A/N: Hey everyone! Unexpected quick update! Including many moments y'all have been waiting for!

Be sure to check out some awesome stories: Wolves of War by GulfYankee23, Howl of the Dragonwolves by Elphaba818, The Long Night that Was Promised by Dakkaman777, Kingdom of Ice and Fire by WhiteWolf04, and From the Ashes Begin Anew by bykim0120. All of the authors are great guys that have been the best of fans!

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 14: The Viper and the Direwolf

Horsehide bow scraping along the tight thread of the instrument, the notes of the Rains of Castamere brought contentment to Lord Tywin Lannister's mind. The musician added an extra flair at the end of the infamous song, rumor had that it was composed by Lord Tywin himself. Normally he preferred it the way it was, but this time the tune caught his attention positively. Ending the song, the performer bowed as Tywin clapped three times. "Good job, my friend. Good job."

"Mi'Lord approves?" A smile with several gaps where teeth had once been.

"Casterly Rock has found its new court musician, now please leave me." The musician was practically leaping as he left Tywin to his solitude… well, partial solitude.

"You're cheerier than usual." Lord Loren Payne of Payne Hall - formally Tarbeck Hall - crossed his arms, chuckling. "For once that frown can take a respite somewhere warm while that smile gets to spread its wings."

Normally, anyone who japed with frivolity more accustomed to the court of Lord Tytos rather than himself would find Tywin tossing him out of Casterly Rock with a kick in the ass, but castillan Loren Payne was different. Son of the master-at-arms that taught Tywin how to fight and strategize, faithful bannermen beside him at every battle in the Reyne Rebellion, he earned the right to speak and act without restraint in Tywin's presence. Something the man found more precious than the prized keep of the defeated Tarbecks.

Plus… the pulsing headache that came with collecting the taxes off the houses of the Westerlands lessened in severity whenever he heard the song of his greatest achievement. "Shouldn't you be with your newborn son?"

Loren's smile widened. "I would, but Lenora wants some time with little Pod. She's still bedridden and yet refuses a wetnurse."

"Reminds me of Joanna with the twins." Tywin leaned back, allowing the fond memories to bring him just a smidgeon of joy. It heartened his friend greathly. "Tax revenue is up for the fifteenth year in a row. My bannermen know I am not my idiot father."

"That is good," Payne nodded. "No one wishes to be a Reyne. Castamere is still flooded ruins if I recall correctly."

Dipping his quill into ink, Tywin began scribbling the figures into his ledger. No scribes for the Lord of Casterly Rock - all was done himself. "I've been thinking, perhaps when Cersei finally ceases to be a disappointment and finds a match of her own, I could give Castamere to one of her second sons. Finally have someone loyal in that place."

"What's the use? The Reynes tapped out most of their mines decades ago, and the ones they did have weren't worth much."

"Those are just the ones we know about, Loren. I think the Westerlands have yet to surprise us." A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter." At the glimpse of the person that had just arrived, whatever joy and contentment he had found disappeared. Headache returning and scowl marring his face. "What is it this time, Tyrion? Moon tea stock depleted again?"

Face bearing the cocky visage of his five and ten years upon the earth, Tyrion Lannister never ceased to drive his father to distraction. "No, the whores of Lannisport are safe from my wandering eye for today at least." Sauntering in on his stunted legs, he pulled up a chair and hauled himself into it. "I just came back from seeing the adorable future Ser Podrick Payne. Tell me, Ser Loren, would your son be able to squire for me when the time comes?"

Loren Payne laughed merrily, reaching out to clasp Tyrion on the back. "I actually am honored… just try to keep him out of all but the most clean of brothels."

Winking at his father, Tyrion nodded. "That promise I may be able to keep."

Tywin groaned. Tyrion was the bane of his existence with the drinking and whoring even at his young age, but the dwarf never giving him the excuse to throw him out into the world. To both Tywin's consternation and odd pride, Tyrion was smart in his escapades. Avoiding scandal with highborn mistresses, always discreet, and not slacking on whatever duties Tywin dumped on his plate. "Can you make your business quick, my son. I am a busy man."

