A/N: Greetings all. Life is giving me some kicks in the bottom, so a little writing can calm me down :)

Enjoy and please comment :D

Chapter 62: Wolfsbane

The tightest hug that the little Princess could give was nearly crippling his leg. "Don't go, uncle Ned," Rhaenys cried, finding physical pain in being parted again from her dear uncle.

Ned couldn't be mad at her for the pain - she was his family as much as Jon - to him, Baelon would be Jon, Lya told him, for he was family - was. "Oh, my dear. It is what it is, but I'll be with you right in here." He tapped her heart. "Besides," Ned's voice dropped to a whisper. "I need you to take care of your siblings for me, and watch over your mother, alright?"

Nodding, Rhaenys looked quite determined for her age. "I promise, uncle Ned." With one final squeeze, Ned watched as she bounded back to her parents.

Following her, Ned clasped Rhaegar's hand. "Goodbye brother," the King remarked, formality done away with for such a private moment. "Good luck - I'm going to rest easy knowing you are my Warden of the North."

Ned smiled, accepting a hug from Elia not long after. "You and Lya…" he whispered in her ear. "You have my blessing, just don't hurt her." Hiding her surprise, Elia merely grinned softly and shook her head while her goodbrother kissed Egg on the forehead. Meeting the gaze of his youngest sibling, Ned hugged him lightly before leaning over to kiss Ashara on the cheek. "My blessings to you as well, and I only wish father and Bran were alive to welcome you into the family, Ash." The Lord of Winterfell knew her to be a perfect match for Ben - had things been different, perhaps for him as well, but his heart fell for another long before.

Last but not least, a tight embrace for his beloved sister. "Give your new daughter a kiss from her Aunt Lya," she whispered into his ear, shaking from emotion. They had separated before, but by the Gods with all their losses, it felt heart-wrenching for the pack to split up yet again. "I can't wait for her cousins to meet her."

"Nor I." He kissed his sister on the forehead before turning to Jon. While he seemed distracted before, two violet eyes found Ned's rather quickly. "Till next time, nephew. Perhaps then, I can show you where your wolf side came from." Jon did nothing but giggle toothlessly, a sound that warmed Ned's heart greatly.

"Open the gate! The Lord has returned!"

Blinking, Ned Stark found himself transported from the memories of his family to the light snowfall that currently fell from the grey sky. Truly an irony from the gods, the comfort of his home so sundered from his family.

The prospect of his daughter loomed large for him, easing his melancholy. In that moment, he knew what Rhaegar must have felt waiting to see Jon after so long.

With a groan, the metal-lined ironwood gates of the great castle of Winterfell swung open before the procession of horses and banners stretching hundreds of feet along the Kingsroad. Having already passed through the throngs of cheering smallfolk within Wintertown, the last thoughts of his family in King's Landing comforting him until finally reaching the gates of his castle. To finally see his child.

Assembled atop the snowy grounds, the entire household roared as his horse passed from underneath the gatehouse and back into his home. "Huzzah!" they bellowed. "Huzzah!"

"The Quiet Wolf returns!" beamed Maester Luwin, bowing as Ned dismounted from his horse, the Lord pulling him out of it and clasping his hand. "Welcome back, my Lord. You do not know how proud we are for Winterfell's favorite son."

"Rock of Harrenhal!" someone cheered, which rapidly spread until most of the household were cheering it. Ned blushed a muted crimson, not used to the praise of those he grew up under… The last remnants of my childhood left to me. Bran was dead. Father and mother were dead. Jon Arryn was dead. Lya and Benjen were in their new lives in the capitol… all he had were the servants that cared for him since he was still in swaddling clothes. Their presence… it did calm him.

Finally, his eyes landed on his waiting bride. Red locks killing the dream of the only woman he would ever love, but at Catelyn Tully… no, Catelyn Stark's dutiful face welled guilt within him. I will always love you, Cersei, but I'm sorry. Walking towards his bride, Ned realized he would just need to accept reality - hopefully, they could learn to love each other. "Husband," Catelyn said simply, but yipped inaudibly when Ned pulled her into an embrace.

"Lady wife," he murmured, noticing her tensing up, so kissing her on the cheek instead of the lips. Slowly, she relaxed. "You are as beautiful as the day we married." It was true. She looked radiant. "Where is our daughter?" Truly, Ned couldn't wait any longer.

A genuine smile stretched over her face. "Follow me, my Lord."

Some of the only servants not gathered in the courtyard were the wetnurses, and they immediately bowed as Ned walked into the nursery with a nervous glint in his eyes. "Ain't gonna make me stand, mi'Lord," Old Nan grumbled, coaxing a chuckle from Ned, easing his nerves. "It's good to see you, little pup." That was what she called all his brothers and sisters… plus his father as well if Ned remembered correctly. "I suppose you want to see your own little pup."

He nodded, slowly stepping forward. "Aye, Nan. Is she…"

"Sleeping peacefully, she is. Just make sure you don't wake her - took a while for me to git her to sleep."

Approaching the crib, Ned was greeted with a tiny bundle swathed in a blue blanket. Gingerly. He picked it up to reveal the round, pink face dozing quietly. Not noticing his presence just yet. "My daughter," he murmured in awe, already feeling as deep a love for this babe as he had seen Lya give Jon, Rhae, and Egg. Tiny wisps of fire-red hair dotted her scalp - as classically Tully as anything. "Gods, does she have a name?" he asked Catelyn.

