DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

A/N: Thank you Ramzes for the reviews, they keep me going.

DUNK

The Hand of the king was frightened. Dunk saw that at once.

As he slowly made his way towards the Iron Throne Lord Jasper Arryn trudged, as if he were walking through thick snow and he kept his eyes facing downwards with each slow step he took. Aegon watched him from his barbed seat with the faintest hint of apprehension crossing his aged face. Beside him his sons Duncan, Aemon and Jaehaerys looked as if they were about to march to war.

Perhaps they are, thought Dunk sadly, as he watched Jaehaerys frown at the old man approaching. With all of these pirate attacks the king will have to strike at them, and hard if he wants to halt an invasion from spreading to our shores.

The hand was now kneeling before the king and sight in Dunk's opinion given that Aegon had never asked such a thing from his advisor before. Aegon shifted uncomfortably and gestured for Lord Arryn to rise, yet he did so with much hesitancy. It was only when he stood and looked the king in the eye that Dunk could see the stricken look on his face.

"Your Grace," he started his voice barely a croak. "I-I have word from Sunspear…." Jasper Arryn closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath to help compose himself. "Dark Wings bring dark words Your Grace….the Blackfyre pirates have ravished the Dornish coast and put dozens of villages to the sword. Women and children were slaughtered, their homes burnt to the ground."

Aegon ground his teeth. "And so Maelys lives up to his name, I suppose the gods marked his true nature for the entire world to see. I will see his army smashed, his fleets scattered across the sunset sea, every bolt, every banner bearing the black dragon will be wiped away as if it had never existed. I will see the Blackfyre line reduced to ashes for this."

The King pinched the ridge of his nose and took a breath before looking back at his Hand. "Tell Lord Martell that the crown will send aid, ships, men, supplies, everything they need they shall have."

Lord Arryn still looked as though death itself had touched him and Dunk noticed that his eyes flickered over to prince Aemon every so often before bringing his attention back to the king. Finally he seemed to find the strength and spoke once again. "There is more your grace…I had word from o-one of my ships near Starfall," his voice caught. "They say that they came upon a ship that the Blackfyres had laid waste too…a Hightower ship."

Dunk looked over to prince Aemon who seemed to have gone a deathly pale and his mouth went into a thin line. He wanted to go and give the prince support and tell him everything would be alright but knew better than to do such public displays.

Aegon's purple eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion and he gave lord Arryn a cold look that was only matched by the cold of his voice. "What did they say my lord, you best tell me now."

His eyes went from the king to Aemon to the king once again. "They say that they found the crew dead, including the princess."

The king's nostrils flared. "Are they sure? Do you trust these men with your life?" he asked urgently.

"They…have proof your grace."

A queer silence fell over the great hall then as the King struggled to maintain his composure before suddenly gesturing for the Hand to leave. After lord Arryn had left Aegon immediately made to rise from his throne but cut his hand on one of the barbs as he pushed himself up and Ser Harlan stepped forward from Dunk's side and handed out a handkerchief to the King who absently took it and went over to his son who was standing as unmoving as a statue just behind the throne.

They all crowded around the young man now wary, as though he was like to fall over and shatter at a moment's notice. He looks dead, reflected Dunk as he watched the young prince's purple eyes gaze off distantly. The lad has had his heart torn out.

After a moment Aemon seemed to gain a sense of where he was and the people around him. He looked at his father with dull eyes. "May I be excused to return to my quarter's father?" his voiced sounded just as defeated as the rest of him.

Aegon rubbed his son's shoulder and gave a single nod. After watching the prince leave Dunk realised that someone would need to tell Ser Gerold about his sister's fate and hardened his heart for the task he was about to do.

GEROLD

Tom the Turtle was a long, lanky young knight whose strength and skill with a blade were the pride of House Estermont. Gerold had fought him a few times in tourneys long past and more often than not came away second best and covered in scrapes and bruises. It felt good to fight a man who could wield a blade without hesitation, someone with strength enough to test Gerold's own skills, someone who could take a blow and still keep fighting.

In the few times when they had fought before Gerold would have practiced patience, but not today. Today he wanted to beat the grief out of his body. He had just finished with the Maesters fussing about his wounds when Ser Duncan the Tall had come in to speak with him.

Normally the big man greeted him with a smile and a jape, but when he walked into those chambers he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and as soon as the old men had been sent out he told Gerold that his little sister was dead.

The words hit him like a knife to the stomach, twisting and serrating at his insides. The whole time Duncan went about giving his condolences and all Gerold could think about was the last words he had said to his sister. Surely it had been a jest of some sort, a bawdy joke or gentle teasing, but as much as he tried to think on it the more it eluded him.

After the lord commander had left Gerold sat in his chambers for some time trying to focus on his sister's face but all that brought him was pain. He took a moment to compose himself and set about writing to his nephew Leyton that not only were his father and mother dead, but also his aunt. I'm the last of my father's children he reflected miserably.

It seemed odd to Gerold just how unreal it all seemed. He had spoken to his brother and sister a month passed and now they were gone for good, not even his letters could reach them now. What was left for him now?

He poured himself a cup of wine and looked over one of the cloaks Alerie had made for him. The creamy white silk standing out beautifully against the dark grey background, it had been crafted with love, despite the fact that Alerie herself had no love for the craft. She knew that I would never care for having more cloaks made, so she did it herself. The thought only stung his heart more.

