A/N: Hi guys. Glad to be back with another chapter. Been stressed cause now is the time med school interview requests come out.

Good news, with Bet of Dragons done, my one shot done, and Targaryen Dynasty wrapping up (check them all out, I promise you'll love them), I shall be starting a new project: a modern romantic comedy (with plenty of smut) starring Jon and Daenerys called "My Best Friend's Wedding :D It'll be posted on Ao3.

Be sure to check out my current stories Dragonshield and Heart of the Blessed.

Enjoy.

Chapter 88: Bastards

"All of you are ridiculous." Watching the various Targaryens acting like the adorable little dragons they were made Asha Greyjoy want to puke. "Can't you pick a game where us normal bloods can play too?"

The twin violet orbs of Daenerys Targaryen looked up from her cream-colored egg to find her. "No." She rubbed the ossified scales with obvious affection, cherubic face framed with the almost perfectly styled mane of silver locks. How can a girl be that perfect-looking? She's a wild dragon. "You don't like, tough." She giggled. "Tough tough tough!"

Beside her, Rhaenys and Baelon giggled, seated on the bed and holding their dragon eggs as well. "Don't listen to them, my sweet," Rhaenys told hers as if it were her babe. "You are the most beautiful thing in the world. You could never be boring." Sometimes… she heard the orange-red egg speak to her in whispers. Now was not one of those times, but she loved the egg still.

Asha rolled her eyes. Rhaenys was her only friend in this damned place, and she was usually quite fun to be around, but not when she got all lovey-dovey over her egg. It was the same with her cat, Balerion, only the cat was at least alive. "Come on," she urged her non-Targaryen companions. "Aren't you bored of this?"

Looking up from his child's training swords, which he had been polishing as they were his most prized possessions, Artie Mormont shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I don't mind."

"Dragons! Dragons!" giggled Allyria Dayne from where she sat next to Myrcella and Alyssa with their eggs, clapping her hands excitedly.

"You're not even Targaryens. Those eggs are just stone rocks to us."

"Look at it this way, Asha," Artie said matter of factly. "I'm never gonna ride a dragon, but being friends with dragons is good. No one will ever mess with me." He looked smug at making the argument even if he was but six namedays.

A grunt drew their attention. "Ya' know what I find good? That you brats are playin' dragons while I had to lug those chests up here for ya' to do so."

Dany smirked up at Sandor, their personal babysitter… ever since he was Jon's sworn sword, Barristan rarely assigned any kingsguards to watch over the Crown Prince. The Hound was better at fighting than all but Arthur and Jaime. Thus, he was a familiar presence. "You're lucky to be a part of our dragons," she insisted. "And we didn't ask you to bring us my muna's dragon."

Rhaenys and Asha snickered at that, as did Artie. Jon bit back a laugh while Alyssa laughed uproariously. Sandor just glowered. It's what he did best besides curse and fight. "I don't take orders from you, silver pest. Only from the little prince."

Dany looked to Jon, knowing he couldn't resist any request she made of him. She didn't even need to speak - it seemed to their siblings like the two could read each other's minds. Jon smiled at her. "Well, good Ser, I am your liege so I command you to obey her," he said in his best interpretation of his father.

"I'm no knight, you can't command me as one."

"I am the Prince with the biggest dragon." He hugged the black egg tightly, kissing the scales and rewarded with a pleasant heat as a result. I love you, dragon. Sandor scowled again, while Dany hugged him and Rhaenys gave a smirk.

But one sibling of his didn't take it well. "Nuh unh!" insisted the Princess Alyssa, standing up with her own emerald egg. "I have biggest dragon!" She stomped her foot for good measure, a habit she picked up from her aunt Dany.

Baelon chuckled. His little sister was a fireball, a mix of Targaryen dragon and their uncle Oberyn… a potent combination, but Jon wasn't fazed. He was the Crown Prince. "Of course you do, little sister."

"My dragon is biggest!" She pointed her finger at him. "You dragon small wimp!"

Jon blinked, only to narrow his eyes. "My dragon isn't a wimp!"

"His dragon is the best!" Dany stood, defending her nephew. "The King rides the biggest dragon! And I'm his Queen riding next to him!" She was insistent on that point, hand on her hips.

Egg, sitting on the bed with his own pure purple egg, watched as his other aunt walk to him. "Egg… make loud stop," Cella said, clutching her golden egg and shaking with fear. She was always delicate and quiet and seemed content with that unlike Egg.

"Shut up, Dany!" Alyssa screeched.

"Don't tell Dany to shut up!" Baelon yelled, defending his aunt, but the spitfire got in his face, shoving him.

Eyes widening, Egg reached for Sandor and pulled the leg of his trousers. "Hound, do something."

Sandor looked amused. "Why? This job finally got good." He crossed his arms, resolved only to interject when they looked like they would actually hurt each other.

By now, Dany and Lyssa were rolling around the floor wrestling, and the younger girl was dishing out slaps. He had to do something if Sandor wouldn't. "Aunt… sister, stop!" But as he dashed forward, he tripped on the floorboard and fell over. "Ahhhhh!"

Whatever arguing was going on among the Targaryen creche ceased. "Egg!" Baelon yelled, running to his side. Rhaenys was right behind him and Dany behind her. Alyssa, Myrcella joining her, looked frightened.

