A/N: Hey everyone. Tomorrow I start medical school. I'm terrified to say the least, so wish me luck.

Ecstatic from all the response to this. Be sure to keep it up! Follow and comment.

Chapter 2: Arthur's Proposal

"I am not having this conversation with you."

"That's what you always fucking say!" Talisa yelled. "You always just leave rather than actually listening to me for once!"

Viserys scowled, head pounding at her shrill voice echoing in his ears. Damn you to the Seven Hells, brother. "You're drunk."

Talisa blinked. "I am not."

"You had three glasses of Arbor Gold, so you're drunk."

"Three glasses is what I need to put up with your nonsense." She sneered at him. "Don't think I don't know where you go when you storm out. To that disgusting whore."

The servants on Dragonstone were already used to their frequent outbursts and sleeping in separate bedrooms. "Shut up, the servants can hear you. I don't want them gossiping."

That only made her worse. "Fuck you!" Almost from the day of their forced wedding six years previously did they scream, Viserys mostly at first since it was him that was being forced into the marriage. Eventually, he grew hardened to it but Talisa's earlier adoration soured into loathing and drink. Anything to banish away the hurt. "Fuck you and your adultury and your bastards!"

"I am your husband and I can do what I wish, and merely be thankful that I allow you your indiscretions as well."

"You…"

The door opened and in ran a little scamp. "Kepa kepa!" Baela launched herself into Viserys' arms. "I picked a flower for you and muna." A red rose, a beautiful one actually.

Viserys smiled, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, sweetling, but kepa has to go somewhere. When I get back, we can play together, alright?"

Baela looked crestfallen, but nodded. "Alright."

"Muna will put this rose in some water, see you later." Setting her down, he kissed her forehead before storming out without another word to Talisa. Behind, he heard a glass shatter against the wall and Baela scream… but only one scream. Your problem, pathetic bitch.

"Fighting with the wife again?" Ser Arys Oakheart asked him as they rode through a wealthy enclave of the city east of Visenya's Hill - the dragonpit loomed large over them.

"Again implies we ever stopped," grumbled Viserys, he and Ser Arys both concealed in black cloaks. But the manse approaching made him perk up. "You can come in, but stay watch in the entryway."

"As always, your Grace." This wasn't his first foray here.

Dropping his cowl as the door opened, Viserys brushed past the servant and into the well-apportioned manse. Nowhere near the luxury he was truly used to, but comfortable. The best that could be done by his coin in a manner that didn't elicit the attention of Baelish or Tyrion Lannister. "Your Grace, shall I take your cloak?" asked the servant, a man with a Myrish accent.

Of course from Myr. "Aye, you may."

As Viserys handed it over a ball bounced and rolled to his feet. Out of the shadows raced a young girl of about three namedays. She was laughing and giggling, only to stop with a more serious expression at sight of Viserys. "Your Grace." She curtsied, though it wasn't polished.

The Prince could let it go. "Rise, young one." This scamp was a familiar face - young Tyanna had the dark brown eyes of her mother but sported lustrous silver-blonde hair. He didn't ask questions. "Your ball." He picked it up and handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"Tyanna… where'd you run off to…?" A young woman clearly of Viserys' age or a little older emerged into the atrium. "Oh." Her eyes widened a bit, though a smile curled on her face. "My Prince, this is an unusual pleasure." She curtseyed, properly this time. "I was unaware you had returned from Dragonstone."

"I doubt that," Viserys snorted, though he smiled as well. Taena of Myr had been a… rather glorious find for him upon a journey to Myr with his muna and wife. Missing Ros' warm body and sumptuous tits in his bed, the beautiful young woman that had been a guest in the Myrish' Triarch's court was soon the replacement in it - brought back to Westeros not long after as his mistress in King's Landing. "And yet, you should know what I've come here for."

Taena grinned. "Of course. Tyanna, go play in the gardens with your nursemaid. Momma has to entertain his Grace."

The girl nodded. "Alright, momma. Bye, your Grace…"

Once she was out of sight, Taena sultrily approached him. "Truly a pleasure," she purred, arms wrapping around Viserys' neck. The woman she reminded him most of was ironically Cersei Stark with similar long legs, white teeth, and full lips - not to mention a bust that could rival a pair of melons. But the similarities ended in coloring, Taena sporting olive skin, thick black hair, and large, dark eyes.

He rather liked it. A contrast from Ros, who was as light and pale as milk. "Enough talking." He kissed her viciously, making her moan. "I've had a trying day and need to relax."

She merely smiled saucily. "Follow me." Taena took his hand and led Viserys towards her bedchamber.

An hour later, Viserys laid back against Taena's pillowy breasts - serving as the perfect pillow. His chest rose up and down, tuckered out from the vigorous exertions the couple had engaged in. A torrid melding of lips, mingling of arms and legs while Viserys pierced her womanhood over and over again. Thrice he spilled into her, once in her mouth and twice in her cunt, while hungry lips coaxed another climax out of her as well. Frustration and anger fucked out of him, Viserys was calm.

Calm was hard for him to find, only present on the back of his dragon or in the arms of either Taena or Ros. "How is Cragas? Is he here?"

Taena sighed, stroking Viserys' hair. "He's with my mother across the Narrow Sea in Myr. A religious thing that I never understood but is important to her."