"Ah, but I can, father." Out of his doublet Tyrion produced a letter. "Raven from Harrenhal. In Cersei's handwriting. For once she's not complaining about me." The attempt at a jape cause Loren to smirk but Tywin's face only hardened. "Here, father." Confirms the rumors, not that father would have noticed. Tywin Lannister didn't converse with the little people for information.

Grabbing the dispatch from his youngest son, the Lord of Casterly Rock perused it line by line. Certain words and phrases more visible than others.

...betrothal of Prince Rhaegar…

...Lady Lyanna Stark…

...appointment to the small council…

...Lord Baratheon and Eddard Stark not on speaking terms...

His face grew pale. Even he didn't imagine that Aerys would be that desperate… under no circumstances did this not involve him, Tywin knew. The small possibility this was some sort of effort to revive ancient Targaryen tradition or as an effort of religious fervor existed, but Tywin didn't hold his breath. "My Lord… what is it?"

"The Crown Prince… he's betrothed to the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark."

Loren blinked. "He'd risk shitting over Dorne? That alliance was the only thing that kept us from rising against him."

"Looks like Aerys is trying to make his son into Aegon the Conqueror." Tyrion laughed. "Two brides, both stunners if I remember. Gods, I wish I was a Targaryen."

Ignoring his son, Tywin rose. "Notify the stewards. We're leaving for King's Landing on the morrow, but send a message to our bannermen to be ready to call the banners at any time."

Dread filled both men. "Are we to go to war, my Lord?" asked Loren.

"I do feel that I cannot be of help in that department," Tyrion bemused, unable to resist being a wiseass.

"At this point… I have no damn clue." And that scared Tywin the most.


"Rhaenys! Come here!" Biting her bottom lip, Elia fought to keep from trembling. Her beautiful little girl was playing in the inner courtyard of Maegor's Holdfast with her nursemaids, all of whom absolutely adored her. Part of her wished not to disturb her, but with the banners of her King and her husband close approaching - bringing with it the Direwolf sigils of Rhaegar's new bride - preserving Rhaenys' mental stability was more important than even her own sanity.

"If you let your worries continue to consume you, you'll start vomiting blood." Once Rhaenys and her chief nursemaid disappeared in the staircase leading up to the second floor, Elia turned to her lady in waiting. "What's the problem? Your husband is just bringing over your new sister-wife. Not a large issue." At times, Elia didn't know whether Ellaria was being serious or trying to jape her. The two blended seamlessly together.

In any case, she did not appreciate it. "I am in no mood right now."

Ellaria rolled her eyes. "That's the damn point. You know as well as I do that only fussy Septons and their ilk actually care about this."

"House Targaryen hasn't practiced this since Maegor, and it didn't go well for him or Aegon the Conqueror."

"Oh please. I find it hard to believe that Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys weren't enjoying the feast of cock and cunts in their beds every night. If it weren't for my House's lucky scorpion shot, they'd have outbred Jaehaerys and Alysanne."

"We aving feast, muna?" Elia's eyes were drawn down to her daughter, staring up with the same violet eyes as Rhaegar.

Leaning down, Elia hefted her up, Rhae still small enough for her to lift. "No feast this time, my sweet dragon. Auntie Ellaria and I were just talking about… something else." A sharp glare caused Ellaria to groan and wink. "Kepa is coming home today."

It was as if the Targaryen Princess lit up as brightly as the Martell sigil. "I miss kepa. He bwing present?" Rhaegar never forgot to bring Rhaenys a little treat or trinket whenever he had to leave Dragonstone or the Red Keep for royal business - as a father, there was no one better.

Sighing, Elia steeled herself. "Yes, he's bringing you a second muna." If they were all to survive, Elia would have to accept Lyanna Stark's presence in their lives.

Rhaenys blinked. "Two muna? But you muna."

Love for her precious child, blood of her blood, Elia hugged close to her. "I'll always be your muna, but kepa is bringing… you know the story I told you of your namesake."

"Mmm-hmm," Rhaenys nodded. "Egg and Rhae and Vis, dwagon con-ker-ors…" Young though she was, she was also smart. "Oh, so you and two muna be Rhae an' Vis?"