Wincing, there were tears in Aegon's eyes as he clutched his knees. "No… why…" he had been doing so well and now his knees ached again.

Dany hugged him tight. "Egg…"

"Brother… you alright?" Baelon asked with a worried grimace.

Groaning, the Hound pushed off the wall. "Aight, let me have a look's see." He knelt and looked over the Prince. While no maester, he'd seen his share of battlefield injuries. "Looks like there's nothin' broken or even scraped."

"He has aches, Hound," Rhaenys hissed. "Take him to Uncle Aemon!"

"Yer' not my liege, She-snake," he replied.

"I am, and take him," insisted Baelon, causing the Hound to sigh and comply. "I'm sorry Egg!" he called out to his brother.

Egg, now in the Hound's arms, smiled at Jon. "Tis fine, valonqar. Just don't fight. Lone wolf dies, pack survives." Jon nodded, biting his lip as Egg was taken away to be treated.

Rhaenys, frowning, smacked her younger brother on the head. "Owww… hey!"

"That's for being a buttmunch!"

"He's not a buttmunch!" Dany yelled. "You are!"

Artie snickered. "Girl defending you, Jon?"

"Shut up!"

"Stop!" Cella screeched. "Egg told us no fight." She went to hug her nephew. "No fight, Jon."

Locking eyes with Rhaenys, who's gaze softened, and Dany, looking sheepish, Jon hugged his aunt. "Sorry Cella." Then he was greeted by Alyssa launching herself at Jon. "Hi, sister."

"I love you, Jon," she babbled. "You big dragon."

"As are you." He hugged them both, leading to Dany joining in - followed by Rhaenys, and then even Artie and Allyria, tightly completing the group embrace.

Asha groaned and covered her head with her pillow. "Gods, you Targaryens are worse than my family."


Watching as everyone in court fell to their knees as he walked in, Rhaegar didn't seek to preen or smugly enjoy their deference. 'You are but a man, Rhaegar. A dragon, but a man above all.' Aemon's advice rang in his mind, and he took it to heart as he sat upon the Iron Throne. Rhaegar glanced at his two Queens seated on their gilded seats on either side and smiled at them. They answered back with looks of adoration - appreciative stares at his black and red leather cuirass and tunic, something both comfortable and dashing.

Their stares meant more to him than that of the entire court. "Rise," he said simply. All of them did, which included many Lords that arrived for the reception that night. He spotted Garlan Tyrell and his family, Stannis Baratheon, Elbert Arryn - without his wife, she saw - and Brynden Tully among others. He turned to Lord Hand Tywin. "Is everything ready, Lord Tywin?"

Tywin bowed his head in respect. "We are waiting for them to arrive, your Grace. Only a matter of time."

Rhaegar pursed his lips but nodded. "Alright." Leaning forward, he spotted the rest of his family… at least the ones that could walk and stand still. Viserys was sullen but quiet, his overall demeanor having greatly improved since he started riding Maerys - Rhaegar was so glad to see it. Daenerys and Myrcella were waiting right in front of his muna, while Rhaella and Alyssa were next to Lyanna while Jon and Egg were beside Elia… Jon right next to Dany. Jon… His strapping young heir, Crown Prince Baelon. "Prince Baelon," he announced.

All eyes fell on him, while Baelon stared at the King. "Yes, kepa?"

Patting his lap, Rhaegar motioned for his son. "Come here, son. Sit with me."

Looking at Elia, who nodded with a smile, Jon bounded over to his kepa and gladly climbed on the Iron Throne. Rhaegar laughed merrily and kissed his forehead. "Subjects, look at your Crown Prince and future King. Remember now as the first moment you see him prepare to rule." The crowd politely clapped… apart from the royals who clapped joyously.

Ser Oswell slipped in through the front doors. "Your Grace! Announcing Triarch Malaquo Maegyr and Triarch Jaenera Vhassar of the Free City of Volantis."

As the front doors opened, Rhaegar whispered in Jon's ear. "Remember, my son. You are a Targaryen dragon. You must be gracious, but also firm. Use the fire in your blood to make sure none know you as but you are. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "Kessa, kepa. I'll make you proud." Rhaegar grinned and kissed his forehead again, noticing only just now that Baelon was dressed exactly as he was. He looked at Elia, who only grinned at him. You devious, Dornish wench. He wouldn't admit to her that he loved it.

The procession was comprised of three dozen Volentene noblemen and women, surrounded by a retinue so varied it included merchants, scribes, bankers, common servants, and even collared slaves. He noticed Lyanna's dark scowl… and one from Elia and his mother.

"Muna?" Dany asked. "Why do those women have things on their necks?"

"They are slaves, Daenerys," Rhaella whispered back. "Slavery treats men like property, like horses… only they are hurt unlike our horses."

Dany furrowed her brows. "Slavery is bad." Rhaella squeezed her shoulder, approving of her daughter's instincts.

Viserys was bored, thinking of how he could get out of this… until his eyes locked with a rather pretty girl close to Triarch Maegyr. She noticed his stare and immediately blushed, shyly averting her gaze. For the teenager, it was something quite… heady. He grinned softly to himself, for the first time quite interested in something either than riding his dragon.

Not a subject of the Targaryen King, Maegyr and Jaenera lead their retinue in bowing respectively towards Rhaegar. "King Rhaegar, we thank you for your hospitality in your invitation to your capitol."