"And you didn't go with them?" She was always a better mother than Ros… or Talisa for that matter. The latter was too depressed while the former… wasn't mother material.

"I miss him something fierce, but my duty is to be here for my Prince." Taena rubbed his temples, drawing a moan from him. "Tell your woman what troubles you, my love."

Viserys felt his walls crumbling. "Why, Tae? Why must this happen?" He wanted to clench his fist, but felt too relaxed. "It isn't fair… I have the blood of two dragons and it's my half-breed bastard nephew that gets everything. My crown, my sword… my property bride, while I'm stuck with a mopey drunk."

The brunette thought for a moment before kissing the crown of his head. "Do you know of your namesake, Viserys, Second of his Name?"

"Aye, I know the history of our house."

"He was a younger brother too, but eventually ascended to the throne."

"And was murdered by his own son."

"Well… you must be more aware of your threats than he did. If there's anyone smart enough for it, it is you, my dragon." Taena moaned, grasping Viserys' hair as he suddenly spun around and sucked hard on one of her nipples. Inflaming loins and stirring passions yet again.

He vastly preferred her bed to the one waiting for him in the Red Keep for good reason.

Into her bedchamber burst Sansa Stark, practically skipping and gliding along the wooden floor. The Targaryen seal was quite distinctive upon any dispatch, but rather than addressed to father or mother, it was her name written in such elegant script. It's Dany! Her letter is here at last! Jon's writing was far more simple and plain than Daenerys'.

Eagerly breaking open the seal, these letters were always treasured by Sansa. Daenerys was her closest friend even living thousands of miles away - those in Winterfell such as Jeyne Poole or Beth Cassel she loved greatly, but none could compare to Dany. Her playmate from her earliest memories.

Sansa,

I hope this comes to you before it reaches Winterfell more generally. Jon won the squire's tourney! I cannot believe it, he was amazing. You should've seen it, but I will make sure the next time we are together that Jon will show off his swordsplay for you. And that's not all, he's a knight! My brother knighted him as a reward for victory. The youngest knight since Daemon Blackfyre!

Sansa's eyes widened as she read the words, smile widening as it settled in. Ser Baelon, just like the Dragonknight but a future King. "Eeeeee!" she simpered, stamping her feet and grinning madly. Oh, she was so happy for him, her beloved cousin.

The only boy she thought more highly of than of her own father.

She continued to read.

That demonstration will happen sooner than expected, for my brother and goodsisters will be heading to Winterfell. The royal progress to the Eyrie is delayed because of the birth of your newest sibling, and between you and me I am relieved. I would not want to spend any time listening to your aunt Lysa scream at Lord Elbert or the servants.

Daenerys had a point there - gods, her aunt was crazy.

Expect us in Winterfell soon. I cannot wait to see you, we have so much to discuss.

Love,

Dany

Blinking, Sansa read the last line at least three times before she allowed herself to believe it. Squealing at the top of her lungs, she hugged the letter to her breast. "They're coming! Jon and Dany are coming!" Sansa would love to see Aunt Lyanna and Elia, Uncle Benjen and Rhaegar, as well as Robb and her and cousins again, but Jon and Dany…

Even in her home, she was lost without them.

"I have to tell everyone!" Letter in hand, she raced for the great hall, hoping that everyone was gathered there for the midday meal.

Turns out everyone was gathered, just not for the reasons that Sansa thought… or hoped. "Stop laughing!" she heard her brother Rickard yell. "It's not funny!" Just below the head table he stood, face red with anger and holding a large trout in his hand by the tail.

Across from him were the snickering trio of Joanna, Arya, and Theon Greyjoy, while Domeric sat by himself looking quite chastened and embarrassed. Her brother Tommen was reading a book next to Brandon, who was doing a bored handstand - quite good at it he was. In the middle of all of it were her mother and father, the former looking exasperated and holding a fussy Tytos while her father…

She'd never seen him so enraged recently. "Well, explain yourselves!" he bellowed at the three.

While Arya and Theon shut up, shocked at Ned's anger, Joanna acted nonchalantly. "It's only natural a fish sleeps with its ilk."

"Joanna!" exclaimed Cersei, mortified.

Sitting next to her younger brother, Sansa turned to Tommen. "What happened?"

Tommen shrugged. "Apparently Jo and Arry sweettalked Domeric into putting a trout Theon caught into Rick's bed. Father and mother aren't happy."

Sansa sighed. "No, I doubt they would be." A flicker of hurt crossed her face - she was half-Tully as well…

"Apologize to your brother now!" Ned ordered.

But Joanna was as stubborn as her mother. "No."

"Joanna, I mean it."

"I won't apologize to my half-brother. It was funny."

Going red, it took Tytos starting to cry to keep his composure. "Begone to your bed, no lunch or supper today." She merely huffed, gracefully storming out of the great hall. "Get this fish back to the kitchens," he ordered the maid. "The rest of you… you'll eat your meal there. Bread and porridge." Arya, Theon, and Domeric nodded and glumly followed the servants. "I'll take the babe to his bed, Cersei."

"Thank you, my love." Cersei looked quite exhausted. "Tommen, Rickard, go with your father."

"Yes, mother."

"Yes, Lady Stark," Rickard answered too, still upset. Bran merely fell back onto his feet and trotted after their father.

