A/N: Lots of stuff to get into this chapter :D

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 18: Working Women

Eyes raking the image in the looking glass, Cersei shook her head. "No, I can't have this."

"Calm down, my lady," Melara Hetherspoon cautioned, placing a comforting hand on the blonde's arm. "You need not calm down, it's only your father."

Shaking off the hand, Cersei felt flustered. Sensing the errant strands out of place of her crown of braids, the tiny crease in her lime-green gown, the dark circles in her eyes… "That's right, it's my father! If I'm not the perfect Light of the West… I know he blames me for not seducing the Crown Prince, and now a Stark of all women..." With Jaime in the Kingsguard and Tyrion… being Tyrion, she was his last hope for securing the legacy Tywin Lannister built.

"Come now, my lady. I wouldn't speak ill of the same family whom the man you fancy is from."

Cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. "I told you that in confidence."

"Do you see anyone around?" The daughter of the Castillian of the Rock was pretty much the only person Cersei trusted aside from Jaime… more so than Jaime on many occasions. She knew plenty of things no one else did - including about Ned. "He's quite a catch. Clever, gentle, handsome… and defeating Arthur Dayne?" She whistled.

"A second son, Melara." Cersei closed her eyes, trying to not imagine the kiss...

"Being the goodbrother to Prince Rhaegar can't hurt."

"Father won't see it that way."

Her childhood friend rolled her eyes. "I think you aren't seeing it the right way, Cersei. You were raised to be Queen, but the Crown Prince doesn't want you. Expand your horizons."

Before she could snap back, there was a knock at the door. "My Lady, riders bearing your father's sigil are close." Trying but failing not to panic, Cersei smoothed back the loose strands of hair and raced out of her chambers.

Nestled in the shadow of the Red Keep and Dragonpit, the manse was personally selected by Jon Connington for House Lannister… as such, it was large and comfortable but in the Dornish style. Sandstone walls, fountains, palm trees… Anything to irritate the Lion of Casterly Rock, further proving Rhaegar's words.

Perhaps he was right about the two of us...

At the center of the assembled household, Cersei immediately curtsied as the line of horses came into view. Behind the fluttering lion banners was Tywin Lannister. Joined by several Westerlands lords, her jovial uncle Gerion, and… Tyrion. At the gruff nod of acknowledgment before their father dismounted his Crakehall-bred stallion, her eyes met the same sparkling green of their mother, Tyrion smiling and nodding at her. Of course you're here.

Cersei curtsied again. "Father…"

The Lord of Casterly Rock's frown was as hard as his polished Westerlands plate was dazzling. "Shut it." Tywin's tone left no room for arguing. "You and your brother, the solar. Now."

"But Father…"

"Now." It was clear he was one bit of defiance away from bellowing - Cersei knew enough not to argue. Merely curtsying once more, she fell in alongside Tyrion to follow him into the guest manse.

"I'll be off to the tavern, brother," announced Gerion, always in the mood for laughter and drink. He was clearly where her disgusting brother got it from, but with the golden handsomeness to back it up. Not speaking, he shot his niece an apologetic look. Sorry… and good luck.

As soon as the door to the lavish solar was closed did he let it out. "You had one job, daughter."

"Father, I spoke to the Crown Prince…"

"Oh, you spoke to the Crown Prince?" He chuckled. "Does that mean that the ravens were wrong? That you are marrying the Prince instead of Rickard Stark's brat?" Almost ready to throw something, Tywin's lips pursed tight. Calming himself. "Are they in love?"

That was an easy question to answer. "You weren't there at the tourney. One couldn't pry them apart with two elephants."

He groaned. "Of course they are." He ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Well, looks like our chance for you to be Queen has changed into me salvaging this family from disaster." Tyrion silent and trying to melt into the furniture, all Tywin's attention was on Cersei. "Is there anyone that did take this… development with Lyanna Stark badly?"

"I think Robert Barathon was quite insulted. He was Lyanna's betrothed before the King made his announcement."