"Yes, my dear." Elia kissed Rhae's cheek, relieved. "She'll love you as much as I do." I pray this to not be a lie. "Now, go off and play again. I'll come find you later." Rhaenys kissed her on the cheek and rushed off. "Well, that was brutal."

Ellaria chuckled. "I think you did that rather well. Since you'll be the resurrection of the conquering trio, when can I expect the feasts to occur?"

Face reddening when she realized what Ellaria was talking about, Elia smacked her shoulder. "Shut it." Even if she did share Ellaria's… preferences - Elia couldn't be sure - that was likely never going to happen. "I hope I didn't just lie to my daughter."

"I've been telling you for a long time, there are only two ways this goes down. Catfight central or feast. The in betweens will just end up with Black Brides all over again."

Elia shuddered. The sniping and clandestine infighting between Maegor's last three wives was legend. "You underestimate by desire to protect my children and my husband. Be it even my own house," a very real possibility given Doran refusing to come north and Oberyn already on his way. "I am a Targaryen Princess and that's where my loyalties lay."

"My Ladies."

Familiar voice behind her, Elia spun around to find her husband. Dressed in his armor and hair tied back in a bun, a genuine smile was on his face - happy to see her. "Rhaegar." Without hesitation, she walked over and hugged him. Inhaling his spicy scent. Whatever problems they had, he was her rock. "When did you get back?"

"Just now," Rhaegar replied. Clearly relieved that Elia wasn't bitter about the situation. She looked stressed, but otherwise the same understanding wife he had grown to consider his partner. "My father didn't want anything ostentatious."

"Believe me," Rhaella said as she walked up beside her son. "It surprised me to."

The Dornish Princess leaned down to kiss the Queen's hand. "Goodmother, welcome back. You must be exhausted."

Rhaella chuckled. "As much as I would love to see my grandchildren, traveling has taken its toll on me."

"I'll go change out of my armor. Afterwards, we can make introductions." The Crown Prince ducked out, meaning obvious."

Escorting her goodmother to the Queen's chambers, Elia turned to her. "Where is…?"

"Lady Lyanna? The Starks are a day behind even though she travelled with us. I think she wanted to explore the castle." At Elia's worried expression, the Queen laughed. "Do not worry, dearest daughter. You'll find yourself pleasantly surprised with the she-wolf of Winterfell." The clinking of Ser Jaime and Ser Gerold's armored boots behind them filled the resulting silence.


Used to the barren simplicity of Winterfell, what some perfumed lords or Tourney knights of Dorne and the Reach may have called spartan, Lyanna found herself dazzled. Not just appreciative of the beauty of what had been the premier architectural style of Westeros at the time of Maegor I. Gods… The history of that these walls held. Jaehaerys and Alysanne walking hand and hand as their Kingdoms prospered. Viserys I, desperately trying to keep the peace between his daughter and his wife. Rhaenyra, praying desperately for her warrior husband to come back to her. My book… this is where everything played out. Lyanna wondered if some young Northern lady would imagine being in her own shoes centuries in the future.

The Prince's personal quarters looked comfortable, hearth stocked with logs ready for nightfall. Intricate mosaics of Dragonstone and what Lyanna thought was the court of Daeron II covered the walls, all leading to the outside gardens. There were more specific touches, which Lyanna recognized as Dornish. Elia… Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, the moment of truth fast approaching. Forced to face the woman that was to her beloved what she would soon be…

Pacing about the solar, twiddling her thumbs as she usually did when nervous, a slight bump against her leg knocked Lyanna from her thoughts. Feeling something slide under the skirts of her grey dress, she pushed aside the pleated fabric to find a small red ball. Smooth leather and fitting easily in the palm of her hand.

"That mine."

Eyes drifting to the entrance to the gardens, Lyanna saw the originator of the voice. A little girl in a crimson dress. Raven black curls falling in waves across her shoulders. Utterly adorable. Lyanna couldn't help but smile. "This?" She held up the ball.

The girl nodded vigorously. "I's playing. Wanna play with me?"

