A/N: Hey everyone. Happy August. Big month for me. My birthday is Thursday and on the 20th I'm getting married :)

Big shoutout to my friend WhiteDragonWolf. He's going through some health issues and is standing strong. This chapter is for you, bud. Keep on kicking ass!

Published a one shot in the Empire of Ice and Fire series on Archive, called "poor Rhaegal." Be sure to check it out.

Enjoy.

Chapter 82: Come Back to Me

The doors of the Casterly Rock great hall were thrown open by the Lannister Household guards, revealing a cluster of armored figures. Each were different states of filthy and blood-drenched, but they walked with the purpose of victory.

Cersei, holding Robb close, immediately rose. "Ned!"

"Poppa!" Robb was hot on his mother's heels as she practically lept on his father, sobbing in his shoulder. "You're back!"

"Promised I'd be," Ned laughed softly, enjoying the embrace of his loved ones.

Rhaegar watched with quite a bit of enjoyment… and envy. He missed his beloveds with all his soul, but they were in King's Landing. Their victory at Lannisport made the reunion sooner to happen. Watching Tywin converse with his sister, suddenly he heard a groaning sound behind him. "Careful with him!" bellowed Ser Arthur. "Where's the fucking maester?!"

"I'm here, Ser," the old man stammered, walking to the stretcher that carried the moaning Benjen. "Ooooh, that's quite the collection of injuries."

"You can patch him up, Maester?" Rhaegar asked.

The old man squinted. "Oh, your Grace. Of course, but he'll be bedridden for a while. These wounds are survivable but serious."

"Just see to it that he's healed," Tywin huffed. "He and Lord Forrester took back the palace and made this victory possible. They are Heroes of Lannisport."

"To Benjen!" bellowed Jon Umber. "The Kraken Slayer!" The northmen cheered. Rhaegar shook his head. Heroic names and titles won't placate Ash or Lya. Only him living would.

Shutting the door, Tywin locked the latch. "No one disturbs me in my solitude and I don't take chances anyone would."

Taking a seat and toeing off his boots, Rhaegar nodded. "I would think that people learned not to fuck with you a long time ago, Lord Tywin."

A snort. "You'd be surprised, your Grace." Thatch of golden hair beginning to thin and grey, Tywin Lannister nevertheless gave off an imposing aura. There was no doubt in Rhaegar's mind he had chosen a strong Hand… that could be a double-edged sword, but he'd give his father's former companion the benefit of the doubt. "Did you know my goodbrother died in the battle?"

"Oh?" Rhaegar knew not what to say. "My condolences."

"Please, save that for someone who gave a fuck about that pussy." Tywin sat, easing off his cloak. "Damn Ironborn." It was covered in rips and tears in the fabric. He sighed and grabbed at something under his desk - a small box. "My idiot father married my sister to that insect for absolutely no reason. Debased House Lannister and I couldn't stop it."

"Then… congratulations, I suppose." The King cracked his knuckles. "You're one cold-blooded man, Lord Tywin."

The man smirked. "Means I'm doing something right." Removing a needle and thread from the box and cutting the thread with his teeth, Tywin threaded the needle through the hole. Noticing Rhaegar's confusion, he grinned. "What?"

Rhaegar was surprised. "You sew your own clothes?"

"Don't be ridiculous, your Grace. I have no time for that… I just stich the tears." Sure enough, he began… with decent skill. "You deny yourself the simple tasks and you'd end up some fat oaf like Mace Tyrell… I never understood why you shouldn't smear the dead. Oftentimes they're dead because they were such idiots."

"I… I can't really fault you on either point, Lord Tywin." They sat in silence for a long time, Rhaegar pouring himself a goblet of Lannisport white while Tywin slowly stitched each rip and tear in his cloak. "Lord Hand."

"Yes, your Grace?" Tywin replied, teeth clenching a needle.

He sipped at his goblet. "If you were me, what would you do to the Ironborn?"

Tywin looked up. "Are you asking me for my counsel as your Hand, or asking that I make the decision for you." He held up a hand. "Don't deny so easily… your father was sometimes indecisive like that, not to mention some of your ancestors." Aenys and Daeron II came to mind.

The King sighed. "Your counsel. I don't have an issue making decisions."

"Good. People will walk all over you if you do so." They'd walk all over the young King regardless, but Tywin could see he was different than Aerys and Aegon V. Firmer, more powerful. If only you were here, Steffon. "So what I'd do? Well, I already did what I would do."

It didn't take long for Rhaegar to understand. "The Rains of Castemere."

Tywin nodded, finishing off a rather jagged stitch. "The Ironborn have been a menace to peace in the Realm for centuries. They produce nothing but skinny fish, filthy seaweed cakes, and even filthier inhabitants keen on raping, reaving, and killing… in that order mind you."

"So you'd have me kill them?"

"No, too impractical." Tywin dismissed the thought as if he were deciding what to order for dinner. "Fire and blood all their keeps, then sell the survivors to Volantis or Meereen or one of those shitholes," he mused nonchalantly.