She looked at her husband and precious babe, the only warmth the frozen north had ever allotted her. Dead Brandon was, but this girl was the most precious thing to Catelyn, and by the Seven she thanked Ned for making the little one possible. "I've called her Celia, but it is up to you as to what the name is, my Lord."

Celia Stark…? No, far too southern for his tastes. Not for his first daughter… his heir. Seeing how strong Lya was, how smart Elia was, there was no compunction for him to not hand over his Lordship to this babe if it came to that. "Sansa." The name came to him. "Sansa Stark, the old tongue word for 'grace.'" A gentle finger brushed against her cheek. "My dear Sansa."

At that moment, the babe squirmed in his hold. Reaching her arms up in a stretch, Sansa yawned and opened her eyes. Two beautiful greys, the same shade as Lyanna's. Watching Ned as if enraptured by him.

Ned laughed gently and kissed her cheek. "Oh Sansa, you're a direwolf after all." The one moon old babe murmured and snuggled closer into her father.

Hours later, the early nightfall had blanketed the wolfswood in its comforting blanket, only torches and candles banishing it away for the residents of Winterfell. Ned, used to the cold, walked towards the large bed in his private chambers. Bare from the waist up, wearing only a pair of loose breeches, he found Catelyn sitting on the bed - covers drawn tightly around her and her hair loose. "Wife," he said gently.

"Husband," she said in return.

The Lord of Winterfell slid in beside her. "Thank you, for such a beautiful daughter."

"She looks like my mother," Catelyn whispered. "But has your eyes." There was nothing in her tone that indicated whether she was happy or upset at the fact. "I love her more than anything, Lord Stark."

He smiled at that, feeling a warmth in his heart at the motherly love she displayed. "Aye, I love her too. Only a single day do I know her and I would die for our dear Sansa." A silence spilled out, neither of them knowing what to say after that. "She shall be my heir. I have no desire to treat Sansa any different because of her sex."

Catelyn looked at him, seemingly grateful. "I do hope to give you an heir, my Lord…"

"Ned," he corrected her.

She smiled, lovingly. "Ned." Slowly, she inched herself towards him. "I did miss you, husband."

He nodded, "As did I." It wasn't a lie. He wanted to believe it wasn't a lie. "Come'ere." After so long without a woman's touch, their lips met and Ned eased her flat underneath the furs - losing himself inside the beautiful redhead. Clothes peeled off, bare flesh rubbing against each other. Lovingly joining together.

But by the gods themselves, all Ned could see when he closed his eyes - his bride biting back quiet moans underneath him - was golden hair and a pair of twinkling emerald eyes.


Striding into the Small Council chamber past the doors opened by the guards, Rhaegar Targaryen was dressed down, considerably down. A red cloak hurriedly thrown over a simple tunic and breeches, he looked quite soaked with sweat - a trait he shared with Ser Arthur behind him. The two's sparring session had gone longer than expected, and while his Grace would have wished to collapse in his bed or in a boiling hot bath for several hours, the duty of kingship took precedence.

All present stood as their king entered, bowing or curtsying respectively. "Rise," he waved absentmindedly, heading for his perch at the head of the table. Detouring to greet a particular someone. "Muna," he said, kissing her cheeks.

Queen Dowager Rhaella Targaryen wore a sea-green gown, her hair styled in a simple bun that nevertheless looked beautiful. "You're late, my son," she chided, returning the kisses and squeezing his forearms. "But I suppose the King needs to keep his figure, lest…" she looked to her side, "Others complain."

He groaned softly as two sets of lips stifled giggles. "Yes, Muna. I know that very well." Leaving his mother, the head of the table was flanked on either side by the most beautiful women in the Realm. "My loves." Rhaegar's greeting was followed with a quick, sweet kiss - unlike past Kings, he cared not for propriety here. He loved his queens too much for that.

Lyanna sighed into her kiss. "Husband."

Elia placed her hand upon his trouser-clad leg. "You should come here like this more often," she murmured, eyes twinkling. Rhaegar knew that look, and quite enjoyed it.

Perhaps after, he'd indulge. "Shall we begin?" Aside from his ladies, the small council was in flux with the regime change so abruptly foisted on the Realm. As such, today would finally serve to rectify it - at least for now. Took Jaehaerys the Conciliator many years to create the Small Council suited to him… hopefully I won't take that long. "Alright, first thing's first, I have discussed much with Prince Oberyn - he has agreed to accept the position of Hand of the King for the time being."

Surprised, Elia looked at her brother. "Oberyn, is this true?"

"Don't look shocked, sister," he smiled softly. It had surprised him that he seriously considered it, but when Rhaegar asked, Oberyn couldn't decline. Given the arrival of Prince Jon into the mix, a Dornish Hand of the King would do well to calm tensions. "His Grace and I have determined a tentative list for councillors. Their Graces the Queens shall be appointed as advisers to the council, while Lord Titus Peake is to become the Master of Laws."

The aforementioned Lord Peake, one of the few that hadn't left the capitol, bowed in his seat. "I am honored, my King."

Nodding, Rhaegar reflected on the rest of the list. Many Kings before him had plenty of Lords from the Crownlands to choose for his council, but the attainders he had issued stripped almost all of them of their lands and titles. Until he could assess further, there were so few he could trust in the positions. "While I originally was to strip Lord Lucerys of his position of Master of Ships, I have decided to reverse course… provided he be sure where his loyalties lie."

"I serve the rightful King of the Realm, Rhaegar I Targaryen," he replied, wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow in relief. "The Royal Fleet survived the great storm and is anchored in Driftmark at your command, your Grace."