"Hmmmm, that's a start." Tywin sighed. "Do nothing, say nothing. As of this point, we have no alliances." He muttered profanities. "Gods, if you had done what you were supposed to and had Jaime not joined the damn Kingsguard…" The grey lion continued mumbling as he made his exit. "...to be close to your bed... none of this would be happening."

The two siblings were the only ones left. "Well?" Cersei spat, not wanting to even look at the… thing that killed their mother. "Thinking you can make me look even prettier by reminding men of what ugly looks like."

Pressing his hand against his heart, Tyrion fake pitched back. "Thou hast wounded me." The Imp chuckled, making his way to a decanter of summerwine. "It's good to see you too, sister. If only Jaime hadn't donned the white so he could be here too… though I figure it's better than him donning the black."

Cersei shuddered at the thought. "Gods, must you be an insufferable little shit?" Just as her brother began filling his cup, she snatched the decanter from him, tapping off her own goblet.

He shrugged. "That's my skill. I'm witty, I drink, and I know things." Tapping his forehead, he finally was able to pour himself the alcohol. "Father is right, you know. About why Jaime joined the Kingsguard."

A scoff. "You know nothing, Tyrion."

"Ah, but I do…" Tyrion winced, look of sympathy not one Cersei wished to have from him. "I hadn't said anything before about… it. But you must know that I'm sorry about the…"

"Don't say it." Cersei shut her eyes tight, gripping the goblet so tightly that it almost snapped the crystal. "Just… don't."

Seemingly wishing to discard the advice, Tyrion thought better. "Alright…" They were silent for a moment, sipping their wine. "The capitol seems to agree with you."

She laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Seems everywhere I go, they make it obvious that I'm not in favor of the King."

"That's more father's issue. I guess now you can believe me and Jaime, instead of pining over the Prince."

Tyrion always had the ability to stab right to the heart of the matter. "Well, you don't have to worry. I've long accepted it."

That drew a raised eyebrow. "I'm honestly shocked. No commissioning some blood maege to curse both the Starks and the Martells?" Cersei groaned, but unable to counter - that did sound like something she would have done. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you found someone else to fancy…" He suddenly quieted.

"Don't… don't be ridiculous." Ever Cersei didn't believe she sounded convincing.

Almost choking on the wine, Tyrion stared at her with wide eyes. "Wait, you do fancy someone?! Oh… this is just perfect." He was grinning ear to ear, making Cersei want to punch him. "What lucky man has the Light of the West pining after him…"

The conversation was cut off when Cersei splashed him with her wine. "If you want to see Jaime, you'll need to get dressed." With that, she walked out.

Watching his sister leave, Tyrion shook his head. "Good luck, you poor, dumb bastard. Whomever you are." He raised the goblet sardonically. "You have your work cut out for you."


Ser Barristan Selmy had lived a long and interesting life as a knight of the Realm. Unhorsed Duncan the Tall in the King's Tourney. Slaying Maelys Blackfyre in single combat. Serving as a Kingsguard for decades. All such violence... and yet it was this that truly made him squeamish. "Shall I try and find the Lady Dacey, my Lady?"

"No need to bother her, Ser Barristan," Lyanna called out from the closet. "I have the two of you to help me."

While the giggling Princess Rhaenys was over the moon, Barristan fought a groan. Eying the many dresses, scarfs, and cloaks that were laid out on the bed as if they were rotten corpses. They call me Barristan the Bold, and here I am having to judge dresses. If it wasn't for it being the beloved Lady Lyanna, the knight would have considered just walking out.

Lyanna breezed out, lavender purple riding gown form-fitting above her waist but with a loose, puffy bodice. "Well?"

"You pretty, muna!" Rhaenys chirped. "Dwess match kepa eyes! Isn't that wight, Bally?" She held up a dark grey tabby cat aptly named Balerion, cuddling it close. Lyanna watched with affection. She and Rhaenys were inseparable since Lyanna's arrival.