As everyone cleared out of the great hall, it was soon only Sansa and Cersei that remained. The latter didn't seem to notice her eldest daughter of love if not blood standing there, merely sitting at one of the tables with her head in her hands. Sansa approached warily. "Mother, are you alright?"

Cersei looked up to see Sansa. The young girl was a great beauty even at merely two and ten, but her beauty was of the fiery red hair of the Tullys of Riverrun. Not her blood, but she loved her nonetheless. Unlike Rickard - however much guilt that produced - Sansa was as much her daughter in her heart as Joanna or Arya. "Sansa." Pulling her in, Cersei embraced her. "You make me so proud."

"Thank you, mother," Sansa replied, happy at the praise even if confused. "What's wrong, are you sad?"

A sigh. "No, not sad. Just… it's hard to explain." She shook her head, running a hand down her face as the other gestured for Sansa to sit next to him. "You're growing up, so I must ask you, what do you think of your younger brother and the rest of your siblings?"

"You mean Rickard?" Cersei nodded, to which Sansa thought for a moment. "He's my brother, I love him. Just as I love all my siblings."

"But Joanna thinks differently, doesn't she?"

Sansa shrugged. "She always looks up to me as I do you, but Rickard… it's all harmless fun, mother. Don't be mad at either of them."

A wistful smile crossed Cersei's face. "She and he remind me of my relationship with my younger brother."

"Uncle Tyrion?" Oft she still called him 'Uncle Little,' but growing as she was into a young lady such a childhood application started to wane in her usage.

"Yes, Tyrion. I… I hated him for so long. Used to make his life living hells just as your sister does your brother, only more mean-spirited."

"Why did you hate him so much?" Sansa was shocked. "Last time he was here you two quarrel but nothing serious."

Cersei looked at Sansa and kissed her forehead. "I might tell you when you're a little older… all that matters is he and I improved in our relation, mostly thanks to your father." A smile. "He's the greatest man that I've ever known."

Sansa smiled as well, finding her heart warm at the love of her parents. "I am glad to hear of that." The story of her parents' marriage was one she loved to hear even to this day.

The Lannister turned Stark grew wary. "I just worry your sister won't improve in her disdain for your brother as I did for Tyrion." She still disliked him, but it had greatly warmed from what it had been. "But enough of that." Cersei forced a smile on her face. "What was it that you wished to tell me?"

"Oh, a letter from Dany came."

Knowing just how close Sansa was to the likely future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in Cersei's mind, she was pleased. "May I see it?" As Sansa handed it over, Cersei read it over. "Ser Baelon, good for him… though Robb should've been knighted as well."

"When he wins, he can be knighted."

Cersei laughed at that. "You truly are my daughter." Sansa puffed up in pride. "Oh, they're coming to Winterfell? Your aunt did not inform me of this."

"Is that bad?" Sansa was confused. "Don't you want Baelon and Dany to come?"

"That's not the point…" Cersei stroked Sansa's cheek. "You'll be by my side as we prepare for their arrival." When Sansa clapped in excitement, the Lady of Winterfell did not relish how such excitement would dash at the duties she'd really have to do.

"Tell us a story, kepa," begged Visenya, giving Rhaegar one of her most brilliant smiles. "Please please please."

Tucking in little Rickon, who had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow bless his heart, Elia huffed. "Senya, your kepa already told you a story."

"But he tells them so well. Please."

"Yes, kepa." Daemon climbed onto the bed with his sister, both of them perched on their bellies. "Please."

Lyanna leaned into her wife's ear. "He's gonna melt."

"Honestly, I would too, look at them." She smiled. "I love them so much." A sentiment shared by Lyanna.

Sighing, in the face of such a combined assault Rhaegar couldn't say no to his little ones. "I'll allow you another story if you ask in our mother tongue."

Such wasn't hard for Senya. "Ivestragon issa nykeā arlie vestriarzir, kepa. Kostilus kostilus kostilus." Two pairs of wide eyes gazed pleadingly at the King. They had him wrapped around their little finger and they knew it.

He chuckled and sat next to the bed in the chambers all three babes shared. "Alright, how's about the story of the greatest knight of his day, Aemon the Dragonknight." Lyanna tried not to groan. Now the children will never sleep.

But to the Queen's surprise, they were out light a lantern only five minutes later and it was she that couldn't be parted with them. "Goodnight, my sweet hatchlings," she murmured, kissing their foreheads with all the tender love and care in the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar's hand on her waist, he guided her to the door. Blowing one last kiss to her little hatchlings, Lyanna closed the door and her smile faltered. Head falling in her hands as a sad sigh wracked her body. "They grow up so quickly…"

"Oh love," Rhaegar replied, but his attempt to embrace her was beaten out by Elia, who wrapped Lyanna in her arms. Thank the gods she loves me too. He had a suspicion that if he was in direct competition with Elia, Lya wouldn't choose whom he wished.

Nothing of the sort on her mind, Elia lovingly kissed Lya's neck. "It troubles me too, sweet wolf."

"Wasn't it just a fortnight ago that they were but the length of our forearms and thought the most amusing thing in the world was tugging on our King's hair?"

Elia giggled softly at the thought. "Aye, those were wonderful moments."

"I recollect that in particular far differently," said Rhaegar, bemused.

