aware of how such a marriage might rankle the Faith. They would demand that you marry a noblewoman of Westerosi heritage. As such, there might be a solution for that which will leave all parties… satisfied."

"And what solution might that be, my Hand?" the king asked.

"That you follow Aegon I's example, your Grace," Lord Celeborn said. "By taking two wives."

The silence in the throne room was palpable.

"An… interesting proposal," Jaehaerys then said. "But would not polygamy rouse the Faith in anger? Maegor had four wives as well as my revered grandfather who had two, and, despite my grandfather's prestige, Maegor's example is still fresher in the memories of my subjects."

"As it turns out, you may be allowed a legal precedent for it. In addition, Maegor was never legally married to Lady Harroway or Lady Tyanna, or even your sister, Queen Rhaena" Lord Massey said.

Jaehaerys turned to the twisted lord. "I beg your pardon?"

In lieu of an answer, Lord Maglor reached by his side and set upon the table a small sheath of papers. "These were found in the chambers of Visenya. It would seem that your great-aunt had a habit of keeping a detailed record of her days before she vanished."

As he spoke, he pulled out one sheet of paper. "This one, in particular, might be of interest to you, your Grace."

With a slight look of confusion, Jaehaerys took the proffered sheet of paper, his purple eyes swiftly scanning it.

As the king read, Rogar could not help but sneak a worried look at the morose-seeming Master of Whispers and the twisted Master of Laws. Would this actually work?

Jae then looked up. "I do not understand."

"Visenya makes note of the fact that the 'ceremonies' in which he was bound to Tyanna, Queen Rhaena, and Lady Alys, were not actually officiated by an ordained septon," Massey said. "Seeing as how all the Faithful had fled the city after Maegor's immolation of the Sept of Remembrance, it seemed that her son could only find a scared novice who had not even taken his holy vows to 'preform' the ceremonies. The boy had been captured during the flight of the faithful. He had been languishing in the black cells for almost a year at that point and was willing to do anything to be released. Thus, it would seem that in the eyes of the Law and the Faithful, The Monster had not engaged in actual marital polygamy. At best, it was simply a married man carrying on with his mistresses. Thus, the only Targaryen to have done so, legally, was your grandfather. As you no doubt recall, the Faith allowed him his dual marriages, in exchange for his conversion to the Faith of the Seven. So, in effect, you do have a legal precedent for royal polyamory, your Grace."

"But what about my cousin?" Jaehaerys asked. "What about Alyssane? Aside from this hypothetical second queen, I can think of no one else with whom I would have at my side as Queen. But I still recall well the Faith Uprising and their views on sister marrying brother, and cousin marrying first cousin. Any ideas on that, my Small Council?"

"If I may, your Grace, I have an idea about that," Tybalt-Tuor Lannister said, almost as if on cue. "That is if you would permit a humble, coin-counting cat like me to speak?"

"Go ahead, Lord Lannister."

The Red Cat of the West cleared his throat as all within the room looked upon him. "As I am sure many of us know, the Faith of the Seven was born in the hills of far-away Andalos. In that holy place, The Seven laid down many of the holy laws which are practiced and kept, among which being that the act of incest is a mortal sin."

"Yes, I am aware. I have read the Seven-Pointed Star," Jaehaerys retorted lightly.

"I am sure that you have, your Grace, but what I am getting at is this; the Faith of the Seven, which was created in Andalos, was and has only ever been truly practiced by Andals. With all due respect, you are not an Andal. You are a Valyrian."

"Your point?"

"Well… last time I checked… Valyrians did not come from Andalos, nor did they worship the Seven. They had their own gods and own beliefs and rituals, which included riding dragons and marrying brothers to sisters. Therefore, Andals, and thus the Faith, cannot truly look with disdain upon how you and your Ancestors were forged by the gods. As the only dragon-riding Valyrians left in the world, I have to say that you and your family are… Exceptional. Not truly beholden to the laws and ideas of the Seven, for you were forged differently."

"Lord Lannister does raise an excellent point, your Grace," Celeborn chimed in. "Besides, I myself have taken time to peruse The Seven-Pointed Star. Does it not define, as one of its key tenets, that it is not the place of man to judge one another, only the Seven-Who-Are-One? In addition, whilst the text makes ample reference to Andals and andaldom, not once does it ever mention Valyrians. in addition, as a lady with Hightower blood, a family with close ties to the faith of the Seven, the marriage would at least pacify the tempers of the Faithful... especially those former swords and stars who now make up your order of the Dragon."

The king was silent for a moment. Rogar dared not to even breathe. "And where would my second bride come from?" the king then asked.

Rogar let loose a mental sigh of relief.

"Dorne, your Grace," replied Celeborn. "It is the only one of the Six Kingdoms that never truly became subservient to your Grandfather. Prince Martell has a daughter of yours and Alyssane's ages, and, since the flames of dissent and violence still run hot in those lands, marriage to the eldest daughter of their ruling family would be perhaps the best way with which to temper them, to truly make the Six Kingdoms a kingdom of One."

Jaehaerys stroked his chin.

The King then nodded. "Send a raven to Dorne. Once they reply, send a small group of Royal Guardians and trusted persons who can meet and escort the princess from the border between the Reach and Dorne. At the same time send word to House Swann that we have need of them and one of their swift ships."

Celeborn nodded and bowed. "As you wish, your grace."

"The ravens shall be sent before the day is through, your grace," Maester Benifer said.