Rhaegar nodded graciously. "The honor is mine, Triarchs. The meat and mead on my table is yours to share." He patted his son on the back. "Crown Prince Baelon, do you have anything to say?"

Baelon looked at his father… then at the Volentenes, then at his mothers, then at Dany, and finally back at Rhaegar. "I… I hope we can have fun here…" he started, then remembered something he heard his uncle Viserys speak of. "And make much coin." He paused, biting his lip in shyness.

The entire court waited on baited breath to see what the King and Triarchs would do… until both Rhaegar and Jaenera Vhassar burst out laughing. Soon, the entire court was laughing merrily at Baelon's comment. "I approve of how the Prince thinks, your Grace," Jaenera commented.

Rhaegar smacked a kiss on Baelon's cheek. "You'll be an amazing King, my son." All Jon could do was beam in pride.


Slowly eating a few grapes off a tiny vine he had plucked from the large platter on the refreshment table, Prince Aegon Targaryen noticed that his brother, sister, and aunt seemed to have wandered off. Rhae… Dany… Jon? Turning around, he found himself alone in the midst of the great feast that was going off all around him.

The arrival of the delegation of Volantis was all that his little dragon creche, as grandmother Rhaella called it, could speak of. It was the first major event where kepa was allowing the four eldest to attend, and all were made sure to be on their best behavior. Easy to say for Egg and Baelon, but there was a certainty that Dany and Rhaenys would do something spirited and mischievous. Baelon often went along with them cause Rhaenys was the leader and Dany was his 'Soul-companion' as uncle Benjen oft said, but Egg was different.

Unlike his siblings, he hated this.

There was no malice or bitterness in him - that was more an affliction of his uncle Viserys, who in contrast was actually having a good time of it speaking with one of the Volentene noble's daughters. No, Egg simply felt daunted. His knees ached and there was a sheen of sweat on his chest, one he knew could be a trigger for his recurring rashes. Why can't I just stay inside with Lyssa and Cella? He'd rather read his children's books on the great Targaryen Kings rather than take part in this.

Everything was so… intimidating. It was one thing to be Rhae or Dany, outgoing and loved by everyone, or even Baelon, confident and gifted. But Egg… the attention was not something he enjoyed.

"Problem, my Prince."

Egg saw Ser Oswell, and was relieved at the familiar voice. "No… I'm just… hungry…" he lied.

"Alright, your Grace. How's about we get you some roast pork or chicken?" Egg's stomach grumbled, betraying him. Perhaps he was actually hungry. He nodded, and Oswall bowed his head. They were the most intimidating knights, but Egg grew up around them so they were just family to him - Benjen was his literal uncle so that helped.

Halfway to the tables, a loud voice called them over. "Oswell!" Aegon stopped in his tracks at his kepa's call. "Bring my son here!"

He trembled momentarily before seeing his mighty kepa, dressed in his best and looking every inch a dragon king, smiling widely at him. "My darling son," he beamed, hugging Egg. "See, Garlan. I raise a mighty brood of future dragonriders," he boasted, slightly in his cups.

Lord Garlan Tyrell, having grown into a tall, strapping man with the physique of a proud knight, smiled down at the young Prince. "Your Grace, I remember when he was just ye big." He mimed the size of a single cubit. "I also recall that you had me fetch swaddling clothes for him on more than one occasion."

A young boy… a little older than Egg but not by much, snickered at that. He was blonde and very beautiful, though with a hint of strength. But Egg watched the Lord of Highgarden swat his ear. "Hey, brother…"

"You're in front of the King, Loras. Be respectful… forgiveness, your Grace," Garlan offered. "My brother is a cheeky one even at eight namedays. Always likes to cause trouble."

"Perhaps he'd be a good betrothal for my Rhaenys," Rhaegar laughed, a powerful hand on Aegon's shoulder. "So, Loras Tyrell. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I wanna be a Kingsguard… your Grace," he blurted out.

Garlan looked mortified, while Egg peered at him curiously. I… I think he'd make a better Kingsguard than Ser Lyn. Unlike his siblings and aunts, Egg never really liked the Valeman. Loras' eyes found him and he swore they sparkled. His kepa continued to laugh. "Bold, I like it. You'll be a mighty knight like your brother, one day. If you still wish, I'll give you my leave to show me what you're made of when you're older."

"You honor us, your Grace."

Nodding, Rhaegar saw the Queen of Thorns beginning to walk towards them. "Ah… your grandmother is coming. Oswell, see that Egg goes to his siblings." He wasn't old enough to deal with Olenna Tyrell.

Oswell bowed. "Of course, your Grace." Egg followed along, looking back at his kepa and the Tyrells.

Smiling fakely, Lyanna made sure to nod her head every now and again so as to let the insipid noblewoman know that she was listening… which she wasn't. Gods, these are tedious. How did Elia handle these so effortlessly and merrily when all Lyanna wanted to do was tell off the vapid highborn cunts, pull her wife into someplace private, and finger her until Elia screamed her name.

Maybe later. Rhaegar will appreciate the show.

Catching something in the corner of her eye, Lyanna turned and saw her eldest son amble along alone behind Ser Oswell. He looked so… uncomfortable that she felt the worst. He also gave the perfect excuse. "Forgive me, Lady Piper, but I must see to my son."