"Oh, my little sweetling." Lyanna lifted the Princess and blew raspberries on her stomach, causing her to laugh. Such happiness was treasure in the court of Aerys II Targaryen. "And you, Ser Barristan?"

Barristan's smile fell. "Um… You do look… my Lady…" At that moment - timed so perfectly as if he could hug her - Princess Elia Martell walked into the room. Behind her was Ser Jonothor Derry, not one of his most beloved people. "Your Grace."

She nodded at him, but her attention was fixed on Lyanna. "Sister, where is Aegon?"

Setting Rhaenys down, Lyanna gestured towards the nursery. "Changed his swaddling clothes and put him down for his nap." Since she had arrived and… bonded so well with the Princess and infant Prince, Lyanna had split childcare duties with Elia, both of them dedicated to a rather… hands on policy towards raising babes. It had actually been the Dornish Princess' idea, one that was causing both ladies to bond as well.

Relief was seen on Elia's face - a genuine gratitude. "Gods, thank you." Her worst fears about the northerner were thankfully absent. Lyanna rapidly becoming her closest friend, the sister she never had… one who was about to make a massive fashion mistake... "That dress doesn't work." The Dornish Princess clicked her tongue in disagreement.

"Muna pwetty, muna." While it could tongue-tie most, Rhaenys understood her toddler speak.

Elia ruffled her hair. "Of course she is, my darling." Rhaenys wasn't lying - Lyanna was striking. A perfect balance of wild beauty and elegance. Had Elia been like Ellaria… The Princess turned her back and raced to the bed, hoping to hide her blush. "Dearest sister-wife, that dress is perfect but not without Rhaegar beside you, complimenting his Valyrian eyes."

Sighing, Lyanna placed a hand on her hip. "Well, what should I wear?"

Rifling through the gathered garments, something caught Elia's eye. "Here!" Grey fabric, styled with white trim and ice-blue stripes. "Same color as that of the winter roses of your crown… and of the North."

"Oooooh." Rhaenys jumped up and down, yanking Lyanna by her skirts towards her mother. "Muna, wear pwetty dress."

"Seems the Dornish approve," the she-wolf smirked. "Ser Barristan?"

Damn… He thought he was out of it. "Um… I defer to Princess Elia's expertise."

Lyanna snorted. "Quick save." Eyeing the well stitched fabric once more, she nodded. "I like it… wait, his Grace?" Her expression had changed from joyful to worried… scared even. Practically trembling of another run in with King Aerys.

The Dornish Princess wanted to shove a dagger into the King's back for cowing the fierce Lyanna Stark. Words planned with Rhaegar the moment he returned. "He's locked in his own chambers, mulling over… something or other."

"Good…" The smile returned. "Mind helping me out, sister?"

Elia furrowed her brows. "Isn't Lady Mormont here?"

"Usually she would help me, but she's been spending plenty of time these days in Ellaria's chambers and chattering over gods' knows what." Lyanna shrugged, not knowing what to think.

The Dornish Princess had some thoughts about what Ellaria could be doing... Eyes flickering to Lyanna holding the dress, and then to the silk screen that separated the changing area from the rest of the northerner's chambers, that caused the same thoughts of what she could be doing... Stop it, you're not Oberyn.

Luckily, as she had saved Barristan, Rhaenys saved her. "I's 'elp, muna."

"Well how can I say no to that offer?" With Rhaenys beaming - something that melted both their hearts, smile exactly like her father's - they ducked behind the screen. "Sister, do you know why I'm getting dressed in riding clothes?"

"Um… to go riding, I believe?" Sometimes it was unavoidable to pick up Ellaria's snark.

"Very funny." Lyanna rolled her eyes. "When Rhaegar gets back from Dragonstone…" Gods, I miss him. Even a day without his embrace was too much to bear. "I'm having my first Small Council meeting. I've been preparing with you and Lord Arryn every day for it."

