The Winter King and the Queen of Summer

by Alperez16

A Jonerys set at the beginning. A Raven flaps it's wings and instead of swearing his oath Jon Snow learns the truth of who he is. How is the game changed when Jon instead of wearing black, dresses in black and red and seeks his crown.

27. The Burned Stag and the Black Dragon

Tumbleton 301 AC.

Robb Stark.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, never had truer words been spoken as far as Robb was concerned. Firstly in regard to his father when he'd left to ride south to serve as Robert Baratheon's Hand. Not his father, mother, or Robb himself having had the slightest inclination then, that it was to be the last time they were to see each other. Now, he felt it once more in saying his goodbyes to his wife and family. Even though he knew almost without a shadow of a doubt that he marched to a battle whose outcome had already been decided.

Still, he'd felt his mother's fear as she kissed him and willed him to take care of himself. His sister's worries as Sansa said her goodbyes not only to him, Arya, and Rhaegar, but to her betrothed Ned Dayne who would march with them as part of the Dornish Army. Finally from his wife who he'd developed true feelings for since they had truly spoken. Roslin who, if his mother was to believed, may very well already be carrying their babe within her. She'd been reserved, resolved, and kept her tears at bay as they embraced and said their goodbyes. His wife proving herself far stronger than Robb in just how composed she'd been as she'd told him she'd pray daily for his safe return.

Somehow he'd managed to stop himself from looking back and taking in every last detail of her as they'd ridden away from the Red Keep. Robb found a resolve he didn't know he had before then, as he simply promised himself that this would not be the last time they saw each other and so it needed not to be immortalized in his memory as if it was. It was something he later regretted, however. The thoughts that his father had not believed his parting was to be the last time he saw Robb's mother, almost threatening to break his spirit when they set up camp for the night. Thankfully, his great-uncle was there by his side to stop him from giving in to melancholy.

"I've never been part of an army as large or as diverse as this one," Brynden said as they shared a mug of ale.

"It's a sight to see is it not? Dornish and Reachmen riding together. Men of the North and Riverlands and Knights of the Vale, along with men flying the flag of the House of the Dragon." Robb said, still somewhat amazed that his cousin,' brother' had managed to bring such disparate peoples together.

"Aye, it is. As to is that one there." Brynden said as a hush came over those who sat at the fires with them when Lord Bloodraven and his men walked by.

"I still can't wrap my head around that," Robb said, as he looked at men who he knew were brave and true and yet wore fearful expressions until the White Worm had passed them by.

"Nor I." Brynden chuckled. "Though I'm still trying to get used to the idea that there are dragons in the world once more."

"As are we all, uncle," Robb said, taking a swallow from his mug as he wondered just where Ōñosmaghare was.

The answer to that question came a day later when Rhaegar landed and the black dragon then took back to the sky. Robb smiled to see both his brother and sister as they were joined by Ser Arthur and given horses to ride. Though he didn't see much of them during that early morning march as Rhaegar kept to the men of the Reach and Dorne. Though Rhaegar, Arya, and Ser Arthur later made their way to where Robb, his great-uncle, and the men of the Riverlands and the North were riding.

"Good morrow, Robb," Rhaegar said, cheerfully. Arya sitting in front of him as she most often was found to be.

"Good Morrow, your grace," Robb replied. "Your sworn shield looks tired, your grace." Robb winked, looking at Arya who scowled at him.

"Aye, that she is. Not that she'll ever admit it."

"I'm not tired," Arya said grumpily, proving that she very much was, and Rhaegar's words were true all in the same breath.

"Indeed," Rhaegar said warmly.

Always had it been so with Arya and his brother. The two of them were so alike at times, that it would make Robb remember when Arya believed she must be a bastard too because Jon was. Little did any of them know at the time that not only was he not, but his name wasn't even Jon. Hearing the yawn come from Arya's mouth, Rhaegar looked to Robb and Brynden and begged their pardon for not staying longer, before then riding off toward the back of their lines.

Loathe though he was to admit it, Robb felt put out somewhat. He'd wished to ride with his brother and to be shown to be held in the same regard as Prince Oberyn or Mathis Rowan were and had hoped it would be so. He knew too that the men of the North and the Riverlands were as proud as those they would often make fun of. They too would feel slighted somewhat, which would not bode well for keeping their spirits up. Yet he should have known that his brother's absence was to be a temporary thing and when Rhaegar returned alone, or as alone as anyone can be with Arthur Dayne shadowing their movements, Robb felt a little shamed he'd thought how he had.

"Arya, your grace?" he asked, wondering where his sister was.

"Is taking a rest in one of the carts carrying the supplies. Last night she refused to sleep even when I bid her to. Our sister is still as stubborn as ever." Rhaegar said and it warmed Robb's heart to hear him be named a brother once more, even in such a non-direct way.

"The more things change," Robb said, garnering a full and true laugh from his brother.

"Aye. Remember the night of the winter storm?" Rhaegar asked as he moved his horse so it was now beside Robb's own.

Robb smiled at the memory as they were now joined by the Greatjon, Maege, and Dacey Mormont along with Jonos Bracken and Lucas Blackwood who'd no doubt heard that the king was riding with them once more.

"Aye, I remember some of it, your grace." Robb lied, he remembered it all but he wished for Rhaegar to tell the story, as too did all the eager ears that now listened keenly.

"Your grace?" Brynden asked curiously, Rhaegar smiling even more truly now as he began to speak.

"We must have been about ten or so Namedays, Arya would have certainly been no more than four," Rhaegar said as he looked to Robb for confirmation.

"No more, aye."

"We were well used to winter storms in the North, no doubt you've known some yourself Lord Umber, Lady Maege."

"That we do, your grace. Bear Island can be a bleak place when the storms hit."

Robb tried not to chuckle as the Greatjon, Jonos Bracken, Lucas Blackwood, and others all spoke of their own experience with storms so as to not feel left out.

"Winterfell though is a good place to wait out a storm and Old Nan had a second sense about such things, I kid you not," Rhaegar said, again looking to Robb who nodded his agreement. "So we would all be safe and sound, tucked up in our beds well away from any true danger the storm may possess. But we were children still and filled with tales from Old Nan of what came in the dark, well, Arya wasn't the only one who liked not sleeping on her own."

"What did you do, your grace?" The Greatjon asked.

"Robb," Rhaegar said looking at him, eager for him to add his own twist to the tale.

"Firstly it was Sansa. She came to my room looking for Arya and expecting her to be there and scared too about the storm itself. When she couldn't find our sister in her room, she worried, but I knew full well where Arya was." Robb said, laughing now.

"Where, Lord Stark?" Jonos Bracken asked, hanging on his words as if he was telling them a tale of myth and legend and not a night where four children huddled up to wait out a storm's passing.

"Your grace," Robb said looking at his brother and finding that self-same smile on his face that he remembered seeing but briefly when they were boys. Usually there because of something that Arya had said or done, if he was being honest with himself.

"As Sansa went to Robb, Arya came to me. She sought my bed and the comfort of my arms, though I swear for a girl who was scared of a storm, you'd not have known it." Rhaegar said fondly. "Bran was still a babe, almost, so it was his mother that he sought his own comfort from. But I digress, where was I, aye…So I'm in my bed with a little terror who has now gotten over whatever fear she may have had and is both hungry and keen for adventure."

"And I'm with Sansa, whose own belly is rumbling and yet is far too fearful to go to the kitchens alone," Robb added, making Rhaegar chuckle.

"So unknown to each other, Robb and I both set off to get sustenance for the ladies, neither of whom would allow us to do so alone. Off to the kitchens, the storm raging and blowing snow against the windows and the dark of night making our shadows seem like the monsters from Old Nan's tales." Rhaegar said as they were now being listened to by the men who rode in front of and behind them. As well as more and more who'd come to join them as they rode.

Robb closed his eyes and could remember it as if it was only the day before and not many years ago. The soft steps, the sound of the wind, and the fear that around every corner there was some great beast awaiting them. Opening his eyes, he looked at his brother and could see that Rhaegar too was remembering it just as clearly.

"We arrived first and helped ourselves to the best of the bounty." Rhaegar said with a chuckle." As we sat there, gorging ourselves on apple pie, we heard the sound of footsteps, and though logic should have dictated that it was one of the servants or cooks, well…"

"We were young and afraid and good sense be damned," Robb said to loud laughs, Rhaegar's included.

"Arming ourselves as best we could, we hid and waited," Rhaegar said so softly that his voice was almost a whisper. As if he was back there in that kitchen all those years ago "And then When the door opened, we struck."

"You attacked?" Maege asked, her laughter loud and boisterous.

"We did, my lady. I struck my brother hard upon the head with a blood sausage while Arya took the remainder of the apple pie and smeared it into Sansa's face." Rhaegar said. "Before then loudly decrying that she'd wasted the damn thing on her stupid sister of all people."

"I still wager that had it been a beast, she'd not have thought it worth the loss of the pie, your grace," Robb said.

Though there was much laughter, there was confusion too and it was actually Ser Arthur who asked the question, much to Robb's surprise.

"I understand it not, your grace. A happy tale indeed, yet I know not what it has to do with your squire's reluctance to sleep."

Robb looked to see others now wondered that too and when he then turned to his brother, he saw Rhaegar's eyes were closed as he remembered the rest of the night.

"After we cleaned ourselves up and I received mine own smack across the head from a brother wielding a different blood sausage."

"it was only fair, you hit me first." Robb retorted his smile a true one as too was Rhaegar's.

"Aye that it was. " Rhagar said fondly. "Sansa however was too much of a lady to strike her sister, even though Arya offered her a free hit." Rhaegar let the words sit. "Though our sister liked it not that Arya then proceeded to eat the pie from her face"

Robb and those there all then listened as Rhaegar gave a decent mummery of Sansa and Arya's words

"Arya Stark, that's beastly."

"No, 'tis yummy and the last one left."