"Oh… I won't keep you then, your Grace."

Approaching her son, she waved off the ever-present Ser Oswell and touched Egg's shoulder. The young Prince turned, blinking at his mother. "My sweet dragon, what's wrong?" Lyanna cupped his cheek - he was still of the age where being clucked over by his parents wasn't a humiliation. "This is your first feast and yet you're not socializing as your siblings and aunts."

Lilac eyes wide, Egg looked away. "I'm nervous, muña." He sounded ashamed.

"Why?" Lyanna gently took his chin and tilted his head to look at her - seeing the expression of love on her face. "You're a mighty Targaryen Prince. You shouldn't be nervous," she smiled.

"I don't want to be a burden on you, muna, or kepa. But I'm just..." Egg winced, so unsure of himself. It just… always seemed that way, only feeling comfortable with his family.

Ignoring propriety - not that she could really be noticed behind the column of the great hall - Lyanna knelt in front of Egg. "Oh, my sweet child." She hugged Egg. The silver Prince so reminded her of his beautiful mother. She was sweet and ever loving, but had a long stretch of life being cloistered and shy. "Never, you are never a burden, my beloved son."

Egg fell into the embrace, holding her tightly and pressing his head against her dress. "I want to be a strong dragon, muna… I don't know why I'm not…"

"It's in your blood, Egg. You're named after the mightiest Kings in our history, with the blood of the Rhoynar and Old Valyria flowing through your veins…"

"And Kings of Winter," he insisted.

She blinked, an errant tear falling from his declaration. He was too young to understand bloodlines, but that he also saw himself as a Stark as well as a Martell and Targaryen made Lyanna's heart skip. He is raised by a direwolf, so it's not entirely false. "Yes, my son. You are." She kissed his temple, an idea coming to mind. "Egg? Your muna needs you for something very important."

"Kessa?" He looked eager to prove himself - much like his younger brother, but Baelon was so naturally gifted he never really had to struggle.

"Your kepa is busy doing boring Kingly things with Lord Tywin," she said with a wry smirk, getting Egg to giggle. "So why don't you be my escort for the evening?"

His purple eyes shone at the request. "Yes muña!" I can do this! I'll make her and muna and kepa proud of me. Egg quickly offered his hand like he saw his kepa do to both his munas when they entered the great hall earlier.

Lya smiled widely and stood. "A handsome Valyrian Prince on my arm… I am quite lucky." Gingerly, she let her hand hold the loop of Egg's arm - the boy would be a tall one, taller than Baelon and mayhaps taller than Rhaegar himself. "Just follow my lead, Egg. I won't let you get into a bad situation." He nodded, trusting his muna implicitly.

That trust was well placed. With Lyanna guiding him through her rounds among the various foreign dignitaries and Westerosi Lords, Aegon felt his nervousness slipping. He kept close to his muna, sometimes hugging her skirts, but it started to loosen him. He found himself smiling and laughing on occasion, though the japes that his muna and the others oft laughed at were incomprehensible to him.

He felt his muna tense as a tall, thin man with a severe face approached… a young lad Baelon's age and well dressed in a yellow doublet and black trousers. They didn't look scary, so why was his muna in distress? "Muna?"

She squeezed his hand, but said nothing else. "Lord Stannis, it is a pleasure," Lyanna said formally. "You know my son, Prince Aegon."

Stannis Baratheon bowed. "My Prince."

"My Lord…" he replied, unsure of who he was… just that he shouldn't address a strange man by their first name according to their grandmother.

"This is Lord Stannis Baratheon, Aegon. Brother of the Lord of Storm's End." The last were almost spit out.

"Yes, and forgive Robert for not attending. He… had other commitments."

"I'm sure, I'm sure." She was tensing even further, and scrambling to look for something else to speak of. "And who is this?" she asked about the boy, who seemed torn between melting into the floor or standing there with a puzzled stare.

"Ah." Stannis clasped the boy's shoulders. "This is Robert's new heir, Gendry Baratheon."

Lyanna narrowed her eyes at him. The boy looked exactly like Robert, exactly, only without the smugness. A bastard working in a smithy. But she wouldn't be horrid to a boy. "Gendry then, you're a handsome lad." What else could she say?

Gendry was intimidated by her - it made sense, given she was a Queen and likely two days before he was merely a bastard living in Flea Bottom. But as Stannis nudged his side, the boy gulped. "Your… Grace… thank you."

Egg took a chance. "I'm Aegon. Nice to meet you."

Staring at the Prince, a young child wasn't as threatening as a grown Queen and he managed a weak smile. "Hello…"

"Forgive me, Ser Sannis. I must be going." Lyanna tapped Aegon on the arm and led him away. Gods, why can't that family just go away? She forgot her ire and smiled when she saw Jon, Dany glued to his side, holding an amicable conversation with other noble youths, who were clearly listening to every word coming out of him. "Egg… I think I found your brother and aunt. You were my wonderful escort for the evening, but I think they need your company now."

"Alright, muna." Egg leaned up to peck her on the cheek. "Love you." He started away towards them.

"I love you too, my son." She gave his retreating form a fond stare.

Watching her beloved silver-headed Prince race towards his siblings and aunt, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Lyanna didn't try to stop them, for she knew exactly who this was. "Do I have to worry my beautiful Stark Queen is being swept off her feet by a handsome Targaryen Prince?" Rhaegar whispered in her ear, unable or unwilling to hide his boundless affection for her.