Elia shrugged. "You shouldn't have to worry," she said in her alluring Dornish accent. "Mostly just the councillors squabbling over this and that, plus Mace Tyrell talks about how his sons or daughter would make wonderful spouses to the Targaryens… all very mundane."

"Mundane is how things are done in Westeros, sister." As Rhaenys helped her step out of the dress she was in, Lyanna felt no compunction speaking in front of the Kingsguards. She trusted Ser Barristan with her life, the old knight rapidly becoming a friend. Gods, she often teased Rhaegar with the secrets he told her. "And I've realized one reason why we aren't respected, being women."

"The fact that most of the councilors are either lovers of men or old fools married to demure shrews might have something to do with it."

Lyanna laughed. "Yes, but also that we merely give advice. None of us do anything, supervise something. Take on a project." She kissed Rhaenys on the forehead when the little girl assisted in tying the laces. "Queen Visenya ran the capitol. Alysanne went on royal progresses. My own mother personally handled winter preperations. That's what we need to do, and why I'm going into the city." Gently puffing up her hair, the outfit was completed. I look good. "And why you're coming with me."

It took a moment to register. "What?"

"You heard me, Elia." Breezing out, Lyanna did look like a northern princess. Utterly stunning - Elia understood quite well how Rhaegar would fall for this beauty, a little too well. "Trust me, it will work. My father has already arranged for us to meet with the City Watch, the main merchant guilds, and at the Sept of Baelor… plus why shouldn't the smallfolk meet their future Queens?"

While normally highborns and smallfolk could mingle in the Water Gardens, Elia's frail condition had precluded such. Learned and smart, such kept her largely secluded and nonworldly. Naturally, she was a bit nervous. "I… what if…" Lyanna's hypnotic grey eyes were very convincing. "Ser Barristan, your thoughts?"

Clearing his throat at his name, Barristand the Bold nodded. "Aye, I do think that is a good idea. Your counsel is valued by his Grace, and anything you can do to ease the burden upon him would be most appreciated… but a word of advice." He was sworn not to tell, even the Prince's loves, but it gave him insight. "Talk to the smallfolk, hear their concerns."

Lyanna beamed. "Of course." She turned to Elia. "You in?"

What else could she say. "Count on it." Lyanna's smile grew wider and she kissed her sister-wife on the cheek. The lips tingled as they left Elia's skin.


With a loud scrape, the whetstone almost sparked as it traveled across the edge of the castle-forged steel. Sharpening the blade to a proper level for combat… a proper knight takes care of his weapons, and they take care of him. Seated upon the bench at the edge of the gardens, Arthur Dayne reflected on the words from Prince Lewyn when the Sword of the Morning was but a squire - rhythmically sharpening his sword, such words had served him well over the years.

It was a lovely winter's day, spring almost on the horizon by the vagaries in the winds. Arthur enjoyed the moment to himself. Serene and quiet, even with his friend and charge on Dragonstone he appreciated the boredom. For a combat veteran, boredom was something to be greatly appreciated…

"Well, hello there Ser Arthur," came a sultry voice to his left. Calling for his attention.

Absentmindedly looking over his shoulder… Arthur quickly turned around. Blood rushing from his head to his groin. A kingsguard took his vows seriously… but no vows or training could prepare him for what he saw.

There was Dacey Mormont. Arthur had seen her constantly since the Tourney, admiring her wild beauty from afar with the appreciation only a chivalrous man could give an attractive woman. Now though, Dacey's slender form was sheathed in a skin-tight silk dress. Forest green and of a Dornish cut. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, something that made him shudder with desire.

This must be the goddess of love and beauty…

Trying to hide her trembling form, Dacey bit her lip. Confident lady of Bear Island suddenly subsumed with the lovestruck maiden that Arthur seemed to draw out of her. She fought to keep her cool "Mind if I sit here?" she asked.

All arthur could do is stare at the goddess slacked jawed, unable to speak.

Such a reaction boosted Dacey's confidence. "May I sit here?" she asked a bit louder.