The king nodded. "And send word to the Faith. It would seem that a new religious doctrine must be forged…"

---

The White Lady

Several Weeks later

Though not a Teleri, Aredhel still felt a certain kinship with the sea, like most elves. There was a serenity to it that one could rarely find on land, save perhaps in one of Beleriand's forests.

They had been sailing for roughly three days now towards Dorne, and every day, she looked out over the Narrow Sea and felt comforted.

"My men tell me that we will be approaching Sunspear within a few hours, Lady Aredhel," said Jakoro Swann as he walked up beside her. Like most of his house, the marcher lord was dark-skinned and broad of form and shoulder, on account of his house's Summer Islander blood and heritage. Slung across his back was a large golden bow, and at his side was a quiver of brightly-fletched arrows. "Once we dock, we shall have our audience with Prince Martell and daughter."

"Thank you, Lord Swann."

When Lord Celeborn had asked her to accompany the group that would escort Delora Martell to King's Landing, she had been a bit perplexed as to why for a moment. Then, it had all become clear.

As a companion and friend to princess Alyssane, Aredhel knew her better than most. As such, she would be able to take the measure of the Martell princess and thus be able to help the two at least be amicable when they married Jaehaerys.

After a month of negotiation and waiting, a raven had been received from Prince Martell. It had stated that he and his daughter were open to the marriage. After that, Aredhel and a small procession of Royal Guardians and courtiers had then been dispatched from King's Landing via one of the famed swan ships of House Swann, one of the lords of the Dornish Marches. Once they docked at Sunspear's harbor, they would meet with the princess. Then, once they had met, the group would sail back to King's Landing in the next few days, where the princess would meet her future family.

As the modest harbor and the two towers of Sunspear began to rise into sight in the distance, the sailors all began to scramble to prepare the swan ship for docking.

"Lord Swann," Aredhel then said to the lord. "What can you tell me about the princess?"

The marcher lord shrugged his broad shoulders, making his brightly colored cloak shift about. "Very little, my lady. The marcher lords and the Dornish have traditionally been the worst of enemies. For the most part, we are content to pretend the other does not exist. As for my house and kin, though we hold closer ties to Dorne than most, we have not truly had the chance to meet the Prince's firstborn daughter. Though, if it helps, she is reported to be very beautiful."

"Beauty is not all that is required of a bride my lord, but I thank you nonetheless," Aredhel said.

"With all due respect, my lady, the king is still a young man. If the bride is beautiful, then what more would he need? He should be satisfied."

"It is not merely for King Jaehaerys that I agreed to this errand," she replied. She needed to know if, at the very least, the Dronish princess and Alysanne could be cordial with one another.

A small group of nobles and men-at-arms stood waiting upon the harbor as the ship dropped anchor and docked. Aredhel could see many banners, fluttering in the wind; A grinning Skull with a golden crown on black, A yellow hand over a circle of red and black, black scorpions on red, a blue hooded hawk on silver, and many more.

Standing at the front of the group was a knight holding aloft the largest banner, and this banner bore the symbol of House Nymeros Martell; a gold spear piercing a red sun on a field of orange.

As the gangplank was connected to the pier and Lady Aredhel and the others walked down to the pier, the knight walked forward, banner held firmly in his hand.

"You are the royal party from King's landing?" the knight asked of them, his dornish accent ringing softly in her ears. "Lady Delora sent me and these fine nobles to meet you ahead of her. She and her father are most eager to meet you, just as she is eager to depart for King's Landing as soon as possible to meet King Jaehaerys."

The human was tall, almost of her height, and was garbed in armor that shined with a bright sheen. Emblazoned upon his tabard was a silver shooting star crossed with a sword over a field of purple, quartered with the symbol of House Martell. Purple, like his eyes, whilst his hair was almost as black as her own. Those purple eyes gazed out at her from a face that was olive in complexion, broken every now and then by small, faint scars, some of which disappeared under his dark beard.

"I bid you greetings, fair lady. I am Ulrick Dayne," he said, before elegantly bowing and brushing her hand lightly with his lips. "It is a pleasure to make your wondrous acquaintance."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Ser Dayne," she said with a small smile. "I am Aredhel, daughter of Fingolfin."

He smiled in return, and it was an amiable and kind and charming thing.

Many Dornishman had watched with interest as the now-larger group rode and walked through Sunspear to the Old Palace. Many eyes rested upon Aredhel and her fellow elves.

They were met at the throne room of the Tower of the Sun by the Prince and his children, including his daughter, the Princess Delora Nymeros Martell.

Jakoro's rumors had been correct, for Delora was indeed a beauty. She was of average height, busty, and curvaceous with full lips and a long mane of dark hair that tumbled in ringlets down past the small of her back. Her olive skin and face had a smattering of freckles that seemed to only add to her beauty, rather than subtract from it. Her form was clothed in orange and golden silks. When she smiled, her teeth were like white ivory.

She and her father greeted Aredhel and the others with grace. That night, Aredhel and her traveling companions supped with the Princess and her father on spiced fish cooked in Dornish snake sauce, fruits, dornish vegetables, honey, and milk. The princess was graceful, yet inquisitive, asking Aredhel all sorts of questions, questions about the king, King's Landing, about Princess Alyssane, and even a few about Aredhel herself.

The daughter of Fingolfin answered all that she could, as diplomatically as possible; that the king was kind, and that he and his sister were looking forward to meeting her, etc…

The meal was delicious, even if many of the Dornish and the marchers were trying very hard to stare holes into the skulls of the others.