Rhaegar's eyes narrowed. "Slavery is illegal in Westeros."

"The Ironborn have declared themselves free of Westeros… if they don't want your laws, then you don't need to follow them." He clicked his tongue. "A message to the world that you won't hesitate in punishing traitors, and you're rid of a boil before you have to lance it again in the future."

"I'm not going to stoop that low, Lord Tywin. I'd be derided as the second coming of Maegor the Cruel."

"A dragon doesn't care for the opinions of sheep, my King. I'd suggest you learn that." He stabbed the needle into another gash. "You're The first dragonrider in centuries, and that gives a power to you that all the Kings of your generations past could only dream of. But it only matters if you use it, my King. If you're weak and dithering, then they'll go after you, dragon or not."

A clenched fist. "I refuse to believe that I must burn all my enemies as my father would." Tywin was silent at that. "The Ironborn cannot be hoped to reason with in their current form, but there has to be a way to actually integrate them as we did Dorne."

Tywin shook his head. "Oh, Rhaegar." He looked… disappointed. "Dorne was the biggest mistake your house made since Jaehaerys allied with the Faith and tossed his children down the privy. Daeron II tried to secure a peaceful solution with a realm that kept its pride and defiance… and now look at you. Having to deal with a goodbrother that thinks your word is worth the same as the stick he uses to clean his ass."

"I care not what Doran says as long as he obeys…"

"No, your Grace." He set down his needle and thread, eyes firm on Rhaegar's. Gods, he looked the King Aerys could have been. "War is inevitable to the human condition. As long as some bastard covets something another bastard has, he'll take a rock and try to bash the other's head in. A King or Lord is merely that bastard with the ability to command armies of others to steal that which he covets."

"And your cynical view of the nature of humanity matters how, Lord Tywin?"

"The only thing more powerful than greed, your Grace. Fear… and hope. If a person fears for their life or their safety, that which provides them with hope to emerge alive and prosperous will be who they turn to with everlasting loyalty. And with your dragon, you provide that for even Kings and Lords." He crossed his arms. "If you want to have peace… then you need to be ready to deliver a war so terrible that they would choose the hope you give them than the greed of taking it all."

"Once again, Lord Tywin, you have a very cynical view of the world."

He closed his eyes. "When you grow up under a fool of a father, willing to allow his bannermen to mock him while he whored around with some harlot and sold off his daughters to men undeserving to lick her shoe, you'd understand." A laugh, one devoid of mirth. "Innocence was not something I was afforded as a child… nor you I have to admit, much as your mother tried."

That was true, but Rhaegar wouldn't mire himself in thoughts of his childhood, coming of age as Aerys descended into madness. But another thought came up, one far darker. "My children lost their innocence this war. The moment the Ironborn stormed our keep and my daughter had to defend her brothers and aunt herself."

Tywin's hard emerald eyes softened slightly. He wasn't a complete automaton. "Innocence is something that true royalty cannot afford, my King. Too many count on you… enjoy the moments of levity when they come." He inspected his cloak, checking the strength of the stitches. "I didn't have that chance, Aerys didn't, and your mother is only now taking that to heart."

Rhaegar held his goblet, simply staring into it. "I thought sometimes I would lose them, the both of them. That fate would revoke the blessings I was granted… In an instant it almost came true." His eyes shut, filled with dragonfire. "I want to burn it all to the ground, Lord Tywin… but I can't. I can't allow myself to look my children in the face if I fall to such madness."

"My children… for so long I thought them disgraces to House Lannister." He shrugged. "Well, one of them at least is still a disgrace. At least for once I can face them without being disappointed." They were silent once again, Tywin pouring his own goblet of wine. "You are the King, your Grace. Ultimately the decision is yours. You'll have to live with the consequences, but I can assure you the consequences of you delegating such decisions is worse than those."

"The throne is a curse." Rhaegar stood. "Without the dragons, the game isn't worth it."

"You win or you die, your Grace. And you have much to lose if you don't win."

He nodded. "Aye. Nothing will stop me from winning the game." He finished his wine and set the goblet on the table. "Goodnight, Lord Hand."

Tywin bowed. "My King." Watching Rhaegar leave, he sighed. "Aerys, wherever you are, you better hope that boy turns out nothing like you."


Hand placed on her back, Dacey Mormont sat beside the woman who was effectively her goodsister - gently comforting the poor dear. "He's gonna be fine, Ash."

Hunched over, Ashara Dayne's head was in her hands, the tears freefalling. "How can you possibly know that? How can anyone?" A strangled sob escaped her throat.

Sighing, Elia heard yet another wave of cheers from the center of the city. Thousands had gathered in Visenya's Square below the Sept of Baelor in celebration of the Ironborn's defeat. Lannisport was free of the invaders, and now no part of the Westerosi continent lay under the dominion of the hated reavers. Everyone celebrated, including most of the Red Keep and royal household. Deep down, so were the Queens. But with Benjen grievously wounded after a clash with Rodrik Greyjoy, Ashara couldn't sleep easy. She couldn't cheer or celebrate… not until he was recovered and out of the woods.