Her wife's teasing of their husband drew a tiny smile to Lyanna's face… but only for a moment. "We have Serra and dear little Lyarra at least, and thank the gods Jae is still ever so adorable even if he's too brooding for his own good." She gave Rhaegar a glare.

"He didn't get it from me," he replied.

"Sure, sure." Lyanna rolled her eyes. "We have several more years. It'll have to do."

Elia kissed her eyelid. "And then there will be grandchildren to spoil and love."

"No, no grandchildren!" Rhaegar clutched his head as if in agony. "I am not an old man needing assistance to use the privy. Who will think me young and vigorous if I am a grandfather?"

Around him, the Kingsguard tried to contain their laughter, a manner of respect for their King of five and thirty. A manner of respect that the Queens did not share as they openly giggled at their husband, Elia of the most joyous mood and Lyanna slowly being drawn from her sorrowful mood. "No one that sees you mounted upon Aegarax or swinging Blackfyre against Ser Arthur would think you a feeble old man, my love." Lyanna moved to hug his side, leaning up to kiss his chin - aside from his coloring, all that Jon lacked of his Kepa was his imposing height.

As Rhaegar only grumbled in response, Elia spoke up. "Mayhaps love, we should provide our King with an opportunity to show us just how young and vigorous he truly is?" Her eyes twinkled, running a soft hand along Lyanna's arm.

The mood began to shift. Lya gently yet passionately kissed her wife, Ser Barristan and Ser Lynn looking elsewhere quickly, and Rhaegar's tongue going dry and eyes glassing over as he watched the Queens. An adolescent fantasy playing out in front of him was reality for the King, and he counted his blessings every day on it. "Gods…" he murmured.

Lya pulled back, letting Elia rest her head on her shoulder as she wrapped an arm round her waist. "Well husband?" They both gave him an impish glint. "Shall you prove your vigor to us?"

He was nothing if not decisive. "Ser Barristan…"

"Don't need to say anything, your Grace." He knew the drill. Gods be good, he knew by now how to leave the King and Queens to their own devices.

Having wed all together for thirteen years, delightfully happy for almost all of it, the intense passion of their youth had matured. Granted, the passion itself hadn't changed, or rather increased in intensity, but they were no longer desperate in their moments of intimacy. Giggling kisses and teasing touches gave way to mere smoldering looks and suggestive smiles, each having memorized every single gesture or hint given off of the other two. To any other, they walked towards their bedchamber without any ulterior motive, but they could read the lust and love given by each other.

When alone, Rhaegar immediately reached for his brides when the sound of a cleared throat made him tense… only to relax. "Arthur, Dacey… by the gods what are you doing here?"

Arthur seemed a bit embarrassed at having nearly bore witness to the… intimate life of his King, while Dacey bit back a giggle. "Forgive us, your Graces, but Arthur wishes to bring something to your attention."

Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Rhaegar sat. Not wanting to display in front of Arthur and Dacey his… arousal. "Go on, Arthur. As you know it is late."

"I won't take up more of your time than necessary," insisted Arthur. "But it concerns Prince Baelon."

Elia's concern was up. "Is he alright?"

"It isn't that… but I worry for him. Of his humility."

"His humility?" Lyanna was confused. "What is an issue of that?"

"I fear he's lacking in it, at least from where it should be."

The Queen shook her head, chestnut locks falling over her shoulders. "I don't understand. Our son is the perfect Prince. He was worthy of a knighthood at his age for his skills at the combat arts. He excels at his scholarship and his other physical pursuits. He has many friends and companions, so what is the problem?"

"Arrogance, unfortunately. He lacks the lessons of the real world to lessen the arrogance of being a Prince that can command men with the snap of his fingers." And now, Arthur tossed the dice. "With your permission, I should wish to take Baelon among the same sort of journey as Duncan the Tall took Aegon the Unlikely."

One could hear a pin drop… until one couldn't. "No!" Elia was firm. "Absolutely not!"

"How could you suggest such a thing?" Lyanna was both angry and hurt.

"You can trust Dawn to protect the Prince," he stated with conviction. "None will bear him harm in my care."

Elia frowned, crossing her arms. "Aegon V had many close runs with death travelling with Duncan the Tall."

"I find it insulting that you think my paramour's skills could be compared with a hedge knight such as Duncan." Dacey wasn't a boastful or pretentious woman beyond what was normal for a Mormont, but protective of Arthur she was in spades - especially his reputation. "If Prince Baelon is with him, he'll be safe."

"We meant no insult to you Arthur," Lyanna interjects, trying to control her anger since these two were some of her closest companions. "But I do not look fondly on the prospect of our son and Rhaegar's heir being so exposed."

"He needs this, your Grace."

"He can learn all that he needs to here, Ser Arthur." Elia didn't budge, one more than anyone aware of the mortality of the Crown Prince. Just thinking of him on the verge of death again...

Equally insistent, Arthur could tell Rhaegar was undecided - the King looked inclined not to allow his son to be in harm's way, but unable to argue against the points Arthur raised. Therefore, he continued. "Frankly, your Grace, him being raised here is my main concern. He needs to see what it's like not to be a Prince, that simply using his blood and crown to obtain what he wants isn't how a proper King or leader should last."