Lyanna snorted. "Oh shut up." But she laughed right after, turning in his arms to peck his lips. "I already had my feet swept by a Targaryen Prince, and only hope the lucky lady that little Egg will sweep off her feet is worthy of him."

"If he's anything like his kepa, then he will be." Rhaegar kissed her temple, but suddenly sighed. "Sometimes I worry about that poor boy."

Biting her lip, Lyanna looked back and watched as Baelon and Rhaenys urge their brother to try a strange-looking dessert that she knew tasted much better than it appeared - Egg, cautious as he always was, demurred for a while before trying it. From his smile, it did taste good. "His illness… we give him love and I know that sweet, wonderful boy tries, but he's missing that fire you have… or Rhaella has. I can see it in Rhae, Jon, Dany, and Alyssa but not him."

Rhaegar shook his head. "It's in there, I know it. Just need to awaken it."

"Look at what her dragon did for your mother… is there any chance he could hatch one of the eggs?"

"Those things were ossified into stone long before you or I were even born, Lya." Sometimes it still felt surreal for him, the presence of Aegarax. "Used to be that a worthy Targaryen would either hatch an egg at birth without any flames or claim an already grown and riderless dragon when they were slightly older. The latter is impossible and the former… that was when the eggs were fresh. It's uncharted ground."

Lyanna could only nod, but forced a smile on her face when Aegon returned. "Muna, kepa. Try this… it's amazing!" He held up the dish, insistent - there were two forks for them to use, showing off just how smart he was. Nodding, Lyanna took a fork and collected a decent sized piece of the Tyroshi pastry and forked it in her mouth.

He was right, it did taste amazing.


"Nuh unh," Margaery Tyrell said, enjoying herself for once at one of her grandmother's ploys to make her befriend fellow highborn children. "You didn't loop your arms around the neck of the King's dragon."

Daenerys Targaryen grinned. "I so did! He's a big softie."

"Lucky," murmured Margaery. "Has he taken you on a ride?"

"My muna has," she replied, looking at her niece, nephews, and cousin Arianne - the latter the designated adult family member watching over them when Margaery showed up. Both she and Rhaenys liked her immediately. "My brother no."

"He took me riding," Rhaenys grinned.

"Me and Egg too!" Insisted Baelon, looking proud.

"It's no matter." Dress swishing against the floor, Dany grabbed Baelon's arm. "I'm to be his Queen and fly by his side forever and ever." Jon blushed, but made no move to correct her… it was clear he wanted such an eventuality too in his childlike mind.

Arianne, older and more aware of all the implications, raised a brow. "You to be his Queen? Are you aware of what that means?"

She furrowed her brows. "Kessa, like Rhae and my goodsisters. He rules and they rule with him." Dany's violet eyes were so certain, so innocent, that it made Arianne laugh in spite of herself. "What? What's so funny?" She was starting to get mad.

"Ari," cautioned Rhaenys. "Don't get her going." Her aunt could be very much a dragon when ired, especially when Baelon was involved. "The two share thoughts. I'm sure it'll happen."

The Princess of Dorne wasn't buying it. "You're telling me that these two are that close? I've heard rumors but they sound unbelievable."

"Believe them, saucy snake."

Blinking, Arianne looked up at Sandor with suspicion. "'Saucy snake?'"

The Hound grunted. "I named you something else but I've been told by such terrifying individuals, namely Queen Lyanna, that I wasn't to be profane around the children." From the look on his face, he appeared genuinely fearful of the Stark Queen.

It made Arianne chuckle. "I suppose that makes sense… but why should I believe them?"

"Cause the silver pest's said it before… and they even sleep together."

"Don't call me silver pest!" Dany shouted.

"In the same bed? How… cozy." Arianne giggled. "If you're his Queen you'll sleep in the same bed," she said, eager to confuse and tease her little cousins.

But Daenerys merely blinked. "I will… Jon's bed is warm."

"Not the only thing that's warm of his." Even the Hound grunted in humor, while Margaery and the four Targaryens were confused. "Oh, my little cousins. You'll understand when you're older… I'll probably be teaching you."

"Gods help the King and Queens then…" Sandor remarked, earning a glare from Arianne.

Puzzled completely, Margaery decided to move on. "Egg… who was that you were talking to?" Dany, Rhae, and Baelon let her call them by their names, so she did so with the other Prince.

"You mean your brother?" Egg asked.

Margaery groaned. "No silly, I know my own brother. I mean the one with Lord Stannis. The boy."

"You talked to a boy?" Rhaenys asked. "What boy?"

Egg was silent for a moment. "Um… He said his name was Gendry… son of Robert Baratheon."

"Ugh, Robert." Rhaenys hated him - she had heard her munas say vile things about him, and if they disliked anyone there was no doubt that they were worthy of her dislike as well. "He has a son? He's not married."

Arianne's eyes widened in understanding. "Ah… I know what this is. My uncle told me about this, Robert had your father legitimize four of his bastards."

"Why would kepa do anything for that fat pig?" Sandor laughed at that, though Rhaenys meant it. Queen Elia oft called him that - Lyanna's words were ones Rhaenys knew never to say in public.

"When you're a King, sometimes you must do things you don't like for the sake of peace," Arianne replied. Rhaenys crossed her arms, but accepted it - not gladly though.

