Winterfell 290 AC.

Jon Stark.

Seeing Winterfell on the horizon filled Jon with a strange emotion. It wasn't quite relief, as he had enjoyed a wonderful journey throughout the North, nor was it excitement, for his Aunt Barbrey had left him no doubt that he would get a tongue lashing when she next saw him. Jon had missed the rest of his family and feared they would not have done so as much as he had. Yet in truth, fear was not what he felt at this moment either.

The first few days after his arrival had been a blur. Between his punishments, the need to catch up with Loras, Domeric, and Meera as well as making his other foster friends feel at home. Even when spending time with family, Jon felt himself being drained of all his energy. However, there was one thing more than any of the others that caused him true worries and concern.

Olenna Tyrell and her family's presence weighed heavily on him, especially after reading the letter waiting for him in his room on the day of his arrival.

"The messenger gave it to me in Wintertown, and said it was from the Maester." Ser Symon had said, making Jon giddy with excitement as he knew that any message sent this way from Aemon came from his grandmother or family in Essos.

He had however been disappointed to read the words on the missive.

My dearest grandson,

I hope this letter will find you in good health.

We all miss you dearly and both your uncles, aunt, and myself have been delighted to learn more about you from your tutor.

We also heard the good news of Lord Loras' fostering with you. Treat him and his family with the utmost respect grandson, as they will be key to your future.

I would beseech you to develop an unbreakable bond with both Loras, as well as with his family.

It would bode well for you to become friends with his sister as well. At the very least, be courteous and gentle with her, a boy she would grow to enjoy the company of and a man she would look forward to being with. For she too will help you become the man you are meant to be in the years to come

Your ever-loving grandmother.

Part of him felt incredibly sad, for he now understood what was expected of him and why his Mother had worked so hard to bring Loras and his sister to the North. Jon now well understood Olenna Tyrell's insistence on seeing him. Knowing now that it was not for Loras' wellbeing, but so she could see if he was someone worthy of being wed to Margaery later.

Panic swept through his body as soon as the thought got to his mind. Did the Tyrells know about him? Did they want him to become King and have a lady from their house become Queen?

"Has my mother told them about me?" Jon asked Ser Symon, who was standing next to him.

"She did not, Jon. The Tyrells know naught more than what the realm does." the knight assured.

"Did… Did she talk about marriage on my behalf?"

"She brought the idea of a union, but -"

The thought of a betrothal at his age overwhelmed Jon. He was just learning to be a Lord and felt he was not ready to take on another role, should it be that of husband or King of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet his wishes on the matter were completely overlooked, both by his mother, and his grandmother. The hurt he felt as he realized he was not listened to made him walk directly to the ones that he felt did, even despite Ser Symon's protests. Jon knew he would be in for a lot of trouble for hiding this from them, and yet for now he cared not.

Jon sought out his aunt Barbrey, glad to find her with his uncle Benjen in the nursery, and the concern she displayed as he stormed into the room made him lose his battle with the tears he had thus far managed to keep at bay.

"They… They want me to marry!" he sobbed, rushing to his aunt and hugging her desperately.

"Who? Who wants you to, sweetling?"

"Mother, Grandmother. They… They mean to make me wed Margaery Tyrell!" he answered, feeling his aunt tense against him. "Why? Why would they do that?"

"What do you mean by your grandmother, Jon?" his uncle asked behind him.

"I… I write to her sometimes and she sends me letters too. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you wouldn't let me, but I never said anything to… I never… I just wanted to know my family, and she… She wants me to become….you know what. I told her I don't want to, at least not yet. I am content with what I have and I don't want to put my family in danger." he blurted all out still in his aunt's embrace, holding the letter out so Benjen could take it.

"You hid this from us," Barbrey said in a reproachful tone.

"You don't like them and I was worried you would forbid me to reach out to them. I know how dangerous it is, so I only did it once or twice since I've come to know the truth. I can show you the letters if you want, but until now she never said anything about me marrying. And Mother… Mother went for it." he said, the last words filled with more hurt than anger.

"Actually, my Lord, my Lady, Lady Ashara had been pressed by his grandmother to settle a betrothal and get the Reach to know of his origins, but she went against her orders and asked for a fostering instead." Ser Symon said, yet Jon did not believe him.

"So, you knew about her plan all along?" Benjen frowned.

"Aye, and I believe she informed the Lady Barbrey too."

"She did, and we talked about it already. Though I wonder now how much you know about everything, Ser." Barbrey said curtly.