"Please, listen to him, Lya," Dacey insisted. "I love the boy as if he was my own nephew, but he's growing too arrogant for his own good."

Lyanna raised an eyebrow. Her Baelon... arrogant? That word was one she could never think of as applying to him. "I haven't the foggiest of what you two are speaking of. Jon is a wonderful boy and ever dutiful. As humble as his father."

"He usually is, which makes me hopeful. That boy is my squire and a better child to teach I cannot find, but the fact he has been the heir to the throne since the cradle sometimes gets to his head. It can be dealt with, but only if he can get a worldly education."

"That's not…"

"He's now the youngest knight in history alongside that of Daemon Blackfyre, and he has none of the afflictions that restrained the latter. Please, let me do this. It will teach him the lessons he desperately needs but cannot get while he resides in the Red Keep - or any of the great Keeps for that matter."

Before the Queens could further argue, Rhaegar held up his hand. "Thank you Arthur, Dacey. I shall take this under advisement."

Arthur rose and bowed to them while Dacey curtseyed, not risking another argument by simply walking out without a word. Once the door closed, Elia burst forth. "Rhaegar, no, this will not happen!"

"You can't let him take Jon. It's Arthur, but our baby boy…"

"He's not a babe, Lya," Rhaegar mused. "I don't want him in danger either, but Arthur… I had my father's actions to keep me humble, but Baelon's known nothing but peace."

Lya snorted. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not in the slightest, but I cannot have Baelon become Aegon the Unworthy."

"He won't."

A nod. "He'll never go that far, but still… I think we should consider it. My muna and Tywin… even Lady Melisandre can give their opinion."

It wasn't a shock to say that the Queens failed to reward Rhaegar for such prudent advice.

Flies were starting to buzz around the carcass, which Tywin Lannister shooed away with his hand. Some highborns burned incense or sweet herbs to banish away the filthy creatures, but he wasn't so womanish to do such.

"My Lord." In stepped one of his sworn guards, clicking his heels. "Lord Stark and Prince Baelon have arrived as you requested."

Tywin nodded. "Good, good. Bring them in." He bowed and was soon replaced by Sandor Clegane in a black-red outfit of a Targaryen guard. The former Lannister bannerman towered over the two boys each in northern-style grey. One with the golden-blonde hair of Tywin's own youth and the other with coal-black Stark hair - but no one could doubt the violet of his eyes. "My Prince… grandson."

"Grandfather," Robb Stark replied.

"Lord Tywin." Both Jon and Robb looked quite excited to be on a hunting trip in the Kingswood with the King and Queen Lyanna. However, Jon's excitement changed to disgust as he wrinkled his nose. "Gods, is that a fresh body?"

"It is, my Prince," Tywin said simply.

He pinched his nose shut. "It stinks."

A snort. "It'll stink up far worse, cause this is a beast you killed Prince Baelon, and both you and Robb are gonna skin it and clean it up." As if showing them exactly what they were in for, Tywin gutted the dead beast and yanked out the intestines, hands growing filthy with blood and viscera.

Jon looked away, while Robb grew queasy. "Grandfather, must we?"

"Why do you think servants exist?" Baelon refused to budge. "I'm not doing it."

"You think it's beneath you as a Prince of the Realm and the heir to the North?" Tywin asked simply, dumping the guts into a pail. The direwolves of Queen Lyanna and Ser Benjen loved these. At their nods, Tywin shook his head. "You know both of you are called bastards in certain segments of court."

Robb stiffened, lowering his head to the ground in a silent bitterness while the dragon's temper arose in Baelon. "Who says that? I want names!"

Growing up didn't just mean advance into true swordsplay or dragonriding… there were downsides for both. "You miss the point." Tywin yanked the tongue out and dexterous sliced it off - the delicacy going onto a sheaf of butcher paper which he closed up around it. "Do you think anyone that calls either of you such will think you not if you act like a pompous, arrogant highborn?" Neither said anything.

"Suppose not," Baelon replied, looking much like his mother in that instance. Sometimes more fiery than even the dragonblood. As Tywin held out a knife, the Prince took it. Robb followed. "So, where should I start?"

"Here, start skinning the leg like this." Miming it, Robb and Baelon each took a leg. They did it rather well - as they were good with a blade in general. "Neither Lannisters, Starks, nor Targaryens act like fools, so you won't change that, understood."

"Yes, grandfather." Robb seemed uncomfortable, but still tugged at the hide of the stag. Only using the knife to work at the stubborn sinew.

Tywin nodded in praise. "Do as he does, my Prince." Baelon followed Robb, and his struggles ceased. "So people calling you both bastards behind your backs, does that bother you?" When they nodded he replied firmly. "A lion doesn't concern himself with the opinions of the sheep, neither does a wolf... and much less a Dragon."

"It's still treason, Lord Tywin." Jon yanked at the hide, grimacing at his bloody hands but trying to ignore it. "It encourages disobedience."

"Do not ignore it, ever, but you must be smart. We shall always remind them that Lannisters pay their debts, winter will come for them, and fire and blood will finish the job." A witty statement, one Tywin marveled that it came out so well. As the hide was pulled off, Tywin grabbed another blade, ready to butcher the beast. "Prince Baelon, take off the neck." A swing with the sword beheaded the beast close to the head so Tywin could get to work cutting the leg. "Watch me." He began. "Tell me though, what makes a good King or Lord?"

