Chapter 28. What Goes On.

Welcome home, Kinslayer.

The Westerlands.

Oxcross.

6th Moon.

297AC.

He could only breath in through his mouth and not his nose so as to avoid the stench, and yet his stomach churned with the urge to empty his stomach of whatever food and drink he'd consumed earlier that morning.

Oxcross which had once been quite the town… was now a graveyard.

Burnt, pillaged… destroyed beyond recognition.

Tyrion could not control the fear he felt deep within his heart.

Why?...

Who would—Oh, he already knew who did this. No need for him to pretend.

He knew who was capable of such violence.

The brute known as The Mountain. The monster who as of the moment was nowhere to be found.

He knew The Mountain did not do it of his own accord. Someone was controlling him… harboring him.

And as much as he would like to deny it… there was only one person with madness enough to bask in this… slaughter.

Not that he would be believed in any case.

Cersei Lannister was the golden lioness of the West to many Lords.

Many who never got over his father's death. Many who did not like the fact that the unrecognized imp got ownership of Casterly Rock and deigned to surly the Lannister name with a Commoner wife.

Many who were probably under the thumb of his sister.

He chuckled bitterly.

After everything he had done for them. When the West lost its reputation because if his father… he started from the ground, rebuilt relationships as much as he could, fostered trade and development and began rebuilding their lost riches. But he was the same to them. Just an imp.

And now…

Was this what they wanted?

What they liked?

Bodies were being carted off to either be burnt it buried. No survivor amongst them. Not even the children… not even the babies were spared.

He needed a drink.

"Tyrion… are you well?"

Kevan Lannister watched his nephew who seemed to have gone through the stages of grief where he stood.

"I don't think you want an answer to that, Uncle."

Kevan hummed, looking around while his face seemed to have aged a decade.

Lannisport to Oxcross was about a 3 day ride. For this to have taken place so close yet so far was… inconceivable!

He gritted his teeth angrily.

"What are we to do about the Mountain now? Unlike the others, it can't be hidden any longer."

Tyrion nodded absentmindedly.

"This was obviously a calculated attack. I don't think I could hide it even if I tried. The Lords of the West will want answers. I need to write to them. A meeting will need to be had."

"And the King?"

Tyrion frowned.

"He can't get involved unless another Kingdom is attacked. This is still Lannister domain after all. But I will not hide it from him either. Come Clegane."

He walked off with his uncle while Sandor Clegane stared at the scene of the carnage, fury in his eyes as he squeezed his fists as tightly as he could.

Gregor…

"Clegane!"

He heard his name once more and turned, walking off with a grunt.

Ashemark.

Joffrey hissed for the 5th time that minute where he sat in his room, a goblet of arbor gold in hand as he tapped his cheek with his fingers adorned with gold tacky rings 'worthy of a Lannister'.

He was bored.

There wasn't much to do since his father's passing. As much as he missed the man, being Lord if Ashemark afforded him even more power that he'd never known.

Granted his mother was regent for the time being, but she was right that he didn't need to bother himself with stupid paperwork and running the Keep when she could do that for him.

Not that he cared. He preferred his own pursuits over such rubbish.

But today was different!

He was tired of his hobbies. Tommen was out of reach with his stupid beast of a pet and Myrcella…

His nostrils flared with irritation and his emerald green eyes brightened.

She was nowhere to be found either!

She was usually around and he enjoyed teasing and making her cry. The pain on her face… it usually brought a feeling that he liked. And he craved such feelings even more now that he was 15.

He didn't know what it was, but he wanted to experience it even further.

His mother had raised him knowing what it meant to be a Lannister. How Lannisters were above all and no one else could compare.

He was a Lannister by blood. King of the Rock, like his grandfather and not that ugly dwarf.

His mother had told him how the Rock belonged to him. His birthright. Stolen by that thing and it's bastard!

He hissed in anger again, slamming his goblet on the table and walking out of his room in anger.

His mother was busy with whatever it was she was doing and he was tired of being kept in the Keep as if he didn't own it!

It belonged to him!

He marched his way around until he found himself in the stables, glaring at one of the stable boys.

"You! Ready my horse for me!"

He commanded with a glare, making the slightly older boy straighten up and bow.

"O-of course, milord."

Joffrey sneered, puffing up his shoulders while his pure white horse was quickly brought up to him.