Still speechless, all Arthur could do was motion for the lady of the North to sit with him. Hand absentmindedly brushing against his shoulder, he could feel a tingle spread.

Dacey felt a spark from her hand when it touched his shoulder. She looked around, trying to find anything to break the silence. Her eyes settled on the sword. "So... is that the famous Dawn?"

He was shaken out of his fog - a question the knight could actually answer. "No, castle-forged. House Dayne is not House Lannister, my Lady. We can't afford two special swords." Arthur chuckled, trying to compose himself. "Dawn is actually in my chambers." She pouted at that, which he found to be the most attractive thing. Gods, who is this temptress?

"Sorry to hear that." She sighed, stretching... pushing out her bust. Dacey found it all pretty obvious, but immediately could tell a life as a chaste knight had left Arthur was clueless with women. It worked like a charm, boosting her confidence. "I wished I could have seen you sparring that other day."

Arthur managed a smile. "Well, you can watch me practice and spar anytime you desire, Lady Dacey."

The way he said her name so… reverently, it nearly made Dacey swoon. "I would very much like that, Ser Arthur." Smiling, she stood. "I best bid farewell for now. The Lady Lyanna has a large household to manage. Till later." Emboldened, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. Walking away.

Hand reaching up to touch his cheek, Arthur released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Gods… what a woman.

Turning a corner through the gardens, and then another corner, and then another and another, Dacey suddenly collapsed against an imported Dornish palm. Eyes closed and a hand to her chest, calming her racing heart. Oh gods… I kissed Ser Arthur... Lips still tingling, she could feel her smallclothes drenched from just being near the breathtaking Dornish Knight.

"Well, well." Dacey looked up to see Ellaria standing there, smirk on her face. "Aside from this pathetic display, I could have sworn you were some kind of seductress. Imagine what would have happened had you played a random guardsman…"

"Shut it." Dacey smacked the Dornishwoman's hip. Pulling her hair out of the ponytail. "I can't believe I didn't lose it out there."

Chuckling, Ellaria took a seat beside her. Leaning back against the palm. "Don't feel bad about it… truthfully, it's clear that you're besotted with Ser Arthur." She sighed. "Love is beauty, to be treasured at all costs."

Dacey smirked at her new friend. "This is someone that took two washerwomen to bed just yesterday."

"I said I treasure love, not fuddy-duddy social constraints imposed by some old man in a septon's robes… or by some arbitrary oath of knighthood." Wrapping an arm around Dacey's shoulder, Ellaria pulled her into a friendly hug. "We've got his attention, and confirmed him besotted. Now…" She pulled back with a wicked grin. "Now it's time to make you so irresistible he won't be able to resist, vows or not."

Just the prospect of having the handsome Sword of the Morning in her bed, never to let her go, drove Dacey to utter lust and longing. "What do I have to do?" Grinning, Ellaria pulled her up and led her back into Maegor's Holdfast.


The Grand avenue of King's Landing was flooded with people. Men, women, and children alike raced to the fringes of the cobblestone streets, the balconies of homes and shops overlooking it. "Looks like news of the tourney spread quickly… and far." Lyanna waved at the crowd, many of the subjects of House Targaryen heaping upon them praise and adoration. Flowers fell upon the street to be crushed underfoot by their horses - Winter preened at the attention - or the guards of both House Stark and House Targaryen.

"They love you, Lyanna," said Elia. Initially reserved as she journeyed out of the Red Keep for once, the complete friendliness of the crowd were drawing her out of her shell. "A love story born during a mighty tourney."

Headed for the Great Sept of Baelor, the reluctance of the septons and Most Devout to support the polygamorous union didn't seem to extend to the populace. "Seven bless the Princesses!" a rather loud man shouted.

"Grace to the Mother and Maiden for you!"

"Gods save the Princess Elia!"

A smirk cast upon Lyanna's lips as she looked to her side at the now blushing Princess. "Seems they love both of us."

Elia felt a bit modest, and surprised. "I had no idea… my father and brother always kept me secluded for fear of my health."