"Good." One councillor of his father who wasn't incompetent… if a bootlicker. "Lastly, Ser Richard Lonmouth as the new Lord of Rosby will take over as Master of War, while Lord Wyman Manderly - who has graciously relented from traveling to his home in the North - has accepted the position of Master of Coin." Both his former squire and the loyal bannerman of his goodbrother acknowledged the appointments with a nod. "The Grand Maester shall be someone absolutely loyal to the Royal Family, and for him I personally choose Maester Qyburn personal physician to my Queens during Lyanna's pregnancy." Of this, he had discussed it with both of them and came to the decision.

Worried looks came over the councilors. "Your grace," cautioned Ser Richard. "The Citadel appoints the Grand Maester…"

"I have no respect for their choices," the King snorted, slamming his fist on the table. "I had Pycelle's correspondence audited following his imprisonment, and they were confirmed by interrogations. He's been paid by unknown parties to poison my mother for years to ensure she not fall pregnant!" There was a hushed silence, while the Queen Dowager maintained a stoic appearance - she had cried enough in her life. "Any Grand Maester shall be chosen by the King from now on, that is my decree."

"The Citadel will not appreciate it, your Grace. Of this I simply warn you to use caution." Lord Varys was as cryptic as ever, but his advice was still honest. "May I suggest a sum from the treasury to placate them. Enough to finish the renovations they are currently partaking of for their library."

Rhaegar didn't retain Varys as Master of Whisperers on a whim. "Do it." The eunuch nodded. "Alright, now that that is out of the way. We move on to the issue of the depletions to the Royal Household and various keeps across the Realm. Those that committed atrocities or fled with Jon Connington and the brothers Darry to Essos must be replaced, lest anarchy reign."

Quiet, taking in the various topics for the starting moments, Lyanna took that moment to speak up. "I believe the Kingsguard must be addressed first, husband." Rhaegar tilted his head to meet her gaze, granting her the floor. "With the tragic demise of Lord Commander Gerold, I nominate Ser Barristan to take his place."

"Seconded," said Elia not a second after.

Raising an eyebrow, Rhaegar hid a grin. Wonder if you decided this on your lonesome. "Ser Arthur?" he addressed his loyal friend. "Do you concur."

Arthur paused, if trying to find the right words. "Barristan is the senior-most of us, and an honorable and skilled knight. It would be my honor to serve under him."

That was enough for his Grace. "Ser Barristan it is, then. For the other seats, it's time that the Vale and the Reach have proper representation on the Kingsguard. Have Lord Mace or Lord Elbert sent their recommendations?"

"Not yet, your Grace," answered Oberyn. "But I sent the ravens to Highgarden and the Eyrie, so they should be replied to forthwith." The new Lord Hand cleared his throat - with Ellaria only a moon away from giving birth, she was both restless and insatiable. He barely slept, not that Oberyn minded much. "There exists the matter of the attained lands. I believe that the awards Lord Tully approved for Ser Myles Mooton to receive Darry and for Harrenhal to pass under royal stewardship shall be ratified?"

"Aye, Lord Hand," Rhaegar replied. "In exchange for Ser Brynden Tully to receive Stokeworth as his personal keep." He didn't have objections to that - the Blackfish was an able commander and deserved reward.

Eyes fixed on Lord Lucerys as he raised his hand to speak. "Your Grace, may you elaborate on Harrenhal? You're placing it under royal stewardship?"

"Yes, my Lord," said Rhaella in her son's stead. "The curse of Harrenhal is superstition, but too many families have been given the responsibility to the greatest castle in the realm and have allowed it to bring them to ruin. My son believes and I agree with him that a keep so large and strong should be home to a royal Targaryen line."

"That could unsettle the Riverlands, your Grace."

"And yet House Tully is bound by marriage to the family of her Grace, Queen Lyanna," Varys observed. "They have been loyal for centuries and I do not foresee them turning on the House that made them what they are." It remained unsaid that House Tully had little power over the Riverlands. House Bracken, House Blackwood, and whomever controlled Harrenhal had more men, and with the Targaryens controlling Harrenhal directly and House Blackwood allied to them, the Riverlands would be a playground for the Crown - and the council knew it.

Few knew that Rhaegar had it in mind for one of his children to inherit, but that would be disclosed later. Let them be children for the time being.

The following hour had seen quite a lot of tension between the councilors - the rather polyglot membership between royal family members, loyal friends, and political appointments and their greenness in properly working together was sorely exposed. Headaches predominated and heated words were banded about like arrows on a battlefield, but eventually progress was made.

In the Reach, Longtable was taken from the executed Owen Merryweather and given to Lord Seneschal Garth Tyrell, Mace's uncle and a stooge of Lady Olenna - one effort of his to please her and secure the Reach's loyalty. Griffin's Roost in the Stormlands, the seat of the now attained Jon Connington, was to be held under royal stewardship until a Lord could be found among the Stormlords, while Summerhall received royal assent for being rebuilt.

Of the dozens of keeps that dotted the Crownlands, the various hedge knights and ambitious young warriors that gave their sword to King Rhaegar during the rebellion received their reward. Ser Alliser Thorne obtained Duskendale as the highest honor, while the seat of House Thorne passed to a young hedge knight by the name of Osmund Kettleblack. Ser Bonifer Hasty - a name that brought surprise to Rhaella's ear as she heard it again - received Sweetport Sound for his loyal service, while his comrade in arms Ser Bronn took the prize of Rook's Rest from the attained House Staunton. With his success at the Battle of the Bells as it was called, he had adopted the stylings of "Lord Bronn Bell." From what Rhaegar heard, he was in negotiations with Lord Jonos Bracken for one of his daughters to marry.