He wasted no time riding out the Keep, ignoring the guards who dared ask where he was headed.

As if he could be in danger in his own Kingdom!

And besides, where he was headed needed no protection.

He had heard the guards talk about this place for a while now. How it helped them relax from stressful times and how they catered to their whims whatever it may be.

In no time, he stood in front of the brothel, his eyes alight in anticipation.

Walking in, he was first assaulted with the strong scent of lavender and it made him stumble slightly before shaking his head.

"Milord… is there anything I could help you with?"

An older and busty woman sauntered over to him with a wife grin, her fingers lingering across his chest which angered him immediately as he slapped her hand away.

"Unhand me, whore! I am your Lord and I demand respect!"

He barked out with a sneer which attracted quite the attention as the woman's eyes widened in surprise.

"Milord Marbrand… please, come this way."

She curtseyed as much as she could for a commoner, which to say was positively abysmal in his humble opinion.

His sneer deepened even as he was led deeper into the now quiet establishment, his nose wrinkling up in distaste.

This… was one of the higher class pleasure houses??

Disgraceful!

"Milord… I hope this room will please you."

She opened the door for him and he walked into the slightly large and dark room. With a decorated bed and ornate tables.

He stared around, ignoring the woman behind him who had her head bowed as he sniffed.

This should have to do… for now.

Just then, another woman entered. This one was older and had a slightly strict face. Curly brown hair puffed up and dark eyes.

"Lord Marbrand! We heard no news that you would b coming. We would have prepared if we did."

Joffrey sighed, rolling his eyes as he flipped down on the bed, resting on one side with his chin against a fist, looking as bored as he had been earlier.

"I do not need to tell you a thing. I am your Lord and it your duty to be prepared regardless. I wish to be entertained in any case."

He glared, waving a hand haphazardly when the two women continued to stare.

"Well? Entertain!"

He demanded and the older woman cleared her throat.

"Very well, Milord."

She held her hands and gave a single clap, and immediately, a bunch of lightly clad young women sauntered in, making Joffrey's eyes sharpen in confusion and curiosity.

It might not be known, but one look at the young man, and Madam Anne of the Pleasure house could tell this was a sexually frustrated young man with no idea what it meant.

She smirked secretly.

She would work with that.

All in all, 9 girls stood before him, with one placing a chilled batch of arbor gold on a stool with a goblet.

"Milord… these are my most requested girls. You may choose any to satisfy you for the evening."

Joffrey frowned, even more confused.

Satisfy him??

Whatever did that even mean? This this whore think him one of the weak spineless guards who needed to be entertained by them??

He gritted his teeth in anger, eyes going from one girl to the other as they batted their lashes at him and he shivered in disgust.

From dark hair to brown hair to chestnut hair… black… light brown… and—

He stopped at the last one.

Her golden blonde hair gaining his attention first of all. Not as bright as his Lannister Kins, but still bright enough. She had dark green eyes, not quite perfect… But it was there… if he squinted enough… Perhaps he could hallucinate a resemblance between her and someone he knew.

Madam Anne smiled satisfactorily at the sudden tent in the young man's trousers, exchanging a look with the other busty woman.

"Have you had your pick, Milord?"

Joffrey cleared his throat, his eyes still on the girl smiling coyly at him.

"That one."

He pointed at her and Madam Anne nodded at the other girls to leave as she bowed.

"Great choice, your grace. We will leave you to your business."

And just like that they were gone, leaving the girl coyly walking towards the bed.

"Milord… it Is an honor to be in here with you… I hope you take care of me. If you have anything to ask, you need only tell."

She slowly climbed into the bed as Joffrey swallowed curiously.

"Anything…"

His eyes dropped on the crevice of her full breasts that jiggled as she giggled.

"Of course, Milord. Anything at all…"

He hummed to himself as she dropped the straps of her dress, exposing her breasts to him.

"Then I would prefer you answer to a name."

The whore snorted internally. A name? She could do that. Many a man had asked it of her if the subject of their affection is not available.

"And the name?"

She moved her hips sensually as she grabbed at her breasts and rubbed them.

Joffrey played with the name in his mind for a second… and he settled.

"…'Cella."

The now names Cella smiled.

"Of course, Milord. My name has ALWAYS been Cella…"

The tent in Joffrey's trousers grew even further at the name.