"After we then found Sansa a lemon tart to soothe her upset, we huddled together and continued to eat since that was why we'd gone there in the first place. I believe Sansa was the first to fall asleep, followed by you, brother." Rhaegar said and Robb nodded." Which left me and Arya awake as the storm raged outside. Full now and caring not about the storm, you'd have thought that would be enough to allow Arya to join them. Yet, not until the storm broke and dawn rose did she even yawn or seek to close her eyes. The little sod didn't sleep until we were all caught and then taken to Lord Stark for our punishment. Then and only then did her eyes close."

"I didn't sleep even then, I told you, I wasn't tired." a small voice called out and all heads turned to see Arya, Ghost, Nymeria, and Grey Wind as they strolled towards them and Arya reached out her hand to be helped back atop Rhaegar's horse.

"That's why I had to name you my sworn shield, little sister. For even Ser Arthur needs to sleep at times." Rhaegar said to loud laughs, mussing Arya's hair as she once again took her place in front of him atop his horse.

Grassy Vale 301 AC.

Bloodraven.

More than a century ago, Brynden Rivers had marched to war and to face the Golden Company. He'd marched to face his brothers and by the time he'd left Redgrass Field, he'd become a kinslayer. It should give him pause that he was once again marching to face off against the company that Aegor had formed, yet it very much did not. As it did not that he was marching too with the very last living member of the Blackfyre line.

While he'd at one point have sought Aegon's death so as to secure his House and its future, now he'd do all he would do all he could to make sure that the young man came through the battle unscathed. Bloodraven had looked deep into the heart of Aegon Blackfyre and thus far, he'd not found it wanting. Which was more than could be said about the archers he had under his command. The Raven's Teeth these men were certainly not.

'Mores' the pity'

Still, each day they rose it would be to a make-do archery range that he'd take the two hundred men that he'd plucked out of each of their allies' forces. Before they had sat down and eaten their meal and once they'd camped for the night, he would do the same. Much to his relief, they were showing signs of improvement, and some of them, at least, would be getting offered a place in the Crown's new company of archers, the Dragon's Teeth. Those men would in time be a match for the ones who won the battle that fateful day. For Bloodraven would accept no less from them.

After the archery practice and once he'd finished his meal, Bloodraven would make his way to Rhaegar's command tent for their own private meeting. The king, his squire, and Ser Arthur Dayne along with himself the only ones invited to attend. There they'd discuss their plans and it was there that he'd been caught by surprise by what Rhaegar had suggested they'd do once they reached where the battle would be fought. It still surprised him even now if he was being honest.

"You wish me to treat with them, my king?" Bloodraven asked, unsure if he'd heard it right.

"Aye, I do. Let them think Ōñosmaghare and I are far away, or at least hope that is so."

"They'll not buy it for a moment, my king."

"I know, but I want their elephants out in the open, Uncle. I want them to see the army and believe they can beat it."

"We outnumber them two to one, your grace." Ser Arthur interjected. "And as Lord Bloodraven says they'll expect the dragon."

"From the front, Aye, they will, Arthur. Not from the rear."

While he may not have expected such a plan to come from anyone but himself, Bloodraven welcomed greatly that it did. This battle was one that was being forced on them. The Crown had been won already and Westeros had named its king and queen. They should now be preparing to fight the true battle and doing all they could to win the only war that matters. Instead, they were forced to march across the entirety of the Reach to face off against men whose word was very much not as good as gold.

When he was not training men to be more lethal and efficient archers or going over plans with the king, Bloodraven spent his time using his other gifts. He would sit in his tent, his guards on duty outside, shut the world and everything around him out of his mind, and then close his eyes. Then with his thousand eyes and one, Bloodraven would look and see all that he needed to. Firstly by looking to the enemy to the West and then the one to the North, and finally by looking at the love of his life as she lay in their bed waiting for him to join her.

Atop the tent pole, the raven looked past the golden skulls on the spike and to the row upon row of tents. The Golden Company was camped a few miles from Highgarden itself. Their camp was in as much cover as they could give it and wouldn't fall prey to a surprise attack. Not by men at least. Should Rhaegar wish it, however, he could take Ōñosmaghare and together they could lay waste to most if not all the men in gold.

The rat scurried beneath the feet of men who saw it not. It ate through the coarse material of the tent and hid in the corner, ignoring its base needs to eat the food that dropped from the tables. Ears pricked, it listened as plans were made and discarded, and paid true attention when a plot was made to use archers to assassinate the king. Taking note of where that attack was to take place, the rat picked up the still-warm meat and ran out through the hole of its making. It welcomed in equal measure both the food it carried back for its young and the relief that the departure of the presence in its mind brought.

Unlocking its cage was a new thing for the hawk. A skill it hadn't learned yet one that somehow it now knew. Taking to the sky, it welcomed the freedom of stretching its wings. It had been far too long since it or any of those caged alongside it had done so. Like those left behind, it wished for its master's return and worried about its growth. They were fed, mainly by a small two-foot with a scarred face, yet they were never fed enough. Despite now wanting to hunt and enjoy its freedom, the presence in the hawk's mind bid it to do what it asked and the hawk complied. Flying to the sill of the window and taking up its position as had been demanded of it.

It listened to words it understood not and knew they were not truly for it. Then when it was bid, it flew over and around the keep, over the village, and took note of where the two-foots and their steel arms were located. Then and only then was it allowed its freedom and soon enough it found the prey it was looking for. As it felt the freshness of its kill and the warmth of the blood splashed on its feathers, the hawk worried that it would not be left alone for long. It had no doubt that the presence would return and while it liked it not, it knew it would have no choice other than to obey.

Along the Wall, a hundred ravens perched and looked north. Each of them seeking signs that their master would know for what they are. Not one of them flew North any longer, nor left the safety of the Wall other than to seek their food. All of them stood as sentinels and when the time came, all of them would call out their warnings. Not a single one of them was in any doubt that their master would heed those warnings and that once they were given, the Wall would no longer be safe for birds or men.

She lay in her bed looking as beautiful as she always did. Her silver hair was unbound and the slip she wore showed more of her body than was decent. It was a body that the presence knew every single inch of and as she looked to see its red eyes staring at her from the open window, she smiled. A single caw told her that it was not yet time and before the raven took flight, it heard her speak words it knew not.

"Hurry my love, I miss you so."

Bloodraven opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Though he'd much prefer to now move to his bed and go to his love, he knew he could not. The threat to the king was some time and distance away but it was a threat nonetheless. So, Bloodraven moved to the tent's opening and walked out into the camp, his guards behind him as he made his way to Rhaegar's command tent. Standing in front of it were four handpicked men. Each of them was well skilled, and yet it was the two that he knew that were inside that gave Bloodraven his true comfort.

"I'm here to see the king," he said, as even he wasn't allowed to enter uninvited.

A moment later, they allowed him into the tent and Bloodraven was surprised by two of the occupants as he'd not expected to see Prince Oberyn nor Aegon Blackfyre here at this hour. Ser Arthur stood behind the King on duty as always while the white wolf rested at Rhaegar's feet. Or at least it seemed at rest, for Bloodraven would wager that were anyone to attack the king at that precise moment, then it would be the wolf and not the knight who ended him first. On a small cot, sitting up and brushing a cloth down her thin sword, sat Arya Stark. Her own diligence in her duties was more than apparent for all to see.

"Uncle?" Rhaegar asked, surprised to see him back tonight.

"A word, my king. Alone," he said.

There were no doubts in his mind about Prince Oberyn's loyalty nor Aegon's either. Yet the things he was about to speak on gave up some of his own secrets and while both men mayhap knew of warging by now, neither knew his own adeptness with the gift. Nor would they learn it from Bloodraven's lips and so with a look to him to see that he had come to share news of import, Rhaegar dismissed both Prince Oberyn and Aegon and told them to take to their beds. Bloodraven were he to wager, would say it would be only the one of them who did so.

"What bothers you so, Uncle?"

"Men await at Bitterbridge, my king. Men with but one task."

"Which is?"

"Your death."

Arya Stark rose quickly to her feet, her sword held out as if she could stab those men from where she now stood.

"They'll not harm, my brother." the young girl stated with certainty.

"No, they'll not," Bloodraven confirmed. "By your leave, my king, I'd like to take some men and deal with these assassins."

"I could just simply do so with Ōñosmaghare, Uncle. Could I not?"

"Not as cleanly, my king."

"You would leave when?"

"Two nights hence, my king. We'll ride out under the cover of darkness and by the time the army reaches Bitterbridge, the assassins will breathe no more."

"You wish Ghost to join you?" Rhaegar asked and Bloodraven was at first going to refuse, then looking to the white wolf who too had risen to his feet, he felt it prudent to take him with him.

"I can think of no more lethal or stealthy ally, my king."

"Be safe, Uncle."

"Always, my king."

As he left the tent, Bloodraven saw Rhaegar walk over and speak to his sister, his words calming some of Arya's anger down. Arriving back at his own tent, it was the bed he sought and soon enough he and Shiera were together once more.

Two nights later, Bloodraven and fifty men who he'd picked from both the ranks of the Dragon's Teeth and of the North and Dorne, all rode west at pace. Alongside his own white stallion, the white wolf looked almost like its twin and Bloodraven knew it could easily outpace them all if it so wished. With Dark Sister on his hip and his Weirwood Bow on his back, Bloodraven would see the men sent to kill his king in the ground. Before the time came that they returned to King's Landing, he vowed to see those who sent them on their nefarious mission would be joining them.

Bitterbridge 301 AC.

Ser Franklyn Flowers.

This was a shit assignment and that it had fallen to Franklyn annoyed him greatly. He'd not refused it of course, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It should be Black Balaq who led this ambush, they were his archers after all. Yet it had fallen to him and so after arriving at the town, he'd had his men take up position while they waited for the army to march their way. Franklyn couldn't lie, there was a part of him that hoped that either the army would march a different route or that the king would fly rather than ride by them.

Lysono was convinced that the king rode atop a horse not a dragon though and who was he to argue with their company's spymaster? Besides if he was going to argue with anyone, then it would be that stupid cunt Strickland for taking this contract in the first place. No matter the coin they were offered or the promise of lands and keeps that they'd been made, none of it mattered if you weren't alive to spend it. As strong and resolute as the men of the Golden Company were, or as much as Franklyn would back them against any army be that in Essos or even in Westeros. They weren't immune to a dragon's flames. Men burned and gold melted and yet their idiot Captain General had brought them here because they had the Red Priests on their side.