Among the list of scores that seemed even partially worthy of reward, the Queens were insistent on one name. "Davos Seaworth?" Rhaegar asked, not recognizing the name. "Please refresh my memory, Lya."

"The smuggler who ran food and supplies into Starfall past the Redwyne blockade." Lyanna wasn't shocked that Rhaegar forgot. The charming Davos was a modest person, more concerned with ensuring his young family was secure and fed well than with brownnosing at court… which was why he needed a title. "I hope you see the wisdom of apportioning him a keep somewhere for his loyal service…"

"Or at the very least a plot of land for him to build his own keep," Elia added, just as eager to see their provider while under siege rewarded. "Her Grace and I…" she bit her lip. "We can personally assist you in finding a suitable tract of land, if your Grace is amenable."

Eyebrow quirked up, Rhaegar looked from Elia's twinkling honey-brown gaze, to Lyanna's stormy grey eyes, and back to Elia. The Sunrise Dragon zeroed in on their intent rather quickly. "This Davos sounds like someone I must meet and thank personally - land is the least I can do for someone who risked so much for my beloved brides." He didn't stand, but motioned for the others to. "All but the Queens are dismissed."

Quickly rising, the small council bid their exit… even Ser Arthur. Oberyn bowed to Rhaegar with a smirk at the edge of his lips. "Your Grace. Good luck on your… discussions." Perhaps I shall partake in similar discussions with Ellaria right now. As he left with a spring in his step, Rhaella was the last to rise, bidding her son a silent farewell while smiling the faintest of smiles.

Outside the Small Council chambers waited Ser Jaime Lannister and - Rhaella observed happily - no one else. Perfect timing for her to break propriety and throw her arms around him, kissing her lion's lips rather unabashedly. Gods… Rhaella couldn't wait to bed him properly.

Once air became an issue, Jaime pulled back with a rather quieted expression. "I shan't ever complain of that, your Grace."

"I should hope not, Ser Jaime." Hands taking ahold of his arm, she gave the exposed parts an appreciative squeeze. "An escort to my chambers?"

He nodded. "Of course, your Grace." A quizzical glance cast at the large doors to the Small Council chambers. "Is His Grace still occupied?" Jaime sounded slightly nervous, not wanting Rhaegar to emerge just as he was in an intimate position with the Queen Mother.

Hearing a rather sultry giggle echo from the chambers, followed by a different feminine moan, he smiled and shook her head. "I suppose he is." Rhaella giggled herself at the mortified expression on Jaime's face. Perhaps I shall welcome another grandchild into the world in nine moons.


Something about a beautiful woman - no, the most beautiful woman - curled up beside you underneath the softest of sheets… it was the truest of all magic. As such, Benjen Stark was completely entranced as his raven-haired lover stared at him. "Come here and kiss me, my wolf," Ashara Dayne purred, first rays of sunlight already cast through the windows of her Lady in Waiting chambers. Her hair was tousled with sleep, eyes half-lidded, and she was irresistible with that sultry smirk of hers.

Benjen didn't know how he had gotten her in his bed, but wasn't about to disobey. Just having escaped slumber, he pulled her flush against him and crashed their lips together - both nude to the world from last night's… activities. As they kissed, she reached for his cock and began to stroke it gently. He groaned in ecstasy at her expert touch, deepening the kiss and plundering her mouth.

They were each other's firsts, but both knew that this was simply amazing.

She broke the kiss, only to gasp as he kissed down her slender neck. "Ben," she murmured into his ear, posessively biting his earlobe. "Inside me… I want you to fuck me hard." Looking at him, Ashara could spot his dutiful side taking over and preempted it. "We have time. Their Graces are likely… currently engaged at the moment."

Blocking out unwanted images of his sister being pleasured by her two spouses, the feel of Ashara's delicious body against his - core wet as she grinded against his abdomen - a smile stretched across his face. "As my Lady commands."

Squealing, Ashara found herself flipped on her back, Benjen between her legs and devouring her breasts. She groaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him inside her while meeting their mouths once again - kissing hungrily, hurried and sloppy from the sudden burst of desire. "Now," she begged against his lips. "Please." Ashara's legs tightened around him, almost shoving him into her greedy entrance. He kissed her harder as he slowly slid inside of her warm, wet channel, making her scream against his mouth. Yes… yes… Gods, Elia was right about Northern lovers… they were perfect.

Kiss broken, the Dornish beauty watched as Ben looked deep into her in the eyes. Rocking slowly and reverently. Ashara silently gasped at each thrust into the wet heat of her core. His cock hit places inside her that made the young maiden see stars, a natural talent was her wolf...

However, she needed more. Tightening her legs wrapped around him, Benjen pushed a little faster but nowhere near what she truly desired. Ben… please... He treated her as a priceless gem, and she adored it most of the time… but she wasn't a delicate maiden. She was proud Dornishwoman, not delicate in the slightest even if a slender beauty. Ashara wanted to be fucked hard, and she wasn't about to leave it up to chance.

Keeping them fused together, with a strength oft hidden Ashara rolled them over. Watching with amusement the surprise on his face now that she was on top of him. A sultry smirk crossed her face. "Ben, I want the wolf to come out to play."