Baelon blinked. "Justice?" His kepa was just.

"Justice…" Tywin nodded. "Viserys II was just. His reforms were well beloved around the Realm… but then he was poisoned by his son because he couldn't see the practical cost of his efforts."

Glancing at his cousin, Robb answered next. "Piety?" His father always prayed.

Tywin snorted. "Baelor the Blessed was well loved by all faithful, but appointed a seven year old boy as High Septon cause he believed the boy worked miracles. Starved himself to death because he refused to perform his duty as a Targaryen with his sisters."

"Everyone knows that, Robb," Jon mocked. "How about strong?" His muna, kepa, and grandmother were strong.

"Aye, strong. Maegor was strong, saved his realm from fracturing under its own weight… but also killed two of his nephews and turned everyone against him cause he forced himself into a corner that he couldn't emerge from.

"Family?" Robb interjected.

"Jaehaerys I, had a large family that he then alienated because he had unrealistic expectations of them." Tywin decided to put them out of their misery. "All of them are important, yet one must also have the wisdom to balance each quality." He set the knife down as one leg was removed. "We three are blessed with abilities and gifts few men possess. You two are blessed to belong to two of most powerful families in the kingdoms, and you two will carry that to heights never before seen."

Robb's eyes lit up. "You think so, grandfather?"

He nodded. "The future of our families will be determined in these next years - will we establish dynasties that will last until the end of time or collapse into nothing as the Blackfyres, Gardeners or Hoares?" He looked at the both of them. "I need you both to become the men that you were born to be, not too soon, not too late, but when the time comes."

Seated at the Small Council chamber, the only one other than Lady Melisandre admitted that wasn't part of the Royal Family, Tywin Lannister recalled this day several moons before quite well. It was apt, considering the reason behind Queen Lyanna's angry pacing up and down the table. "I can't believe this!" She was close to rending her own hair. "Ser Arthur wants my baby boy cast out into the world where anything could happen to him."

"Gooddaughter, calm down," insisted Rhaella, stoic and seated beside the King - who was completely quiet. "My kepa was taken across the realm by Duncan the Tall and he wasn't harmed."

"No, I won't allow this."

Elia, less visibly angry than her wife, gently stroked Rhaegar's hand. "My love, you know how we almost lost Baelon not so long ago."

"I am well aware," murmured Rhaegar.

"Our wife is right, we shouldn't risk it."

"Perhaps it is his destiny." All eyes gathered to Melisandre. "I have seen many things in the flames regarding Prince Baelon. All of them vague, but what I can tell is that some deeds are done when he is in his youth. When he is of the age he is in now."

Lyanna scoffed. "So we should consider sending him to certain danger on the basis of fire flickers?" She trusted Melisandre, but her blood was up - it was Jon after all.

Raising his head, Rhaegar met Tywin's gaze. "Lord Hand, do you have anything to add to this?"

Tywin clasped his fingers together. "Your son has wanted for nothing. He doesn't remember the raid by the Ironborn as Rhaenys does, nor did he have to truly struggle as Aegon did. I cannot say if this is truly necessary since the future has not yet been set, but I would advise to truly watch the boy and consider what Ser Arthur has pointed out."

Glares came from the Queens, a flicker of respect from Rhaella, and a sigh from the King.

This wouldn't be decided tonight - or anytime soon.

Anyone that was raised by Lyanna Stark knew how to ride, and knew how to ride at levels to contend with the best of Dothraki screamers if need be. For Prince Baelon Targaryen, he was as at home on the back of a horse as he was on his feet, often adoring the times of his childhood - which still continued to his delight - by riding with his muna on the beaches outside the walls.

Now though, the only adult with them was Sandor Clegane as their designated guard. If he held any irritation at having to watch over Prince Baelon, Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys, Princess Daenerys, Princess Alyssa, or Princess Myrcella. He didn't show it. Well… "Aye, sounds like singing, if the singer is a goat getting his innards yanked out through its mouth."

Alyssa stopped and glared at her brother's protector - if looks could kill, the Hound would be as dead as Black Harren. "I am as wonderful a singer as Jon or kepa."

"Gods, Alyssa. Must you insult Jon like that?" teased Daenerys, purposefully riding a little bit further ahead to avoid her niece's smack. "Comparing that torture to his beautiful voice." She smiled at Jon, which the Prince returned.

"Careful Dany, wouldn't want your nose to come out brown," giggled Rhaenys. She didn't ride away fast enough to escape Dany's smack. She loved all her siblings and aunts, but the way Jon and Dany were… how close they still were even on the cusp of coming of age… Before it had been somewhat adorable and explainable due to their similar ages but now it was partly creepy and partly quizzical.

She knew a lot more of the world, and could divulge romantic attachment out of mere filial. Were they even at that stage? Honestly, Rhaenys didn't bother to answer the question lest she get a headache.

Myrcella groaned. "Come on, must we keep teasing each other? We're supposed to be having fun going to the dragonpit."

"Cella's right," chimed Egg, sitting tall and proud astride his mount, just starting to develop the muscles of a man. "Though that's usually what the one who comes dead last in any proper race would say - or the one with the smallest dragon." His look was still of innocence, one the other Targaryens had to give him props for.