"What the fuck do I care about believers in a God that I don't," Franklyn mumbled.

That was the truth of it too. Not he, nor any of the men of the Golden Company were fanatics. They didn't believe that Stannis Baratheon was some long-prophesied hero. That he was Azor Ahai reborn or the Prince that was Promised that the Red Witch loudly declared him to be. If he was then surely he'd have won this war already and not have lost the only true battle he'd fought in. Franklyn didn't believe in Melisandre or her proclamations and the mere fact that not only had she been wrong about Highgarden should have been enough reason for no one else to do so either.

"Besides where is the fucking witch now," he said a little more loudly.

Not where he was that was for certain. She was not sitting in a tavern while holding a mug of ale that tasted like piss in her hands. If anyone was to ask Franklyn, not that they would, then he'd wager that Melisandre was dead. He'd heard the tale that she'd gone to King's Landing in order to kill the king, as much as the Stag and his men tried to hide that fact from them.

So why was Rhaegar Targaryen not dead already?

Why was Franklyn tasked with ambushing him and seeing him fall to poison arrows?

And even if they were more successful than Melisandre had been, then did that not leave them with a vengeful Dragonqueen to face?

They were questions that he'd not sought answers to. Questions he'd not asked and as he finished the remainder of the ale and made his way to his room, Franklyn wondered if he should have. It mattered not now and there was naught he could do about it tonight or for the foreseeable future anyway. His task had been set and until he'd been successful or fate conspired to stop him from being so, Franklyn was far from any man who could give him answers anyway.

Laying down on the bed, his mind soon turned to Essos and to adventures long since passed. Franklyn pictured women that he'd lain with and men he'd killed. Soon it was Cider Hall and knowing it was to be his that he allowed himself to think about and it was with that thought that he eventually drifted off to sleep. Not that he slept for long or was happy to be awoken in the manner that he was.

"What the fuck?" he called out as he jumped from the bed and rushed to the window.

Looking out at the streets below was like looking into the seven hells themselves. Twenty men he'd brought here with him, he knew not now how many of those men still lived. It was carnage, yet it was controlled too. Franklyn could see few if any of the men who'd attacked his won, only shadows and wraiths or that's how they looked to him as they moved through the streets. How they knew where his men had been hiding or even that they were here at all, he knew not.

Torn between going down to help his men and making his escape, Franklyn composed himself and looked now with a truer eye. Arrows flew through the air and struck home before his own men could fire back. Men were thrown from windows of the rooms and hiding places they'd taken for themselves. Other than a man wearing a cloak so black that he truly looked like the Stranger and who bore a white bow, Franklyn could still see little of the men who'd attacked them.

It took some time for things to begin to quieten down and he heard the screams of his men as they were dragged into the middle of the town's square. Looking out his window, he wondered why he'd not been found and then remembered that he'd changed where he'd been staying only the day before. Never would he have imagined that such s simple thing would save his life, yet it clearly had and he was most grateful for it. Not so much for the voice he now heard in his head, however.

Who says you're safe?

The man in the smoke black cloak lowered the hood and Franklyn saw the white hair that hung loose and covered one side of his face. He watched as the man moved to each of the four of his men that still lived and after a moment where mayhap some questions were answered, Franklyn saw the man unsheathe a thin sword and drive it deep into the first of those men's hearts. Turning to see where his own bow was, Frankly promised himself that at the very least, he'd bring about this man's end before making his escape. Hurrying back to the window, he took out an arrow and readied his shot. Two things happened almost at once and neither of them was to Franklyn's benefit. The man turned and looked up at him, his one red eye staring directly at where Franklyn now stood and behind him, something breathed warm breath on his neck.

The last thing that he saw before he breathed his last was the smiling face of the man he looked down at and then the red eyes of the wolf that had managed to sneak up behind him without him noticing. His last thought as the wolf ripped into his neck was that he'd locked the door behind him.

'Hadn't he'

The Reach 301 AC.

The Battle of Fire and Gold.

Oberyn Martell.

Oberyn had spent some time alone with Rhaegar on the march. While his girls had as they always did, welcomed their time spent with Arya Stark. The king's squire had the heart of a Dornishwoman and his girls much appreciated that, like they, she conformed not to what most would expect of a lady. As for Rhaegar, Oberyn had seen so much of himself in the king during this march. A resolve, a strength of will to do what needed to be done, and yet a reluctance, almost an unwillingness, to be here. The reason for that unwillingness was clear to any with eyes to see. Rhaegar wished to be by his wife's side as the birth of their babe drew near and not be forced to march to a battle that had already been decided. For Oberyn could see no way the Golden Company could prevail against the army and dragon it was soon to face.

That reluctance was something that Oberyn could understand better than any as it had always been the same for him when it came to his girls. He'd been there for each and every one of their births and nothing or no one would have stopped him from doing so. It made him fear somewhat for the battle ahead. Not that they'd lose, for even without Ōñosmaghare, they had the numbers and the right men to lead their armies. More for just how far Rhaegar would go to end the fight quickly. Oberyn wouldn't waste a moment mourning the men of the Golden Company or those who'd been fool enough to follow Stannis Baratheon, but that didn't mean he wished to see them all fall to a dragon's flames.

So, as much as he could anyway, Oberyn had spoken to the king and tried to gauge his mood on things. He'd for once been a voice of reason, among others who were very much not. The men of the Reach wished to see Stannis and every man with him in the ground. Their worries for their own homes mayhap the true reason for that. While the men and women of the North just looked forward to the fight. While Oberyn's own lords had always had a fractious relationship with the Stormlords and even now they poked and prodded at the man who'd take up the seat when Stannis was long since dead. None of them preached complete and total destruction as much or as often as Lord Bloodraven did and Oberyn had not been the only man amongst them glad to see the back of the Master of Whisperers. Temporary though his absence proved to be.

"Lord Bloodraven has his own reasons for wishing to see the Golden Company destroyed, your grace."

"Aye, he does. I share them too, Oberyn. Mostly at least."

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Because they'll always be there, Oberyn. Should I let them leave and return to Essos, then one day they'll return and it'll fall to my children to deal with them or to their children. Better it falls to me than to them."

"So you do intend to end them?"

"They'll be shown no quarter, Oberyn. Given but one chance and then shown no quarter." Rhaegar said firmly.

The truth of those words was made all too clear to Oberyn and the rest of those who marched by what they found outside Bitterbridge. Lined up on spikes that were more than six feet tall were twenty heads and standing there waiting for them while carrying a sack filled with gold was Lord Bloodraven. Seeing Arya Stark wear a wicked grin as she looked upon the men who'd planned to kill her brother was not something that Oberyn welcomed. Though seeing the men dead very much was. That it then showed just how close they were to the true fight, brought its own reservations and so on the night before the parley, Oberyn had one last conversation with Rhaegar before he set off. A last effort to preach restraint if nothing else.

Upon waking the next morning it was to find that he, Lord Bloodraven, Mathis Rowan, Robb Stark, Aegon Blackfyre, and Jon Connington was who was to ride out and greet the party sent forth by the Golden Company. As they'd expected, they outnumbered the army they were to face by two to one. Yet the men who rode toward them seemed overly confident that their more weathered forces would be more than a match for those they may face here today. Given the layout of the land and that it was on a field of the Golden Company's rather than their own choosing, Oberyn could see why. Though he understood not how they could be so assured given that they had to know they would be facing a dragon, as well as men who outnumbered them, should it come down to a fight.

"Jon?" a white-gold-haired Lyseni said, surprised to see Jon Connington among their number. Oberyn looked to him and the other men who rode with him and he was not alone in paying much attention to the sheer amount of wealth the man wore.

"Lysono." Jon Connington replied gruffly.

Oberyn searched his mind for the names that Bloodraven had spoken of when he'd briefed them about the Golden Company. Harry Strickland was the Captain General and looking at the man, Oberyn was unimpressed. Balding, and slightly overweight, this was not a warrior who'd strike fear in the hearts of any man. Nor was any of the others to Oberyn's eyes. Though he did listen as one or two of them were named as Ser Brendel Byrne, Jon Lothson, and Duncan Strong, all of them Serjeants and all unremarkable men as far as Oberyn could see.

Lysono Marr who Oberyn noticed looked almost as much to Aegon Blackfyre as he did to Bloodraven, was very much not. With his lilac eyes to go along with his full pink lips, the man was one that had this been another time and another place, then Oberyn may have tried to bed rather than mayhap looked to kill. He wore a king's ransom not only in the gold chains on his arms but in the pearl and amethysts that dripped from his earlobes. His hands were elegant and Lysono had painted his fingernails purple and Oberyn had to swallow and turn briefly away from the man as he pictured those hands holding something other than a horse's reins.

Other than Lysono, the only other man of note or who cut a striking figure was the white-haired Summer Islander, Black Balaq, the leader of the Golden Company's archers. He too wore a king's ransom on his body and yet it wasn't the gold that Oberyn or anyone else there found their eyes turning to. Instead, it was the feathered cloak of green and orange that was a thing of beauty to behold. Oberyn was so engrossed in looking at both that cloak and Lysono Marr's soft features that he missed the first part of the parley and so he composed himself and paid more attention.

"I had not expected to see you again, Jon." Harry Strickland said and Jon Connington sneered at the man before answering.

"I had hoped never to see your ugly face too, Strickland. Yet the gods are cruel to both of us for here we are."

"We come to bring you the king's terms, Captain-General, not to reminisce on days gone by," Bloodraven said and Strickland nodded for him to continue. "Leave these lands and trouble their people not, and his grace will allow you to sail back to Essos and live out your lives without fear of a dragon's flames. Do not and well….We'll find out what is truly beneath the gold." Bloodraven said, mirthlessly before adding. "Trust me I know better than any that it's not the bitter steel.

"Why you..."

"Do you know who I am?" Aegon said, stopping Harry Strickland from speaking.

"We know." Lysono Marr answered.

"By right you owe your allegiance to me is that not true? As the last of my line, it's my will that you should answer to not your own." Aegon stated.

