Chapter 45: July Crisis

Embracing his wife tightly, Aenys kissed her cheek. Inhaling her scent as to ensure his mind would create the memory of her presence while she was gone and his bed would be empty. "I shall dearly miss you, my sweet," he insisted, kissing her again.

Alyssa, looking ravishing even in a mere riding cloak and gown - simple wear dyed in the sea-green of her Velaryon origins - chuckled and returned the kiss upon his bearded cheek. Her hair a wonderful silver-gold compared to his more sparkling silver. "Forgive me, husband, but my offer for you to ride with me upon Quicksilver is still open. A quick day's fly to Harrenhal and then back after a day."

"Much as I would love to spend a night with you upon the largest tower between Oldtown and the Wall, I cannot afford to leave." The urgent raven from Daeron Qoherys mandated royal response. Rhaena would be best to do so but she and Maegor… it was best they remain within the Targaryen domains. Aenys did not trust his mother to refrain from Fire and Blood or to insult the Faith in the Riverlands given her attitude as of late. Jaehaerys was out given his conduct in Oldtown and both Aegon and Alys were traveling. That left either him, Alyssa, or Viserys. "The last of the battlements are being installed for the Dragonpalace and I must oversee them."

"Cannot Rhaena handle it?"

"This was my responsibility from my youth and therefore it is fitting for myself to be present. Viserys will need his mother to ensure he makes no mistakes as Jaehaerys did."

Alyssa frowned. "There is nothing wrong with what our son said to that lowborn blacksmith's cunt," she spat. "Can you find it in your heart to end his punishment?" Jaehaerys, upon his arrival, had been confined to his chambers - only his kin and his servants were allowed to interact with him, as well as Vermithor. No Targaryen could separate another from their dragon.

He crossed his arms, but sighed. "Mayhaps in a few days. Allow the lesson to set in further." They kissed and then Aenys approached his son. "My boy… you are going on your first official progress. Try not to act as your younger brother has."

Viserys grinned. "With muna with me, I highly doubt I shall be allowed to." The two embraced before Aenys drew back, watching the procession escape the Dragonpalace's main gate. A large procession of at least a hundred mounted guards - a further four hundred to join them outside the city. Alyn Stokeworth and Myles Smallwood alongside their retainers. Both were excellent fighters, and without a dragon he couldn't ask for better guardians for his wife and son.

They and the banners of Lord Daeron would serve to eradicate the lands of the God's Eye of the bandits that had cropped up. Aenys felt an uncharacteristic anger, fist balling. Damn you, Gargon. Lusty and gluttonous, the insistence of Daeron's nephew to claim the First Night within the domains of his uncle led to a mob of half a hundred to chase him out of a miller's village after he bedded three well-loved maidens in one night.

Unfortunate that such smallfolk were warring with the crown, but they would need to be put down hard, lest the delicate situation explode into an inferno. Enough of the Small Council convinced Aenys to abandon his usual recitance, and in hindsight such was the right decision.

'Do not shy away from your house's words, kepa,' he heard Quicksilver call out to him. Calmer than his nestmates, but still a dragon.

Sometimes his sister would tease Aenys that he should've been born an Andal rather than a Valyrian. That always stung… often since Aenys understood exactly why. Peace was his way, not war or violence. Hopefully Murmison would help him find a peaceful solution to this mess with the Faith. Whatever I must do to ensure peace, I will do, oh Father. This I pledge you.

As if ordained by circumstance, then approached him a figure bearing news. "Your Grace." Grand Captain Damon Morrigen bent the knee before his King. "Lord Hand Murmison has sent me with a message." Behind were two other Warrior's Sons, as well as three septons. The Kingsguard eyed them warily, to which Aenys did not appreciate.

"Here now, those of the Stars and Swords are our loyal subjects." His retinue did not seem to relax, while the Warrior's Sons tensed as well. "What does my good Murmison want with my presence?"

Sending Damon was… odd practice given Murmison usually used a man-at-arms or palace chamberlain, but his reply made it clear. "His Holiness the High Septon has dispatched Septon Mattheus with Prince Jaehaerys' party to make redress with your Grace."