At the setting of the sun, a clear horn was sounded, and loud, clear and booming cries echoed throughout the city. Delora explained that it was a call to prayer, and many of the Dornish politely left and headed towards the prayer hall of Sunspear. As such, Aredhel and the Royal group were left to their own devices at the end of dinner. Soon enough, Aredhel found herself examining the city and the desert from the balcony of one of the palace's open terraces.

Even as the sun went down, it seemed that Dorne was still enveloped in a blanket of warmth. It seemed as if the deserts spread out endlessly. The city itself seemed more alive at night than it did during the day, with thousands of little firelights dotted all about, leaving the buildings awash in the glow.

Though she knew some of her fellow elves were doing their best to be polite, she could tell that they found the dry heat of Dorne to be strange and uncomfortable. Many of the Westerosi were already sweating and grumbling heavily, despite wearing their thinnest clothes.

Yet, unlike the rest of the Royal procession, she did not find it stifling. It was comforting, oddly enough.

In the distance, she heard the call of an eagle.

"It is a lovely sight, is it not?" came a familiar voice.

Aredhel turned and then moved to one side as Ulrick approached. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to intrude," he said, with a bow of his head.

He had changed from his armor into simple, yet still elegant, clothing that was woven from purple and silver and orange and red and gold.

"It is fine. You were not intruding."

He joined beside her on the balcony, with the deserts spreading out under the endless night sky. "My niece is a charming woman, is she not?" he asked.

His niece? "You are related to the Princess?" Aredhel asked.

He nodded. "Indeed I am. My mother was her father's aunt. As such, some call me the knight of Sun and Stars."

"Sun and Stars. And does that make your dark hair and beard the night sky, then?" she asked, with a bit of tease. "And are your purple eyes purple stars?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps, but, compared to your ebony locks and silver eyes, my lady, mine own night sky and stars are but as pale and lacking as dust."

Despite herself, they shared a chuckle at that, as he then too looked up at the night sky, and a comfortable silence grew between them for a while. In the distance, Aredhel heard the sounds of the city's nightlife, of voices and horses and animals and things all going about.

For a while, nothing was spoken, as they both looked up and about.

A warm breeze caressed Aredhel's hair.

"It's a different sort of view, up in the Red Mountains," Ulrick then said.

"Is it any warmer there, in your red mountains?" she asked, a smile on her lips.

He shook his head. "No. But there is more grass and red stone. One can almost get lost within its many valleys, where the grass seems to stretch out endlessly. At night, the air can even grow cool and crisp. Especially at my home of Starfall."

"It sounds lovely."

He nodded. "It is. But to me, it is the stars that are just as beautiful, and just as endless."

It did not escape her notice that as he said this, his purple eyes remained upon her. It was not unpleasant, the feeling of those eyes upon her.

She kept smiling, and he returned it.

Long into the night did they talk, he about Starfall, and she about her home of Gondolin, of her father, and her family.

The next day, Aredhel, Delora, and their various escorts all departed Sunspear for King's Landing. To Aredhel's slight delight, Ulrick would be joining the Princess' guard.

All watched as they would sit and talk with one another.

The White Lady, and the Knight of Sun and Stars. It seemed as if the journey went by in the blink of an eye.

Several days later, they sailed into the harbor of King's landing.

Overhead, Aredhel watched as an eagle flew….

---

The Elf-Friend

The Solar of King Jaehaerys

Three Days later

It should have been awkward. In any other situation, it would have been, perhaps.

His cousin, who was his betrothed (and sister in all but blood), himself, and his other betrothed. All three of them, here, sitting and having dinner of roast pork, quail, read, and vegetables.

It should have been awkward. In the beginning, it had been, the day he and Alysanne met Delora.

Alysanne had been wary of the whole idea in the beginning, and, in truth, he had only gone along with the idea as a way of humoring his Small Council, thinking that the idea would fail.

To his surprise, Alysanne had then quickly taken to the woman who would be her sister-wife and the two became fast friends. It seemed that Delora was as voracious for knowledge as Alysanne, and they bonded over that. Their conversations were oft filled with discussions of history and philosophies, whilst pouring over scrolls and books and treatises. They also bonded over archery and hunting, with the three of them oft going into the Kingswood at times. Delora even taught Alys and Jae a few traditional Donrish dances, activities that would leave them all breathless and laughing, though, were he being honest, Jae was more than just content to watch.

At the moment, as they ate, the two were in deep conversation about the parallels between the customs of the Rhyonar and the First Men. Jae was content to just listen to the two talk.

Jae had been surprised. In any other situation, any normal sort of situation, that sort of thing never happened.

But, then again, they were not a normal family.

Besides, since when were kings and royals ever truly normal?

Outside, off the coast, there was a distant roar of a dragon...

---

For almost two months, the entire realm had been abuzz with strange and wonderful news.

A Royal Wedding!

The King was getting married and to two brides none-the-less!

That last bit had confused many, to be honest, but, in the end, who were they to question the will of kings? Though, a scant few whispered that it was the work of those strange elves.

A few amongst the Faith did grumble, but all remembered the Seven Speakers who had walked throughout the land, preaching the Doctrine of Exceptionalism. After hearing it, even the most stubborn of the septons and septas could not truly argue with it. It just made sense.

Besides, when you thought about it, it really did make sense. Who were the Valyrians to be beholden to the rules of Andaldom? The Andals did not ride dragons, but the Valyrians did.

It was mostly the point about the dragons that made the message clear, but so did the rest!