"A long forgotten rule, boy, and one we no longer subscribe to."

"A rule all the same, Captain General." Aegon retorted. "Our word is as good as gold, that's your motto is it not? That's what you live and die by. You owe your allegiance to the last Blackfyre, to Aegor and Daemon's heir who sits in front of you now. Are you to break that oath and prove yourselves to be just the same as any other company of sellswords?"

"Enough Boy! You forget yourself. True we swore to follow Aegor and Daemon's heir but we swore too to follow a black dragon, not a red one. You lost the right to claim our allegiance when you turned your back on your family and sided with its enemies." Lysono Marr said loudly. "You don't even wield the sword." he spat.

"Our king does." Robb Stark shouted back." Our king wields Blackfyre and you are sworn to the man who does so, as much as you are sworn to the Last Blackfyre. Yet still, you raise your arms against us."

"And where is your king, boy? Have you misplaced him? Lost him somewhere? "Ser Brendel Byrne said to chuckles from the men with him.

"Now listen to our terms." Harry Strickland said and Oberyn sighed, the battle was now inevitable and these foolish men had no idea what they'd brought down upon their heads.

After a moment's silence, Bloodraven moved his horse forward no more than a few feet forward and looked into the faces of each of the representatives of the Golden Company before speaking words that sent a chill down even Oberyn's spine.

"I loved my brothers, much though history believes I did not. True, Aegor and I were rivals for the love of our sister, but well…I'd long won that particular war." Bloodraven smiled, or as close to one as Oberyn had seen on his face up to now." Daemon, gods, other than Daeron it was Daemon we all wished to be and along with my king, he was the very best of us. Yet, as much as I loved them, as many tears as I shed for them, I did my duty to my king and to the realm and rained my arrows down on Daemon and his sons. I cursed myself and thought nothing of it. For better, it fall to me to be cursed than the realm to suffer. Later, I broke my word to Daemon's son and killed mine own nephew."

Oberyn looked from Bloodraven to the men of the Golden Company and then to those who rode with him. Each and every single one of them was rapt in attention and listening with bated breath.

"I killed my kin at Redgrass Field and we broke the Golden Company that day. We did so with fewer men than we now face with you and while facing better men than you can now call upon. For there is not a single one of you that is a match for Aegor or Daemon. Nor or any of you fit to lace either of their boots. So I'll give you but one last chance to avoid your inevitable fate. One final chance and I do so not for you, but for the sins of my past. Go. Leave Now. For if you do not, then only death awaits."

"Fuck you and damn you. For before this day ends my sword will run red with your blood." Lysono Marr shouted and Bloodraven laughed, a cruel and vindictive laugh but a laugh all the same.

"Aegor was ten times the man you are and he could only take my eye, I fear not your sword, Lysono Marr. Yet mayhap you should pay closer attention to the one I bear at my hip for she has a hunger for blood and today that hunger will be sated. When you see my brothers and nephews tell them I'm sorry for sending them such poor company." Bloodraven said as he turned his horse around and rode away from Lysono Marr, Strickland, and the others.

A few moments later, so too were the rest of them, and whatever chance this was not to be a day filled with fire and blood had left with them.

Aegon Blackfyre.

It had been as Rhaegar had said it would. The Golden Company cared not for their reputation, not any longer. They weren't honorable and mayhap they had never been so. Although Jon Connington had once served them and named them so. So just as Rhaegar had predicted, they listened not to his words and turned down his offer. They waved off the fact that the man who wielded Blackfyre was who they answered to, simply because of the man they knew who now wielded the sword of kings.

Still, he had tried and as they rode back and took up their position in the lines, Aegon looked to Jon Connington beside him and smiled. He had asked to speak to the man who'd been as close to a father to him as anyone and had been surprised when not only was it granted, but when his suggestion about Jon's future was welcomed. Neither Rhaegar nor Daenerys, not even Bloodraven, had questioned his request as being part of some plot or scheme. All had seen it for what it was, paying back a debt that was truly and fairly owed.

Looking at the man beside him now, the man who should they both survive would serve as his Castellan and Counsellor at Storm's End, Aegon still felt some of the guilt that Jon's words to him had brought to the fore. Yet, he knew he couldn't have told him the truth until he did. For he was well aware of what truly lay in Jon Connington's heart and what that truth would have bid him to do. As he was of what speaking those words aloud would have led to for the man he would name a father by choice.

"You could have told me….you let me believe a lie, Aegon," Jon said, his tears falling.

"I know you as well as I know myself, Griff," Aegon replied, using Jon's assumed rather than true name, a token of endearment more than anything else, or so he told himself. "I know what you'd have sought me to do. You'd have hated yourself for it, hated me for it, yet…"

"I'd not have had you go against, them Aegon. No matter what you think I'd…"

"You see me as much your own son as you ever have Rhaegar's, Jon. Tell me if I speak a word of a lie?" he asked to silence. "You would have wished me crowned and damn the consequences and I'd not have it, Jon, I couldn't have it. Illryio was never my father, nor it turned out was Rhaegar Targaryen. You….You Jon, you're the only father I've ever truly known and I'd not have risked your head, so forgive me the lie, at least."

It had taken more than one meeting for him to do so, but in the end, Jon had come around. When Aegon had asked him to serve him in Storm's End, Jon had welcomed it and said that he would. There had been some small disagreement between them over Mya and the marriage that he was being forced to undertake. Jon's words, not his own. Eventually, though, Jon had accepted that too and when Aegon had said he was riding out to face the Golden Company, then not even the gods themselves could have kept his father by choice from riding by his side.

"You stick close to me, Aegon. All your training doesn't prepare you for a true battle and I've fought in far more than you. So you stick close to me, you hear."

"I will, Jon."

Horns rang out and across the field, the Golden Company lined up. While all around him, their own army did likewise. Looking down the lines, Aegon could see the men and women of the North and Riverlands led by Robb Stark and Ser Brynden Tully. The spears and cavalry of Dorne were led by Prince Oberyn, Ser Arthur Dayne, and his nephew, along with the Sand Snakes. While off far to their left atop a hill, a group of archers and their cavalry and infantry support were led by Bloodraven. Aegon led some men of the Stormlands who wished to see what their future lord was all about as well as some men who had been given to him by Rhaegar to fill out his ranks. Beside him, Jon Connington looked to him and then pointed to the lines ahead of them as the horns blew once, twice, and thrice.

Never had he, or even those with him other than Jon Connington, seen the likes of what they now bore witness to. The Golden Company's lines parted and the elephants made their way through them. Slowly at first before they then began to charge. The sound was like thunder as their hooves crashed against the ground. Atop their backs were what looked like small howdahs which housed three or four men, all of whom bore arrows and spears. Attached to their heads were long blades that must have been more than eight or nine feet long and would render useless any cavalry or shield wall that they encountered.

Yet not a man amongst them feared the sight or broke their ranks and looking to who he believed to be the commanders of the Golden Company some distance away, Aegon could see they were surprised greatly by this. What happened or was about to happen next would turn that surprise to shock as the sound that now resonated around the battlefield was even louder than the noises the elephants made. All eyes looked to the sky and soon enough they were graced with a most welcome sight. Or most welcome if you were on one side of the battle and not the other. Black as the night's sky and casting a shadow more than thrice its size, Ōñosmaghare came from behind the Golden Company's lines, and firstly the cavalry and then the elephants felt the dragon's flames.

"Make Ready! Make Ready!" Aegon shouted. As all men atop a horse and those who'd follow behind them on foot, prepared for their charge.

"For King Rhaegar and Queen Daenerys. For the Stormlands and for Westeros! Aegon shouted and then as one they charged out into the field of fire that lay in front of them.

Lysono Marr.

For as much as he had preached caution and tried to talk Harry and the others out of accepting the contract, once they had, Lysono was all in. He had no intention of facing a dragon, however. Men they could deal with, as he, like the other commanders of the Golden Company, had proved over the years that not even the Dothraki or the Unsullied could stand against them. Westerosi knights and cavalry were easy to deal with after that, in Lysono's mind at least.

No army could survive a charge from their elephants or deal with how the Golden Company took advantage of the chaos that followed such a charge. There were no men who'd be more prepared for battle than they either. Nor none who'd know as much about the strengths and weaknesses of their enemy as Lysono would be sure to find out before even one drop of blood was spilled. Although for the first time that he could ever remember, Lysono had been surprised somewhat by the identity of one of the men they faced and by the words that were spoken too, if he was being honest.

He had known all about Aegon Blackfyre and had the boy come to them in Essos and demanded their fealty, then there would have been those amongst their ranks who'd have given it to him. If Myles Toyne still lived, his will alone would have seen them once again follow a black dragon. Yet the boy never came and Myles was long dead and so Bittersteel's and Daemon's heir had been denied. Partly because he rode under the wrong banner and partly because they'd accepted a contract and while they'd broken one, they'd not break another. Hearing the boy bring up Blackfyre had been a surprise to Lysono, however, as he'd not expected any but a member of the Golden Company itself to know of that rule. Though considering Jon Connington now rode against them too, it at least was something that could be explained.

What had truly shocked Lysono and no doubt every other man who'd attended the parley was the presence of a man who should be long dead. Bloodraven would now be more than a century old and so he must be some form of mummery. A convincing one in some respects, but still there was no way that the man himself could be true.

'For if he was then we are truly doomed' the voice in Lysono's head said and he did his utmost to shout it down.

As the lines formed and Balaq readied his archers, Lysono tried to wave off the words that the mummer had uttered. Instead, he allowed his mind to think only about what must have been the success of their plans regarding Rhaegar Targaryen. The ambush must have worked, otherwise, it would be the King of the Seven Kingdoms along with his dragon that they'd have parleyed with and not those who served him. That was what Lysono, Harry, and the other commanders had believed when they didn't see either of them at the parley and he now thanked the gods that he barely believed in that his plan had been successful.

When their lines parted, Harry led his elephants through them. As the sound of their charge began to rumble like thunder, Lysono wasn't the only one who looked to the lines some distance away. They had picked this ground for the advantage it brought them. Using both the fact that no army could bypass them if they wished to travel on to Highgarden by land and that they would hold at last one of the hills that overlooked the field. Now as the elephants had reached their top speed, as arrows flew and harmed them or those atop them not, Lysono began to contemplate on how extensive a victory it was.