Gripping her hips, Benjen groaned as she lifted herself slowly up until only his tip remained. "Ash…"

She silenced him by plunging right down, both moaning at the same time. "No… fuck me hard." Yet another up and down motion, this one far faster, Ashara biting her lip as her cunt swallowed him whole. "Please, Ben… I need this." She took his hands and placed one on each of her breasts, draping her soft hands on top of them to force him to roughly cup and squeeze them. "Don't be gentle. Bring out the wolf."

Watching him groan below her, his calloused fingers palming her large breasts all on their own, Ashara grinned in satisfaction as she picked up the pace. Before long she was riding him hard and fast. Hips bounced against his without mercy, cock twitching inside to cause waves of pleasure to wash over her. "Fuck…" he grunted. "Ash… I love you… gods."

Even in the heat of passion, Ben could still make her melt. "Love… you… too…" Each of her words was punctuated by a powerful plunge, Ashara impaling herself upon him. "Fuck… you're cock is amazing…" Suddenly he sat up as she rode him and grabbed her, yanking them both down as his thrusts took over. Up and into her greedy cunt, making her scream against the skin of his neck - which she hungrily attacked with open mouthed kisses, continuing to roll her hips.

"Ash… you're beautiful," he said, thrusting all the way. "I… don't deserve… you…"

"Yes… you… do…" she gasped back, doubling her movements to prove it to him. "You're my… wolf knight… I adore you…" Ashara would tell him until he believed it, the third son leaving his siblings' shadows and emerging as a powerful force in his own right. One worthy of the Beauty of Starfall.

"Gods, Ash... I'm about to…"

Music to her ears. "Yes, Ben." She smiled and pulled him down for a kiss, wrapping her arms around him and bottoming her hips so he couldn't pull out. "Give me your seed. I fucking want it!" That was all they needed. After a few more thrusts, the muscles of her cunt tightened around him, milking his seed deep into her womb as they both moaned into their kiss.

She collapsed on top of him, riding the pleasurable aftershocks. "Mmmmmm…" Ashara placed her head on his sweaty chest. His heartbeat was so calming. "That was amazing." A smile curled as she felt the delightful soreness between her legs.

"Yes," her paramour declared. "It certainly was." Benjen chuckled. "Lya was right about Dornish lovers."

She raised her eyebrow, grinning at him. "Funny, as was Elia about northerners." Ashara pressed flush against him again, this time in the crook of his neck. "I hope your seed takes root inside me, Ben." Feeling him stiffen slightly, she looked back up to him. "What's wrong? Do you not want a child?" The idea made her heart ache.

Sighing, Benjen kissed her forehead. "I love you, Ash… it's just… gods." Such had filled his mind for many moons, ones he suppressed for the sake of his sister and his oath, but there they were. "I'm a third son, lined to take the Black before Lya married Rhaegar and brought me here. What future could I give a child?"

His words only made her cling to him tighter. "The honor of being the child of a renowned Kingsguard… the bravest man I've ever known."

"I would think your brother fits that title."

"No, Ben, it was always you." Ashara kissed his neck lovingly, making him sigh in pleasure. "You're not just a spare, my love. You've forged your own destiny and made me fall in love with you." Her eyes met his. "There's nothing I want more than to bear your child." He said nothing in return, only rolling her over and pressing their lips together once more.

Within the throne room, no trace of their morning exertions remained on Benjen's person - he was as immaculate as the other Kingsguards lining the steps to the Iron Throne. Three to either side, hands clasped behind their backs, watching as their brother in white ascended towards the King resting upon the seat of Aegon the Conqueror. Seeing his sister seated at the ornate chair beside the throne, he did swell with pride at how high House Stark had come.

Drawing the mighty Blackfyre, Rhaegar clasped it to the polished Valyrian steel armor he wore for just this occasion. "Ser Barristan Selmy," he addressed the kneeled kingsguard. "Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves? To protect all women and children? To obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king? To fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

"I so swear, your Grace," An oath he had taken before, but now for something greater than any honor he had previously bequeathed to him.

Gently, Rhaegar lowered Blackfyre upon his shoulder. "In the name of Rhaegar of House Targaryen, First of his Name, I proclaim Barristan of House Selmy Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

Fists slamming against his breastplate, the other sworn brothers heralded their new Lord Commander as the gathered courtiers clapped. Benjen's eyes locked with Ashara while doing it. She was radiant in a dark purple gown, otherwise plainly decked out in simple gold and amethyst jewelry from her perch behind Queen Elia. Her eyes met his, and smiled softly - lovingly.

He was a lucky man. Perhaps she's right… A little girl with Ash's beauty and the wolfsblood, suddenly he so desired for such to happen.

Benjen's musings were interrupted as two young knights ascended the steps as Barristan joined the other brothers. Nominated by the liege Lords of the Reach and Vale - or by Olenna Tyrell in the case of the Reach - Arys Oakheart was dark and beefy, while Lyn Corbray was toned and thin. The former looked affable while a little naive, while the latter's scowl could have split his head open. Benjen had a bad feeling about them both, but kept it to himself.

"Lyn Corbray, Arys Oakheart," Rhaegar began. "Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves? To protect all women and children? To obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king? To fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

"I so swear, your Grace," both stated in unison, eyes downcast.

Blackfyre touched Oakheart's shoulder first, followed by Corbray's. "In the name of Rhaegar of House Targaryen, First of his Name, I proclaim Ser Arys of House Oakheart and Ser Lyn of House Corbray, sworn brothers of the Kingsguard." Benjen slammed his fist on his breastplate, though not as enthusiastic as with Barristan.