The Riverlands.

Riverrun.

Hoster Tully's Solar.

Hoster Tully had always wondered if he was by chance, cursed.

His eldest had been proper in everything. Sweet and gentle Cat. His pride and joy. She grew into her position quite well, and married well.

Lady of Winterfell with strong and able children.

And that was the end of it.

His youngest two on the other hand…

"Useless!!!"

He bellowed out, making Edmure jump where he stood while Brynden said nothing, just standing there and not being a great help either.

Why!!

Why were the other men of his house useless!!!

Of course, there was his middle child. That one wasn't even a man… rather a useless female just like the one born with a cock in front of him.

"Do you know… what you have done, boy?!"

He bellowed out once more and Edmure winced.

"Father, I… it was for our own good! You've always talked about the Freys overreaching and how you've always hoped for a way to control them—"

"NOT LIKE THIS!!! YOU USELESS SEED OF MINE!!"

He bellowed out once more before holding the back of his neck in pain, hissing deeply as he scrunched his eyes closed.

Brynden finally spoke up.

"Careful brother. Your health is not as it used to be. You only hurt yourself further."

Hoster huffed, breathing in and out, trying to collect his thought and calm his mind… only for the boy to speak up again.

"But father… she is a lovely woman! Nothing like the rest of them. She's sweet, kind… She sings really well and I believe she'd be capable of running Riverrun without issue. Mother did it… Cat did as well—"

Brynden sighed where he stood, knowing his brother would not take such words lightly. Especially when the idiot boy had invoked his mother's name.

Hoster Tully puffed up in cold fury.

"You… you dare!! You dare compare that washed up Frey to your mother! To sweet Cat!! GET OUT!!!"

He bellowed once more, making Edmure swallow tightly even as he glanced at his uncle hopefully, but the Blackfish only raised an eyebrow at him in return.

Realizing he was getting no help from him, the 24 name days old's shoulder slumped as he walked out of the solar like a drenched cat, and Hoster finally slumped into his seat, a mournful look on his face.

Oh… what would his sweet wife say from the Seven Heavens…

Oh… oh…

A damned Frey!

"At least she is quite comely."

Hoster breathed in through his nose, opening his eyes and glaring at his accursed brother.

"Do not start with me."

Brynden shrugged, moving to seat down, unconcerned with most of what he'd witnessed.

"Your boy is quite foolish, Hoster. But you always did want the lad married and a grandchild or two popped out immediately."

"But not with a Frey!"

And those bastards resided in his castle under the protection of guest rights.

Stevron Frey and Black Walder… arriving with the whore daughter of Walder Frey. The bastard on having a smug look on his face while at it.

Apparently this had started a few moons back, and Edmure had been traveling with some other Riverland heirs across the lands, when they had come across some traveling Freys and had been invited to drink with them at an inn. And like the idiot Edmure was, not realizing a ploy even when it smacked him across the face… the boy had fallen, hook, line and sinker.

A night of drinking and dancing merrily which had led to a so-called 'mistaken' night of supposed passion with a Roslin Frey who had somehow caught his stupid son's attention even now.

A few moons after and she was with child… And the moron hadn't brought it to him, no… he had instead MARRIED HER IN SECRET!!!!

And now the Freys had brought the useless boy his equally useless bride!!

A FREY!!!!!

Brynden chuckled to himself.

"Who would have thought Old Walder would win this way. A grandson as Lord Para—"

"THAT USELESS BOY!!!"

Hoster cried out once more, snapping a hand to the back of his neck in pain as Edmure winced outside where he stood, his shoulders drooping even further.

Summerhall.

Practice Yard.

Aegon twirled his blunted sword slightly as he danced around in a circle, staring at his opponent with a lazy smile while Lyarra's eyes narrowed in determination.

"Are you going to attack or not?"

He japed playfully and Lyarra rolled her eyes, moving closer and he met her halfway, both taking their time as they clashed again and again.

Aegon absentmindedly studying her movements whenever she danced on her feet.

She was getting better than she had been back in Winterfell. Perhaps he could get her a sword too… but Arthur would probably never talk to him again.

"Why does it feel as if you're playing with me?"

Lyarra idly brought up, twisting out of the way of a hit before parrying another attack.

Aegon chuckled.

"What makes you say that… my love?"