No sooner had he begun to do so than the roar rang out. Louder than even two dozen elephants and two thousand cavalry charging, Lysono closed his eyes and turned his head to the sky. After saying a small prayer, he opened his eyes to see a sight that almost terrified him. There were no words on parchment that could truly explain the majesty or horror that the sight of a dragon in flight could bring to you. Not a single tale would do it justice. Looking on as the black dragon flew towards their cavalry and their elephants, Lysono held his breath and watched with something akin to morbid curiosity.

"What have we done.?" he asked but a moment later as the first of the dragons' flames covered the cavalry below and took men and horses from the world in the blink of an eye.

Again and again, over and over. The black dragon was relentless and while some of their archers fired at the figures on top of it, it was a wasted effort. Through smoke and fire, they came at them then. A cavalry that was unburnt and an infantry that showed no fear and all Lysono's earlier hopes for a swift and decisive victory were now nothing more than ashes in the wind. His first instinct was to flee, to turn his horse around and ride as fast and as far from here as he could. Had it not been for the sight he saw on the hill to the left of the field, then he would have.

Arrows rained down on any of their men who'd been lucky enough to avoid the black dragon's flames. With ruthless efficiency and with a skill that Balaq was he here to see it would admire, the men on that hill allowed no man to rise and fight. Taking out his Myrish Eye, Lysono looked to see who led those archers and saw the mummer that they had treated with. Although, by now he was beginning to wonder if in a world where dragons had been brought back to life, could a man long thought dead have been resurrected too.

"For Daemon and Bittersteel!" Lysono shouted as he and a hundred men rode away from their lines and the carnage that was taking place there and sought to bring an end to the man who claimed to have killed Daemon Blackfyre and his heirs.

They had reached but halfway when the archers spotted them and again Lysono had to admire their accuracy when their arrows were then trained on them. Behind him, men fell and horses crashed to the ground and yet somehow his horse remained unharmed. Two hundred yards, a hundred, fifty. Spear in hand, he caught sight of the smoky cloak and the thin frame and readied to take Bloodraven or the man who claimed to be him, from the world. It was too late when he saw the white bow, much too late when he saw the man take aim and the arrow fly towards him. Instinctively he ducked to dodge that arrow only to find that he was not its target as beneath him his horse crumpled to the ground bringing Lysono with it.

Coughing and spluttering as he tried to get his breath back, Lysono felt no pain and yet could not move. His leg was trapped under the now-dead horse and he'd wager it was broken. As too was the arm that had held the lance. Lysono heard the footsteps then, soft as they were, and he looked up to see the hood of the smoky cloak being pulled down. The man he'd believed was a mummery looked down at him with no sense of satisfaction or glee. His one red eye simply looked at him and showed no pity or no emotion that Lysono could name and then it wasn't the red eye or the man's face that Lysono was looking at.

The thin sword was a thing of beauty, its silver steel and dark swirls looked almost wondrous amidst the smoke that now began to blow their way. Then in the blink of an eye, its hunger for blood was sated just as Bloodraven had said it would be. Whatever thoughts that Lysono had that the man was a mummer, were not among the last few thoughts that went through his mind as he died. For he had no doubt that like men more famed and skilled than he, it was Brynden Rivers who'd spilled his lifeblood.

Harry Strickland.

There were few things he enjoyed as much as leading his elephant into battle. A truly good wine, a beautiful young girl, his favorite meal, none truly could beat or match the feeling of charging toward your enemy and seeing the fear in their faces. Today, however, there seemed to be no fear in the faces of those they charged against and he understood it not. Harry bid his elephant to roar loudly and along with the sound the charge was making it should have brought their fear to the fore, and yet it did not.

Then he heard a sound even louder than his elephants could make and though it took him a moment, he finally realized why they feared them not. Atop his favorite elephant in his howdah, Harry moved past the archers and looked to the sky. The sight he saw was the one Lysono and others had warned him about. It was a sight he'd done his utmost to not see brought to bear against them and as he looked at it flying over their lines and towards their rear, it took Harry a moment to comprehend that their ambush had failed completely.

He'd been so confident of its success. Westerosi were not Essosi, they believed in honor and rules of engagement. Parley was sacred and not an opportunity to ambush your enemies. Sending out knives in the dark to kill commanders or in this case, a king was not something they would consider. Yet twice now knives had been sent out to take Rhaegar Targaryen from the world and twice they had failed miserably.

'We should have learned from the Red Priestess' failure." Harry said softly.

They hadn't, however. Worse than that, they'd wrongly assumed that the absence of Rhaegar Targaryen from the parley had been because Franklyn had succeeded where Melisandre had not. Not once did Harry, Lysono, or any of the Commanders or Serjeants believe that they could be the victims of subterfuge and mummery. It never even entered their minds that they could be played and yet as the black dragon drew ever closer, two thoughts now entered Harry's mind.

'After what happened with the Lions and Roses we should have'

'All that avails now is flight'

For many years there had been those in the Golden Company who'd made fun of his love for his elephant. They had laughed behind his back and japed about it to his face. Some had looked at him and shook their heads when Harry had gone to the elephant enclosure to bring Hyacinth a treat. Yet over the years not even the head of their elephant wranglers had become as adept as Harry was when atop Hyacinth's back. Now, it was time to show them that they had all laughed at the wrong man.

"Hyacinth, geptot pālegon!" (Hyacinth, left turn!) Harry shouted.." Hyacinth, Lenton!" (Hyacinth, Home!).

As the black dragon laid down flames on their cavalry and drew ever closer to their elephants, Hyacinth followed his commands without any hesitation. So truly did she do so that they crashed into one of the other elephants and knocked two men from their howdah, losing one of his own in the process. Not that Harry mourned any of the three men who were now crushed under the elephants' and horses' hooves.

In full charge, three and ten elephants ran forward while one broke off and turned to the left and then headed back for the camp that was some distance away. It gave Harry a true view of the black dragon and as Hyacinth ran for his and her lives, Harry looked to see those who were not as clever as he, now come face to face with a dragon that brought them naught but a fiery death. It was not a sight he would ever forget and yet it was one he hoped he'd remember for many years to come. For at least if he did that would mean that he'd survived this day, something that now was his one and only goal.

As out on the field, the Golden Company met its end, Hyacinth ran further away and took him closer to safety. Harry could see the camp and the trees in the distance, moving to look back, he saw no sight of the dragon. Though given the smoke that enveloped almost everything behind him, in truth he could see little of anything. As they drew ever closer to safety, Harry thanked Hyacinth and wore a true smile on his face as he did so. All those years of ridicule and mockery were now a thing of the past.

"He who laughs last laughs loudest," Harry said as he did just that. Only for the laugh to die upon his lips when he saw the black shadow as it flew over them.

The fire never came, though the fear of it was by now ingrained deep in Hyacinths' mind which was mayhap why she began to run faster and to turn so erratically. Harry shouted out orders that went unlistened to and then as the dragon came close to them once again, he and the two men who'd been lucky enough to still be in his howdah were shaken from atop Hyacinth's back. It wasn't the black dragon that ended him. Nor was it a blade wielded by a man from Westeros or a spear or arrow that took him from this world into the next.

Rising to his feet, Harry turned to see Hyacinth now racing toward him as she once again ran away from the black dragon's flames. It took him a moment to realize it, however. A moment that cost him his life as the blade attached to Hyacinth's head cut through him and sliced him in half. He saw no pity in Hyacinth's eyes as he breathed his last, no care or worry and not even one ounce of regret. As he died, Harry's last thought was that the jape had as always been on him.

Maege Mormont.

Their plan had been sound and Maege had been happy enough to be riding under Robb Stark's command once more. Even if they were all truly riding under the command of the king. She'd japed with Arya Stark and more than once had told the girl that she could have been a She-Bear from Bear Island only to be told that Arya was a She-Wolf of Winterfell. Never had truer words been spoken and for Maege it was a wonder to see the difference in the girl from how she'd been when Winterfell rather than the Red Keep was where she named her home.

Under her brother's tutelage, and Rhaegar was her brother of that there was no doubt, Arya Stark would be a formidable warrior woman one day. A woman that Maege, her daughters, Prince Oberyn's girls, and many others would look forward to seeing. So that alone was something that endeared her king to Maege even more. As too did his plans for the battle they were now engaged in. Simple, easy to follow, and ones that would not only ensure their victory as it had against the Lions and the Roses but would see they lost few men or women in the gaining of that victory.

There was little more than any of them could ask their king for and yet it had raised a question in Maege's mind, a brief doubt that she needed answers to. They were answers that Rhaegar was only too happy to give her and he showed he'd learned much from Ned Stark in doing so. Even if it was clear that his feelings for his uncle had not yet fully been resolved.

"Men fall in battle, your grace. Sometimes you need to send them out knowing they may or even will die."

"Aye, I know that, my lady."

"Yet seem reluctant to do it, your grace," she said as Arthur Dayne glared at her for questioning the king and Maege found herself happy that Arya Stark was asleep in the cot beside Rhaegar's own. The king's sister was even more protective and less forgiving of doubts or disrespect being shown to her brother than his Kingsguard could be.

"I know full well that this is true, my lady. That there could come a time when to win a victory I may need to sacrifice men or send them to certain death. Yet it should never be my first or even my second choice. Not only because every life should be important to me and thought of not as an expendable piece on a cyvasse board, but because I have something that few others have been able to call upon. I have a dragon, my lady. What is necessary for others is not so for me."

"But if it became so?"

"Then I would do what is needed, my lady. Then I'd mourn those men and pray that their families forgave me."

A part of Maege doubted that Rhaegar would ever do what he'd suggested. She believed if anything that he'd seek to sacrifice himself or put himself in danger long before he did so with those who served him. If she was being honest with herself, it made her happier to serve, yet the doubt would probably always remain. Although, if things kept going as they had been thus far, then Maege would never need to see Rhaegar face that scenario.