"Are you certain?" Given the leave to speak, Elia didn't give off any surprise in her gaze much as she was inclined to if they had been alone. Beside her on the Iron Throne, Rhaegar held the same emotionless look, while Lyanna only showed a momentary wide-eyed expression - she was learning well. "That it was a suicide?"

Lord Peake nodded, a bit ashen-faced. "Aye, your Grace. They discovered Lord Mace in his bath, wrists slit and words scrawled upon a slip of parchment."

Lyanna's eyes flickered to her husband and wife before returning to Lord Titus. "And the contents of the note?"

"Mostly going on about how he couldn't live with the guilt of his eldest son dying upon the field of battle - that's all that Lady Olenna would tell me…" As her new goodson, Peake had been who she'd written first of this news. "My wife is quite distraught over the loss of her brother."

Hearing Rhaegar mutter under his breath, Elia agreed with the sentiment. Fucking coward. "That will be all, Lord Peake. You may have leave to travel to Highgarden for the funeral." Bowing, their Master of Laws quickly left the Throne Room. Most likely, he had already made arrangements to travel and was simply awaiting royal assent. As the doors closed behind him, Elia sighed. "If anyone were to take the coward's way out, it's Mace Tyrell. The man was always weak."

"And now poor Garlan's stuck as Lord before he's come of age…" Rhaegar pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Queen of Thorns is the true ruler of Highgarden and the Reach."

"She was already that before," Lyanna added. "And was so inclined to support us that she gave Rhaegar a dragon egg." Aegarax, the first dragon born in centuries, currently was growing like a weed - almost the size of a large dog as he gorged on his meals and grew even more. Seemed they would need to rebuild the dragonpit far sooner than expected. "I don't see how this doesn't help us in the Reach."

Leaning back, Elia drummed her fingers on the side of her throne. "Aye, House Tyrell will be certain to back us, but this may delegitimize them to the rest of the Reach - ancient grudges and all of that. We'll have to proceed very carefully."

"Garlan is a boy and Olenna isn't well-liked." Oberyn stood to the side, as befitting the Hand of the King. "Mace may have been a fool but he was an affable one - kept many Lords behind him through flattery and favors."

"Highgarden will be the first Royal Progress I'll have to make, it would seem - along with Oldtown." None of them were looking forward to that - the domain of the Most Devout. "Have your little birds pay attention to the Reach just a little bit harder, Lord Varys."

"Of course, your Grace," the Master of Whisperers nodded, earning a hidden look of suspicion from Elia. Perhaps it was time for her to start building her own network...

Doors opening, Ser Lyn Corbray entered. "Your Graces…" He bowed low, quite deferent and respectful to the royal family. It unsettled Lyanna but didn't truly bother her. "There is a highborn knight asking for an audience. Ser Jaime Lannister has seconded the request."

That seemed to catch Rhaegar's interest. "Oh? And who would Ser Jaime consider deserving of this honor that my Hand hasn't approved yet?"

"Ser Gerion Lannister, your Grace. He says that he has just returned from an expedition to Old Valyria."

In this, none of the royals - nor any of the Small Council present in the Throne Room - hid their shock. "Send him in," Rhaegar commanded simply, though Arthur, Barristan, and Benjen at the foot of the dias all fanned out, ready to strike anyone that came close. Stories of what happened when Aerea Targaryen ventured to Valyria on Balerion only to come back emaciated and riddled with blind wyrms still haunted people's minds.

Not one person in the entire hall speaking, all watched with bated breath as Ser Jaime escorted his uncle towards the Iron Throne. The youngest of the brood of Tytos Lannister, Gerion didn't look emaciated or riddled with infection, but his golden looks were masked by a layer of grime and healed cuts and bruises that belied… nothing easy about his expedition. Nevertheless, he held himself high as befitting of a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Behind, two equally filthy souls carried a large chest between the two of them. "Your Graces," Jaime began, bowing. "Ser Gerion Lannister, my uncle, seeks your audience."

Rhaegar nodded. "He may speak, Ser Jaime." Wordlessly, the adventurer bent the knee, though he seemed a bit wobbly on his feet. "Ser Gerion, I have been told you've returned from Old Valyria."

"Aye, I have." Gerion rose, cracking his neck. "Gods, it wasn't easy if I do say so myself, but l managed to avoid the fate of my ancestor King Tommen, Second of His Name."

"If I recall correctly, Ser Gerion," said Lyanna. "He sailed with a large fleet after the Doom to conquer the peninsula for the Rock, no?"

Gerion smiled. "You know your history, your Grace. Unfortunately, his fleet and his men never returned, nor did he. My family always said that we may have won at the Field of Fire had he not crippled us, but I disagree." Rhaegar rolled his eyes - classic Lannister pride. In all honesty, the only Lannister to him that could back up such arrogance was Tywin. The rest were mediocrities. "Forgive me for the appearance, but I had to sail immediately for here. Volantis wouldn't let my ships anywhere near their ports, and neither would Lys."

"Undoubtedly heard stories of Aerea Targaryen as well," Rhaegar mused. "It is of no matter, you may have a guest chamber here in the Red Keep. Clean up and I invite you to dinner with my Queens and I, answer questions about your expedition."

He laughed merrily. "Sounds perfect, your Grace, but there is one thing I do wish to show. My dear nephew holds the first."