"I know enough to tell you that Lady Ashara would do all she can to protect her son, my lady. Jon's safety and wishes are more important to her than whatever plan his grandmother has for his future."

"Yet she talked about a marriage between me and Loras' sister." Jon countered bitterly.

"Only because she is the best suitable lady for you according to your station as Warden of the North, lad. And she would never push you to do it should you wish to marry someone else." Ser Symon retorted.

"Wouldn't the Tyrells try to see Margaery wed to Prince Joffrey?" Barbrey asked.

"They would, but Robert Baratheon would never accept it. Jon is the next best suitor for their Golden Rose." the knight answered.

"So they know nothing?"

"Only that Jon's grandmother wishes for the match, but not the reason why she does."

"It would explain why Olenna goaded you about Ashara's plans. She thinks we are being played, not that we play a part in whatever Ashara plots." Barbrey deduced.

"We are being played, Barbrey." Benjen countered.

"I truly do not think we are. She cares about Jon as a son and she wants the best for him."

"But to openly seek out a match? Without telling us so?" Jon's uncle spat.

"We discussed Margaery Tyrell being an option for Jon ourselves, more than once, Ben. And we did so with Ashara too. All of us agreed that she would be a better choice than Cassana Baratheon." his aunt said.

"And yet I never agreed to put Jon through the same thing as my brother and sister," Benjen growled. "He will choose his match when the time comes, not because of Ashara, not because of his grandmother, not even to please us." Benjen declared.

"I don't want to marry. I don't want to be promised and I don't want to be used for something I do not know if I will ever wish for." Jon stated firmly, slowly reassured by his aunt's hand movements on his back.

"We're here for you, Jon. And though you will be punished for hiding your involvement with your grandmother to us, rest assured that we are glad that you confided this in us. We will support whatever choice you decide, sweetling, and we will talk to Ashara about you being distraught. For I am convinced that this is the last thing she ever wants for you."

"Thank you, Aunt. I will take all the punishment I deserve."

"I know you will. You will clean the stables, tomorrow morning before your studies, and you will help in the kitchens when we're done for luncheon." Barbrey said, caressing his cheek.

"I missed you, Aunt Bey," he said truthfully.

"As I did you. Now go to your rooms. We have some things to clarify with your sworn sword."

With an apologetic look to the knight, Jon complied and walked back to his room alone. As he got in his bed with Egg, he felt his worry lessen. With his aunt and uncle by his side, he felt somewhat empowered and ready to say no to his grandmother. The fact that his aunt also believed that his Mother was acting for and not against him made him feel less cross with Ashara.

Jon however went out of his way to avoid Margaery Tyrell whenever he could. He was grateful for his punishments, as he had to break his fast and leave the table earlier than the others to do his chores. It made him happy too to see that the girl made no move to approach him. Margaery instead, stuck to her brother's side, when Loras wasn't too busy with Domeric and the other fosterlings. Or she spent her time with her mother who, contrary to Olenna Tyrell, seemed to Jon to be a nice lady.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep away from his duty, however. So when his Aunt suggested a ride with the Tyrells through the Wolfswood, Jon had no choice but to be a good host to his guests and prepare the horses. He and Brandon went to the stable to get the horses ready while his Aunt, Beth and Asha took care of the food for their little getaway.

Soon they were joined by Loras and his sister, much to Jon's dismay, and they were then instructed to help ready the wheelhouse for the ride.

"The wheelhouse? Through the Wolfswood?" Brandon frowned as Jon thought of how impractical it was for their destination.

"Grandmother wants to join us," Loras said, looking apologetic.

"She said she needs to see other things than these boring walls for once," Margaery added haughtily. "Surely you don't expect us to ride in the open in this weather?"

"We will all be riding, Margaery." Loras retorted.

"I will stay with grandmother and you should too. I don't want you to catch a cold." Margaery shivered.

"I am perfectly well as I am, sister." Loras sighed.

"Mayhaps you should stay inside if you feel unwell," Jon suggested.

"Ha! You wish! Where my brother goes, I go." Margaery snapped before pulling Loras away, the boy's apologetic attitude confusing Jon even more.

"By the Gods, I'm glad Beth isn't as annoying as that one!" Brandon exclaimed and Jon shook his head thinking about the difference between the two girls.

He observed Margaery and her interactions more during their outing. While she was nice and sweet with her family, especially with her brother, she was far less so with everyone else. The girl displayed a bit of an air of superiority which irked Jon.

Margaery talked to Meera and Beth as if they were beneath her, which annoyed him greatly. It reminded him of Asha and how she behaved when she had been let out of her cell at first. Yet Margaery had no reason for showing antipathy to anyone, contrary to the Ironborn prisoner.