A sigh. "Aye, I am well aware of his presence." The corpulent Septon was someone wholly unpleasant, but a sharp mind and powerful political presence. His wife, mother, and many of the Small Council warned Aenys to be cautious about him, but his magnanimous attitude towards Jaehaerys had caused Aenys to dispense with his worries.

Did he judge too soon?

"He and his Eminence Murmison have spoken and believe they have a plan to lower tensions between the Faith and the Crown."

His eyes widened. "Well then, lead the way to them." Morrigen smiled tightly and gestured for the King to follow him.

Mattheus had seemed to grow fatter since he was last in King's Landing, while Murmison held a… more relaxed posture than he had in the longest while. The office of Hand hadn't suited him well, but perhaps he had found his stride with this new breakthrough touted by the Grand Captain. "Your Grace," he offered.

"Your Grace," stated Mattheus, struggling to rise from his chair - the septon's garment about him looked like a white tent over his frame.

"My good Murmison." Aenys embraced his closest friend while smiling to Mattheus. "Welcome again to my home, Archsepton. I hope that this meeting will be discussed in the histories as the beginning of a lasting peace and prosperity in the Seven Kingdoms."

Mattheus nodded. "I should hope so, and agree that this shall bring peace." When he wished to be pleasant and diplomatic… he did a pretty decent job of it. "Myself and Murmison here have been discussing potential solutions to ensure that the Faithful are reminded of the respect their King holds for them after the… unfortunate decisions on both sides that have caused distrust and anger to boil."

Aenys sighed. "I cannot punish my daughter for following her heart and the culture of our ancestors, condemn it though I do." Whatever stability he had managed to obtain by the elimination of the Lodos Rebellion and the Vulture King's War in the Dornish Marches had been destroyed by Maegor and Rhaena's marriage. Love Daemon though he did, love his daughter and brother that he did, Aenys truly wished it had never happened. That he could've punished Maegor while not having to condemn his daughter and grandson to exile.

"The presence of Balerion has informed the High Septon not to seek the forced annulment of the marriage between Prince Maegor and Princess Rhaena, much as the Faith wish for it. However, a sign of devotion and piety from your Grace would serve so much better."

"Please, tell me."

Mattheus smiled. "In centuries past, many Kings with bountiful fecundity would show their piety by entrusting one to be educated within the structures of the Faith." The smile widened. "I have consulted with his High Holiness, and the two of us and Murmison have determined that Princess Alysanne can be admitted to be trained as a septa within the Starry Sept.

Aenys… words seemed to fail him.

Freshly fed, Prince Daemon Targaryen burped loudly as he was draped over his muna's shoulder, pressure pushing into his stomach and helping to release the built up wind. Her nipples sore from his suckling, Rhaena nevertheless felt a great joy as she drew Daemon back and held him in front of her. Staring at him. "Oh, my beautiful hatchling." She nuzzled his nose with her own. "You are perfect. You are most perfect babe that has ever lived. Yes you are, kessa kessa kessa." Kissing all over Daemon's face, he began to giggle uncontrollably, the sound music to her ears.

"I wouldn't make that claim, my sweet." Pushing himself off the wall of the nursery, Maegor walked till he embraced both of them. Kissing Daemon's head and then hers. "You were the cutest babe at that age."

"Oh? I should be rather spooked that you knew me so well as a babe now that you regularly enjoy me in the most carnal of ways."

"But are you?"

Rhaena giggled. "I am quite active in my enjoyment of those carnal ways, husband. Their lips met, and the kiss warmed her. However, Rhaena noticed Maegor tense and pulled back. "Something the matter?"

He sighed, melancholy crossing his face. "My fifth child, the only one that lived." Maegor rested his cheek on Daemon's head as the babe began to play with his doublet, entranced with the red dragons stitched into the wool. "Ceryse…"

She understood. "Mayhaps I should fly to Oldtown, speak to her one on one. Could even take Tyanna with me."

"Tyanna? I doubt she'd be welcome in Oldtown."