In addition, did the Seven-Pointed Star not say that one should not judge, lest ye, in turn, be judged?

Still, while most of this flew over a majority of the common folk's heads on dragon's wings, the Realm was still abuzz.

A Royal Wedding!

Silks were shipped in, the forges and cooks and caravans were running and working and burning and creating day and night!

A Royal Wedding!

---

The Elf-Friend

The Red Keep

The Day of the Wedding between Jaehaerys Targaryen, Alysanne Targaryen, and Delora Martell.

It was odd, the fact that Jaehaerys felt so nervous.

He had cast judgments of execution upon thieves and rapists and traitors alike without flinching, even as some screamed and cried for mercy and clemency. He had sparred against several knights at once and even faced down a rampaging grizzly while hunting in the Kingswood. All of that, he had faced with very little fear.

And yet, here he was, standing in front of a mirror, dressed up like a black and red peacock, whilst attendants put finishing touches on a cuff and a button and such.

The door to the room then opened. In the mirror, he saw that it was Lord Celeborn, the elf-lord as tall and austere as ever, and garbed in garments of subtle grey and silver, fringed with green to represent his home of Lothlorien.

With a wave of his hand, Jae dismissed the attendants, and soon enough, it was only he and Celeborn.

He turned and held out his arms, letting his robe's sleeves dangle. "I must look a silly thing; a creature of silks and rubies and such. Do you not agree, my Hand?"

Celeborn approached and then, like a mother hen, idly fiddled and straightened out a bit of Jaehaerys' cloak and collar. "I think you look like a young man, on the cusp of one of the most important events in his life that he will ever experience. That is normal. I felt the same at my wedding, so very long ago."

Jae nodded. "Tell me," he said, looking up. "What was it like, when you and Lady Galadriel married, my Hand?"

"Simpler, for one thing," Celeborn replied. "Not as much pomp and circumstance. We were married under the sky and trees, and in the presence of friends and family only."

"That sounds wonderful. Do you suppose that we can just do that, instead?"

Celeborn calmly shook his head. "I'm afraid not, your Grace. A Royal Marriage has to be a spectacle, as much for the realm as it is for the bride and groom. Or, in your case, brides and groom."

Jae chuckled deprecatingly. "Still, any advice for me?"

His Hand sighed, and set his hand on Jae's shoulder. "A marriage is not simply a physical joining; it is a joining between souls. Now and forever, you and your brides will be joined, your destinies entwined. As such… do not treat them with disrespect. Understand that, though a woman may become your wife and take your name, it does not make that woman subservient to you. To think otherwise is nothing short of folly. They will be your partners, your equals, from now until the day you all receive the final Gift of Men."

"Of course," Jae replied.

As he continued to speak, Celeborn put upon Jae's brow his crown. "And above all; trust them, as they will trust you. Love them, as they will love you. Listen to them, as they will listen to you. Be there for them, as they will be there for you."

A knock came on the door, and Russ opened. "Your Grace, Lord Celeborn. It is time."

Jae nodded and took a deep breath for courage.

It was time to be wed.

---

The White Lady

Aredhel was seated at one of the pews set up in the massive Throne Room of the Red Keep. Many Lords and Ladies were in attendance as well, with the room seemingly fit to burst. It was a veritable sea of finery and jewels and pomp and peacock-like grandeur. Next to her was seated little Aerea and Rhaella. The latter was fidgeting and looking about, whilst the former was seated quietly.

Their mother was not in attendance. Rhaena hardly ever came to King's Landing.

Aredhel felt a little saddened that none of her kinsmen were able to attend the wedding, save those who had been chosen to attend Jaehaerys and Alysanne back from Beleriand. But alas, the treaty between the Six Kingdoms and Beleriand was still not fully developed, and, until then, travel and trade between the two would remain minimal-to-none.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she looked forward.

King Jaehaerys stood at the foot of the dais of the Iron Throne, dressed in finery truly fit for a king, alongside the new High Septon. The King's silver-gold beard was long and thick, whilst his long, uncut silver-gold hair was bound in a single braid down his back, whilst his form, made muscular from his time in the training yards of both Beleriand and the Red Keep, was noticeable beneath his finery. Upon his head rested the simple crown, forged for him in Beleriand, and inset with seven simple gems, each of a different color.

On either side of the dais stood the Royal Guardians, resplendent in their armament and their red-and-black tabards, emblazoned with the Red Dragon and the personal sigils of their houses, and each with hands resting upon their swords, which in turn rested, sheathed, and point down, upon the marble floor. More guarded the entrances and exits. Most noticeable was the tall and solid presence of Maedh- no, Russandol, his single hand and stump resting upon the ruby pommel of Blackfyre, whilst his two children stood resolutely at either of his sides.

The message was clear to all who understood.

Then, the great hall doors were opened, and all rose to their feet as the brides entered. All who saw them felt their breath but vanish.

Alysanne, slender, beautiful Alysanne, was dressed in black and red silks and lace, matching that of her cousin and betrothed. Upon her shoulders rested a cloak, embroidered with both the seahorse of her mother's house and the red dragon of her father's. Her honey-colored hair was elegantly coiffured, studded with tiny rubies which matched the larger one hanging from a pendant around her neck, as well as the other small ones upon her skirts. Her lips were painted red, while her pale cheeks were lightly dusted with blush.