"I apologize for my sister's behavior," Loras said, catching Jon off guard. "She's rather territorial when it comes to family."

"What does that mean?" Jon asked, frowning.

"Margaery hates the fact that I've been sent here to foster. She pleaded time and time again for father to change his mind and it's the first time she's ever been denied something."

"So she's not usually this way?" Jon raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"My sister is usually a nice girl to be around, I swear. But for now, she's angry at everything and everyone." Loras sighed.

Jon nodded, somewhat unconvinced by Loras' words. His first impression of Margaery had not been a good one. Some of that may be because of his grandmother's desires or his own pettiness, Whatever the truth of it, for now, Jon was determined not to give Margaery Tyrell a chance to get close enough to even consider changing his mind about her.

Lys/Volantis 290 AC.

Lucerys Velayron.

As the sight of Lys once more came into view, Lucerys welcomed both it and the chance to see his sons once more. He wore a smile on his face as he looked to the docks and saw the Pride of Driftmark in its berth. Monford was now certain to be in their manse and Lucerys was eager to hear of his son's adventures. While the thoughts of seeing just how much Aurane had grown were ones that he truly welcomed. This last voyage of his had taken him away from them for moons and though he received regular reports and letters from them both, it could never come close to seeing and speaking to either of them in person.

As his flagship, The High Tide, readied to dock, Lucerys made his way to his cabin and gathered the things he'd be bringing with him when he disembarked. Some small gifts for Monford and his good lady wife, and a new sword and dagger for Aurane. A guilty father's way of trying to make up to his son for not taking him with him on this last voyage. Even though he'd promised to do so. Lucerys in the end had refused to take the risk that his son would fall into Robert Baratheon's hands and his curiosity regarding Driftmark had finally required him to take a colossal risk and travel there.

He'd needed to see it for himself. To bear witness to what the Stag had done to his family home and in some small way, to prepare himself for what needed to be done to rebuild it. So rather than take and guide Aurane in the skills he would need to command his own ships in the future, Lucerys had left his son behind. In the end, he may not have had the need to do so, but he'd let the Stag, Falcon, and the Lion take no more from him than they already had.

"When next my ship sails past Driftmark it'll be me who does the taking." Lucerys had vowed when Driftmark faded from view.

Gifts and personal belongings in hand, along with his maps and some letters that would be sent on to Braavos, Lucerys made his way from his cabin and back onto the deck of The High Tide. He arrived just in time to witness the ship being tied off and the gangplank lowered and with a nod to his guards, Lucerys then made his way to the dock and onto his manse. Walking as if he hadn't a care in the world, Lucerys took note of the sights and sounds that invaded his eyes and ears as he moved through the streets. He listened to the whispers that were spoken and allowed his ears to become accustomed to the Lyseni version of High Valyrian. A small smile on his face as he once again listened to the language of his forefathers.

It took almost no time at all to reach his family's manse. The large imposing walls and main gate both guarded far more truly than even the First Magister's or the Gonfaloniere's residences were. A simple look from one of his guards to one atop the walls and then the manse's gates were opened and as he strolled through them, Lucerys was once again home.

His sons didn't greet him outside the manse, but both were awaiting him in the large open hall just inside the doors. Lucerys was happy to see that neither seemed perturbed or to have anything troublesome on their minds. Even happier at the warm greeting he received from them both. Monford and then Aurane both embraced him and Lucerys, though not the most open with his affections, held each of them just a little longer than he once may have done.

"All is well, Father?" Monford asked and Lucerys offered his son a smile and a nod to say that it was. Before he then turned to take a look at his other son and noticed that Aurane had grown much in the four or five moons since he'd last seen him.

"All is well, now, I hunger for food cooked in our own kitchens and some of that fine Lyseni red that I know our cellars have much of. There is much we must talk about my sons, but know that it does my heart good to see you both so well. Truly it does."

"And us, you, Father," Aurane said. Lucerys resisted the urge to muss his youngest son's hair. Knowing full well that at almost three and ten, Aurane was too old for such.

The walk to his solar took him past his goodaughter's rooms and he caught sight of Larra and her ladies as they did their embroidery and chatted about things beyond his comprehension. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucerys caught the shared look between his son and his Gooddaughter and it brought a half smirk to his face. One he wore even when he took his seat behind his table and bid his sons to join him.