"Your health will improve with a more active lifestyle, Elia, I promise. And I told you every ruler should keep connection with their subjects." Elia smiled back - given the circumstances, the gods were certainly kind upon the two Princesses. Married to the same man, but on the way to being the best of friends.

Out of the crowd raced a small child, no older than three or four by the looks of him. The child's approach was so sudden, Winter suddenly stopped. Snorting and shaking her neck, shoed feet stomping on the cobblestones. "Whoa, whoa…" Lyanna pulled back on the reins, guiding the normally gentle mare to a gradual halt.

"Your Grace, your Grace!" the boy jumped up and down. He had thin, brown hair in wild cowlicks that made him look absolutely precious.

"Dale! I told you not to run off." The boy's father scooped the child in his arms, tall with closely matted dark hair.

"I have a gift for the Princesses!" the boy… Dale piped just as the guards approached. Weapons drawn.

Ser Jonothor was in front, frown on his face while Barristan held back. "State your business, peasant." He began to draw his own blade, the man's turquoise eyes widening as he clutched the boy tightly.

"Put it away, Ser Jonothor." Scowling, he complied. Boots plopping atop the cobblestones, Lyanna walked towards the man and child. Stark colors and simple style framing her wild beauty as a halo, Lyanna Stark held the same aura as any Targaryen. "Greetings," she said to the man with a genuine smile. "I am Lyanna of House Stark."

Initially dumbfounded, the man set his child down and fell to his knees. "Your Grace… Davos Seaworth… of Flea Bottom at your service."

Having dismounted as well, Elia shared a look with her future sister-wife. Both finding his polite fealty quite charming. "You may rise, Davos Seaworth," Elia said in her exotic accent. "And who might this adorable child be?" The boy perked up as attention finally drew his way.

Back on his feet, a relieved smile formed on Davos' face. "This little scamp." He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Is my eldest son, Dale. My wife has another at home, and we're expecting a third." From his adoring tone, it was clear he loved his family.

Smiling, Lyanna crouched on her one knee, coming face to face with Dale. "Well greetings, Dale. Where do you live?"

"Flea Bottom, your Grace," he said shyly, in awe of Lyanna's beauty. "Are you really from the North?"

Oh, this boy is precious. Beaming, Lyanna pointed to the direwolf pin on her dress. "See this? This direwolf is the sigil of House Stark. My blood used to be Kings in the North, but now we serve House Targaryen." Dale looked in complete awe. "And you said you had a gift for Princess Elia and myself?"

He nodded vigorously. Out of a threadbare pouch he pulled out a winter rose. Blue petals glistening in the sun. "Flower from the north for the Princess."

Lyanna took the Rose in hand, shocked at how perfect it was. "Thank you," she said, kissing his cheek and gently placing the flower in her hair. It matched her beauty. "I will treasure this always." The crown from the tourney was pressed and preserved, and so would this - one did not throw away such good luck.

Face having lit up, Dale hurried towards the still standing Elia. "For you, Princess." He handed her a bright red flower. "Dornish Apple."

Gasping, Elia knew it had to be a coincidence, but Dornish Apple was her most favorite flower. "You are the sweetest little thing," she cooed, leaning down to kiss his forehead while affixing it to her hair like Lyanna. Both Princesses looked absolutely radiant. "Where did you get these, my dear?"

Floating among the clouds after the two Royal beauties kissed him, Dale suddenly turned guarded. "Umm… I found them." He averted his eyes with guilt.

With Lyanna and Elia exchanging looks, Davos put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Dale… tell the truth," he said sternly.

Hanging his head, the little boy couldn't meet the gaze of the Princesses. "Malgren's flower stand." A tear fell down his cheek… "Sorry, your Graces, but Papa just bought a house with more than one room and we have no coin..." He trembled in fear…

Looking up at Davos, the man shrugged - embarrassed. "I'm a… sailor, your Grace. 'Ave a ship… times are hard."