Eyes drifting to Ser Jaime, who looked as if he were skipping on clouds, Elia picked out the change before anyone else did. "That sword… a lion's head pommel - you found Brightroar?"

"Good eye, your Grace." The legendary Valyrian Steel sword of House Lannister, lost to the ruins of the lost civilization. "My nephew the Lion of Lannister deserved it, but that isn't the only Valyrian steel weapon I recovered." Gesturing to the chest, his two crewmen opened it to reveal a treasure trove of weapons. Ones that made Rhaegar's eyes sparkle with interest, as did Lya's. "Four swords, two daggers, an axe, a glaive, and a mace. I'm keeping one of the swords for myself, but the rest are a gift to the Crown as a token of House Lannister's loyalty… and a position on your Household Guard for myself," Gerion grinned.

As Rhaegar seemed speechless, Lyanna answered. "I will have to judge your suitability myself, but other than that your terms feel proper." She gestured to the chest. "Please have them put in his Grace's solar."

Looking over the tabletop where the weapons had been placed, Rhaegar leaned in - running his hands along the finely polished metal. Gerion may have cared less about his own appearance in sailing straight for King's Landing, but clearly poured all his attention into making the steel shine as brightly as it would straight out of the forge. "For centuries old blades, they certainly have kept their shape."

"These are good arms, your Grace," Arthur observed, picking up the mace in his hands. "If it may please you, this would make a perfect nameday gift for Dacey."

"Go with the gods, Arthur. She's earned it," laughed Lyanna, the Queen speaking for her husband in this - as was her right. Rhaegar didn't contradict her. "As for the others, the steel may be the finest of quality, but aside from Brightroar…" To the side, Ser Jaime seemed entranced by the legendary Greatsword of House Lannister, returned to the House of the Golden Lion. "None of these are marked for anyone in particular."

"They can serve as tokens of our patronage," Elia mused. "Or go to our children, the ones who won't inherit the sword of Kings."

Rhaegar nodded, picking up one of the daggers. "Our children will not fall victim to the familial squabbles and bottlenecks that left House Targaryen reduced to so few members after the Tragedy of Summerhall - myself, my mother, and my father." Not since the Dance had they truly been close to extinction then. The gods smiled on House Targaryen since, even through the terror of Aerys' reign and the chaos of the Rebellion. They survived. "Our children will receive keeps through the Realm, starting with the rebuilt Summerhall and Harrenhal. For Egg's reign, they will be his loyal councilors to hold back our enemies."

Walking to her husband, Elia wrapped her arms around him. She leaned up to kiss his jaw. "Wise decision, my love. You're a good King and great father."

He peered down, smiling wistfully at her. "Hopefully our children will think so." Resting the dagger upon the table, Rhaegar went for a large bastard sword. The steel was a smokey grey almost black, pommel nothing special. Primed for personalization. "I shall keep most on advisement, but this I already know who deserves to wield it." Grinning down at Elia, who's eyes widened in understanding, Rhaegar approached Lya. "Here."

It took a moment for Lyanna to realize his intent. Her eyes widened as well. "Me?"

"For birthing me a beautiful, handsome son." Rhaegar held out the blade horizontally, offering it for her to take. "Lyanna Targaryen, a Queen that shall never be chained by anyone."

Hand trembling, Lyanna took the Valyrian steel in her hand. Lifting the bastard sword and admiring its finish. "Rhaegar…" Tears pricked at her eyes, but they were ones of joy. He truly remembers... "Thank you." Angling the blade out of the way, she surged forward and kissed him hard. Feeling herself melt into it, only to meet Elia's lips once they pulled back for air.


Not for the first time, or the last if she was honest with herself, Lyanna withdrew the bastard sword from its sheath. Gazing at the smoky blade with wonder. Her inner wolf howled with a blistering power, radiating out from the priceless Valyrian steel blade her dragon gifted to her.

Gods, if the courtiers weren't keeping him and Elia preoccupied Lyanna would mount him and ride him until he begged for mercy.

"Seems House Stark finally has its Dark Sister." If Lyanna's… warlike fierceness unsettled people, Benjen wasn't one of them. Dashing in his brand new red-black Kingsguard armor, he rather felt if fitting. "You've finally achieved your dream."

"My dream was accomplished when I married Rhaegar, found Elia, and held Jon in my arms." Lyanna slowly slashed at the air, testing how light and fluid her efforts were now with the blade. "But I shan't say the young lass that Lyanna Stark has been two years before wouldn't squeal with glee at this gift."

Underneath the setting dusken sun, the pair of wolves crossed through the gardens towards Maegor's holdfast. Courtiers and servants both bowed as they walked past. "I only wish Ned hadn't left so soon. He would have loved to match Ice against… wait, the blade needs a name." All the great Valyrian steel swords did.

Her grin as they passed into Maegor's Holdfast was quite indistinguishable from a wolf's. "Wolfsbane, with a massive sapphire on the hilt and an elegant blue dragon for a pommel." Again she toyed with the blade expertly, ignoring the queer looks she was getting. A wolf didn't bother with the critiques of sheep, let alone a wolf married to a dragon. "Jon shall have this sword one day, and his child after him."

"You've thought this through," Benjen laughed.

"Since I was nine, though I never dared to dream…"

"Muna!"

If Lyanna's mood could get even better, now was the moment. "Egg!" She quickly sheathed the sword, reaching out to take her delighted son from Ashara and kiss the crown of wispy silver hair on his head. "How is my beautiful babe?" While Jon would always be her special miracle, she loved all three equally.