There were many women that he could have married Monford off to. Ladies from noble houses from Volantis, Myr, Tyrosh, or even from some of the cities in Slaver's Bay. Lucerys knew too that there would be some who'd name him a fool for choosing a daughter from a long-forgotten House, and yet he cared not. House Rogare had been as strong and powerful as his own had been at one time. In time they'd both rise just as high if Lucerys had his way and Larra's brother Lysaro had already proved his worth since Lucerys had agreed to the match. The man's knowledge of trade and ability to manage coin had been boons to not only Lucerys' own coffers but the queen's too.

Turning his mind back to more pressing things, Lucerys looked to his sons. Monford was an heir that any man could and would be proud of. His only issue with his son was that he and his good lady wife had not yet been blessed with a child of their own. Aurane meanwhile was growing into a truly impressive young man. His son's time in the yard and how he'd taken to his studies had made Lucerys' promises to his mother ones that he'd been more than able to live up to.

Both sons looked close enough alike to be the brothers they were. Though Monford's hair was more gold than silver and his eyes were more lilac than the grey-green of Aurane's. They were quick-witted, eager, and determined. While Monford had already proven himself so adept at sea that he now commanded almost half their fleet. Aurane too would soon get the chance to prove himself. For though he'd returned to Lys and would stay a little while, Lucerys would be departing on yet another voyage in little over a moon or so.

"Tell me of your adventures while I was away, sons. Then I'll tell you of mine and we'll speak of those yet to come." Lucerys said as the wine was poured and he then brought the glass to his lips.

Two Moons Later.

The High Tide was making ready to drop anchor, Lys had long faded from view, just as easily as Driftmark had but a few moons earlier. Lucerys' time in their family manse had come to an end much sooner than he'd expected. From the moment that he'd received the letter from Jon Connington, Lucerys had made ready to carry out his queen's orders. Aurane this time had come with him, as well as more than two scores of their ships and close to four hundred men.

Ostensibly they were to simply offer support to the Holy. In truth, they were to provide a clear and distinct warning to the fools that had threatened their trade. Be it by land or by sea, mess with those flying the flag of House Targaryen or House Velaryon and reap the consequences of your actions. Yet how true a fight they'd actually face, Lucerys knew not. Something which had almost made him leave his son behind a second time and which had certainly made him refuse to bring Monford with him.

Though he had no expectations that he'd fall in battle or that those they were to face would prove his fleet's and the Holy's match, he'd need his heir far from things should he be wrong. Aurane, however, had pleaded, cajoled, and after promising to only do what Lucerys bid him to, had finally been accepted as part of his crew. His son was already showing signs of the excellent sailor he'd one day become as they made their way to Volantis. Upon reaching it, the Triarchs and the Tiger Cloaks would then be shown a portion of the true strength that House Targaryen and House Velaryon could bring to bear.

Standing on the deck of the High Tide, Lucerys nodded to Aurane who moved to where he could be seen by the captains of their other ships. In his hand, Aurane bore two different colored flags that were attached to long sticks. An idea of Lucerys' own devising and one that worked so much better than the more primitive signals most fleets used to relay their orders. A simple series of movements, at times using different flags, and their meaning was known only to the captain and the watcher on board one of their own ships. As Lucerys now looked on, Aurane gave the captains their orders, the ships dropped anchor, and within the hour their blockade was now in place.

"Well done, Aurane," Lucerys said proudly when his son finished his task. He had named him by his name more and more during this voyage, as while everyone knew he was his son, he wished them to see him as just one of the crew and to respect him as they would any other because of it.

"Make ready the boat, Aurane, the guards," he called out and his son rushed off to do his bidding.

They would be sailing to a place just outside the city's walls. There to join up with Ser Bonifer and the Holy before together he and the knight would treat with the Triarchs themselves. Surprisingly, especially considering they'd threatened military action and confiscated one of their ships, it was two Elephants and one Tiger, rather than the other way around, that were now causing them issues. Though maybe since trade was what their grievance with his queen and their ships truly was, it should not have been. Regardless, as Lucerys walked to the boat and was helped down into it by his son, both the more trade-aligned Elephants and the military-minded Tigers would be left in no doubt about what their actions would lead to. His queen and his own pride demanded it of him and Lucerys' resolve was unshakeable.

The boat was rowed to a small cove a little outside the city where men of the Holy awaited them. Lucerys recognized some of the faces, both from the failed war against the Stag, Wolves, and Falcon and from his many visits to the Holy's barracks. All of them were loyalists, good men and true, all who'd lost much to the usurper who now sat upon a throne that belonged not to him. Nodding to some of them as he, Aurane, and their own guards climbed out of the boat, Lucerys was quickly led to the command tent where Ser Bonifer awaited.