Laughing joyously, as Lyanna approach she saw them. Eyes a so perfect violet that they could be recognizable to her anywhere. They were Rhaegar's eyes, which could only mean this girl was… "I'd like to play with you, but I really should ask permission from a Prince or Princess? Princess Rhaenys perhaps."

"Pwincess Rhaenys me!" Rhaenys jumped up and down, giggling in an infectious excitement. "I's Rhaenys!"

Struggling not to fall into laughs at how adorable the Princess was, Lyanna curtseyed. "Your Grace, I bid welcome into your home."

As if remembering what her mother and grandmother would do when receiving someone, Rhaenys copied the movements to the best of her ability. Given she was barely halfway past two, she lost her footing and fell upon the ground. "Oww…" Her lip quivered.

Lyanna's heart broke at seeing such a precious child - Rhaegar's precious child - in such a state and swept forward. Heaving Princess Rhaenys in her arms, she hugged her close. "Don't cry, sweetling." Lyanna pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek. "Believe me, I've been in worse scrapes. For a spirited child… wear it with honor." She pressed her finger on Rhaenys' stomach, tickling the girl back into giggles. Gods, she was falling in love with the entire Targaryen family.

But what Rhaenys said next knocked her off kilter. "You my new muna?"

The daughter of Winterfell wasn't well versed in Valyrian - something she would have to change now that she was to be a Targaryen Princess - but 'muna' was one of the words she did know. Her mother? "What do you mean, sweetling?"

"My muna say new muna come fwam Nowth." New mother… Ah, that explained it. The Princess must have told her daughter about Lyanna so as not to be confused. "You fwam Nowth?"

She smiled softly. "Yes, sweetling. I am from the North." Lyanna pressed another kiss to her brow. "I'm Lyanna of House Stark, and yes, I think I could be your new muna."

A big, toothy smile, violet eyes sparkling in the same way as Rhaegar when he was excited. "You new muna?! Can we play to-gefhter?" Squirming in Lyanna's hands, the chuckling future Princess set Rhaenys down. "What play in Nowth?"

Remembering how she dealt with all the smallfolk children, Lyanna understood what the precocious Princess was getting at. "Well, sweetling, in the North we like to play in the snow."

Her eyes widened in sheer awe. "Snow? I never see snow. Snow in Nowth?"

"A lot of snow." Lyanna spread her arms wide. "As far as the eye can see… Perhaps in the future I could show you myself."

"I wanna see snow!" By now, the excitement was so overwhelming that Rhaenys was jumping up and down with the biggest smile. The most joyous of laughs fell from Lyanna's lips, the girl's innocent joy utterly infectious. "Take me snow. Fluffy fluffy!" However, Rhaenys turned as the sound of scuffing on the stone floor drew attention to the entrance. "Muna!" Headlong she dashed for a raven-haired woman in a burnt orange dress, burying her face in the silky skirts. "I meet two muna. She Lwyanna, wuv her!" Pointing her stubby finger at Lyanna, Rhaenys jumped some more in the new arrival's arms. "She take me see snow. Pwese see snow. Pwease pwease!"

As much as Lyanna was just gushing over how adorable Rhaegar's daughter was, the arrival of the newcomer took her entire attention. Burnt orange, raven hair, olive skin… the way Rhaenys interacted with her could only mean… Without missing a beat, eyes like an owl before averting her gaze, Lyanna curtseyed. "Your Grace. Forgive me for intruding with your daughter without permission." Her mind had been whirring on making the right first impression with her soon to be sister-wife, but meeting little Rhaenys first wasn't one she imagined.

"She gweat, muna?" Rhaenys asked her mother with a smile.

Eyeing over Lyanna Stark with a quizzical look, Elia Martell was forced to smile back to her precocious daughter. "Yes, she seems to be." Glancing back at Ellaria - barely hiding her humorous smirk at the whole situation - Elia knew she wouldn't be of any help. "Rhaenys, why doesn't Ser Jonothor help you find your father? Muna would like to speak with Lady Stark alone." A bit put off, the prospect of seeing Rhaegar again was enough of a distraction. But not before Rhaenys ran back to the still kneeling Lyanna and planted a big kiss on her cheek.