Elia shared a look with Lyanna and Dacey. All were worried in equal measure. Already Lord Commander Gerold and Ser Lewyn had died in the line of duty. The White Book couldn't lose another Kingsguard so soon, especially one that was dear to all of them.

Sitting beside Ashara, Lyanna hugged her close. "I fear for my brother too, goodsister." Gods, when will House Stark be free of such pain? "But we Starks are tough. We can survive many things, and the letter says the maester expects a full recovery."

"I know… gods, I know." Ash's face was pale, eyes bloodshot. "They tell me all this and I take it to heart, but I can't be secure unless he's here with me. I haven't even told him…" Her hand dropped to her belly.

All three other women stared in shock. "You're with child again?" Elia breathed. Ash bit her lip and nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

A shrug. "I found out after Ben left… with him in harm's way I was in denial for the longest time, but I couldn't tempt fate by telling him. And now he could die without ever knowing…" She sobbed again. Ashara was a strong, intelligent woman of court, but this was her weakness.

It was all their weaknesses. Bellies round with their own children, Lyanna and Elia knew this better than anyone. "I'll write Rhaegar, see if we can have Benjen transferred here as soon as he's ready to travel," Elia said soothingly. "Or would you rather travel to Casterly Rock?"

"I don't know," she murmured. "I can't begin to know…" The three women hugged their friend and goodsister, providing whatever comfort that they could for the poor dear. At that moment, young Allyria - practically as pure a Dayne as her mother - woke and demanded attention. Ash immediately rushed to her, and while her pain wouldn't go away each woman was glad she had her daughter to grant her something to keep her going through the worry.

Neither Dacey, Elia, nor Lyanna could've handled the worry for their men in battle if they didn't have their beautiful babes. It wasn't lack of strength… but more a keen understanding in what they cherished and the risk that it would all be taken away.

Fears over Benjen's injuries and the still potent worry of something happening to their beloved husband, the Queens met each other in a torrid passion as soon as their bedchamber doors were closed. Desperate to temper their apprehension in each other's bodies, Lyanna and Elia fell into bed without even removing their nightdresses, never once breaking their frenzied kiss. Their pregnant stomachs made it… tricky, but soon Elia was screaming as Lyanna exerted herself with powerful thrusts of her fingers. She needed not wait for her own pleasure after Elia shattered, riding the Dornish Queen's wonderfully skilled tongue until she soaked her wife with her juices.

Sated and shaking from the aftershocks, the two Queens were wrapped tightly around the covers. Elia was buried in Lyanna's embrace, one arm thrown about her while the other caressed her stomach and the precious babe nestled within. Elia swooned at the contact, one she reciprocated with both of her palms splayed on Lya's abdomen. It was a dream, the family they had and would soon add to.

Lyanna ran her fingers along Elia's slender curves and the smooth skin of her back. "We should be proud of our husband… of the men in our lives." She had faced battle, and for them to come out alive and triumphant was something deserving of glory and praise. "If only they weren't at risk of death or injury."

"I feel that is the most important part, my love." Elia kissed her neck, seeking out the warmth of life. "I want our children to grow in a world where they need not fight in order to be great. Prepared to, but not have to."

"I understand, Elia." Lyanna inhaled her spicy scent. "Hopefully the fall of the Ironborn will make that a reality… all Kingdoms of Westeros fighting under Rhaegar's banner, beneath the dragon, it gives me hope."

"Stannis Baratheon has arranged a marriage alliance with Leyton Hightower." One of the nuggets of information Varys supplied her before the official notice was received by raven. "It is a good match for him."

Lyanna frowned. "Not sure how I feel about that." She didn't have anything against Stannis, per se - he seemed decent enough, but that family… "Robert didn't marry the Hightower girl."

Elia raised her head to look at Lya. "You think he's still pining for you?"

"Not thinking, knowing," was the reply. In any case, Lya didn't want to talk about it. "I'm worried about Dorne."

"Me too," Elia bit her lip. "The North and Dorne are so much alike, both outsiders in Westeros. Through Rhaegar we had a chance to bridge all three sides together in an alliance, yet Doran dug in his heels." Her brother's behavior baffled Elia. Not only did she not understand it, but it was also impossible to predict. "Perhaps another alliance can be made."

Lya thought about it. "Jorah Mormont is without wife and he's of prime marriageable age." Dacey's brother was ever dutiful, and an accomplished leader of men. "Dacey always plays up his virtues."

"I don't know… Bear Island isn't the richest of holdings so a southern woman - even from Dorne - may not fit there."

A reasonable thought. "How about one of your brother's girls? Obara will be of age in a few years."

Elia pondered it for a moment. "I see no reason why not. Obara isn't a… traditional lady. She'd fit well with the Mormonts." They smiled at each other, ever impressed with their savvy in these matters of love and politics.