Baelon was confused. "What's a bastard?"

"Means the woman whose… hole the man put his stick in wasn't married to that man when she bears his babe."

Looking at Dany, Jon knotted his brows. "What… does that mean?" His aunt shrugged, as did Egg, both equally confused.

Arianne shook her head. "Oh shut up." She placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Means that a babe's mother and father aren't married when that babe is born." Remembering more of that word being used about… particular persons, her smile was a sad one.

"Oh… that makes sense I think…" It really didn't, but she understood the part of an unmarried couple. "Wait… Ser Arthur and Aunt Dacey aren't married."

"Uncle Ben and Aunt Ash aren't married," Rhaenys added.

Dany gasped. "Muna and Jaime aren't married. Does that make Artie, Ally, Lya, Cella, and Serena…"

"No, the King declared them to be trueborn. He can do that, it's a royal right," Arianne replied, calming them all down. "But… due to the nature of highborns, they'll still be called bastards. Even…" she trailed off.

"What?" Rhaenys asked of her older cousin.

"Nothing."

She wasn't taking it. "Tell me." Her violet eyes narrowed.

There was no stopping Rhaenys, so Ari didn't try. "I've heard people calling Baelon that… a bastard."

That surprised the children. Dany most of all. "That's stupid. Rhaegar and Lya are married."

Margaery bit her lip. "I… I hear some knights say the same thing in Highgarden."

Dany whirled to glare at her. "Who did?! I want their names!"

"I… I don't remember…" Marg trembled at the dragonfire seen in the young Princess' gaze, enough to make Dany soften. Baelon said nothing, not knowing what to think. Sandor just watched silently, his own mind thinking. If anyone calls the little Prince that in my presence, I'll fucking gut him.

The now somber gaggle of children were then joined by the merry Prince Oberyn, a smile on his lips and cheeks rosy with drink. "Dearest nieces and nephews," he proclaimed, kissing Arianne's cheek and Rhaenys' head… tousling the hair of Baelon and Aegon. "Making a new friend with the sweet rose of Highgarden?" Margaery blushed at the compliment.

"I suppose," Rhaenys said.

While his mood was a good one, Ellaria having just told him she was with child again just as he received a raven from Sunspear that yet another Sand was born of his line, Oberyn still noticed their ire. "Something wrong?"

"People call Jon a bastard," Dany hissed.

"Oh… ohhh." Oberyn winced. He was afraid of this. "Do you know who?"

"No."

"Ah." This… would have to be dealt with at a later time. It was more important to keep the children happy. "Listen," he leaned in, knowing just what would cheer them up. "I heard from the servants that the cooks were preparing trays of fresh pastries for the feast. I'll escort you to get them hot and fresh from the oven if you want."

Frowns changed to pure smiles from the children. Arianne still looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but put it away.

Elia and Lya will not be happy.


Queen Dowager Rhaella Targaryen couldn't stand the Volentenes.

The feast was dragging on into the night, and the limitless casks of Arbor gold and Dornish red that Garlan and Oberyn gifted for the royal stores started to take their toll on the notoriously debased nobles of Valyria's most beloved daughter - as they illustriously called their homeland. Granted, Rhaella didn't fault that since many Westerosi nobles were known to be heavy drinkers, Lord Wylis Manderly, Lord Bronn Bell and many of the Reach knights gladly trumpeting such characterization. But…

"Hey!"

Having just joined the Queen's side after a dance with her husband, the modestly-dressed Lady Marya Seaworth blinked. "Are you speaking to me, Lady Maegyr?"

The supremely deep in her cups Soraya Maegyr, haughty yet inebriated smile on her face, nods. "You have the air of a… a servant. Go fetch me another goblet of wine, and make it snappy." She snapped her fingers, clearly expecting to be obeyed without further prompting.

For the Westerosi ladies present, which included Queen Elia and the women of House Tyrell, none were more enraged at this than Rhaella. This was what she hated of the Volentenes. Slaveowners all, they outdid the nature of the worst Westerosi lords in how they treated the servants. While they were free men in the Seven Kingdoms, if albeit under the authority of their liege lord, in Volantis they were property and thus treated as such. While the others knew who Marya was and said nothing, Rhaella could see in their eyes they regarded the former Flea Bottom resident as effectively the same as a slave.

Only the female Triarch Jaenera Vhassar, young and beautiful, didn't - though her blue eyes were hard to read.

"Well, your Grace. The rumors they used to say of you are not at all accurate," simpered the swaying Alia Qhaedar, the sister of one of the major politicians of the Free City. "You are truly a marvel of the homeland."

Smile still planted on her face, Rhaella forced herself to nod. "I do try to keep the customs of Old Valyria alive within the capitol, yet I am unaware of any rumors about myself?" She inquired, but kept her tone level.

Qhaedar giggled. "Oh, just a pack of lies it seems, ones that speak of you as weak and unable to bear a healthy child… young Daenerys looks quite healthy to me."

"Lies as of now," blurted Soraya Maegyr, swaying with her empty goblet.

Narrowing her eyes, Queen Elia's fingers gripped her own goblet tightly. "People tend to degenerate that which they feel awed by… or jealous towards. It is human nature."

"Cannot disagree with that, your Grace," said Lady Vhassar, sipping her own wine. Of the lot of them, she was the only Volentene lady that was sparing with her drink.