Once the little cyclone of a girl had left the solar, Lyanna rose, her head still down with respect. "Your Grace, I…"

"No need to seek forgiveness… it's quite alright." All of what Elia planned for how to greet the woman who would be marrying her husband, the rigid formality and gradual scrutinizing… all went out the window the moment she found Lyanna Stark laughing and playing with her beloved daughter. A small, genuine smile curled on her lips. "Welcome to the Royal Quarters, Lady Lyanna. I suppose you and I will be getting to know each other quite well."

The woman's piercing grey eyes sparkled - Lyanna Stark wasn't anything that Elia expected. Breath of fresh air could be the appropriate term? At least on first impression. "I suppose so, Princess." Her gaze flickered behind Elia. "Is there any reason why that woman behind you is staring at me?"

Oh Gods… Praying that her lady in waiting didn't embarrass her, Elia forced a tight smile to her face. "Lady Lyanna Stark, this is the Lady Ellaria Sand, daughter of Lord Harman Uller and my Lady in Waiting."

It took a moment for Lyanna to remember they were Dornish - bastards were close to normalized there, even if they weren't able to inherit. There wasn't anything strange with Elia taking one as a lady in waiting. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Ellaria."

A grin of some sort planted on her lips, Ellaria darted forward. Immediately taking Lyanna's hands in hers, eyes raking her up and down appreciatively. "Nice to meet you too, Lady Stark." The gaze lingered in rather… intimate places upon Lyanna's body. "My my, I never imagined you'd be so… beautiful."

"Um… much thanks, Lady Ellaria." Lyanna was growing a bit uncomfortable - behind, Elia pinched the bridge of her nose, praying this would end soon.

"So many silver-haired Valyrians and swarthy Dornish and Andals." Ellaria clicked her tongue. "Gets boring after a while."

What could one say to that? "For someone… predisposed to appreciating beauty." Lyanna was choosing her words carefully. "I cannot imagine those more perfect than Queen Rhaella or Princess Elia." The aforementioned Princess noticed the compliment - Lyanna meant it, for Elia was a rather stunning woman. Rhaegar was a lucky man even when she sought to be modest about her own attributes.

Ellaria laughed merrily, quite throaty and seductive. "Don't get me wrong, they have their looks, but the wild, natural beauty of the First Men is… refreshing."

Elia had enough. "Ellaria, please give the Lady Lyanna and I some privacy to speak."

Dropping Lyanna's hands, she turned back to Elia. "Alright. While I would love to get to know the future Queen more… intimately, I can't refuse a direct order, and there should be an influx of fresh northmen and women I can introduce myself to." Ellaria cast one last twinkling gaze to Lyanna. "Until next time, Princess." With that, she sauntered out, curvy figure swaying underneath her dark red dress.

Groaning, if Elia's plans had been scrambled by her daughter, they were doused in dragonfire by Ellaria. "Forgive me for that."

"Did she have a problem with me?" Lyanna asked, not knowing what to make of that.

"Ellaria still has a problem with court decorum clothes a necessity." Left to her own devices, she'd be naked and frolicking about a garden with other like-minded individuals. "She's like that with everyone, and believe me, she's actually a good lady in waiting."

Lyanna actually grinned a bit. "I know what you mean. Dacey Mormont is just as eccentric."

A perfectly styled brow rose. "Mormont of Bear Island? The ones that train their women to fight?"

"Just like the Martells of Sunspear." Lyanna shrugged. "Hard to be a woman of strength in certain circles."

That was something Elia could agree too. "Yes, it is. Though Prince Rhaegar is quite appreciative of a strong woman, most Targaryens are." From how her counterpart beamed, there was clearly more to that story. For another time… "Where are my manners, let's sit." Watching the direwolf of Winterfell move to one of the couches, Elia allowed herself the observations Ellaria had denied her. Her lady in waiting wasn't wrong, Lyanna Stark was absolutely beautiful. Chestnut hair reaching to the middle of her back, a smile that could light up the room, few men wouldn't find themselves smitten. But from the way she held herself, there was a power behind the beauty. Muscles toned and body hard and slender from activity and riding. Eyes piercing with intelligence. Inadvertently, Aerys had picked well for his son. Seated across from each other, Elia began. "Introductions to the Princess Rhaenys are unnecessary then."