The standing order to the Kingsguards and other soldiers guarding the Red Keep was to not let any close to their chambers lest a member of the royal family or senior royal household. Prince Aegon Targaryen certainly counted, and both Queens were glad they retained their nightgowns in their desperate lust when his shadow appeared in the open doorway. "Muna…"

First out of the bed, Lyanna had ran to him and lifted him in her arms. "What's wrong, my sweet hatchling?" she asked her son. He was already too big for Elia to lift, while for Lyanna it was a struggle.

"I hurt, muna." He looked inconsolable. Silver curls tousled from sleep, eyes bloodshot from unshed tears, and face red with agony. Even in her arms, he would constantly reach for his shins, squeezing them and clenching his teeth. "It won't stop, muna. Help… help me…" he half-gasped, half-hiccuped.

It was heartbreaking, and the fact he looked much like Rhaegar only made it worse. Lyanna walked him back to her bed and laid him down between herself and Elia, who was now sitting up in their bed. "Oh, my dear sweet boy." Elia brushed his hair from his face, kissing his brow. Egg's breaths weren't in wheezes, so thank the gods for small favors. "Did you take the medicine Maester Qyburn gave you?"

He nodded. "It help, but not much. Hold me, muna." Egg pleaded so desperately, both Queens wanted to cry but stayed strong for their son. Pulling the covers over him, they cradled the sweet Prince between them, giving what comfort they could.

Lyanna kissed the crown of his head. "Sleep, my sweet pup. You'll be fine, I promise." He had such bouts of pain… part of his condition, and while Qyburn assured them Egg was healthy in the long-term it was still heartbreaking to see him this way.

Silence passed for a while, only broken by Egg's soft breathing. Elia and Lyanna looked at each other, the latter biting her lip while the other's eyes glistened with grief. But apparently Egg hadn't yet fallen asleep. "Muna, I ask something?"

"Of course, Egg. Please," Elia insisted.

"Am I worthless?"

Both were shocked at the question. "Of course not," Lyanna insisted. "Why would you ask that?"

"Men say it… men and women - they say I'm a worthless prince compared to my brother." He looked up at his munas with pained eyes. "They say he hurt me and make me not matter. I love Jon… why would he hurt me?"

"Who says these things to you?" Elia insisted, her anger rising.

"I… I don't know. Men and women, they walk by when I'm playing - don't see me. One was talking to uncle Vis once."

Of course one of Viserys' friends would be such an unsavory sort, Lyanna figured. But she couldn't afford to be angry at this moment. Not now, as they were touching a very sensitive subject for their little boy. "Well they're all wrong, my love. You are not worthless - you're a dragon of House Targaryen."

"But, they say Jon hurt me?"

Elia shared a glance with Lyanna. It was troubling that their little boy was already experiencing the smears and slander of court politics. They tried to keep their babes away from that. "Listen to me, darling," Elia cooed. "Your brother loves you, as do your sisters, aunts, and the babes in our bellies." She hugged him tight. "We all love you, and none of us will allow you to come to harm."

"I love you, muna," they heard Egg murmur, drifting to sleep.

"We love you too."

Both Queens fell into a restless sleep… how could their family survive what was coming? They were happy, but still monsters lurked in the shadows to tear them apart.

Each hoped that the war would end soon and Rhaegar returned. Their family needed their King.


"You look in pain, husband."

Ned looked up at his wife, her emerald eyes gazing at him from across the table. "I've had worse, wife," he replied cryptically, tearing off a chunk of freshly-baked bread.

Cersei frowned at the answer. "Don't be dismissive, Ned. I can't see you in pain." This man deserved nothing but happiness in his life - oft it seemed to her that those in the North sought out a dour existence… as rugged as the snows and barren soil of their home. Such was a lie at worst and a generalization at best, but that didn't mean she wished not to give him some light. "We should go home, my love. Perhaps it's time. The south doesn't agree with you as well as it does your sister and brother."

A sigh from the Lord of Winterfell. "I cannot leave my brother. It is my duty to stand with him until this campaign finishes."

They were alone, eating their supper in their private chambers after an afternoon spending time with Robb in the countryside. Rhaegar had no compunctions in giving the commanders he didn't need in the logistics of the planned invasion leave to blow off steam. Elbert headed for the brothel, Robert loudly headed for the brothel, Garlan went falconing with Tyrion Lannister… and Ned spent it with his wife and son. There was nowhere he'd rather be, but was mindful of his duty.

Cersei knew that she couldn't challenge his nature, nor did she try. It was her duty to complement him, not berate him. "The Ironborn should buckle soon. They have no fleet and no army."

"I've yet to see a worse position of any foe, aye."

His words were that of confidence, but Cersei could tell that he felt different. "And yet you aren't confident."