Melissa Tyrell smiled gingerly. "Her grace hatched two dragons on Dragonstone, one of which she rode into battle to defeat the Ironborn. I'm sure there are more rumors that speak of her supreme bravery and strength as the eldest of House Targaryen."

"Second eldest," corrected Marya Seaworth. "Remember, Prince Aemon Targaryen still lives."

"Oh." The Tyrell Lady blushed. "Forgiveness, he must've slipped my mind." Rhaella narrowed her eyes at Garlan's bride… only to determine it was genuine. Melissa may have been intelligent and skilled at court, but she was guileless as well. She could tell.

"It happens," Marya replied. "It was such a shame he was forced to spend the majority of his life rotting in the cold of Castle Black."

"You…" the still inebriated Soraya Maegyr slurred. "I thought I told you to fetch me a drink."

Sharing a glance with her gooddaughter, Rhaella was about to say something quite unqueenly about where the Lady Maegyr could put her drink that was anatomically impossible, but Marya spoke before she could. "No you didn't."

Soraya blinked. "What? You telling me I'm a liar, servant…" But her own drunken words were unsure of herself.

"A woman as cultured as you would never make such a demand from a noble lady, wife of the Master of Ships. You asked it off one of the other servants, yet spilled it in a clumsy moment upon the floor."

Narrowing her eyes in a puzzled expression, Soraya looked at the empty goblet in her hand - the one she had finished drinking before asking Marya the first time to fetch her a full goblet. To the barely hidden humorous glances of the other ladies, even her Volentene peers eager to see their court rival be manipulated by the wife of a common smuggler, Soraya peered at the glass before she came to a conclusion. "How embarrassing, but I don't remember any of this?"

"Perhaps you are too deep in your cups, Lady Maegyr," Elia spoke, Rhaella stifling a giggle next to her.

"Yeah... seems I may have… yes…"

Marya was smiling brightly. "It's the sign of a good feast. That all are merry and having a good time."

"Yes!" proclaimed Jaenera Vhassar. "That's the spirit of any feast, Lady Marya." She, unlike the others, was far more egalitarian in her treatment of Lord Davos' wife. Rhaella liked her.

Thankfully, the nightmare ended for Rhaella rather soon after that. As soon as she watched Elia excuse herself to help Lyanna escort their eldest children to bed, Rhaella saw her opportunity and did the same regarding Daenerys. "But muna, I'm not tired…" Dany's valiant efforts to be a strong Targaryen Princess died as she yawned, eyes fluttering with fatigue.

Rhaella chuckled, not perturbed to be seen being a devoted parent in the public eye. "Of course you are, sweetling," she murmured in High Valyrian. "It's the first time you've stayed up past your bedtime with the grown ups." Dany smiled proudly but sleepily. Looking over her shoulder, Rhaella cast an insistent look to Jaime - silent command to follow her. Just as the dutiful Kingsguard he was, her lion complied. He caught up just as they disappeared into the corridors to Maegor's Holdfast, starry sky above them. "Ooof," Rhaella grunted as she lifted Dany in her arms. "You're getting too big for this." Her muscles were stronger due to all her dragonriding, but still.

"Here, allow me, my love," Jaime insisted, taking the drowsy Dany into his arms. Rhaella gave him a brilliant, loving smile.

They soon arrived at the chambers Daenerys shared with Baelon. Lyanna and Elia's diligence was clear - Baelon was fast asleep in his bed, covers draped snugly about him. "Put her in Baelon's bed," Rhaella told Jaime. "She likes to be close to him at night."

Jaime did as bidded, smirking as the now sleeping Dany instinctively snuggled with her nephew. "They'll be sharing a chamber forever at this rate, my Queen."

"I could think of worse things, my lion." A hand ran down his arm - Rhaella hadn't been abstemious that night, and while she wasn't drunk the wine did have an effect. "Are you on duty, Ser Jaime?"

"Tonight?" He grinned at her. "My duties just ended for the day, my Queen."

Her smile was sultry, seductive. Lilac eyes dark with desire. "Follow me then." Grabbing his hand, Rhaella guided him to her chambers. Their chambers, in all effective reality.

Jaime was truly an amazing lover, the likely among the best even though Rhaella had no one else to compare him to besides Aerys. It mattered not, for regardless Jaime managed to set her alight in ways she hadn't even dreamed possible. Versatile, he had taken it slower that night, worshipping her body with his hands and mouth. More than once did Rhaella fist his golden locks and demanded he go faster or put her out of her misery in the middle of his teasing licks… but he never relented and she grew to enjoy it. He lavished her neck, her breasts, her stomach before diving into her core and coaxing a long climax from her. Marvelous.

Their mouths didn't break one moment when he climbed atop and slid inside her, Rhaella biting his bottom lip at the way he stretched her so deliciously. She wrapped her trim legs around him, inviting her lion deeper. An invitation he didn't presume to decline. The former Queen didn't know how long it lasted, low long she was in the bliss of his firm but languid thrusts - only that by the time they reached their shared peak they were both drenched in a sheen of sweat, muscles sore and completely out of breath.

The chilly sea breeze wafted in from the open window, so Jaime flung the covers over them and hugged her close to his chest. Rhaella sighed happily, snuggling into him just as her daughter had done so to her grandson… though that was far more innocent than this. "I love you," she heard him murmur.