"Don't cut mi' hand off, your Grace," Dale cried. "Just wanted to 'ive you the flowers…"

Unable for her heart not to clench, Lyanna hugged the boy to her. "Don't worry, Dale. You're not in trouble." She looked back at Elia, who nodded.

Stepping to her horse, Ser Jonothor interjected. "Your Grace, we shouldn't keep the schedule delayed…"

"It's fine, Ser Jonothor," the Dornish Princess waved off. "Where's my coinpurse?"

The Knight hesitated - Aerys was known for his stingy ways, barely spending the treasury on anything. "His Grace wouldn't take kindly to his gooddaughter spending coin on rabble…"

A glare came from Elia. "My coinpurse, Ser Jonothor."

"Here, your Grace." It was Barristan who complied, smiling softly. He kept it ready, having a feeling that the Princesses would act just like the Crown Prince on these jaunts.

Nodding at Barristan, Elia picked out two coins, handing one to Lyanna - who leaned before Dale with a smile. "Little one, here you go." She tucked a copper star into the boy's hand, who stared at her with wide eyes. "Sneak this on the florist's stand while he's not looking." She winked, causing Dale to giggle.

Elia pressed a silver stag to Davos. "Buy him a play-sword. He has the makings of a powerful knight."

Completely dumbfounded at their kindness, Davos bowed. "Your Graces honor me with such generosity… I shall not forget it."

Releasing Dale from her hug, watching the boy race to hug Elia with relish, Lyanna turned to Davos with a radiant laugh. "We're looking for someplace in the city that could use aid from the crown. Care to point us in the right direction?"

Davos pursed his lips. "My dear wife manages the orphanage… it has been overcrowded and undersupplied since the Blackfyre Rebellions started."

Imagining poor orphan children being neglected broke Lyanna's heart. "Then that is where we'll go." She remounted her horse. "Thank you Davos Seaworth, I shan't forget your kindness."

As they rode off with their guards, Davos hoisted his son atop his shoulders. "Will we see them again, poppa?" asked Dale.

The smuggler chuckled. "Stranger things have happened in mi'life, my boy."


"We can't say enough how pleasantly surprised that you've arrived here, your Grace."

Walking alongside the matron of the orphanage, Lyanna couldn't help but shake her head. Lips curled in a small smile. "I am merely a Lady of the North at this point, my Lady. I won't be a Princess till my wedding day." A day only weeks from now. It felt so surreal for Lyanna… a complete joy that still didn't seem real.

The matron waved her off. "Oh please, the way the children reacted to you and Princess Elia… you're a princess to them." If Davos and Dale were a pleasant surprise, Marya Seaworth was all of that and more. The daughter of a carpenter, she nevertheless was quite intelligent and well-mannered. A kindly smile and warm demeanor proving she was perfect for this profession. "I'm only glad you came when you did…"

"Another! Another!"

Both ladies' eyes were drawn to the cluster of children seated in the common room of the orphanage, all gathered in awe around a single chair in the middle. Seated upon it, legs crossed underneath her gold and orange dress of a conservative Dornish style - apparently there were such styles - Elia looked out affectionately among the children. "I'm sorry, lovelies," she said in her native lilt. "But I will have to go."

A chorus of sad groans and pleas left the children, all of different ages and even homelands. Most were Andal, but the cosmopolitan nature of King's Landing attracted denizens from the North, Dorne, the Free Cities - even some as far away as the Summer Isles. "But we want to hear more about Princess Nymeria!" begged a boy.

"Did she really cross the Narrow Sea?" another child asked, this one a tiny wisp of a girl, scrawny but with the piercing violet eyes of Lys.

Much as with Rhaenys', those eyes were trouble for Elia. She couldn't say no to them. "Alright, I'll finish where I was. About why Nymeria led the Rhoynish people from Essos to Dorne."

Perching herself on the entranceway, Lyanna couldn't help but listen in. Smiling at the happy, excited expression that Elia wore. Rhaegar will be delighted. She looked like there was life in her eyes for the first time the northerner had seen her, a true sense of purpose. Pure, unadulterated beauty… She blinked. Normally it was only Rhaegar that made her dazed that way.