Chewing on a cube of auroch steak, Ned washed it down with a sip of ale. "Two wars, Cersei… two wars in the last five years. First one drove us close to ruin. Close to losing it all, and at its times so did this bloody one…"

"You didn't lose it all," Cersei insisted. "And times are changing. The dragons grow and mature… and I am certain there will be more." Queen Rhaella will assure it, given the way she is. "Ultimate peacemakers unless the dragons turn on each other."

"Lya won't let that happen." Another Dance, from her letters Lyanna said that such things often kept her up at night.

A wan smile. "Sometimes it still surprises me she could love Elia's children as she does her own." She'd never seen the Queen with the Targaryen babes, but in meeting Lyanna that one time all the smears that banded around of a woman usurping the firstborn of her husband all came to her as just that - smears.

Ned chuckled. "She loves Elia as she does Rhaegar. I've come to accept it, queer to me as it was at the time. Elia is a lovely woman and a good mother - no better goodsister than her."

"The royal family has been dysfunctional for so long, it's hard to imagine them a loving entity." Cersei bit her lip, stabbing a fingerling potato and slice of meat with her fork. "I worry I cannot be that way for your children."

It was obvious as to whom she was referring to. Sansa and Rickard. "Why do you say that?"

"Nothing in particular. Just a fear of mine. I want to love them, they are your blood just as much as Robb and I adore you." She was quiet, knowing Ned's gaze was upon her and not wanting to meet his eyes. "Tell me about them."

Thinking about his daughter, Ned smiled. "She was my only source of joy for the longest time. Beautiful like her mother was, but there's a spirit inside her that reminds me so much of Lyanna. She'll act like a proper lady for hours then demand for me to take her riding into the Wolfswood." He laughed, ever so happy. "My son… he had just been born when I had to leave. A sweet boy from what I remember and I love him too."

Cersei smiled. "I hope to be good to them."

"You will be." He reached over and clasped her hand. "I know you will, just as with Robb and our future babes."

She swallowed. "Those will come along sooner than we thought."

This time, it didn't take long for Ned to catch on. "Cersei…" His eyes widened. "You're with child?"

"Wolves are very fertile," she grinned.

"I love you." Ned didn't know when he had been happier… likely not since his mother, father and brother were alive and the family all together. But soon this war would be over, Sansa and Rickard in his arms again, and the most beautiful woman in the world in his bed - carrying his child. "I love you so much, Cersei."

Her heart clenched for him, tears playing at her eyes. Damn babe… Robb had wrecked her emotions and the new little wolf was doing the same. "I love you too, my beautiful direwolf." Rising from her chair, Cersei leaned down and kissed Ned. Meant as a little peck, but one that invariably deepened to the point where they were greedily seeking each other out as if dying of thirst. She had to pull back… "One moment." Sleeping cub tucked into her arms, Cersei walked to Loren's wooden cage and slipped him inside. The cub usually slept at the foot of the bed, but best not to have him disturb them during… what Cersei hoped to happen.

Watching this with interest - especially when his wife bent over and showed off her tight rear for his viewing pleasure - Ned raised an eyebrow when she latched the cage and turned around. "Cersei?" Her emerald eyes were sparkling, lips curled mischievously. "What are you planning, wife?" He couldn't help but grin back.

Eyes alight with love and lust, Cersei reached behind her to loosen the ties of her dress. Letting it hang… only just about her shoulders. Her intimate parts… just a tug away. "Let us celebrate our new child, my Lord."

Ned rose, regarding her with a restrained hunger. Always stolid and brooding, but Cersei knew his lusts and his tells. "And how should we do that?"

In lieu of an answer, Cersei stepped into his arms, pulled him flush against her, and crashed their lips together to resume their heady kiss.

This time there was no lion cub to break them apart, no dinner to distract them. Her hands tangled in his hair and at the nape of his neck while Ned assaulted her dress. Tugging down and succeeding in seeing it slowly slide off her body - exposing new flesh for his wandering hands. Breaking for air, the Lord of Winterfell kissed across his wife's cheek to her neck, feasting on her with abandon as his hands pushed the dress further down.

Cersei bit down on her lip as Ned kept running his hands all over her body. They trailed down her sides and then back up, tickling her skin before his calloused palms planted themselves on her breasts. He squeezed them ever so tenderly, causing more pleasure to swirl through her body. "Yes, Ned…" she moaned in his ear as he continued to suck at her neck. Cersei sucked at his lobe, licking the shell of his ear just to ground herself. "Please… take me."

Her words electrifying him, Ned shoved the dress off the last of her body, leaving her completely bare for him. He shucked off his own tunic, enjoying how his lioness eyed him as a cat would a steak. She yelped as Ned picked her up. "To the bed."

But Cersei had other ideas. She tugged on him, causing Ned to swerve and plant her against the wall. "Here, husband."

Ned raised a brow. "You sure?"

Growling, Cersei frantically attacked the belt loop of his trousers - needing to see his powerful cock. "Fuck your pregnant wife, Lord Stark. She commands it."

Grey eyes darkening, the wolf came out to play. Ned roughly pushed her flat against the wall. He swallowed her grunt of discomfort by kissing her madly, the grunt quickly changing to a moan of pleasure.