A genial laugh. "One moment I was admiring the Dornish touch to the royal quarters, and the next she was there, asking to play with her."

"My daughter is quite the handful, isn't she?" It was a running debate whether she took more after her Dornish blood or Rhaegar's dragon blood - Rhaenys certainly didn't act like either of them specifically.

"Oh not at all." Lyanna spoke as if she was praising her own family - surprising to her, Elia didn't feel jealous. Only… relieved maybe? "She is an absolute treasure, as easy to love as her father."

And the tension - or at the very least the awkwardness - returned with a vengeance. Much as the two women tried to find common ground, the fact that they were to marry the same man would hang on them like a massive weight until they found a way to live with it. "You love Rhaegar, don't you?" That was quick… but she is right. He is easy to love.

Lyanna nodded. "What can I say… he swept me off my feet. Saving me from a betrothal to a man I despise."

"Lord Robert Baratheon? Aye, he is not one for a woman who isn't an adoring decoration and womb."

"Gods, you knew too? Why is it that the only person who didn't is my northern fool of a brother?" She loved Ned, but he still irritated her for not catching it - a shrug. "Eh, if he wasn't like that then he wouldn't be the brother I love. None of them would be."

"My brothers drive me mad sometimes as well. Oberyn in different ways than Doran." They had that in common, the only girls in a castle of men. "You seem like a good person, Lyanna. Not like the social climbers and greedy cunts that only see Rhaegar's title."

The daughter of Winterfell cast a grateful look. "Anyone who could raise that angel can't be that, either." It appeared that Rhaenys had unknowingly broke the ice between the two Princesses. "She told me something about a second mother?"

"What else could I really tell her?" Elia played nervously with her fingers. "To be honest, I was hoping that my statements would be proven true. That you wouldn't make Rhaenys feel hated as Alicent Hightower did to Queen Rhaenyra." The Dornish Princess didn't expect the other to understand the reference.

Turns out, she had underestimated the northern beauty - it was practically the best reference she could make. "The peaceful realm that Viserys Targaryen built was destroyed because his new wife couldn't come to terms with what his previous wife left." Elia cocked her brow, curious as to how Lyanna knew that particular story. Behind the willowy figure and sultry Dornish coloring and accent, there existed a sharp mind. Lyanna appreciated it greatly. "I know our situation is ideal, but Rhaegar isn't like most men."

Even given what they had been through, Elia thought the most highly of her husband. "No he isn't… they call him the Last Dragon in the capitol, and they are right. Something about him… he is a kind not seen in Westeros for centuries."

"You sense it too?" Lyanna felt a kinship with her soon to be sister-wife. "I want us to have a good relationship… for his sake and for the future of our adopted house. So perhaps we should take this gradually. Not force ourselves but without airs either?"

Elia nodded. "They say Northerners are simple people, but you… you will make a good Queen." The two women wore matching smiles.

Riotous giggles heralded the return of Princess Rhaenys… only this time she brought companions. "Kepa! Kepa! Muna Lwyanna here!" Lyanna watched as her beloved entered the solar, Rhaenys tugging on his left hand while in his right he cradled the most adorable little babe. Her heart clenched, both for the youngest member of the Targaryen family and imagining Rhaegar carrying her babe in such a manner. "She meet muna."

A flash of concern on the Crown Prince's face, eyes flickering back and forth between his wife and his betrothed relaxed him. Both were smiling, both seemed relaxed and not at each other's throats. Crisis averted. "I can see that, little dragon."

Both women rose, Elia glancing at him sweetly while Lyanna wore a look of absolute adoration. "Husband," the former greeted.

"Wife." Rhaegar leaned down to kiss her. Even with Lyanna in his life, he found that it just wasn't right without his Dornish Princess there too. The only two right decisions my father ever made. He turned to his northern direwolf. "Lyanna."