Lyarra's cheeks burned red… either from embarrassment or anger… perhaps both.

She wasn't wrong of course…

Lyarra would make a great swordswoman, but compared to Aegon who had spent years learning under the Sword of the Morning and numerous members of the Kingsguard, his betrothed still had a long way to go.

But for Lyarra though… perhaps spending so much time in the South did charm her into a more playful being, as she leaned closer to Aegon when their swords clashed once more, and without care, kissed him on the lip.

It was enough to startle the surprised Aegon, and enough to hit his sword out of his hand, a smug smile on her face as she kicked it away and brought her sword to his face, reminding them both of the first time he met her in the Godswood of Winterfell.

Aegon chuckled.

"Well played, My Lady."

"I might never be able to beat you, but that doesn't mean I can't play around too."

Aegon smiled, bringing her closer to him and she dropped the sword, wrapping her arms around his shoulder.

"WHATTTTT!!!"

A loud bellow startled not just them, but many of the men in the yard, including Gendry who had been sparring with Brienne.

At the sudden noise, he got distracted, turning to the source and missing the opportunity to block a hit from the maiden as the hilt of her sword made contact with his head and he fell to the ground in pain.

"Fuck!!!"

He cried out much to the horror of Brienne who dropped her sword in horror.

"Are you well, Ser?!"

"Does it look like I am?!"

Nearby, Wylla who had come to watch the spar, cackled to herself.

The main cause of the commotion blushed deep red as Aegon and Lyarra turned to him and the 12 name days old boy stuttered out apologies, making Lyarra laugh.

"A—apologies! I—I just… you won!"

Aegon chuckled.

"Sometimes you just have to distract your opponent enough to win a spar."

He then smiled wryly at Lyarra.

"Lucky for her… she knows which buttons to push."

He then turned to his squire who seemed to be in awe of Lyarra.

"Of course, you're not allowed to kiss me."

Tion squawked at that and Lyarra huffed, playfully elbowing Aegon as she slowly walked over to Tion.

"Don't listen to him. I'm sure you'll make an amazing knight in the future."

She ruffled his soft hair like she used to with Arya and Bran, a wistful feeling going through her while the heir to Casterly Rock blustered as his cheeks turned red much to the increased amusement of Aegon who decided to help the boy out.

"Come spar with me."

He called the boy over before turning to Lyarra.

"You're off to your lessons with Lady Selmy then?"

Lyarra shook her head.

"Definitely not dressed like this. The Lady Selmy is just as intense as her husband though she knows when to smile and jape. But I don't think she would be happy to see me so disheveled."

Aegon laughed softly, walking over to Lyarra and kissing her softly.

While ago, she would have balked at the thought of doing this out in public, even amongst his own people who were respective enough to look away… but for the past few days now, they had grown even closer than before… ever since her name day.

He glanced down at her, eyes shining as he studied her every detail before she patted him softly on the chest.

"I have to go now Aegon. Learning what it means to be Lady of Summerhall calls for my attention now."

"Of course. I will join you for lunch."

With one last smile, she turned and walked off, Wylla skipping over to her and locking their elbows while Brienne hastily joined them, protecting her Lady's back while wincing sympathetically as Gendry excused himself to go find the Keep's Maester so as to treat the growing bump on his head.

Just another day in Summerhall.

The Red Keep.

The King's Solar.

Rhaegar swallowed tightly as he read the letter he had just gotten from his son.

Dragon dreams…

Who would have thought… after all these years…

He'd always thought Rhaenys would be the one plagued with such, compared to his son who never seemed to believe in such things. And now…

Dreams beyond the wall… dead things coming for him… a sword…

A sword?...

What was he missing…

'From my line… Comes the prince that was promised…'

Was it happening? Was he overthinking things?

He frowned further as his grip tightened around the letter with worry in his mind.

The time was not right.

Perhaps… perhaps a letter to Aemon would make things better. If Aemon could tell him whatever was going on in the North… that is, if anything was going on in the North.

But that was his best option right now.

For his son.

He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

The Iron Islands.

During Greyjoy smiled as he took his first step on the land of his ancestors.

It had been… years.

Thunder boomed mightily as heavy rain poured down from the skies, bathing him and his men.

He welcomed it on his skin, eyes closed and raised towards the heavens as he laughed silently, hair clung to his skin and his blue lips glittering.