Cersei felt his tongue plunging into her mouth like a sword, dominating her. Trousers kicked off, his thick manhood was pushing against her slit, making her even wetter. Please… please Ned… I need it. She wanted to push him inside but rather enjoyed his show of dominance. Her alpha wolf claiming her.

Pulling back, Ned stared into her eyes. "Cersei…"

Her entire body shuddered in pleasure. "Please…" Finally, the lioness felt her wolf's manhood slide into her. Gods… was he so big, stretching her in all the best places as only he could do. "Yesssss…"

Ned felt her hands lock around him, her walls closing against his cock as he pushed into her. He searched out her mouth again, kissing the mother of his children sloppily. She grunted each time Ned hammered the golden-haired lioness against the wall. Cersei bucked and moaned like a wanton whore, squeezing his shoulder with her sharp nails and exhorting him faster and faster with her ardor for his body. Cat never made him feel this way… absolutely needed and desired. Him and only him.

Her walls clenched against him, desperate to milk his cock dry of his seed. "By the Seven... oh gods…..." Cersei gasped, head falling against the wall as she lost herself. Was this to be her life now? Belly swollen with his children, days ruling the North alongside her handsome direwolf and nights contorted in the greatest pleasure she had ever known.

Cersei never prayed harder in her life, begging that it never end.


To those that would try to find Prince Baelon Targaryen, it must have been quite the quandary. He wasn't in the gardens, or the cellar where all the dragon skulls were located. He hadn't crowded himself into the training yard to watch the Kingsguards spar or Viserys and Rhaenys train, nor was he in the kitchens enjoying the fawning attention of the staff there. Most would despair, thinking the Princess Daenerys had dragged him on some adventure… or Rhaenys sending them off on an adventure for her own amusement.

Never would they think of finding him in his own chambers, playing quietly. That was where he was now. Ironically, he'd be here more often with his blocks and figurines or trying to read through the picture books gifted to him by his grandmother and uncle Aemon if it weren't for the mischievous influence of his aunt Daenerys.

Had someone surprised themselves and come upon the Crown Prince, they would've been doubly shocked to see the Princess resting on the bed upon her stomach, legs dangling in the air as she doodled on parchment with colored pencils. The two of them? Quiet and playing indoors? Impossible.

But it was reality.

Having built what he believed to be a fair approximation of Weeping Ridge with his black-painted wooden blocks, Jon was busy placing his archer figurines atop it. But… he was missing something. "Dany? Have you seen my Bloodraven figure?"

Biting her lip as she drew, Dany looked up to see Jon's consternated face before dropping back to her task. "Where'd you put it last?"

"If I knew, Dany, I no ask you for it."

"You probably put it somewhere stupid." That was Daenerys alright, blunt and filled with the Targaryen fire alongside the ethereal Valyrian beauty that the first of her name held. It was no wonder she chose to play Visenya in all of their games. "Did you look in your pocket?"

Jon glared at her. "You think I'd put it there…" Reaching into his pocket, when his fingers curled around a figurine the Crown Prince went red, averting his gaze. "I'm stupid." Pulling it out of his pocket, there was the archer figure of Brynden Rivers.

Daenerys softened. "You're not stupid, Jon. Just… abs-minded."

Placing Bloodraven atop Weeping Ridge to coordinate arrows upon the army of Daemon Blackfyre, Baelon looked at his aunt, confused. "'Abs-minded.' What that mean?"

"Muna said it about your kepa. Means he forget a lot."

"Kepa the best," Jon said with finality, hauling himself to his feet. The model done, he decided to look at what Dany was drawing. "Make room." He jumped on the bed, shifting to be right next to her, both on their stomachs. "What you drawing?"

Dany rolled her eyes but didn't truly mind Baelon being so close. It was nice. "Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys." She tapped the parchment. "See, silly nephew. Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes." Gods, maybe he was 'abs-minded' like her muna said Rhaegar was. "I draw them all together, like before Field of Fire."

Inspecting the drawing, Jon could appreciate it. There were the dragons, one a shade of black, one of white, and one of a glittering emerald blue - no one had told him what colors Vhagar and Meraxes were so he couldn't fault Dany for picking the colors she liked. But there was a difference. Visenya had silver hair and purple eyes, but the Aegon had black hair and purple eyes while the Rhaenys was red-haired and grey-eyed.

He put the pieces on the first two together quickly. "You drew you and me?"

"Aye," Dany nodded. "You Aegon, and I'm Visenya, your loyal wife and Queen." She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek as she saw her muna do with Ser Jaime all the time. His blush made her giggle. "And this is Sansa," she pointed to Rhaenys.

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes again. "No, Jon. Don't be stupid, Sansa's our playmate. She's our Rhaenys, don't you remember."