"Nor either of you, I know." The aforementioned Tyanna stepped into the nursery, absolutely ravishing in her dress the pure blackness of dragonglass. "Do not approach Oldtown… as for what my whispers speak of, I would recommend heading to Dragonstone just to be safe. Or sending the sweet one to Dragonstone." Her words were serious, but her expression was all smiles as she cooed over Daemon, reaching out to pinch his cheeks.

Rhaena could imagine Tyanna being a proper mother to any babe. A loving one at that, the standoffish attitude hiding someone with a lot of love to give - Rhaena knew that for a fact. But such thoughts were fleeting as the concern emerged. "Are they making their move?"

"Many decades of tension finally coming to a head." Maegor shook his head, walking across to the windows. Rhaena noticed Tyanna's eyes following after - putting a tiny smirk on her face. "If only my brother would've listened to me, or to muna or even Alyssa." Muna has always been clever, loathe she is to agree with Maegor.

"Which is why Mattheus visited King's Landing rather than have a more junior Septon or even Warrior's Son escort Jaehaerys… and I know what they have demanded." Tyanna's lips turned to a scowl. "They've demanded that Alysanne be sent to Oldtown to be inducted as a novice."

The only Targaryen present not to go shock still with paling faces was Daemon, the babe happily ignorant of what was going on. Rhaena felt her blood turning cold - something quite difficult given her dragonblood. She opened her mouth to speak, only for the words to die on her tongue. Across from her, even Maegor was unable to speak, or move.

Tyanna, taking notice, reached out to touch her arm - but continued. "And his Grace has already agreed on the advice of Lord Murmison."

"What?!" bellowed Maegor, pushed out of his silence. Daemon started to fuss, forcing Rhaena to bounce him. Trying her best to comfort her babe through this. "That spineless…" Fists balling, she hadn't seen her husband this angry since the attempt on her life. By the same people trying to condemn my sister to slavery.

Only the beautiful babe she now placed in his bassinet - reaching for the blood red egg keeping him company - kept the dragon from waking inside of her, roaring viciously as it tried to break free. "Husband… I am sure we can clear this up."

"Your muna is the only one that could potentially convince him. I used to, but our marriage tainted the both of us. My muna is on Dragonstone because she wishes him to burn the Starry Sept to the ground, while your brothers are gone and Jaehaerys is being disciplined for insulting the very people he's desperate to please."

Kissing Daemon one last time, Rhaena rose to meet his gaze. "We must try." She turned to Tyanna. "Ty, will you look over the hatchling while I…"

Tyanna nodded. "Of course, Rhae. I'll watch over the little Prince." Tyanna smiled down at Daemon, only for her attention to be taken to Maegor, who whispered something into her ear. "Aye, I shall also do that."

"Good." Maegor reached for Rhaena's hand. "Let's go, see if you can talk him out of this farce."

"What did you say to her?" Rhaena asked as the two of them walked through the halls of the holdfast.

"Call it a second option, just in case."

They hadn't gotten twenty feet of the King's solar before the screaming began to echo through it. "No! You'll never make me go!"

"Enough, daughter… you will not speak to your father in that way…"

"She can speak to you however way she fucking likes!" Rhaena heard both her brother and sister's voices and began racing for the solar, chest pounding. Knowing that things were already coming to a head. You should've stayed in your chambers, Jae. But how vociferous Jaehaerys was in defending his sister… it was heartening.

Her kepa didn't think so. "Still your tongue!" He never yelled. "This is your mistake that I am cleaning up…"

Shoving the solar door open even as the Kingsguard attempted to still him, Maegor charged into the chamber with Rhaena hot on his heels. A sour-faced Lord Commander Gawen met their gazes, expression changing to one of sympathy. Murmison, however, stood resolutely behind the King… the King nowhere near as resolute as he sat on his desk, hunched over as two silver-haired young Targaryens accosted him. "Cleaning up? Truly brother?"

"Uncle Maegor!" Alysanne ran to him, hugging his legs. "Please, please don't let them take me! I don't want to be a septa!"

"Get back here, daughter!" demanded Aenys.