Narrowing her eyes, Cella mimed throwing her water gourd at him. "I hope you fall off of Tessarion."

"Not bloody likely, but you go with that." He spurred his horse as Cella tried to smack him, the two chasing after each other while the others laughed.

Except for Sandor that was. Fuckin' dragons… makin' me wish I was still with the lions. Then he thought for a moment and decided that was a lie. Anythin' to be away from those cunts.

Finally, the immense visage of the Dragonpit loomed large atop Rhaenys' Hill. The structure had been greatly improved since the time it was first in use. All evidence of decay was gone and it sported the newest of sculpture, murals, and whitewashing befitting of any grand Targaryen masterpiece. All that was missing from the sight of the royals as they dismounted their horses was the dome. No dome this time… House Targaryen's dragons roamed free.

As if proving that thought, down from the clouds swept Jaimexes, a large fish chomped in her jaws. "Is muna riding today?" Dany asked as Rhaella Targaryen's dragon flapped her wings as she landed in the pit, out of sight.

"Nah, she's going over some accounting ledgers with your uncle, Cella." Rhaenys tied her horse to the hitching post, none of them hassled by the Dragonkeepers guarding the place. As Targaryens, they had every right to be there. "It's just us this time."

Dany nodded. "Good, I prefer it when it's just us." I get to be closer to Jon that way. Her muna, brother, and goodsisters weren't as tolerant of their closeness now that she was growing older and it bothered Dany greatly. He's my sweet Prince, we should be close. It was bad enough that Sansa was at Winterfell and their trio couldn't be complete.

"Sandor," Baelon called as the Hound hung back with the horses. "A seasoned fighter like yourself cowering like a child isn't fitting on you. Come on."

"Given what you know about me and fire, Little Prince," Sandor replied. "I'm not going into its kingdom. Besides, if all those dragons can't protect you then you may as well banish them all."

Dany tugged his arm. "You don't need him, Jon. Aegarax is a better protector."

"Listen to the Silver Pest, Little Prince." Dany rolled her eyes and him and tugged on Jon. Leaving Sandor to his solitude with the horses. Unlike dragons, horses didn't spit fire.

Until he was sworn to the dragons, Sandor Clegane didn't realize how much he loved horses.

"Your Graces," spoke the lead Dragonkeeper - a hedge knight from the Riverlands. "Welcome. We would've saddled the dragons if you notified us of your visit."

Daenerys waved him off for all of them. "It's fine, we'll ride them bareback." Rhaenys snickered at the double entendre. Not that Daenerys understood it and merely looked quizzically at her niece. "I actually prefer it that way."

"As does Baelon and Egg, I would assume." Rhaenys couldn't help herself.

"Umm… kessa, I do." Jon was equally as clueless.

Egg wasn't. "Shut up, Rhae." The eldest Princess just burst out into open laughter.

As they entered the actual pit, their presence was noticed quickly and soon the dragons were upon them. All had grown to a fairly decent size. Not as large as the massive shapes of the three original dragons, but getting there.

Prince Baelon moved to the clear alpha of the pack - Valyrax, the Black Dread Reborn. Though still dwarfed by the Sunrise Dragon, Valyrax eclipsed Jaimexes and was close to Maerys in size. The biggest of all the dragons when all would be said and done, he was like Lyanna's direwolf spirit was to the Queen with Jon, nuzzling his chest and demanding pets. Pets Jon readily gave. The Black Dread Reborn would rule the skies, a perfect mount for the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror. Jon grinned just thinking about it.

Eggshell white and the leanest of all the dragons, Syrax was aptly named by her rider, Princess Daenerys. She was easily the most beautiful of them, not a spot marring her scales and the least horns. That wasn't to say she wasn't fierce. As Daenerys, the beauty hid an inner ferocity that could torch and burn whole cities if unleashed. Dany loved her with all her heart, only behind Jon, Sansa, and her muna. She couldn't wait for when Syrax flew alongside Valyrax when she was Jon's Queen. A dream come true.

Tessarion was aptly named, although more green and indigo than her namesake the "Blue Queen." Aegon found it apt though, tossing a rabbit poached from the kitchens into her mouth. She filled her mouth with heat and roasted it on her tongue, swallowing it gladly before letting her rider rub under her eyes. The dragon was… very special to Aegon. While bouts of rashes and aches still crept up on occasion, bonding with Tessarion ended his sickly nature. He began sparring, exercising… just having fun again. He'd die for his mount, the one that finally healed him.

For Princess Rhaenys, Nymerion - after the greatest of her non-Targaryen ancestors - was as saucy and preening as she was. A personality that suited her as much as it did her rider. They fit as peas in a pod, and took delight in reveling the smallfolk of King's Landing with daring acrobatics. "Soon, my love," she murmured to the only girl that ever held her attention for more than a day. "Soon I'll take you to Dorne with me. We'll make muna's people love dragons." She snorted, making Rhaenys laugh.

Quiet and demure, very few could get the willowy Princess Myrcella out of her shell and Goldenwing was one of them. The golden dragon matched her own hair, hence the name. A bit simplistic according to Daenerys but Cella loved it. With Goldenwing she could overcome her shyness. Be bold and urge him into going faster and faster, diving and climbing. The Princess was a different person atop her mount, and she loved it.