Lyanna stepped forward and crashed their lips together. Short, but filled with passion all the same. "Your Grace," she remarked saucily, biting her lip as she looked over him lasciviously. A hint for later. "Is this Prince Aegon?"

Nodding, Rhaegar took a chance and handed his son to his betrothed. "Aye, my youngest."

Accepting the babe gladly, Lyanna rocked him gently in her arms. Stroking his cheek. "Gods, what is it with you Targaryens?" While sharing the same Dornish features as his sister, Prince Aegon had far more Targaryen in him. The same silver thatch of hair and violet eyes that made Lyanna's heart throb with love. "In one week I've fallen for your entire family."

Reaching her husband's side, Elia leaned up to kiss his neck. "You could have done much worse, husband. I like her." A tension that Rhaegar hadn't known was there was suddenly released.

Suddenly, the babe began to cry, squirming in Lyanna's arms. "Oh no, sweetling, don't cry." Cooing at him, she gently bounced Aegon up and down. It didn't help.

"I think he's just hungry, Lyanna," Elia butted in, taking her still fussing son. "Let's get you some milk, alright, little dragon?" Casting them both an apologetic look for having to leave, Elia went to her chamber to feed Aegon in private.

Before Lyanna could run into Rhaegar's arms, the little bundle of energy had leapt into hers. "Lwyanna. Play dwagon wif me and kepa?!"

Feeling Rhaegar embrace the both of them, Lyanna sighed happily. How has my life gotten so lucky? "Yes, sweetling, kepa and I can play dragon with you?" After the whirlwind all of them had endured, something mindless and fun sounded just like what the maester ordered.


"No!" Shuffling along the glimmering marble floors of the great colonnade leading to the throne room, Aerys glared at his Hand with blazing violet eyes. "Under no circumstances will that conniving traitor grace himself anywhere near me!"

When dealing with his Grace, one either burned out quickly - sometimes literally - or learned just as quickly how to avoid triggering his temper. Aerys II Targaryen would always blow up, but there were different gradients. For Jon Connington, the art was in just getting a tongue lashing. "This is the wedding between your son and the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. As Warden of the West he would…"

Aerys slammed his fist against one of the stone columns. "And bring the Doom upon us?!" Robes wrinkled, hair matted, he looked nothing like the same debonair, regal King that had so graced the tourney grounds only days earlier. Something was on his mind, pushing him into a rather bad time of it. Perhaps the Weirwood Knight? A bloody helm and shield… seemed to calm him down but who really knew? "First he tried to bait me with his whore of a cousin, and now he plots the Doom! I will not have him here!"

"Your Grace," he continued as they reached the open doors to the throne room. "It would be more dangerous to your safety if you do not let him attend the wedding."

While Connington braced for another barrage of words, instead he only got a raised eyebrow. "Go on."

"The wedding would worry Lord Tywin, forcing the Westerlands to face hostile forces all around . If he wishes to strike preemptively by launching the Doom of Valyria upon King's Landing… he can't very well do so while he and his family are present in the capitol."

"I have his brat here," Aerys countered, though half-heartedly.

Connington crossed his arms. "Do you think he cares? That he wouldn't sacrifice his son in a heartbeat?"

The King pursed his lips. "I'd do the same, so I can see it." While his words worried Connington on a fundamental level, for the moment he was calm. "Get him here, but if I see him before the wedding I'll have you killed. Understood."

A deep and low bow. "I am at your service, your Grace."

"Good." A peek inside found exactly what he was looking for, interest and awe filling his expression. "Get out."

"Your Grace…"

"I said get out. Need I remind you again?" Luckily for him, Connington simply bowed again and retreated, leaving the King to shut the door and briskly walk towards the Iron Throne. His throne, the throne of his ancestors that now only he could enjoy. Not Tywin, not my brother. Me! Resting in front of it on the base of the stairs to the throne, the thin, perfumed form Lord Varys waiting on the side. "This is it?"