Next to her, Delora seemed her mirror opposite. Her dusky olive skin was almost radiant, rubbed with oils and such. Her head was bound tightly in a traditional Dornish wedding headdress. Her bridal dress was of radiant gold and orange silks and laces, studded with pearls and opals. Her cloak proudly bore the sun and spear of House Martell. Her lips were painted as well, with dark kohl under her olive eyes that made them seem larger and more appealing. Upon her hands were drawn strange and ancient Rhyonar designs that symbolized good luck, marriage, and fertility.

All watched as the two brides, each as if they were the sun and the moon, approached the dais.

Aredhel watched as Prince Martell removed the cloak from Delora's shoulder, and kissed his daughter slightly upon the cheek, while Celeborn removed Alyssane's cloak, kindness dancing in his eyes. She also saw the Queen Dowager, Alyssa Velaryon, and she was softly weeping.

All watched as new cloaks were placed upon their shoulders, each black and red and emblazoned with only the Red Dragon of House Targaryen.

Aredhel watched as Delora and Alysanne and Jae each looked at one another with full eyes. She watched as Delora briefly touched Alysanne's hand in a comforting gesture.

All watched as The High Septon, a small and unassuming man with a somewhat large head, bound the three's hands together with seven multi-colored laces and strings, forming them into a triangle, all the while murmuring about love and commitment. Coming from the old man, it sounded as if he were just mumbling random things about love and such.

Aredhel's ears could pick up subtle groans of boredom throughout the throne room as the High Septon continued to ramble and mumble.

Finally, he reached the end.

Jaehaerys then turned to fully face his two brides.

All waited with held breath.

Then, the King spoke. "With these kisses, I do pledge my love, for now and all eternity!"

He and his brides kissed one another, and the entire throne room erupted into cheers, as the bells of the Red Keep began to ring, as the High Septon proclaimed them husband and wives.

The king and his brides were now married.

Long live the King.

Long Live the Queens.

---

Later

The wedding feast, held outside in the Red Keep's main courtyard, consisted of several courses, starting with a savory soup of pumpkin from the Reach. The entire Red keep was filled with chatter, especially the open field.

After the soup came fish and chicken, cooked with spices and herbs and lemon.

Then there was venison and other game, along with cooked vegetables and whole loaves of bread.

Aredhel found it all to be most delicious, as was the wine that seemed to flow as freely as a river. It was Gold from the Arbor of the Reach, and Red from Dorne. There were even a few strong ales from the Riverlands.

Finally, there was the dessert. Pastries, pies, and fruit both fresh and candied. There were also towering cakes, including one crafted in the shape of a three-headed dragon with a spear and sun on its chest, and standing upon a wide base of chocolate, with wings spread. When it was cut into, candied cherries and wine flowed out, as if it were actual wounds.

Many minstrels from all across the land and the Narrow Sea performed during the feast. Harps and flutes and lutes and many other instruments.

As the sun went down, the feasting and carousing continued.

Overhead, the dragons flew in the air, including Jaehaerys' Vermithor and Alyssane's Silverwing, all of which were growing so very large.

Many toasts were given, from many lords and ladies. A most boisterous one was given by Lord Rogar, who sat next to his new bride, Elena of Tarth, a vivacious woman almost as tall as her husband.

Many gits were given to the brides and grooms, including jewelry, armor, saddles, fine swords, dresses, books, bows, and arrows (including a goldenwood bow from House Swann) and many other things.

After the feasting came dancing. Some danced well, and others danced poorly, but all laughed.

Some young lords even worked up the courage to approach Aredhel, and ask for a chance to dance. Not wanting to appear rude, she accepted.

Soon enough, she found herself dancing across from a lord with white and purple knights on his jerkin. His dancing was passable, though his eyes rarely met her face.

Then, a voice cut through. "Pardon me, Ser Farring, but may I request the lady for a dance?"

Aredhel turned, and was met with a familiar pair of purple eyes, set into a familiar face. In the two months since their return to King's Landing, she and Ulrick had had scant few moments to enjoy the other's company, especially as how he had taken up duties as a knight and protector of his niece.

With a smile, Aredhel took his proffered hand, and the two began to dance. His movements were more graceful than the young Farring lordling.

As the music played, the Knight of Sun and Stars and the White Lady danced.

"A very fine ceremony," Ulrick said.

"Indeed. The brides and their groom seem very happy," Aredhel replied.

Up at the high table, she and Ulrick saw the king and his two new queens each laughing at some unheard jape.

Ulrick smiled. "They do seem happy. That is a good sign of a good marriage, I think," he said.

"Indeed."

Then, a great roar came up as the sun finally set below the horizon. "TIME FOR THE BEDDING!" Declared an inebriated lord.

Amidst the laughter of all the guests, Aredhel and Ulrick watched as the King and the Queens were each lifted upon the hands of many men and women and carried off towards the Royal chambers of the Red Keep. The men eagerly disrobed the two queens while the women shrieked with delight as they all but tore the robes off of Jaehaerys.

Most of the guests were involved with the procession of the bedding, and, as such, soon only Ulrick and Aredhel were left, save for a few other guests who had deigned not to go, or were passed out on the floor, or asleep on the table and in their food. Even the musicians had joined the procession as well, all of them singing a strange and ribald song about a queen, a king, a sandal, and a crown.

Ulrick then reached out his hand. "So… shall we continue with another dance?"

Aredhel raised an eyebrow. "You wish to continue dancing, with no music?"

He smiled that smile of his. "Whatever do you mean? I can hear the music just fine. You can too. Listen."

A gentle breeze wafted through the courtyard, and the summer cicadas buzzed and hummed, while crickets chirped. Down below, the rest of King's Landing echoed with life.