Elia's words knocked Lyanna out of her strange reverie. "The great Princess Nymeria ruled the land of Ny Sar, the last great domain of the Rhoynish people… but they were under threat."

"No," the Lysene girl breathed.

"Was it the Ironborn?" another asked.

"Shut it, silly," said a rather martial boy. "It was the Dothraki scum!"

A chuckle left the Princess' lips. "No, my darlings, it was the dragons of Valyria." Over two dozen dumbfounded stares found her. "The Valyrians went to war to expand their domain, targeting Nymeria. She and her people fought bravely, but in the end were no match for the wroth of the dragonlords."

"Is that when the ten thousand ships sailed?"

Leaning down, Elia ruffled the girl's silver hair. "You are much too smart for your age, little one." She grinned at the attention. "And across the sea they went, finding refuge in Dorne where House Martell gave her a home and a husband… I wouldn't be sitting here today if Princess Nymeria didn't sail the Narrow Sea for Dorne."

An inquisitive child didn't let it go there. "But if the dragons made them leave… why are you married to the Prince?"

Eyes finding Lyanna, Elia recovered quickly. "There was war between them for centuries, but then Good King Daeron made peace. Marrying our houses together, saving thousands that could have died in war. Prince Rhaegar and I… we made sure that the peace would last."

A swarthy child, clearly of Dornish blood, raced to hug the Princess. "Thank you… you hero." Surprised for a moment, Elia quickly returned the hug… which soon turned frenzied as all the other children sought to get their fill of the future Queen. Both Lyanna and Marya erupted in merry laughter. There was nothing but happiness in this moment.

But once attention shifted to the state of the orphanage, such happiness turned sour. "Those children are living in filth," Elia hissed to Marya as soon as she disentangled herself from the group embrace. Both she and Lyanna had regaled them with tales of their homelands - spending double the time here than at the Great Sept or the City Watch barracks.

Marya sighed. "I know it's not ideal…"

"Not ideal? The building is barely functioning." Lyanna had seen ruins abandoned in wintertime that were in better condition. "Cracks in the walls, mortar falling apart… there are barely any logs for the hearths." The draft was intense… if it bothered her then gods only knew what the children were enduring. "Shouldn't the crown support the orphanage?"

"Aegon the unlikely did during his reign," Elia added.

"I remember that… my husband was just a child at the time, living here. That's where we met." When Davos spoke of her, it was with adoration - Marya looked the same when speaking of him. "But priorities change. Only funding we ever get is from a Northern bard." Behind, no one saw Barristan tense slightly. "He sings in the streets and gives us the proceeds."

At least someone cares. "That bard sounds like a real angel," Elia remarked.

"That's northerners for you," smiled Lyanna. "Tough, but we care." There were some exceptions, and not all named Bolton. "Where in seven hells would the coin go instead of here?"

Shrugging, Marya could only offer what she had heard about. "The Faith needs to be bribed, so the Sept is plated with gold leaf. The City Watch needs to be loyal, so they get an extra purse of silver stags to spend on wine and whores. The merchants have clout, so the wharves are doubled in size. Who is going to care about the orphans? At least, who that matters?" On Marya Seaworth, Lyanna could see the same look on smallfolk everywhere. One of futility, that any highborn would every pay them attention except to rob them blind or satiate his carnal desires.

Sharing a stare with Elia, it seemed that the Princesses had found their purpose for the Realm.

A/N: Lyanna and Elia are setting up their tenure as Rhaegar's powerful Queens, and we got to meet young Davos and his family. More to come with them :D

So Tywin, Tyrion, and Gerion make their appearances. In this story the Maggie the Frog thing went far differently, so Melara lives. Hope y'all liked Tyrion and Cersei's relationship.

Poor Barristan. Reduced to a department store attendant XD

Next up, Oberyn makes his KL debut.