"No!"

"It is your duty as a Princess to obey your father and sacrifice for the sake of the Realm. For the sake of the Seven Who Are One…"

"Shut it, pious cunt!" Jaehaerys was fuming, face so red it was near purple.

Aenys' head snapped up. "Jaehaerys!"

"No, brother, let him speak his mind." Maegor seemed close to seething. "Let this utter fool talk you into granting his beloved High Septon a hostage to threaten you to be his puppet."

"Are you accusing me of something, Prince Maegor?" Murmison asked.

A vicious grin curved on her husband's face. "Allow me to bring Balerion. He'll judge if you are telling the truth or not."

Aenys stepped in front of Maegor. "Do not threaten my Lord Hand, Maegor. This crisis started when you couldn't resist deflowering my daughter, and now sacrifices have to be made to ensure the peace."

Trembling as she hugged Maegor and then Rhaena, Alysanne glanced at their kepa. Tearstreaks covered her face, but her eyes blazed hate. "I won't go! I hate you!" She scrambled off, racing back towards her chambers.

"Aly…"

"You don't get to talk to her! I hate you too!" Jaehaerys chased after his sister, his words just as biting.

Gritting her teeth, Rhaena approached her kepa, stepping in front of her husband. "I do not agree with the screaming, but my husband is correct. This is a massive mistake, and only provides monsters such as those that scream the destruction of our house Aly to serve as a hostage."

"His High Holiness is a man of the gods, he would never engage in such vile madness."

She quirked her head at Murmison, almost snorting if the situation wasn't so serious. "I share my husband's suspicions of your loyalty, Lord Hand. I'd still my tongue if I were you." Rhaena looked back at her father. "Perhaps we should wait for muna to return…"

But Aenys shook his head, choosing this moment to be stubborn for the first time in his life. "I don't need your mother to make decisions for me. You and my brother started this mess, and then your brother chooses the aide to the High Septon to insult for his own amusement. This entire disaster puts us on the brink of war, and if your sister is the only key to peace then she will bear that burden to ensure that peace. If you have nothing constructive to say, then begone! Alysanne will be sent to Oldtown by ship in three days time!"

Shocked at the outburst and simmering with anger, Rhaena only felt the… calm in her husband's expression.

Hopefully whatever he and Tyanna had planned would work, or else the High Septon would hold all the leverage.

"She doesn't look like a dragon," Saera said, reaching down to poke at her little sister. "Come on, do something dragon-y." Little Lyanna Stark merely stared at Saera. Another poke, resulting in a tumble of giggles leaving the newborn dragonwolf's throat. "I think she's broken."

"She's not broken," Alaric replied, rolling his eyes. "She's a perfect direwolf, look at her coloring."

Aegon, arms crossed, had played with the babe earlier and was simply watching her. "Maybe she'll be like you, valonqar. A wolf but no dragon."

Already one of the newer cubs had been placed in her crib and was currently snuggled against Lyanna's side, the half-Valyrian babe using the cub as a furry pillow. The cub didn't seem to mind, but still managed to move and shift around. The egg placed in the crib was still as stone, just as was Alaric's. Brandon wanted to scold his son, given how his younger son grew brooding and quiet as a result… but Aegon didn't mean anything by it.

Just stating the truth. "Enough, kids, enough. She's barely a few moons - don't go heaping on your sister duties and obligations when she is still in swaddling clothes."

"Gross," Saera blanched.

"Hey, Saera." Aegon held a neutral expression. "Pull my finger."

Saera shoved him. "I'm not falling for that again, idiot." She scrambled away, a now laughing Aegon following.

Leaving just Brandon and Alaric - father and son watching over the newest daughter, the apple of Brandon's eye and the 'She-Wolf of Winterfell,' a babe everyone in the Stark lands delighted in. He reached down and stroked her cheek, the grey eyes of the bundled babe gazing up at him as if he were the Old Gods themselves. He truly would never get over that with any of his children, how in adoration they were of him at such a tender age.

"Kepa?"

Blinking, Brandon looked over his shoulder. "Yes, son?" Alaric was a quiet boy usually, but never was he this quiet.