When she listened to it all closely… yes, Aredhel could hear a melody more beautiful than any she had heard, since the day her people had returned to this land.

She took his hand and returned his smile.

All through the night, alone did the White Lady and the Knight of Sun and Stars dance, to a melody that only they could hear. As they danced, it seemed as if they could only see the other.

And so, they danced.

Overhead, a blazing star raced across the sky.

---

The Elf-Friend

Followed by the ribald cheers and jeers of the wedding guests, Jae stumbled into the Royal bedroom.

He then looked up, to see Alyssane and Delora sat calmly upon the bed.

There they were; Jae, Alys, and Delora. Not even a single stitch was between them.

Jae still could not believe that all three of them were here, now. The two months, when they had all first met, seemed like a lifetime ago, the day that Delora had arrived.

Delora and Alysanne then got up from the bed. Delora walked over to the small table in the room, upon which a pitcher of wine and three goblets sat.

Wordlessly, she filled them, and handed one to Alys and then to him.

With a swallow, Jae raised his goblet. "To marriage."

"To marriage," came the reply, as three goblets clinked.

After emptying his glass, he looked upon his two brides. Not for the first time, ever since he and his sister had met the princess, it struck Jae as how opposite the two women seemed.

Alysanne was somewhat short and slender with small breasts, a narrow waist, and small, pink nipples. Her eyes were like sapphires, and her shoulder-length hair was the color of honey, matching her mound.

Delora was a bit taller and more curved, her breasts and dark nipples larger, her waist wider, her eyes like onyx, and her mound was the same as her dark hair, which tumbled unbound well past her waist.

Like the Sun and the Moon. Both beautiful, both graceful, and yet both were so different.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "So… what do we do now?"

Alysanne shrugged her bare shoulders, the movement simple yet entrancing.

Delora then chuckled, and took both gently by the hand, that simple movement doing interesting things to the rest of her bared form. "Perhaps, the best thing to do would be to start small…"

She kissed him, long and deep. Jaehaerys felt excitement well up inside him.

"And then, if all seems well…" she turned and kissed Alysanne on the lips as well. Despite a moment of surprise, Jae's sister seemed to reciprocate as well.

The excitement grew, especially as it was Jae's turn to kiss Alys.

Delora's smile grew wider, as her hands crept downwards. "Then we go further."

Almost as one, they lowered themselves onto the bed…

---

53 AC

A year and a half later

A year and a half had passed since the Wedding of the Sun and the Moon, and now, the realm was abuzz with excitement for a second time.

A royal progress!

The King and the Queens would be visiting the Six Kingdoms, blessing all they visited with their Royal presence.

More importantly, they would be riding on their dragons!

A royal progress!

Where would they visit? When would they come?

Also, there was another reason for the realm to be excited.

The queens were each heavy with child.

---

The Queen of the Moon

Maidenpool was charming, with its pink walls, and its busy harbor.

A great crowd of smallfolk had gathered outside the gates of House Mooten's castle, hoping to get at least a glimpse of Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Delora after they had landed within the courtyard.

Lord Mooten had been beyond grateful that Alys, her sister-wife, and Jae had chosen to grace his lands with their presence, and he practically waited on Jaehaerys and Alysanne and Delora hand and foot, along with their guards and companions.

A cynical part of Alys wondered how much of the kindness was genuine, but, of course, had chosen not to say that aloud.

There had, of course, been several reasons as to why she and Delora had persuaded Jae that they should visit Maidenpool, but there was one reason in particular for Alys's insistence on the location.

Jonquil's Pool, a small body of water famed throughout the whole of the Six kingdoms for its holy and healing properties.

Since she and Delora were both heavy with child, she had felt it prudent that they bathed in the holy waters, so as to ensure blessed and happy births.

Delora, being a believer in the gods of her Rhyonar ancestors, had gently laughed at the suggestion, but had acquiesced none-the-less.

So, today, whilst Jaehaerys went into discussion with Lord Mooten about taxation and levies and such, including the settling of the new Order of the Dragon, Alys and Delora, accompanied by Rosamund Ball, Septa Edyth, Jorelle Santigar, Fyona Fowler, and Aredhel, traveled to the famed pool.

Alys was shaken from her thoughts as their wheel-house arrived at the Pool.

As Gyles Morrigen helped her down, Alys examined the holy place.

The bathhouse was engraved with many depictions of the Seven-pointed star, but otherwise seemed remarkably… unremarkable. More functional than anything else.

The septas who attended and maintained the bathhouse greeted them with kind smiles, though some looked a bit askance at Aredhel, though they made no comment.

Alys did not care, though. Lady Aredhel had been one of her closest friends during her time in Beleriand, alongside sweet Silver-foot, and had felt it only right that Aredhel accompanied her and Del and Jae.

As no men were permitted inside, the Royal Guardians waited outside.

The septas guided Alysanne and her ladies to a poolroom, where there also waited towels and robes to be used and worn after they bathed in the waters.

As they disrobed, Alys looked about at her companions, and especially at Lady Aredhel. Despite herself, Alysanne could not help but feel a bit envious at Aredhel's bared form, at her flat stomach. As she looked, a hand went unconsciously to her belly, now great with child. Why were elves so beautiful?

Alyssane noticed Delora, with her own belly equally large, unabashedly looking upon Aredhel's form with great interest, and despite herself, she chuckled. "Have you grown bored of us already, sweet Del?"