They had planned this battle out perfectly. Allowed the Golden Company to become overconfident and think that choosing where a battle was fought was worth more than it truly was. Rhaegar had even played a Mummer's Game of sorts. A parley without him had made the commandeers of the Golden Company think they'd not be facing a dragon's flames here today. As it was they had found out to their cost that they very much were. While Maege had found out yet one more thing about her king and his black dragon.

"Ōñosmaghare is more than a match for men in gold, my lady. Even without his brothers by his side. On that, I have no doubt else I'd have brought them with me."

The black dragon was indeed a match and Maege had looked on as it had flown out from behind the Golden Company and taken out first their cavalry and then their elephants. Beside her, the Greatjon had laughed loudly as they watched their king have all the fun.

"By the Old Gods, he's a greedy fucker." Jon Umber bellowed out loudly.

It had made Maege laugh to hear and see it and then Robb Stark had given them the order to charge and their own battle had begun. Dodging the burning bodies of men, horses, and elephants, they'd rode hard onto the field and to the lines of men that lay ahead of them. Down the line, men led by Prince Oberyn, Ser Arthur Dayne, Mathis Rowan, and Aegon Blackfyre all rode in unison, and with Mace in hand, Maege readied to unleash her own seven hells on the men of the Golden Company.

Above them, the black dragon with Rhaegar and Arya Stark on its back now flew towards rather than away from the lines of the Golden Company. With a loud roar, Ōñosmaghare increased his speed and then a wall of flame broke the shield wall that had formed to stop their charge. As their horses crashed through now broken lines, Maege crashed down her Mace while looking to see Dacey doing likewise. Ahead of them, the black dragon continued raining down fiery death and along the lines, their men overwhelmed the men in gold.

At some point, Maege ended up horseless, her Mace taking down all comers who moved to take her from this world. A white sword stained red with blood killed a man who tried to sneak up behind her while another Mace crashed down on an archer who sought to take her from afar. Before she knew it, Maege was fighting side by side with Ser Arthur Dayne, Dacey, and the Greatjon and there wasn't a man amongst the Golden Company's ranks that was a match for any of them.

"By the Old Gods, this is fucking glorious!" Maege called out.

To Maege's mind, it truly was. Ser Arthur moved like no man she'd ever seen, cutting down men two or even three at a time. His nephew fought by his side and while nowhere near a match for his uncle, young Ned Dayne showed skill and valor as he fought. Dacey stood at Maege's back, her daughter not only proving her mother's match but her guard too. While the Greatjon bellowed at any who were fool enough to move toward him.

"Who's Next for the Greatjon?"

Maege could see the three wolves taking down more men than any of them. All of them stayed close to Robb Stark and the Blackfish's sides, not that either man truly needed their protection. Some distance away she could see Jon Connington stand back to back with Aegon Blackfyre, both men fighting in tandem. While Prince Oberyn and his three girls almost danced around the edges of the battle, each of them too quick and too elusive for the men who fought against them. Above it all, the black dragon flew and now laid down fewer and fewer flames until it roared out as loudly as it had done so far today.

Almost at once weapons were thrown to the ground and men surrendered. The fight was over and the victory that Maege had felt never in doubt had been won. They'd soon share in the spoils of war and given the gold that these men wore on their bodies, there would be much wealth to go around. Maege turned to look at those with her, Arthur and Ned Dayne, the Greatjon and Dacey, all of them bloodied but unharmed.

"Fuck but I could use an ale." the Greatjon shouted and Maege slapped him hard on the back.

"For once Jon Umber, you talk fucking sense."

Highgarden 301 AC.

Stannis Baratheon.

Being on the periphery of things was not something Stannis welcomed or was used to. He could be patient when it was required of him and no man could bide their time better than he. Something that both a long ago siege and finding out the truth about his brother's children had proved. Stannis knew full well when it was time to press an advantage and when it was time to hold back and wait for one to present itself. Yet waiting had never truly done him any favors and once again it seemed as if that was to be so.

Davos had arrived back alone, as Melisandre had said he would, yet Rhaegar Targaryen hadn't fallen and had instead marched with an army to face his own. An army that Stannis had believed he should lead and yet had not. Instead, he'd waited, bided his time and he knew not why that was. Stannis had searched the fires for answers to the many questions that he had, yet without Melisandre here to guide him and be a conduit to R'hllor, he'd found no answers.

Days turned to a week, a moon, and the army led by the usurper who'd taken what was rightfully his had marched while Stannis had sat idle. There had been no word from Melisandre, which though a part of him refused to believe, could only mean one thing. Then three days past a rider arrived from the Captain General of the Golden Company speaking of ambush and assassination. Two things that would normally give Stannis pause for they were dishonorable and beneath the One True King, or so his younger self would have told him. Not that either the ambush or the assassination seemed to work if what his own outriders had said was true.

Rhaegar Targaryen still marched and the battle that Stannis believed should be fought between them both, was instead to be fought under the command of only one of them. Now, the victors of that battle marched without hindrance or obstacle and Highgarden was their destination. Stannis liked not the irony that once again he was to be a man under siege against a force that dwarfed his own. Nor the fact that Highgarden's defenses were no match for those at Storm's End. So while there was plenty of food in their stories to outlast an even longer siege than the one he faced during Robert's Rebellion, in truth it mattered not as this keep could not hold.

'Am I to be denied again? Shown to be craven and run from certain defeat? Was it all just folly and vanity?'

Stannis ordered the defenses to be seen to. Both in the keep and the town. He sent out outriders to both keep him informed of the advancing army's movements and to see if there was even the slightest chance of bringing down Rhaegar Targaryen before he reached Highgarden. It was a fool's errand he sent the men on and yet it was all he had left. That and prayers said to a god he wasn't even certain he believed in and who had mayhap led him completely astray.

As the days passed and the army drew nearer, Stannis began to question the Red Priests and their role in things. They'd been so certain that he was to lead the war against the Great Other. So assured that he was Azor Ahai and the Prince that was Promised that they'd brought him the Golden Company and yet it had not been enough. He understood it not, the game they were playing, and how they could be so certain and so wrong at the same time.

Were they all just deluded?

Devout to the point of madness?

Or was there some other game afoot that he knew not about?

Why lead him astray?

Why make him believe?

To what did it benefit them?

He knew not and the time for thinking about such was nearing its end. So Stannis turned his attention to other things, to truer things. The fight was over, the war lost and he'd now never wear the crown of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Death was truly all he had to look forward to and in some ways, it was a death he'd welcome. It would, however, not be a death he'd have those he cared about share with him. So he called for Davos Seaworth and tasked him with one final thing. One last request to a man who had always sought to steer Stannis right and had never failed him when he'd asked something of him.

Standing at the window of what had been Olenna Tyrell's solar, 'And may soon be again'', Stannis awaited the arrival of the ever faithful Onion Knight. As it had always been when he'd sent for Davos, it was not a wait he would need to endure for long.

"You sent for me, Your Grace?" Davos said to Stannis' back, his voice rather than his entry into the solar enough to make Stannis turn to face him.

"I did, Ser Davos. There is one final task I'd bid of you. One last request I would make of you."

"Your Grace?"

"We are lost, Davos. I can see that, even as blinded as I have been these past few years. The Golden Company could not stand against the might of dragons, nor too can we." Stannis said, sighing. "Highgarden is not Storm's End, though mayhap not even my family keep could keep Rhaegar Targaryen away." Stannis moved to the table and took a seat, signing his name to letters he'd written earlier. "Death comes calling for me, Ser Davos. Its fingers reach out for me in the night and try as I might to avoid its cool embrace, it will have its due."

"My king, we…"

"No, not we." Stannis interrupted, knowing full well what Davos would say. "You, Davos. I want you to take your son and my daughter, her mother too though I fear Selyse would refuse to leave….No matter, Shireen must be taken far from here, Davos. To where I know not, but she must be taken from here, that much I can do for her. Gods knows I've done little else right when it comes to my daughter."

Stannis picked up the letters, blew on them so the ink dried where he'd signed his name, and handed them to Davos.

"For Shireen when the news comes of what happens here. She's not to see them before then Davos, not until she's safe and far from here and word has come of our defeat."

"Your grace, I…would it not be best to leave this place too? To take the princess and the queen…."

"The dragon will come for me, Davos. His march ends only when I breathe my last. I've been a poor husband and a worse father, at least in this let me do what is right. Let me be for her what I've failed to be for far too long."

"I'll do as you command, your grace."

"Your boys, Davos. I beg forgiveness for costing you your boys."

"There is naught to forgive, your grace. They followed their king, as did their father."

"Though I'm most grateful for it, may I say I wish it was not so, at least?"

"You may, your grace."

There were no more words said between them as Davos turned and walked out the door. In truth, there didn't need to be. Stannis could have thanked the man for all his service or Davos could have said he was honored to have done so, it mattered not. Both of them knew what the other thought and Stannis had never been a man of flowery words or one who praised things that he simply expected. A man did his duty and that was reward enough, that had been one of the lessons that his father had imparted to him before sailing on that faithful voyage and it was one that Stannis had always taken to heart.

As he expected Selyse refused to leave and so his wife simply waved their daughter off. That she did so with no real emotion was not something that Stannis could begrudge her too much. For he'd failed his wife as much as he had failed their daughter. Now, all they could do was wait and the nights that it took the army to arrive were ones that felt as long as any of those he'd known during the siege of Storm's End. They were ones filled with dreams of death and destruction. Of green fire and men's screams. Though at least those were ones that Stannis would not wake screaming from. The ones of Renly, however, very much were not.

"You killed me."

"Kinslayer."

"Murderer."

"Why brother?"

"Was a crown that important to you?

"Was it worth all you did and all you became?

The man shaking him from side to side would normally have been reproached most severely for doing so. Listening to the words he spoke, Stannis simply nodded and welcomed leaving his dreams behind him. He'd be seeing Renly's ghost for true soon enough and so he rose from the bed, dressed in his armor, and made his way to the Parapets. Prepared and yet not for the sight that awaited him when he got there and looked out on the army that now surrounded both the town and the keep. An army that put the one from all those years ago, to shame.

"By R'hllor." a voice cried out and Stannis soon saw the reason for both the surprise and fear those words were spoken with.