A sudden memory came to him then, one that he had not thought of in years. He was fifteen and his family was visiting Horn Hill for a tourney, while his brother and parents had gone off to cosy up to Lord Tyrell Gerold and Alerie stayed and watched the jousts, though they had arrived late and struggled to make their way through the mass of people. Eventually the match had begun and Alerie, who was little more than a child at the time, had begun to cry. "I can't see the knights Gerold! I'm going to miss it!" Gerold had wiped away her tears and lifted her up onto his shoulders so that she could get a look. He could still remember that wide eyed look of wonder that passed over her when she saw it all.

The faintest of smiles crossed his face then and he took a mouthful of wine before standing up and adorning the cloak Alerie had made for him. He then went out and searched around the Red Keep until he finally found Ser Barristan scrubbing his armour with furious intensity. When the young man saw Gerold in his doorway he put down the brush and armour and dipped his head.

"Ser Gerold, what can I do for you?" he asked curiously.

The bull of Hightower gave him a broad grin and smacked the lad on his back, and chuckled when he saw the boy wince. "You can come get stinking drunk with me at a tavern and I'll tell about the fairest maiden I ever knew."

RHAELLE

She woke with a start, every nerve tingling. For a moment she did not remember where she was. Despite the fact that she had grown up in Maegor's holdfast and spent much of her life in the large castle she hadn't thought of it as home in years. Even now while she lay in the tangled covers of her childhood bed it still felt as though she was in a stranger's room. Storm's End is my home, she thought dreamily. Steffon and Edric are my home.

Her dreams had only confounded the matter, and the one that had currently woke her was much like the ones she had been experiencing for the last week; a battle in the snow between dead men and small army bearing the sigil of her husband's house only in brighter colours, reds and oranges and gold around the black stag. And the blue eyed corpses. That had frightened her most, right up until she awoke and even then it took her a moment to realise where she was.

The room was cold and black though she was warm beneath the blankets, glancing about she saw that dawn was not yet come and tried to lay back down and fall to sleep. Yet sleep would not take her and for an hour Rhaelle laid in bed staring at the ceiling of her room. I am not going back to sleep, Rhaelle realized. Finally she willed herself out of bed and wrapped herself up in a robe that was hanging beside her bed and slowly made her way out into the hallways.

She ghosted through the pitch black hallways on unsteady feet and before she knew it she was already at her little brother's door. Ever since they had heard that horrid news about Alerie's death Aemon had kept to his room and seldom spoke to anyone. Rhaelle's father had dutifully told her and Duncan and Jaehaerys that they should try and give him distance for now while the wounds were still raw.

Taking a breath, Rhaelle gently pushed the chamber door open and slid into the dark room. The hearth that sat at the foot of the bed still glowed with warm coals that gave off a dim orange light. Her brother sat in a chair by the coals, wrapped under a bundle of blankets that covered him from his chin to his toes as he sat curled up. His purple eyes were watching the glowing coals with dull interest. If he knew that Rhaelle was in the room he gave no sign of interest.

"Aemon?" she asked quietly, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "You should be sleeping."

Her brother blinked twice and turned to face her. He looked at Rhaelle as if he had never seen her before in his life before turning back to the coals. "I could say the same for you big sister."

At least that's something, thought Rhaelle as she dragged a chair to sit beside him. When they were both young Aemon used sneak into her chambers at night asking to sleep in her bed because of some dream that had troubled him. Sometimes he would be crying, not because of his dreams but because of how he was disturbing her. When she was young Rhaelle thought it annoying, but now that she was a mother she couldn't help but find it sweet how much he cared.

"How about we make a deal? If you come back to bed then I'll join you and if you still can't sleep then we can still talk to one another."

Surprisingly Aemon smiled at that. "Only as long as you don't kick me in your sleep again." there was humour in his tired voice, just enough to make Rhaelle think that her brother was not yet taken by madness or grief.

Rhaelle smiled back. "Deal."

Taking her brother's hand she led him back to his large unused bed and nestled under the covers. The bed was colder than her own and it was clear that he hadn't slept in it for days. They lay in silence for a time before she heard Aemon turn to look at her.

"We were going to name our child Baelor if it was a boy or Visenya if it was a girl."

The lady of Storm's End smiled in the dark. "Those are strong names."

He laughed softly. "You know the first time I met Alerie I was at a feast in Highgarden, discussing how the Faith were brought to heel by Maegor the cruel and as I'm speaking up comes this fierce young woman with the loveliest blue eyes I've ever seen telling me that no, I was wrong and that it had been king Jaehaerys who reconciled the Faith with the dragons. Can you imagine Elle? someone talking back to a Targaryen prince about his own family's history….that's when I knew that I loved her, in that first meeting." His voice caught and he struggled with a breath then. "My wife…and my child…they died alone and they died in pain. Why? Alerie never hurt anyone...she was kind and courteous and prayed to the Seven every day and still she was ripped away from me…why Elle, what did I do wrong to bring this on her?"

She could hear her brother sobbing in darkness then, his body's movements shaking the bed slightly. Rhaelle reached over for him and drew him into a tight embrace, just as she had done when he was little. She let him cry into her shoulder until he had nothing left to cry out and fell asleep with him locked in her arms, hoping that for once their dreams would be free of horrors.