Delora chuckled. "Fear not, my dear Alys. My heart holds only love for you and Jae. Still, if men can look upon flowers every now and then, well, so can I."

Aredhel chuckled at that. "So, are you calling me a delicate flower, Queen Delora?"

"Nothing of the sort, good Aredhel! If you were, then perhaps my Uncle Ulrick would not have become so taken with you!"

To Alys' slight surprise, Aredhel very briefly flushed red, thus making the rest of the little group join in the laughter. Even austere Rosamund Ball, who rarely ever smiled.

Then, as they had finished disrobing, three septas suddenly entered the room.

One of them was a severe-looking woman. "May we help you with anything else, Your Graces?" she asked, though it seemed as if she were spitting out the words.

Alys shook her head. "No, but thank you. We shall be fine."

Despite her dismissal, the septas remained.

Alys rasied a honey-colored eyebrow. "Is there something amiss?"

One of the other septas, a stick-thin woman with a long nose, nodded. "I'm afraid there is, heretic."

Then, they each drew a dagger!

As the women gasped in terror, the severe-looking septa then raised her dagger high. "This sacred pool will not be despoiled by the unholy, be they demons, heretics, or abominations of incest! Especially not the line of the monster!"

As the knives flashed and the septas charged forward, Alysanne could do naught but put a hand on her womb, even as Delora pushed her behind her.

Then, before her maids could intercept…. Aredhel moved so fast, and, in the next moment, the nearest of the septas was borne aloft by the elven princess' hand about her neck. That septa, she was then thrown against the stone wall.

CRACK

A moment later, she sunk to the floor, her neck broken.

Alys and the others watched and stood with wide eyes and held breaths.

As the remaining septas warily studied Aredhel, the elf-maiden stood tall and great despite her nakedness. Indeed she was almost glowing in the torchlight of the bathhouse. A moment later, the door to the bathhouse suddenly burst open in a shower of wood, and in burst Ser Gyles Morrigen and Nendir of Doriath.

Swiftly, the two Royal Guardians cut down one of the remaining septas in a flash of swords.

With two swords at her throat, the last would-be assassin dropped her dagger and sank to her knees in surrender.

As the woman was bound with strong rope and led away, Alys began to softly weep and felt Delora gently embrace her….

---

The Sorrowful

Several days later

As he set down his harp upon the ground and sat in front of the cell upon a chair, Maglor examined the septa, where she sat chained in the center of the cell. She was a severe-faced woman of average build, the sort who seemed to hold disdain for everything.

Lord Mooten had wanted to execute the septa at once for her attempted crime, but the king, though also wrathful, had stayed his hand, and had called for Maglor to travel to Maidenpool to interrogate her.

The King and Russandol waited outside the castle's cells.

Still, Maglor graced her with a kindly smile. "I bid you greetings."

The master of whispers leaned forward. "Do you know who I am?"

She glared at him. "You are a demon, blind to the true and divine light of the Seven, who works foul magicks upon the true and the faithful, leading them astray into darkness and depravity."

Maglor let the insults wash over him like a lukewarm wave of water. "Very eloquent. Though, I prefer my given name to 'demon.' Now, do you know why I am here?"

"To drag me to your unholy land? To sacrifice me to your heathen gods? Well, I am strong in my faith, and I will not be damned, though you may kill my mortal flesh."

Maglor ignored her. "What is your name?"

"I will not answer that."

"Who else was involved in the plot to murder the Queens and their companions, among whom was High King Fingolfin's own daughter?"

At that, she crossed her shackled arms, her face contorting like a rotting lemon. "Ask your questions, demon. Torture me, if you must. I will say nothing. The Father will judge me kindly for what I tried to do, keep the Pool clean of heresy and taint. Do what you will. I shall not break."

He looked at her for a long moment and then sighed. "I'm not here to break you. Despite what you might believe, I do not condone torture."

He placed a hand upon the harp he had set at his side. "Nay, for I have always preferred the kinder approach."

Even as he said this, the scent of burning ships and screams of death filled his mind, before he filtered them away.

He lifted up the harp and plucked at a single string. As he did, the sound echoed throughout the small room. "You are afraid. That is understandable. But there is no need to be afraid. Listen to the strings, to the melody. Let the melody carry you away…."

He plucked a second string. "Let all your worries just fade…."

With each pluck filling the room with a soothing melody, the woman's severe features began to slowly slacken. Soon enough, she looked as if she had never had a stressful day in her life. Her eyes slowly dilated, and her breathing slowed.

In all honesty, he already knew her name and the names of her conspirators. But, according to the law, there had to be a verbal confession.

Maglor then set the harp back down and interlaced his hands. "Now then…. Let us start this again…."

---

Under the power of the music, the septa named several more conspirators, all members of the Faith of the Seven at various levels, along with others.

The conspirators summarily were hunted down, and dragged out into the streets, before being summarily executed, though the innocent were spared.

Russandol the Red and King Jaehaerys made sure that Blackfyre drank well in the following days, though the septa was spared the blade, only to be hung from the neck until dead.

The rope was tied in such a way that it took her a good long while to die.

---

The Elf-Friend

The Red Keep, two weeks after the Halted progress

Following the aborted progress, Jae had thrown himself into helping to draw out the treaty that he and High King Fingolfin discussed, during his seven years in Beleriand.

When he was not helping to forge it, he spent most of his moments with Alys and Delora. Though his Sun and Moon were strong and firm, the attack had still shaken them a bit. Alys was even suffering from the odd night-terror. But now, things were slowly getting back to normal, it seemed.