And his suspicions were confirmed when his son, after a pregnant pause, finally spoke again. "Am I a worthless son to you?"

So surprised was Brandon to hear such words from Alaric, he couldn't speak for the longest of seconds. As if by chance as well, walking through the doorway was Rhaenys, silver hair pulled back in a bun and whose figure had resumed its slender grace quite soon after Lya's birth. She was beautiful, but had heard Alaric - it stunned her, then agony spread across her face at their son's doubt for himself.

Finally Brandon spoke. "What? Of course not, my son. Why would you ever think that?"

It was said that Alaric had been born forty namedays old, but he looked all his youth in that moment. Lip quivering as a tear ran down his cheek. "My egg didn't hatch…"

For Rhaenys it was too much. Towards him she swept, pulling Alaric into her arms. Alaric, for his part, returned the embrace and buried his head in her dress. "Oh sweetling…"

"My son." Brandon joined the hug. "Nothing could be further from the truth. You are a son to be proud of."

"But… my egg… Lyanna is just like me, a failure…"

"So your egg didn't hatch. Did you think your powerful grandfather had a newly-hatched dragon?" Rhaenys kissed his forehead, while her hand reached for Brandon's and squeezed it. Brandon squeezed back, happily giving the support to his wife. "Balerion had been the dragon of his grandfather… and of Daenys the Dreamer before. Seven Hells, your uncle Maegor had no dragon till Balerion chose him, and you know how powerful he is."

Alaric for his part nodded. "I suppose you're right."

"Son, you'll learn that your muna is always right." Brandon received a proper smile from his beloved at the quip. "You're a Targaryen as much as a Stark, as is Lyanna and your siblings. Never forget it."

Breathing haggardly, Alaric gazed up from his mother's dress and smiled hesitantly. "Thank you, kepa. I… I just want to make you proud."

"Never be worried of that."

Clearing her throat, Lady Jocelyn - the Lady Dowager of Winterfell and Brandon's mother - appeared in the doorway. She smiled for Alaric's sake, but Brandon could see more than a mere hint of uneasiness behind the outward mask. And in her hand was clutched a ravenscroll. The capitol…

Now he felt uneasy.

"I love you, grandson, but perhaps you should go play with your siblings."

"Grandmother… I'm too old to 'play.'"

She chuckled. "Alright then, but still go find them. I need to talk with your parents." Back to his normal self, Alaric kissed each of their cheeks and bounded off. Before either Brandon or Rhaenys could ask, Jocelyn read their minds. "Forgive me if I read the dispatch as it came in. It is from your mother."

"Muna?" Rhaenys snatched the letter, only to gasp as she read it. "Aenys, you idiot… no. My niece will not be sent to the Faith."

"Aenys wishes to send Rhaena to the Faith?" Brandon's brows knitted in confusion.

"Not Rhaena, Alysanne!" She handed him the dispatch.

Each word both confused and enraged Brandon. "This is impertinent! They dare demand that a Princess of the blood be provided to them as recompense for past insults?"

"More than impertinent, near obscene! And Aenys is actually considering it!" She shook her head. "I best get ready, then."

He'd read that part. "Do so." Under no circumstances could Alysanne be sent there. Given the conduct of the Andals the last time they had been so enveloped with religious fervor in their attacks on the Neck so many millennia before, Brandon knew that Alysanne would simply become a hostage. Someone that could be held over the King to extract all manner of concessions. "This is for your brother's own good." Rhaenys nodded and raced out as fast as her legs could carry her.

His mother locked eyes with him. "This will mean war, in all likelihood."

"Visenya thinks so, which is why she requests that I call the banners and march for the Neck." He picked up Lyanna, who was fussing. Her swaddling cloth was clean and had fed earlier, so she simply wished to be held. "We are outnumbered by the Andals, and I cannot be sure of who will stand with the Crown when all falls apart."

"Gelina is still our guest. Mayhaps she could ensure an alliance with the wildlings?"