Furrowing his brows, Jon was confused… up until he wasn't as recognition dawned in his eyes. "Oh… Sansa. Yeah, I remember." That had been the most fun he'd had with anyone since his kepa had left to fight the Ironborn. Playing with all three of them in his dreams. Waking up the next morning he could've sworn it wasn't real… at least until Dany started jumping on the bed and gushing over their new playmate.

It had been real, even if he was asleep while they played on Dragonstone.

"She was so much fun to be around… do you know who she was?"

Dany's head shook from side to side. "No, I don't know who she is… and I no see her for two weeks." It made her sad to think about… their favorite playmate and Dany only remembered her from one dream. She hadn't even told her muna, or goodsisters… or even Rhae or Egg. What if they thought she was mad? "I miss her. We finally have a Rhaenys to play with."

Jon patted her shoulder. "I'm sure she'll come back… at least she probably will." He quieted down, looking away.

If there was one thing that hurt Dany more than her own sorrow, it was seeing her nephew's sorrow. "Jon… what's wrong?"

"It nothing."

Suddenly, he was rolled over - pinned down on the bed by Dany. Her free-flowing silver hair framed her face, violet eyes firm as they gazed down at him. "No, you tell me, what wrong?"

Squirming, it became clear to Jon that Dany was not gonna let go without him forcing her off… and he didn't want to do that. "Fine. If I tell you, you get off?" She nodded, head bobbing up and down. "My nameday is coming up in a moon."

Dany blinked. "Huh? What's wrong with that? I hear your munas and my muna will throw a feast. You're getting lots of gifts."

"I don't want lots of gifts." Dany got off of him, both of them sitting upright while Jon looked away. "I only want one gift."

Outside, a plate of gingerbread squares in her hands as a treat for the two hatchlings, Queen Lyanna heard the muffled voices of her son and goodsister talking to each other. "So what's the only thing you want for your nameday, Jon?"

Lya pressed her ear against the door, suddenly quite curious. What her son said next broke her heart. "I just want my kepa back." Jon sniffled. "I miss him so much. If he no come to my nameday, does he not love me anymore?"

Dany hugged him close, pressing her head into the crook of his neck. "I know your kepa love you, Jon. Jus' like my muna love me." One firm constant in their life… their elders loved them dearly.

"I know… I jus' scared, Dany." He held her tightly. "I pray to heart tree every day for kepa to come back. I jus' wan' him back."

Wiping her face free of tears, Lyanna didn't know how much of her own sorrow was the babe playing with her emotions or the genuine sadness of what her son was feeling - likely both. Fucking Ironborn. She needed to make his wish a reality…

The door opened and both Targaryens looked up to see Lyanna entering. "I bear treats for the little dragons." For now… all pain and sadness was forgotten at the prospect of something sweet and dusted with powdered sugar.


"Jorah Mormont, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves?" Rhaegar raised Blackfyre to arc over Jorah's head and tap the other shoulder. "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?"

Jorah, head bowed and on his knee out of respect and obedience to his King, nodded. "I so swear, your Grace." He hadn't ever expected such an honor, but was in no place to deny it.

"Then I name thee Ser Jorah Mormont, Lord of Bear Island and Hero of Lannisport." To the northmen, knighthood was the mark of the south as the First Men knew no knights… but as the man that saved the life of the King and the first to take action at the Lannisport docks, both Rhaegar and Tywin felt a reward was necessary. None objected to his knighting, a high honor in the remaining Six Kingdoms. "Rise, Ser Jorah."

The Lord of Bear Island rose and was showered with claps and cheers from the others gathered in Casterly Rock's war chambers. All the commanders of the various forces now camped within and around Lannisport were here for the planning of the final stage of the battle. Jorah moved to his place by the other Northern Lords, while Rhaegar advanced to the head of the table. On one side was Ned, on the other Tywin… with Ser Davos beside Tywin. "Shall we begin, your Grace?" the Hand asked.

"Aye. I must begin by announcing that Ser Davos Seaworth, Ser Stannis Baratheon, and my goodbrother Prince Oberyn Martell have arrived from the Arbor, where they defeated the Ironborn fleet in a decisive engagement." Letting the claps die down, Rhaegar cleared his throat. "Now, considering the fact that no admiral without dragon support has ever annihilated an entire Ironborn fleet in a single engagement since Lancel IV Lannister centuries ago, I have taken it upon myself to raise Ser Davos' status to Lord of Sealion Point." He smirked as the aforementioned Lord Davos' eyes widen in shock. "And with the death of Lord Lucerys Velaryon in battle, as of now Lord Davos is appointed Master of Ships."

"Congratulations, Lord Davos," Ned announced. Any man that saved Lyanna was a friend of his. "May the old gods and new shine upon you."

"Lord Davos." Announced Oberyn - he was privy to Rhaegar's decision to make him Master of Ships, but raising his station was a bonus. "May he lead us to victory." A sentiment even the most snobbish of the Lords could agree to. He had proven himself in battle, and at least the ones here would respect that.