His men knew what to do.

No one must know he was home yet. He only needed to pay a visit to his dearest brother and they would be on their way again.

"It is good to be home."

He said with such relish.

Thunder and lightning boomed out in the skies as the howling of the winds increased, almost like the wailing of a woman whose husband was lost at sea.

The night was dark and almost unnaturally twisted.

The sea was mad… agitated… As if knowing of what was to come.

Balon Greyjoy grunted as he plowed the young woman in his bed, ignoring the crashing of the seas against the rocks down below Pyke.

The young woman while red slightly, her eyes wrenched close and Balon sneered, raising a bony hand and yanking on her hair, making her let out a gasp and opening her eyes in pain.

The Lord Reaper seemed to welcome the noise she made as he plowed her faster and faster, till his seeds filled her, and he pushed her away bending over in the bed, breathing in and out harshly.

"Get out."

He commanded harshly, and the girl wasted no time grabbing her meager clothing and rushing out with his seeds down her legs uncaring.

Balon rolled over, a rather unsatisfied look in his eyes before the loud boom of thunder filled the skies once more and the flimsy balcony doors crashed open, blowing cold wind and rain into his large and dark chambers.

He let out an angry cry, sitting up and rushing towards the door.

"Curses!"

He gritted his teeth as he moved to close the doors when he looked out the balcony and into the darkness of the sees as lightning flashed… and then he frowned, ignoring the heavy rain against him as he walked out and peered further into the waters.

For a second… It almost looked like he saw…

But no.

Krakens had not been seen in thousands of years.

"Beautiful night, isn't it brother?"

Balon jumped with a cry, turning to the side and right before him was his brother whom he hadn't seen since the rebellion.

"Euron…"

He whispered out, staring at the man who had an eye patch over one eye, his hair longer and a smile that… that looked almost unhinged.

"Balon. Have you missed me?"

Balon Greyjoy felt the need to step away from the man, but no. He was the Lord Reaper of Pyke… he would not show fear.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here!"

He glared in a distrustful manner and During smiled.

"I climbed."

He… climbed??

No…That was not possible. No one could climb the walls of Pyke and live to tell the tales. Especially in such a weather!

"As for why I am here? Well… I am disappointed in you brother. In what we have become!"

Fury filled Balon Greyjoy as he sneered.

"You dare express disappointment in me?! Your Lord?! Watch your tone with me brother, lest I forget we share blood."

Euron's eye darkened though his smile remained.

"No… it is you who has to watch his tone."

Balon felt a shudder run down his spine.

"The Ironborn were meant to rule the seas, brother… and yet… Look what we have become under your rule. We are meant for more… we will be more!"

Thunder boomed out in the skies and Balon side eyed his sword a few feet in his chambers, making Euron chuckle.

"Come now, brother! You need not fear! For tonight… tonight you get to feast in the halls of the drowned god."

Balon's heartbeat quickened as he took a step back while Euron took two forward.

"You would sully yourself and become a Kinslayer??"

He choked as Euron suddenly wrapped his hand around his own bony neck, tightening his hold while Balon clawed at the hand to no avail, making his brother smile even further, lifting him up with ease.

"Kinslayer? Who would know? Do not worry, brother, for I will make you proud. The Ironborn will rise under my leadership."

"A-Asha…"

Euron laughed.

"Your cunt of a daughter? She is useless. Worry not, Balon. When I am done with the seven kingdoms, they will pay for all they have put us through. But… you have no spot in the future I have planned, and so… you will have to go."

"W-wai—"

But it was to late, as Euron swung mightily, and threw his brother and Lord over the balcony and into the traitorous rocks below.

He sighed to himself, a pleased grin across his lips.

And then grasping the balcony edge, climbed over and begun his journey downward.

Thunder and lightning boom in the distance.

So that's it for now.

Westerlands drama slowly unfolding and now Euron Greyjoy is back in the Seven Kingdoms once more. Goodbye Balon.

Rhaegar finally knows about Aegon's dragon dreams.

Joffrey lusting over his sister since he is just like his mother, so why not?

Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey are a thing in this fic, lol. Poor Hoster!

Next chapter, Westerlands news begins to spread across the seven kingdoms and the Reach has a thing or two to say. More small council meetings, and beyond the wall, Caster sacrifices to the Cold Gods and gets an answer for the first time.