A knock on the council doors shook him from his thoughts, and, almost as one, he, Lord Massey, Lord Lannister, and Celeborn looked up from their sheets of parchment as Maester Benifer entered, a raven-scroll in hand, and a befuddled expression on his face.

"Grand Maester?" Jae inquired. "What is it?

The Grand Maester held up the scroll. "The most interesting news has just come out of the Reach, it would seem…."

---

In later years, the wedding between Jaehaerys and his queens would be referred to as the Wedding of the Sun and the Moon. Though created under odd circumstances, the polyamorous marriage of Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Delora would prove to be a long, fruitful, and ultimately happy marriage, with the two queens referred to as the Queen of the Moon and the Queen of the Sun, respectively. Of course, as marriages often are, this royal union would not be without its own heartbreaks and dark moments, such as the attempted attack upon the queens when they tried to bath in the Waters of Jonquil's pool, as well as others, down the years.

The Wedding of the Sun and the Moon followed half a year later by the great Treaty of Kingdoms (which would be signed under the shadow of the High Tower, as further mentioned in the next chapter) would also help to sow the seeds for the eventual birth of many of Westeros' greatest and famed lords and ladies and heroes.

It would also, eventually, set the stage for many of the Six Kingdoms' darkest years.

From the Writings of Archmaester Gyldayn.

Fire, Blood, Tears, and Wrath; the Entertwined history of House Targaryen, Beleriand, and the Six Kingdoms.

---

Many had been surprised that the king had been willing to forgive those who had risen up against his family. But, it had been a strange stroke of genius, merging the Swords and Stars to the Throne and the Royal Family. Then, having them officially disbanded and reforged into the Knightly Order of the Dragon. On the surface, it kept many of the faithful knights active but leashed and muzzled to an extent.

Damon Morrigen was even elected as one of the new-forged Order commanders, one of Seven across the Kingdoms. The Former Warrior's Son had been grateful.

Jaehaerys had stated that, even with a dragon, he still could not be everywhere at once to stop every single evil, and, sometimes, lords could not always be depended upon to fully protect their smallfolk and lands. Which was where the New Order would come in.

They would be the protectors of the land, of the common folk, no matter their creed or religion. The Faith would defend the souls of the faithful, and the Crown would defend the Faith. But the order? They would defend the people.

The knights would wear black-and-white armor that bore red scales and a seven-headed dragon, symbolizing their old devotions, and their new ones.

It was a bit of a risk, but, thanks to the king's charisma, it seemed to have worked, whilst its name would serve as a message across the realm.

The Dragon will protect you, but it is still the Dragon who rules. Not you

Like any knightly and chivalric order, the Order of the Dragon would have its heroes and its blackguards...

From the Writings of Archmaester Gyldayn.

Fire, Blood, Tears, and Wrath; the Entertwined history of House Targaryen, Beleriand, and the Six Kingdoms.

---

A/N: Another chapter. Sorry it took so long. My apologies if you find any part of this one lacking, or if you found the jumps through time to be annoying. At this point, I just need it to be finished.

The attempted assassination at Jonquil's pool still occurred, even though Jonquil Darke is a Royal Guardian. She simply was not aske to accompny the progress this time.

I have changed a few more things about Westeros. For instance, House Swann of the Stormlands are now descended from, and still marry into, many bloodlines of the Summer Isles. Their ancestors were actually settlers from the Summer Isles, back during the era of the Storm Kings. They are famed archers. I did this because a) I thought it would be interesting, and b) it shows how the timeline of Westeros has changed.

Also, unlike in canon, here the Manderlys were never ousted from the Reach by the Gardeners. The families were instead joined in blood and marriage. Also, here, Red Rain was never stolen by House Drumm.

Tybalt is an interesting character that I have developed, and one who, I will note, actually has a head for economics. It has always struck me as a bit odd how, in the canon series, the Lannister's idea of economics is "I am rich, my gold is endless, and it costs the same everywhere, etc…" which is… odd, to say the least, because that is not how money works at all.

As you can no doubt tell, I have decided to give Aredhel, Daughter of Fingolfin, something of a happier life, as opposed to her canon one. There will still be some tragedy, as any such romance entails.

As for polygamy… when I read Fire and Blood, despite how good a king Jaehaerys I was, he also struck me as being rather selfish. Marrying his sister, while it worked out in the end, was ultimately a stubborn and selfish move borne of what I can only describe as pigheaded short-sightedness. Thus, Celeborn's reasoning is, though strange, ultimately makes sense in my opinion; through the legalese, the polygamy brings Dorne into the fold, and still allows Jae to marry his sister (gross), thus keeping the young king from doing something monumentally stupid. Also, as noted, Celeborn hopes that seeing two different sets of children will allow Jae to understand what the actual dangers of incest are, thus hopefully work to abolish it in the future.

The Faith Militant is still disbanded, as in canon, but, because Maegor did not slaughter as many this time, plenty of knights and warriors are still alive. Jae needed to do something with them, as there can only be so many Royal Guardians, and not all had homes to return to.

Anyway, I hope you all read, review, and enjoy.

The next chapter will probably be a long one and returns to Tolkien's greatest love story. There will be changes, of course, but I will do my best.

A/N: Changed Tybalt's name to Tybalt-Tuor.

A/N/N: i have changed some plot points, mainly that Alyssane is now Maegor's daughter, and thus Jae's cousin. Also, in chapter 1, i have made Queen Visenya a three-dimensional character.