Larger than the Fury or any of the ships he'd once commanded, the black dragon cast them all in shadow as it flew over their heads. Stannis and each and every man there were so awed by it that not a single arrow was fired and no attempt was made on the lives of the three figures on its back. A loud roar rang out that was only broken by the sound of Selyse's mad proclamations. For they were certainly the words of a mad woman, Stannis believed.

"Your King's mount has arrived."

"R'hllor has not forsaken us in our time of need."

"Azor Ahai."

"The Prince that was Promised."

"Dragons from Stone."

A nod to his wife's brother was enough to see her taken from the parapets and while one or two men seemed as if they wished to believe the words, that was all among them who did so. Stannis certainly did not and as he looked at the black dragon now landing some distance away and watched the figures climb down off its back, he'd name only one of them as all the things his wife and Melisandre before her had once named him.

"We ride to parley," he said as he turned and walked from the parapets and down into the keep, readying himself to do he knew not what.

Highgarden 301 AC.

Rhaegar Targaryen.

The destruction of the Golden Company had been as complete as he'd wished it to be. His uncles' words, both of them, had been listened to by Rhaegar. While he'd had Bloodraven offer terms, he'd known full well they'd be rejected. Once they had been, the die had then been cast and so Bittersteel's men would trouble his House no more. Rhaegar had then instructed Ōñosmaghare to break them and his dragon had been only too happy to do so.

Other than the black dragon who wished these men dead because they posed a threat to his rider, it was Arya who was most pleased by how truly they'd devastated the Golden Company's ranks. His little sister could be even more bloodthirsty than Rhaegar was, especially when the blood being spilled was of those who threatened their family. The betrayals that Arya had suffered over the years had left little room within her for mercy or compassion. Though Rhaegar preached them both to her as often as he did the need to be ruthless and unforgiving at times.

They had celebrated the victory long into the night. Rhaegar was happiest not because of the extent of it but by how few they'd lost during it. Not a single man that he named a friend or was among their most important lords or knights had fallen. All of Maege Mormont's and Oberyn's daughters were safe and well and Rhaegar had enjoyed watching Arya compete with them while telling the tale of their parts of the battle. His little sister claimed the victory as she had been with him atop Ōñosmaghare's back and together they'd taken down the elephants as well as countless horses and men.

Rhaegar dragged Arya to her bed long before she wished to go, annoying her in the process. He listened to her tell him she wasn't tired and then watched as no more than a moment after laying down, sleep took her and the sound of her snores resounded around their tent. His own sleep was not long in the coming and no sooner had his eyes closed than he was far from the Reach and battles or war.

"It is over, done?" Dany asked as Rhaegar rubbed her small feet which she'd placed on his lap as she leaned against the tree.

"Aye, it's done. This part at least. There is still Stannis to be dealt with and Highgarden to be taken."

"But the battle, Rhaegar? The true battle is won?" his wife's worry was clear as Rhaegar moved her feet so he could move forward and kiss her cheek.

"Aye. The rest is simple numbers and how stubborn Stannis wishes to be. Highgarden can't withstand a siege, not from the army I bring to its gates. So while there may be a fight and it may be bloody, it's not one we'll lose."

"And you….you'll be fighting still?"

"If I must. Though Bloodraven believes it'll be something else we face."

"What?"

"I know not, my uncle is an enigmatic man, my love. You have met him have you not." Rhaegar japed which earned him a small slap to his chest and then a delightful wigging of his wife's toes that bid him to get back to his ministrations.

"So you will be back when?" Dany asked, Rhaegar having now turned his attention to her rounded belly as he softly stroked it and ran his hand in ever smaller circles while Dany now leaned against him and not the tree.

"A week more or less."

"I had…I feared you may miss the birth, Rhaegar. Miss our babes being born." Dany said, shakily.

"Never," he said kissing her lips. "Never," he repeated.

He woke refreshed and after breaking his fast with Arya and Arthur, Rhaegar took his squire for her morning training session. Once done, he called his commanders and made their plans for the march to Highgarden, only for Bloodraven to ask for a moment of his time. Once everyone had been dismissed and it was only Arya, Arthur, and Bloodraven with him in the tent, Rhaegar bid his uncle to speak.

"Stannis has sent his daughter to safety, my king." Bloodraven began. "A chance to truly bring him to heel has been gifted to us."

"I'm not harming a girl, Uncle. Not even Stannis Baratheon's daughter." Rhaegar said appalled.

"Nor would I ask you to, my king. However, together we can take the Lady Shireen as a hostage and Stannis will then agree to your terms rather than make us fight a bloody fight to remove him and his men from Highgarden."

"You've seen this?" Rhaegar asked and Bloodraven nodded.

The army was ready to march by mid-morning. All of them barring those who'd deal with the prisoners and the baggage train. They were but days away from Highgarden and so rather than the quickest and most mobile of their forces, Rhaegar and the rest of the commanders had decided it would be a show of true force that they'd march with. Bloodraven and a detachment of his Dragon's Teeth had along with Ghost and Nymeria set off on their own mission and Rhaegar and Ōñosmaghare would soon be joining them.

Another show of force was required so that Shireen Baratheon was handed over without a need for blood to be spilled. So Rhaegar placed his faith in Bloodraven's plans and waited to play his part in them. When the time came for him to finally fly off and join his uncle, he did so with his two usual flying partners. Both Arya and Arthur no longer demanded they came with him and Rhaegar never even considered flying without one or the other, so no words were needed and it was simply taken as done.

As his uncle had suggested, upon seeing the dragon, the archers, and once he'd given Ser Davos Seaworth his word that no harm would come to the men with him or to the girl he was protecting, the fight went out of the so-called Onion Knight. Arya looked at the girl's scared and scarred face with far too much interest yet it was Bloodraven who placed a hand on Shireen's scars and named her as their kin.

"Fear not little one, my king is a good and true man and you and he share blood. As do you and me." Bloodraven said before touching Shireen's face. "As for this, my love and I will see you free of this and name you a daughter of our hearts."

"I.."

"Are with family, Shireen and family look after the family," Bloodraven said as Shireen looked at him and Rhaegar nodded.

He allowed Bloodraven and his men to deal with those with Shireen and spoke to his uncle about keeping her far from Highgarden, something that seemed to be welcomed given the look his uncle gave him. They found much wealth on the boat that Davos, Shireen, and those with them were using to escape and yet not Rhaegar nor any other man would seek to take it for their own. Another promise he made to the Onion Knight, though this one was unsolicited.

Leaving them to make their own way back to their lines, Rhaegar, Arya, and Arthur flew to Highgarden and looked down on the keep and town from up high. From there it was back to the army that marched and within two days, they had reached the outskirts of the town and could see the keep in the distance. It was a magnificent sight and one that Rhaegar felt was a beautiful one too. He promised himself that one day he'd take Dany and his children here, that they'd have a Royal Procession and travel the realm to see this and other wonderous sights. First, though, they needed to remove those who had taken the keep and belonged here not.

It took more than a day as the army moved into position. The North and the Riverlands men to the left. The Dornish to the right. The men from the Reach to the rear and those who came with Rhaegar and Aegon took up position front and center. Word was sent for a parley and when Stannis and those with him rode out, Rhaegar was joined by his most important lords as he rode to meet them. Robb, Oberyn, Aegon, Mathis Rowan, the Greatjon and Maege Mormont, Ser Brynden Tully and the lords' Blackwood and Bracken, along with Arthur and Arya and all three wolves. While above them flying low was Ōñosmaghare and Rhaegar could feel the black dragon in his head and hear his words as if he was speaking them right in his ear.

"Should they even dare."

"They won't." he replied to a contented roar of approval from the black dragon.

Stannis looked broken and weary to Rhaegar's eyes, his men looked fearful and yet there was an air of something else that he couldn't quite name.

"Targaryen," Stannis said bitterly.

"Baratheon." he spat back, while behind him men named him as king and those with Stannis did likewise. "Your position is untenable Lord Stannis. The odds you face are insurmountable. Yet many men will lose their lives in the taking of this keep and this town and by the end of it all the result would still be the same. So I bid you spare the lives of the men with you. Allow them to swear their fealty to my wife and me or take the black if that's their choice."

"I take no orders from you, boy".

"I gave none. I made a request but very well then, since you speak of orders. Order your men to stand down and accept that I'm as merciful as I claim to be or give them all over the Stranger for there is no other choice I'm willing to offer you."

"Mercy from a dragon. I know full well what sort of mercy your family offers, boy. Should I seek a rope to strangle myself with or will it be fire you name as a champion? For where was mercy when the Mad King reigned over all?"

"The same place it was when your brother rewarded the men who murdered my brother and sister, Lord Stannis. The men who raped their mother. Be thankful that I'm not my grandfather's heir but my father's son, for were I not then your daughter would breathe no more and she and the Onion Knight would be little more than ash in the wind."

Stannis glared at him, his eyes ablaze and Rhaegar believed he'd break parley and attack him, only for something to stop him. It was not common sense, however, which was the reason for Stannis' restraint, instead, it was disbelief in his words. Something that was made all too clear to Rhaegar when Stannis sneered at him before speaking.

"A liar as well as a usurper. Are there no limits to the depths a dragon will sink to?"

"Only a fool lies when the truth is easy to prove, Lord Stannis," Rhaegar said pulling out the two letters that Bloodraven had taken from Davos Seaworth.

Was it madness that came over Stannis upon seeing the letters? Or had he always meant to do what he did next? Rhaegar would ask himself that question much over the next few days. The question he'd very much not was who of his protectors was the quickest to react. Arya, Arthur, the lords with him, Aegon, Ghost, Grey Wind, and Nymeria. All of them proved themselves slower than the black dragon who in one swoop lifted horse and man from the ground before tossing them in the air and covering them both in flames.

Stannis' sword which he'd unsheathed as he charged toward Rhaegar now fell harmlessly to the ground and while around him it was chaos, Rhaegar remained calm and composed. Even as the smell of burned horse and man flesh began to fill his and everyone else's noses.

"Hold your Arms! Hold your Arms'" Rhaegar shouted out as three wolves growled at men who looked stunned by what they saw happen to their king and who thankfully because of it had moved not.