"He missed his brother," Ash said, wrapping her arms around Benjen's waist and kissing him deeply. The sparkle in the look she gave him communicating she missed him as well. "Thought to take him to their nursery so he could pay Prince Baelon a visit."

"Great idea," Lyanna exclaimed brightly, kissing Egg's cheek before handing him back to Ashara. Planning to pick up both Jon and Daenerys when they got to their nursery. Luckily for them, it was only one turn of the corner away.

Two guards stood at the door, and they seemed surprised at the Queen's arrival. "Your Grace," they stammered out.

Lyanna was curious, but thought nothing of it, Benjen opening the door and letting his sister and paramour in. Her mood brightened yet again at the sight of Jon, but he was asleep. Disturbing him was the last bit on her mind… until the door opened behind them that is.

All three adults shifted their eyes to the doorway as the two guards entered. "Yes, soldiers?" Lyanna asked, expecting an answer or a message, but they remained silent - faces hard beneath the lip of their helms. Behind, three more entered, swords drawn. Her blood immediately ran cold. "What is the meaning of this?" Her voice took a hard edge to it.

"You weren't supposed to be here," the one in the middle said. He was grizzled with a face etched with wrinkles and pockmarks, even if only a decade older than Lyanna herself, and his teeth were rotted. "None of you were, but it's of little consequence." He drew out a large dagger, looking at Ashara - licking his lips. "Thank you for bringing the other half-breed, Dornish bitch."

Lyanna drew Wolfsbane with a deep scowl, joined by Benjen not a moment later. "Ash, stay behind me. Protect the babes."

"Yes, your Grace," she said haltingly, trembling in fear.

Egg noticed the tension, starting to wriggle in Ashara's arms, reaching out for Lyanna. "Muna… muna…"

"Valyrian incest fuck," one of the guards snarled, charging at Lyanna directly. Blade high, the woman made for the best targets in his eyes.

Such was a massive miscalculation. With ease, the lessons Rhaegar and Barristan imparted on her undisturbed by her pregnancy, Lyanna batted away the sword and kicked him square in the stomach - sending him staggering. "Get the wolf cunt!" yelled the lead cutthroat, all of them lunging forward and getting into the thick of it with Benjen and Lyanna.

"No!" Lyanna surprised them all as she rushed headlong towards the attackers, beautiful dress stained with crimson blood as Wolfsbane first tasted flesh after centuries - disemboweling a cutthroat. His screams echoing through the hall and waking the babes, all of them wailing at the disturbance.

Benjen took on the biggest one, the attacker's strength no match for the Kingsguard's skill. It was barely a fair fight, his head rolling on the floor to join another of Lyanna's targets.

Dropping Egg in the crib with his little brother, Ashara came face to face with the leader, who managed to jink and weave around Lyanna to come upon the babes. "Both Princes in the same bed… lucky me." The Dornishwoman lunged for the dagger and tried to wrestle it out of his hand. But the man snarled cut the blade across the sleeves of her dress, leaving a shallow cut on her skin as he kicked her in the stomach. "Bitch!" was his last word before Lyanna buried her sword in his stomach.

Watching him drop the dagger, Lyanna kicked his knees, forcing him to the ground. "You tried to kill my children." Her voice had dropped, a pure icy blizzard. "Who sent you?"

He snickered like a naughty kid. "Your time will come, wolf shit," he said, voice hoarse and mushy as he spat at Lyanna. "Yours and your fuckin' brats."

Eyes blacker than night, Lyanna shoved him flat on the ground and angled Wolfsbane. "Lya, no!" Even with Benjen's warning, she thrust forward slowly. The blade's sharp steel sliced through the flesh of his throat without difficulty. Gurgling and gasping for breath, his eyes widened from agony before dilating in a torturous death. "What was that?!" Benjen clasped her shoulder, only to be greeted with the face of an ice demon in his sister.

Lyanna breathed out short and harsh, heart pounding as she shook from rage. "Don't touch me," she ground out.

"Lya…" Benjen took a gentler tone, only for more guards to scramble through the door. This time, the figure of Ser Alliser was in the van, easing his worries. "Double the guard of the royal wing with men verified by you only, and send for His Grace and the other Kingsguard. There was an attempt on the Princes."

Thorne nodded. "At once, Ser Benjen."

The still shaking Lyanna, hands white as she held Wolfsbane, found Ash hugging her. "Lya… you shouldn't have killed him. We needed someone to interrogate."

She forced herself to slow her breaths, taming the roiling heat within her. "Anyone," she said in a heavy voice, eyes looking at the sleeping babes unaware of how close they had come to death only moons after yet a similar brush with death. "That tries to harm them will meet cold steel."

"Then you must turn that blade on yourself."

She blinked, the voice hitting her ears like a thunderclap.

"It's your fault… for your sins…"

Lyanna shut her eyes, suddenly feeling a horrible headache.

"Sinner…"

"Adulterer…"

"Fornicator…"

While Ashara tried to comfort her, mistaking the new trembling for her anger, the voice bombarded Lyanna in a sudden fusillade. Vulnerable and fearful underneath all her fire and strength, there was no more perfect time.

A/N: Well fuck... Lyanna is a beast. No one's touching her babies while she's around.

Sansa's finally hear, rounding out the four born in 83 AC. Already she has grey eyes of House Stark.

Lots of new developments, namely Rhaegar's supporters getting their lordships and new Valyrian Steel swords.

I think Benjen and Ashara are cute together :D

Till next time.