To anyone but a Stark - one who knew the North like the back of his hand - such would seem a glorious idea. But to a Stark… "I'd be more likely to sprout wings than to see wildlings willingly fight alongside me. Gelina perhaps, she and Rhaenys have a connection, but no others." He shook his head. "Best notify the rest of the lords."

Ice would be coming off its mount tonight. Gazing down at Lyanna, Brandon reminded himself this was all for her and her three siblings.

"Jaehaerys, will you leave the chamber. I wish to speak to your sister about something." His kepa's voice was… tight with Jae, his ire still present given the Barth scandal that Jae could only roll his eyes about.

As for the Prince himself, he wanted to speak back, for that he had every right to spend time with his dear sister. However Alysanne beat him to it. "Let him stay, kepa. Please."

"It would be best if he was elsewhere…" Now Jae was suspicious.

Alysanne, in her innocent expression with her wide eyes and pouty lips, clutched at their kepa's arm. "Please let him stay. We've been having such a good time and I don't want him to go." It wasn't long before kepa merely sighed, his will on the issue broken.

By the gods, Jae truly wished he had been forced to leave after what his kingly kepa had divulged. The decision he made in regards to Alysanne's life… How could he do it? How could he betray them so? Alysanne was a dragon - however sweet and kindly she was, a life devoted to the Seven as a cloistered Septa was simply obscene to Jaehaerys.

His uncle Maegor's words filled his head in spite of his still simmering anger against him. They were much more tame than those of his grandmother, that a dragon need not concern itself with the opinions of sheep, but the sentiment was the same. They were those of Old Valyria, the blood of the great dragonriders that forged an empire out of fire and blood. He was the grandson of the man and women that forged a united Realm out of the same, and his own kepa - a man he loved desperately since the moment of his birth - was keen for such a dragon to adorn the habit and live chained to the whims of the High Septon or people like Barth.

Jae wished Vermithor was the size of Vhagar, of Balerion, of even Dreamfyre so he could ride to Oldtown and burn the Starry Sept to the ground.

Instead, he was in Alysanne's chamber, watching with agony upon his face as his poor sister wept in the arms of her best friend. Loathe was he usually of Arya Reed, in here they put their enmity aside… or at least he did, the northerner quite mellow towards him since the Eyrie. Aly came first, and Aly was hurting. "I won't go!" she cried yet again, voice hoarse but no less loud.

"Your father can't do this to you," Arya replied. "Your mother won't allow it, nor your grandmother."

"They aren't here!" Alysanne wailed. "No one is here that can stop this!"

"I am." Jaehaerys tapped the sword he held, a gift from his uncle before their falling out. It was still in its scabbard, but he trained daily with Master-at-Arms Karstark so that he could wield it with prowess. "I will not let this happen to you Aly."

"What can you do?" hissed Alysanne, in her grief yelling at her brother. "Can you stop kepa?! Mattheus is here in the capitol and will take me in mere days! Muna won't be home in time!"

Jae knelt next to her. It was hours since this farce was declared, but she had been crying ever since and it broke his heart. He was with her the whole time since, Arya joining soon after. The two of them locked eyes, their agreement needing not words to be sealed. "Arya and I… we will protect you. This I swear."

Through puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, Alysanne stared at them. "You two hate each other."

Arya bit her lip. "I don't hate him." Her expression was… rather intense upon him. "Jae?"

He swallowed. "Neither… do I, annoying as she is." The best he could give her, but it was Aly that was important in the moment. "We'll run away… to the free cities."

"Don't be absurd."

"No, it'll work." He said this with the certainty of youth and desperation. "When our dragons grow we will be untouchable…"

His fanciful and desperate musings were interrupted as the door to the chamber opened. Jae turned, expecting his kepa or even Damon Morrigan here to collect Alysanne ahead of schedule… and thus he half drew his sword before he stilled his hand. "Put that away before you hurt someone," hissed Tyanna, herself storming quickly towards one of Alysanne's clothing chests. "Princess, come here." Alysanne, hesitating for a moment, stood from where she sat and was immediately thrust a saddlebag. "Grab the clothes you wish to take but nothing more. Has to fit in this bag."