As the two groups faced off, Ōñosmaghare let out a loud roar of warning while off to the side, and the fire on Stannis' body began to burn out.

"He broke parley and suffered for it," Rhaegar said pointing to the burning mess that had once been Stannis Baratheon. "I hold none of you responsible for his actions and my offer still stands. Kneel and name my wife and me as your king and queen. Name Lord Aegon Blackfyre and his soon-to-be wife as your liege lord and lady and I'll give you leave to return to your homes and your families. Refuse to do so and you may swear your oaths to the Night's Watch or face the same fate as the man you named as your king."

Rhaegar looked to the men, some of whom seemed on the verge of doing both, and so he now spoke in a softer tone.

"Enough blood has been spilled for a forlorn cause. The Golden Company is no more, and Stannis is no more. This war is over, the only thing left to decide is whether or not you wish to be the final casualties of it."

"I seek no fight, your grace."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

One after the other the men all repeated the phrase and then after giving them leave to ride back to the keep, Rhaegar awaited the rest of their responses while Stannis now simply smoked rather than burned. After asking someone to at least cover up the man who would be king, Rhaegar looked to the gates of Highgarden and then watched as from it and then from the town, men came out and threw down their arms.

Almost all of them knelt to him before the sun went down. A few decided to take the Black while a foolish few tried a vain ambush in the name of their fallen king and their god. Arthur and the wolves, however, easily put a quick end to their foolish attempt at Rhaegar's life. They were not the final casualty of the war between Rhaegar and Stannis Baratheon, however. That honor fell to Selyse Baratheon who decided to hang herself in Highgarden's Godswood. Rhaegar found that he couldn't for the life of him understand why, as by all accounts there was no true love between the lady and her husband.

After sending out ravens that night to let Dany know that the war was over and the keep was secured, Rhaegar finally felt that peace was at hand. In the morning he'd fly back to King's Landing and the army would be given leave to disband. Those who wished to return to their homes or who still had business in the capital would do so while Rhaegar would get to fulfill the promise he'd made to his wife and be there for the birth of his children. True there was one more war on the horizon, but that one was far away, or so he hoped. So as he lay his head down to sleep, it was with thoughts of peaceful days and nights to come. Little knowing that to the west and gathering on a pile of rocks, another threat was arising as the Crow's Eye looked east and coveted all he saw.

The Reach 301 AC.

Ōñosmaghare.

He had smelt it coming off him in waves. The anger, jealousy, and contempt that he felt for his rider. That was why he'd kept so close even though his rider had told him that he was safe. Ōñosmaghare had known that his rider was not and yet he had sworn to make it so. When the man moved, so too did Ōñosmaghare, yet no man was a match for a dragon and so Ōñosmaghare had moved far more quickly. It had not been the flames he'd brought to bear, simply because there was no way to control them and keep those his rider cared about safe. Not with how close the man who wished his rider harm was to his rider. So it had been with tooth first that Ōñosmaghare had acted. With tooth and claw and then once they were far enough away, he'd brought his flames to bear.

His rider had thanked him. Praised him. Ōñosmaghare had welcomed the words as he always did and enjoyed proving himself the true alpha of his rider's protectors. Later that night he'd felt his rider's joy that they'd be returning in time to see the hatchlings be born. Ōñosmaghare sharing in that joy and in the thoughts of seeing his brothers again. Like his rider, he too wished to be there to welcome the hatchlings into the world. To share in his brothers' joy at finally meeting their own riders and feeling as complete as Ōñosmaghare and Drogon did.

Ōñosmaghare longed to share the deeds that he and his rider had accomplished together too. To show how they had brought the flames to the men of gold. How he had foiled a threat on his rider's life. Simply to be with his brothers again and to watch as the hatchlings grew stronger and proved themselves to be as true dragons as both their parents were. It was time to rest and to do the things that thus far they'd not truly had a chance to do. To fly only for pleasure and to share their time together. To know some peace before they were once again back fighting a war. The time had come to see their family be completed. Five dragons who would all finally be as but one.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: Dany goes into labor early as Rhaegar hurries home to be there for the birth. Shireen spends some time with an uncle who names her kin and learns about the deaths of her mother and father. Davos and the other Stormlords learn their fate as Highgarden is garrisoned and an army breaks up and goes its separate way. In the Iron Islands, the Crow's Eye sets his sights on dragons and conquest while Dany, Rhaegar, and the dragons welcome their new arrivals into the world.

For those following my other fics, I'm in the process of readying both Purple Deception and Dragonwolf Danced for posting, but I may not get to either this week. If not, I'll post the next chapter of Last Wolf this week and follow it up with those two stories next. But nothing is set in stone other than at least one more story will get an update this week.

Missed Reviews:

Drew: CH 3. I write dialogue how I wish to allow the conversation to flow, yes I could add more supplementary info at times, but if you find it such a hardship to read it then I can only say that my format and style maybe not for you. As for the rest of your review, well, I don't know what to say about that.

Ch.9: I go with the show versions because it's a visual thing, people can more easily see it in their head if we speak about Drogon in Meeren rather than simple footage. Also, there is a reason why the dragons are growing faster here than in the books/ the presence of the Bloodraven/Shiera, and the magic they're using with Jon/Dany. Ōñosmaghare is fully grown, and the other dragons are growing more quickly both because they're needed for what's to come and because they're being influenced by magical interference from Shiera/Bloodraven and Jon/Dany. Where the Cannibal had to feed on magic, they are surrounded by it and it seeps into them helping their growth.

Silverantics/Samithuriel: Rhaegar was just the prince, yes, so his son becomes the first of his name as a king.

Chapter 27 reviews.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Redlox: So glad you enjoyed Tyrells fate. So with Myrcella, basically it would need to be approved who her husband is, but they'd not be forcing one on her. It's almost standard procedure depending on the circumstances. Extreme enough case it would be a forced wedding, to absolutely guarantee loyalty but I also say that I can never imagine Jon Snow ever forcing a wedding. Not once he found out the truth about himself and who his mother is. Dany either, given all she's gone through it would be too hypercritical of either of them to do so. It's also sort of the Tywin Lannister of even Doran Martell's school of thought as both have done it in the books. Hoster Tully too. I think given those we see do it in the books, Roose, Hoster, Doran, Tywin, and some Targs, as well as the results we usually see from it for Jon or Dany to do it goes against all logic.

Trumpasaurus Rex: So very glad you liked it.

Rhartch: I think they'd be so gone by that point, Edmure may have a moment of clarity, but you kill LF and whatever grip on sanity Lysa still has, it would come crashing down.

Allysanne:? Yes and no. Aegon will be unwelcome, though he has Jon Connington with him which will help him adapt, once they knew who Mya truly is, then things would be smoother. At the end of the day, they've little real strength to oppose it now. Where the real issue would come up would be how Mya/Aegon handle any children they have and what matches they seek for them. So, while people always seem to ignore the fact that the Starks needed to marry in the North, after Eddard/Brandon/Lyanna, here it would be the same. Any child of Mya/Aegon must marry into the Stormlands, then things would be so much easier.

Alberto: Next chapter for sure.

Tfranco: I have some big plans for Shireen, hope this showed some of them. She will be Bloodraven/Shiera's heir and that will actually mean something for her here. I will show Mel in a couple of chapters as well as show what exactly it is that the Red Priests were up to. Oh, the babies are next, I'll not hint at the names yet but I have them long thought out.

Dunk: Unfortunately these past few years I've had lots of practice with grieving, so while it takes time, I am dealing with it, your thoughts are much appreciated though. I'd not thought that about Edmure, but damn, that's so very right, LOL. I think Edmure is a decent peacetime lord, he's just not equipped for the circumstances he finds himself facing in canon. It's funny, in some ways he's like the Stark children and almost unprepared for the world they live in. It's My name is Daemon for Marge/Dickon, here I wanted to go a slightly different route and she will be wed at some point, but for now, it's more a lack of candidates and not wanting to repeat things I've done in other stories. Hope you liked the battle and Bloodraven's moments. It's funny you say that about Jon, as we've spoken about a more political fic, less battle orientated (not that I go overboard in dragging out battles lol) and well that fic would almost demand a Jon of that sort. I have one Jon and Aegon fic coming up but it's sort of different and while they're on the same side, they'll be working together but apart in that.

So I think yes a political Jon as Hand/MOW/Bloodraven type with Aegon as King fic is sort of needed. I always wanted to do a three heads of the dragon-type fic with Jon/Aegon/Rhaenys, but where they all bring different aspects to the table. I of course need more hours in the day or at least a huge lottery win so I can quit work and just write fics all day, too, but well, we can only hope.

Keb: Hope the battle was worth the wait.

Nachtong: A refusal of the crown's plans means a life in either the Sept or the Silent Sisters, it's just how things work when you have a Crown without limits on their power. Neither Myrcella nor Shireen will be harmed by the plans for them and in Shireen's case especially, she'll be more than pleased with them, in time. Myrcella will be warier, yet in truth, she's lost nothing other than Trystane. As for Jon/Robb, the last chapter was a step as was this one, the anger has diminished and so yes there is certainly a chance. Brothers fight, but eventually, they make up, mostly.

Celexys: With Stannis, I had this end planned for him right from the start so I hope people like it. As for the Tyrells, they are so damn lucky that they did certain things here or else they'd be completely screwed.

Guest: Wow, either you read 25 chapters of a story that you think is crap or you're a troll who decided to post a comment on a chapter of a story you never read. Either way, DLDR, it's an easy thing to do. If you don't like then simply don't read it. It bothers me not.

Guest: I can't understand how anyone can defend season 8, it's literally the worst writing ever. I mean almost universally accepted as the worst finale, the worst final season of a show of all time. So unless you're a fan of Sansa, Brandon, or Arya Stark, then what the hell did the show give you, because every other single character and their arcs were just screwed over so Cat could have her wet dream ending.

Anyway, I'm so glad you're liking this and my other stories, it truly means a lot to me.

Xan Merrick: Thanks, my friend.

Acetwolf94: Really glad you liked it. Hope this new chapter continues to make you do so.