Her heart clenched. "I love you too." Jaime always knew how to make her feel better after a taxing day or evening. He was perfect, just perfect… Rhaella wished she could give him all that was in her power to do so, most of all little babes just like their darling Myrcella. The thought made her stiffen in sorrow.

"My Queen?" she heard him ask.

She sighed against his chest. "I'm sorry, Jaime… I just wish I could give you more children like you deserve." Cella would likely be her last, unfortunately. Aemon and Qyburn were sadly insistent.

He kissed her. "I am content with my life, Rhaella. I have you… I have our darling girl… I have my brother and sister and nieces and nephews, not to mention the honor of a white cloak. Not a bad life."

"You're too good to me," Rhaella smiled. "And our girl is wonderful. Reminds me of your mother, but with my father's eyes… they were alike, I remember. Always kind and gentle."

"That does describe my mother, my love." It was Jaime's turn to stiffen. "They will degenerate her, though. Call her a bastard simply because I couldn't marry you."

"Anyone that does will meet Jaimexes' dragonfire," Rhaella hissed. "I won't let our daughter suffer that indignity. She is a princess of House Targaryen with the blood of the Kings of the Rock, a mighty combination." She smiled in spite of herself, anger leaving her. "She won't be wanting for suitors when she flowers."

Jaime groaned. "Don't talk about our daughter being married. It makes me feel old."

She giggled. "I can end such a feeling, my knight." Drifting lower in the bed, soon Jaime was divested of all thoughts other than of his Queen.


No one had noticed two teenagers that had just come of age slipping out of the still active great hall. Bawdy drinking songs and brewing fistfights between the Northern lords, Volentene Tigers, and Dornishmen over the most petty things imaginable would end in more mugs of wine and ale being passed around. Everyone had such a good time that Talisa wasn't even noticed gone by her father or uncle - her mother long since having passed out, body slaves having to carry her out.

It was embarrassing, but Talisa quickly forgot about it given the company she was in. "Do you come out here often, Prince Viserys?"

The Targaryen Prince smiled at her, his silver and violet features ever so beautiful like all the Targaryens seemed to her. For Talisa, someone who had grown up where Valyrian features were carefully husbanded in the bloodlines, Viserys was a purer beauty… a true Valyrian. "I don't come here, no. I am usually up there." He pointed to the stars."Riding my dragon."

"You have a dragon too?" She didn't mean to sound so excited, but the flagon of Dornish red he had snuck away from one of the servants they were imbibing on his cloak in the grassy part of the Red Keep's gardens was starting to loosen her manners and formalities. "Like the King and dowager Queen?"

Viserys nodded, equally in his cups and looking proud. "His name is Maerys, a mighty dragon the color of crimson. I've ridden him for the past year and am quite good at it."

Talisa regarded him as she did the King - in awe. "If I am not too forward, could I ride on him with you?" She and Viserys had not left each other's side for most of the party, laughing and enjoying the refreshments together. He was charming, and seemed to enjoy speaking with her about her scholarly interests. The boys in Volantis, eager to seduce the niece of the new Triarch, were foolish to her but Viserys was anything but.

She felt so many new feelings with him.

A frown crossed her face when he shook his head. "I can't… my brother would kill me if I endangered you so. And you are so… delicate."

"Delicate?"

"Aye." Before Talisa could respond indignantly, she was silenced with a kiss from him.

As he pulled back, Talisa was flushed, eyes glassy. Her lips still tingled from where he had swiped his tongue against them, her mind a fog of inebriation and… something unfamiliar to her.

Whatever it was, she liked it.

"You alright?" Viserys asked. "Don't you dare throw up on me." He'd seen drunk women do it before and he was not about to have it happen to him.

Blinking, she shook her head, feeling heat pool in her face, her chest… and between her legs. "No… I liked it." She smiled at him. "You're a good kisser."

That drew a smile from him. A self-satisfied one. "Have you been kissed before, Lady Maegyr?"

Talisa shook her head, though she had to force herself to keep in her seated position and not topple over. Next time, less wine… "No, but I've read enough bards to know when something feels good and it doesn't."

Even deep in her cups she sounded educated. Viserys found it amusing, but in a good way. "And how did mine feel?" It was his first kiss too - not that he would ever tell her that - and wanted a judgement. "Were they as good as the bards described?"

"Hmmmm…" Talisa smirked saucily at him, letting her innocent longing and the wine draw her into a rather impulsive mood. "Mayhaps you should kiss me again so I can make sure."

He didn't need to be told twice. Wrapping an arm around her waist as he had seen his brother do often to his goodsisters when he wasn't looking, Viserys pulled the pretty part-Valyrian girl and mashed their lips together.

She swooned. Talisa knew that this was better than what she had read. A beautiful boy kissing her with passion… she felt like the maidens of all her favorite poems and songs, finding her Prince. When he plunged his tongue into her mouth, she reciprocated.

When his hands roamed down her dress, Talisa moaned.

When he gently nudged her to the ground atop his cloak, Talisa did nothing but urge her assent, giving herself over to the plethora of feelings she experienced for the first time in her life.

A/N: So we meet Gendry and Viserys has his first time.

Not everyone likes Baelon... the Queens will not be happy one bit.

Next up, the journey to Winterfell. 25 comments gets an early update