She blinked. "What is going on?"

Jae bristled. "What are you doing, Lady Tyanna?" He liked her greatly, but was suspicious of everyone these days.

"Saving your sister from having to get on her knees all her life… and not the fun way." Aly didn't seem to grasp it. Jae did and blushed hotly, as did Arya, though at least she smiled slightly at the jape. Her eyes also swiveled to Jae but he didn't notice. "I suggest you go spend time with your sister Rhaena. You'll need a proper alibi."

"No, I'm not leaving Alysanne… and not to be with that cunt of an uncle I have!"

Suddenly, Tyanna slapped him. Both Aly and Arya yelped, while Jae stared stunned. "Insolent shit, I've watched both of them tie themselves in knots cause you won't speak to your uncle."

He rubbed his cheek. "He deserves it… he only cares about his own desires." He slept with muna, cuckolding my kepa. Jae hated his kepa now, but that didn't absolve Maegor.

"I should slap you again. Who do you think fucking set this up? Who sent the raven to your aunt in Winterfell to ride here?!" That rocked Jae completely, and he had to lean against the wall lest his legs buckle. "As for you, Lady Reed, you should get ready too, and dress warmly. You're coming with the Princess." Arya nodded and rushed to grab a warm cloak. "Better say your goodbyes, cause you won't see each other for a while."

Jae was suddenly enveloped in a hug. "I love you, brother," murmured Aly, peppering his face with kisses.

"I love you too," Jae could only murmur.

Aly leaned in to his ear. "If you need to clear your head, go to the godswood. It helps, I promise." Another peck on the cheek and she grabbed at Arya, Tyanna leading them away and leaving Jaehaerys alone. Contemplating what just occurred.

Did his uncle truly set this up? Saving Alysanne from his own mistakes? Unable to root himself from that particular spot in his sister's chambers, Jaehaerys simply sank to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and waiting in silence. Allowing the culmination of all he had once believed to shatter fully before his eyes.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murmison felt his hair growing grey that very moment. "And there is no sign of her?"

"None, Lord Hand," spoke Ser Maladon Moore, the latter quite pale. "Princess Alysanne is no longer in the Dragonpalace, though…" He trailed off.

Feeling the eyes of Mattheus on him, Murmison rose from his chair, an uncharacteristic steely glare focusing on the knight of the Kingsguard. "If you have something to say, speak it lest I have you thrown in the black cells."

Mattheus' brow rose at the threat, undoubtedly thinking it a bluff, which it was. But Ser Maladon paled anyway. "There… some guards spotted a dragon landing nearby in the cove. The dragon, it's coloring matched that of the Princess Rhaenys' dragon."

"You mean Rhaenys flew from Winterfell to collect the Princess?" Murmison raised a hand to still Maladon, not wanting to hear it. "Get out." The Kingsguard only gladly complied, leaving the two men of the cloth alone within the chamber. "Gods, this is a nightmare."

"A nightmare of our own making," Mattheus murmured. Not bothering to rise from his seat. "By the grace of the Seven, not even the High Septon believed that the Targaryens would allow for Princess Alysanne to be admitted to the Faith… though I expected the King to reject it outright." He laughed. "Without his brother or his wife, as spineless as they come."

Murmison felt his anger rise. "Speak not of his Grace that way…!"

"Murmison." While it was difficult for him, Mattheus rose. Reaching out to grab the Septon by his vestments. "It is time you make a choice. Who will you serve, your gods or your King? To myself the choice is obvious, but to you… I think you know the correct decision for your immortal soul." He let go, letting Murmison fall back into his own seat. "Think on it. I shall be heading to Oldtown within the next hour. Ser Damon will be ready and waiting for whatever your decision is." With that, Mattheus waddled out, leaving Murmison to solitude.

Alone, Murmison glanced up at the seven-pointed star of the Seven gracing the place above his hearth. The faces of each of them staring at him. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." He served the Targaryen King… did that make him evil as many called him? Did it make him a traitor?

Did he believe himself a traitor and apostate?

"Gods… please show me the way."