Rounding out the six of them was Stormfyre, as fierce as her name suggested. Alyssa reveled in the competitive nature and power of her mighty beast, a brilliant purple in color. Whereas Rhaenys and Nymerion showed off tricks and feats of flight, all Alyssa cared about was training for battle. Fighting atop Stormfyre just as she trained with her muna and heroine Queen Lyanna. If Daenerys would be Queen, she was contend with being the first female Targareyn since Visenya to lead an army to victory.

While the three dragons of King Rhaegar, Queen Dowager Rhaella, and Prince Viserys were elsewhere - Aegarax and Maerys lounging lazily while Jaimexes tore at her burnt fish - one lonely dragon didn't rest comfortably and ambled close to her muna and kepa. Feeling a snout nudge her shoulder, Dany turned from Syrax to see the beautiful azure dragon growling at her. Almost a purr or a coo in dragon sounds. "Oh Saephyra, my darling." Dany hugged her snout, rubbing her scales. "Don't ever think I would forget you."

Saephyra rumbled in contentment, enjoying her muna's attention. The only dragon currently living without a rider. It was… agonizing. Her siblings and the elder dragons tried to keep her spirits up, but they had riders and she didn't. Dany could tell she remained hopeful though, even if all attempts for her to bond with the younger Targaryens ended in disappointment. "Don't worry girl," Jon called out. "You can still fly with us." Saephyra hooted in delight.

"Well, let's get going!" Alyssa mounted Stormfyre, settling in the grooves of her neck-spines. "Been waiting for this all week." With a whoop, she urged Stormfyre into the air with a powerful wingbeat. The dragon roaring as he shot out the top of the dragonpit.

None of the other Targaryens were far behind. No way were they or their dragons going to let Alyssa and Stormfyre get a head start.

Trudging out of the lake, Prince Baelon was shaking. The combination of First Man and Valyrian blood left him strong and hardy, but that didn't mean freezing water was comfortable - especially when soaking his clothes so thoroughly that he must've doubled in weight. Boots trudging through the mud, Baelon looked up to see Valyrax staring at him. Amber eyes sparkling with amusement. "This is all your fault, you great lummox." His Valyrian had a slight northern accent, but was otherwise fluent.

The black dragon hooted, as much a cheeky shit as Sandor could be… though far more pleasant. 'And how could it be my fault, kepa?' He ducked his head, snout growing close enough to Jon so that he could feel the hot breath. 'You're the one that fell into the lake.'

"You were supposed to catch me." Baelon tried to wring out the water from his sleeves - and failing. "Seven Hells."

'It wasn't I that miscalculated my aim.'

'Oh, will the two of you shut up.' Vocalizing in a rather hostile growl, Saephyra ambled to them and lowered her own maw. 'This whole thing is stupid, kepa. Please stop it, you could hurt yourself.' The riderless dragon opened her maw, orange flame igniting deep in her throat.

But no fire came out, just a wave of radiating heat that immediately brought tendrils of steam from Jon's waterlogged clothes. "Ah, that feels good," he murmured in the common tongue. "You know why I'm doing it."

'And it's still stupid, kepa.' The heated breath was slowly but surely evaporating the water from Jon's clothes, but slowly was the proper word. 'You gonna help, idiot, or just stand there?'

Growling himself, more in annoyance, Valyrax nevertheless opened his own jaws and joined his sister. Jon getting baked with heat on both sides and drying far quicker. 'In my opinion, kepa, you're getting better and better at it.'

"Thank you, boy. That means the world."

'Kiss-ass,' growled Saephyra, only for Valyrax to grunt in amusement. But then a roar caught both their attention. 'Muna's here, with Syrax.'

"Damn…" Sure enough, in the sky was the two of them, cream dragon beating her wings as they circled over the lake. "No one says anything."

'My lips are sealed.'

'I won't say anything, though you shouldn't do it.'

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Saephyra was always a bit of a goodie-two shoes, though Jon loved her all the same. Finally dry and so pleasantly warm he very well glowed with flushed skin, Jon proceeded to where Dany was sliding off Syrax. "Guess I need to find a new secret hideaway," he said.

Dany, regarding him for a moment, then thumped him on the shoulder. "You jerk! Why are you trying to escape all of us?!"

"Owww… hey… I'm just trying to get some practice with battle moves."

"You can do that with us, you stupid ass." Dany's lip quivered. "You know I get worried when you run off without me."

Jon sighed, but then kissed her cheek - making Dany blush. "I know, I'm sorry. I just want it to be a surprise for everyone when I master them."

She nodded, mollified. "So, what techniques are you working on?"

Not that Jon would ever show the one he'd been doing that day until he was perfect, but grin nonetheless he did. "Would you rather me tell you or show you?"

Violet eyes lit up. "Show me. Definitely show me." It wasn't long before Syrax and Valyrax both took back to the air. Propelling their laughing riders into their little game above the Crownlands plains.

A/N: We got to meet all the new dragons! Jon's planning something so let's see and find out.

Viserys is such a charmer XD

More on the Starks. Joanna is a cross between Cersei and canon Sansa for better or for worse.

Arthur didn't get Wolfsbane shoved through his neck, so he's got that going for him. Good thing Tywin was there (how'd you like his scene with Robb and Jon?)

Until next time! I'll try to keep a semi-decent update schedule.