"Thank… Thank you, your Grace." The newly-minted Lord Davos Seaworth leaned in over the map of the Iron Islands. From smuggler to Lord in five years, what a life. Marya would be quite excited, he felt. "Alright, my Lords. The Iron Islands produces tough fighters but not enough of them. Most of their trained land warriors were captured with the fall of Lannisport so they'll be hurting."

Robert Baratheon snorted. "Hope not fucking completely. I'm looking for another good fight." The Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had been bragging for weeks about the number of scalps he had taken during the Battle of Lannisport. While his spirit was appreciated, it was growing irritating.

"There will be a fight, Lord Robert, but instead of committing our forces piecemeal, we need to attack all at once." Darting in, the map servants began pushing the various markers forward from the coast of the Westerlands straight towards the various islands that made up the Iron Islands. "We overwhelm them, take their keeps and make them dance like a chicken with its head cut off."

The Lords mumbled to themselves about the plan, studying it. "And who will lead the attacks?" Asked Lord Bronn, arms crossed.

Lord Tywin cleared his throat. "We have decided that Lord Tyrell will assault Harlow, Lord Bell has Blacktyde, Lord Arryn neutralizes Orkmont, Ser Brydnen Tully takes Saltcliff, and the Wyks split between Lord Robert and Ser Stannis Baratheon." all had been carefully chosen for political considerations. Each side getting a piece of the pie.

"And what about you, your Grace?"

Looking at Davos, Rhaegar nodded at him. "After the attack begins in three weeks, the final attack will happen two weeks after with myself leading the naval contingent. Lord Hand Tywin, Lord Stark, and Prince Oberyn will command the ground forces, while his Grace gives support from the air. Take Pyke, and it will be over."

"To victory," Rhaegar proclaimed.

"To victory!"

A Lannister bannerman entered the chamber and approached Ser Arthur. The Kingsguard accepted a dispatch - it bore the seal of Queen Lyanna, a blended three-headed dragon and direwolf. He approached Rhaegar. "Your Grace, a message from the Queen."

Rhaegar's eyebrow rose, but he nevertheless smiled. "Thank you Arthur. One moment, my Lords." Few begrudged him the urgency to read Lyanna's words, though Robert frowned and averted his eyes… it was still rather raw for him. Rhaegar sat and broke the seal, eagerness to read Lyanna's letter dying as he reached the contents.

My beloved husband,

Words cannot express how proud I am of you and your victories, but you need to come home. Your children need you.

They saw you off with smiles and dreams of glory, but since the storming of the Red Keep there's been great tension. Elia, Rhaella, and I can only do so much. They desperately want you back. I even heard our sweet Jon say tearfully to Daenerys that all he wants for his nameday in a moon is his kepa to return.

Don't sacrifice best laid plans for this, but bear it in mind. Please come back soon.

Your loving wife and Queen

Lyanna

He stared at the letter quietly. Outwardly the King seemed calm to his war council, but for those that knew him like Ned or Arthur - or those who were simply observant like Tywin - they could tell there was a maelstrom of emotions raging inside him. Anguish, self-loathing, anger, hate… fire and blood.

My son… He was failing as a father, his young son having his innocence torn away from him and forced to live alone. Without his father to protect him.

Without Rhaegar to protect him… all because of the Ironborn.

To his credit, the military wisdom didn't completely leave him. In his anger he still considered the timeline - the army was ready. Caution wasn't out of unpreparedness but simply that, caution. Determined to end this once and for all, Rhaegar didn't change the dynamic.

"Lord Tywin, Lord Seaworth!"

Both men stood, looking expectantly at the King. "Yes, your Grace?"

Rhaegar's face was hard, eyes blazing with fury. "Ready the ships. We launch the invasion within the next three days. Pyke one week after."

Davos' eyes widened. "Now, your Grace? We're just preparing…"

"Didn't you tell me that all the ship crews are rested and the supplies loaded or ready to be loaded at a moment's notice."

"Aye, I did say that…"

"Ten follow my command. Are we clear?"

"Yes, your Grace. I live to serve," Davos stated. It was always discomforting to do things on the fly, but he had no doubt that victory would be theirs.

Rhaegar's eyes shifted to Tywin. "Any comment, Lord Hand?"

Raising his brow, Tywin nevertheless demurred. "No, my King. Whether in three days or three weeks, the Iron Islands will fall."

"Good."

"Time to roast some squid!" Robert bellowed, smacking his palm on the table. "To victory!" The northmen, Stormlanders, and many others cheered Robert's jingoist gusto. Few things united them - hate for the Ironborn was one of them.

Broodingly silent, Rhaegar still looked at the letter in his hand - rereading Lya's scrawl over and over again. I will be back, my son. If he had to move the earths and tame the oceans… if he had to bring fire and blood to every keep in the Iron Islands Rhaegar would do so. Your kepa will be at your nameday, this I promise.

A/N: Rhaegar has every reason in the world to get home now.

Next up, fall of the Iron Islands. Be sure to check it out, cause 30 comments gets an update in a week.