Reaching out to pat the two ironwood chests - lacquered black in intricate symbols of Old Valyria - the Master of Whisperers nodded. "While I know you would have wanted to be here the moment they landed in the harbor, but with the tourney…"

Aerys waved him off. "Yes, yes I know." Fingers ran along the wood, a warm tingle shooting into his fingers. "Where did your agents find them?"

"Two in the volcanic caves of Dragonstone, the freshest. The others we found in Essos, various Free Cities."

"Did you have to kill anyone to get them?" His eyes were gleaming.

Varys nodded. "There was one merchant in Pentos. Kept his manse guarded - they tried to be discreet but… sometimes only brute force can secure the King's will." He looked at the ground, feet shuffling. "There were no witnesses to our efforts. The merchant tried to hide them but my men… persuaded him to give us the location."

Expression almost sparkling at the information, Aerys stared upon the chests with awe. "You did well, Lord Varys. Now, leave me with my treasures." He didn't need to tell Varys twice, the eunuch making his exit without undue fuss. Fingers drifting to the latches keeping the chest shut, Aerys undid them and raised the lid to the first, jaw falling open slightly at the magnificence within.

Four dragon eggs, nestled gingerly in sand to protect them from the accidental harm of a jostling crate. Black with red swirls, green, white with grey swirls, blue with gold specks, each just as beautiful as the last. They were ossified into stone, scales smooth to the touch of the Targaryen King's fingers, but Aerys could feel it. Feel the tingle coursing through him. Almost feel the immense power contained within these eggs. Rushing to the second chest, opening it found four others. Blood red, a gleaming silver with blue swirls, burnt orange with red patches, and a radiant purple. The first and last of the second chest younger and warmer than the others. Eight beautiful dragon eggs, returned home to their rightful owner.

House Targaryen deserves these eggs. His father was weak, trying to hatch them with Dunk but failing spectacularly. But not Aerys, he would bring the dragons back, let the power of them course through his veins and finally end all the schemers and traitors…

'Aerry… Aerry…'

He froze, nearly falling to his knees in shock. That voice… it can't be… Only one person ever called him 'Aerry.' A supposed name of affection, but one that haunted his life for decades.

'My sweet goodbrother, Aerry… such marvelous eggs you have…'

Wrapping his arms tight about the chests, Aerys' eyes flickered around the dark throne room. "You will not have them, Jenny! They are mine! Mine, not some common whore's!"

A fluttering laugh, joyous and carefree, filled the massive chamber. Wisps of gossamer darting about through the darkness. Almost illuminating it before the specters vanished, Aerys' heart beating out of his chest. 'A King, a King, fire answer the call. Dragons awoken, enemies will fall.'

"Yes!" Eyes almost glowing from pure mania, the King grabbed the blood red egg, cradling it to his breast in spite of the heat of the scales nearly causing his skin to singe. "I am that King! I am to do what my useless father and your idiot husband failed to do! I AM THE KING!"

Suddenly the specter appeared right in front of him. Light hair billowing behind her angelic face - one that inspired a Prince to abandon his throne and nobility and smallfolk alive to fall in love with this simple woman… but to Aerys, the face was that of a demon. Sweat clinging to his skin and limbs trembling from fear. 'The tree of high heart, champion still ride.'

Warm piss ran down Aerys' leg to puddle on the floor, words stabbing him right in the chest. "No! You're lying you deceitful bitch!" The mystery knight was dead - his son brought the bloody helm and shield.

'A son she bears, your reign aside.' Leaning down to press a kiss to her goodbrother's forehead, Aerys watched as the spirit of the Lady Jenny faded through him, disappearing into the dark visage of the Iron Throne. Not a sound could be heard but the King's sobs, rocking on the floor with the egg in his arms.

A/N: That... was far better than expected. Kudos to Rhaenys for being such a cutiepie :D

Tywin and Tyrion make their first appearance. And is that Podrick's dad?

Elia... she's trying to do the best thing for her family... and deep down she loves Rhaegar desperately. Let's hope it builds on the good meeting... and Ellaria is being Ellaria XD

Eight Dragon Eggs! Did anyone really expect that?

If I can get 40 reviews. I'll update Wednesday!

Next up, Ned and Ser Arthur put on a show for the Red Keep :D