"'Tis good to see you old friend," Bonifer said, greeting him warmly.

"You too, Bon."

"That your boy with you, Lucerys?"

"It is, Aurane, come greet Ser Bonifer Hasty, the commander of the Holy and a man I name a true friend."

"Well met, Ser," Aurane said, offering the knight a warm smile.

"You too, lad."

For the next few moments, Lucerys looked on as Ser Bonifer and Aurane got acquainted. He was happy to see how his boy and the commander of the Holy were at ease with each other, as it spoke well to both the immediate and long-term future. If Bonifer was this at ease, then it meant Lucerys' own assessment of how things may go was more than likely true. After some food and wine were brought, Lucerys was bid to take a seat and Aurane took his place behind him.

"Have they tried anything?" Lucerys asked as he drank some of the sweetened summer wine.

"No, they're not fool enough to do so."

"Parley?"

"Today, mid-afternoon."

"The queen's terms," Lucerys said, handing Bonifer the letter he'd received from Jon Connington. Though he wagered that the knight had received his own too.

"A warning, I worry it's not enough, Lucerys," Bonifer said, his forehead creased as he frowned at the words on the parchment.

"Yet it's what we've been ordered to do."

"And neither of us ever refused an order." Bonifer chuckled, Lucerys joining in.

They ate, japed, and spoke about days long past and memories that were mayhap best forgotten. Lucerys more than once took in how Bonifer looked and acted. The knight was as fierce as ever and seemed almost ageless, though there were a few more lines on his face than there had once been. Over six feet tall, his dark brown hair was cut tight and his armor was as polished and pristine as ever. Embossed on the breastplate was the seven-pointed star, which along with the three-headed dragon was the sigil of the Holy. Bonifer's piety had taken an even tighter grip on the man's personality in the years since they'd left Westeros.

Sitting there in the tent, listening to old tales and laughing when Aurane asked a question or raised doubt about some of those tales, Lucerys barely felt the time pass. Eventually, it did, however, and at a word from one of Bonifer's seconds, they rose and readied themselves to meet with the Triarchs or who the men sent to negotiate in their place. Lucerys was almost certain that it wouldn't be the men themselves, as they'd feel it beneath them. In this, he was proved right. Less than an hour after leaving the tent, he, Bonifer, their guards, and Aurane who sat a little further back on his white horse, were met by the man the Triarchs had sent to parley with them.

A look to Bonifer showed that just as he had, the knight too had recognized the man sent in the Triarchs' stead. Malaquo Maegyr was an ambitious and dangerous man and one with just enough authority to make a deal should one be offered. He was a proud and vain man too and the way he introduced himself proved that most clearly. Lucerys tried not to laugh openly as Malaquo gave himself a title that didn't exist.

"Malaquo Maegyr, Supreme Commander of the Tiger Cloaks and representative to the Grand Order of Triarchs."

"Lucerys Velaryon, Master of Ships to her Grace Queen Rhaella Targaryen," Lucerys said to a nod from the man's head, his own eyes now looking past Malaquo and to the men who guarded him, the famed Tiger Cloaks themselves.

Slave soldiers, fierce and dangerous, though far less bloodied than a true army was. The tattoos that named them as slaves couldn't be seen right now, covered as they were by the silver tiger masks the men wore. Spears in one hand, it was the other that Lucerys drew Aurane's attention to. His son nodded as he caught sight of the steel claws that could clearly be seen jutting out of the gauntlets.

Lucerys would be confident that a force of their own men would take a force of Tiger Cloaks even if outnumbered three to one. He doubted that the numbers the Triarchs could call upon were anywhere close to that. So focused was he on the Tiger Cloaks, that Lucerys missed Bonifer naming himself and almost missed Malquo's questioning of why they were there. Though thankfully he did not.

"You know full well why we're here, Malaquo. Our Queen and I, myself, do not take kindly to our ships being impeded on their journeys, let alone confiscated by those who own them not." Lucerys said angrily.

"Your trade infringes upon that of Volantis, Lord Velaryon." Malaquo snapped back.

"We are not allies, nor have we any agreement with Volantis. As for our trade, long have we traded with Volantis without issue. A simple request for a meeting made to our queen or to me, myself, would have sufficed. Yet, your masters decided that this was a better course of action to take. Look around you, Malaquo, does it seem a better course to you?"

Malaquo didn't take him up on his offer, instead, he simply nodded and so Lucerys offered him the Queen's Terms.

"Until a truer arrangement can be agreed upon between Volantis and my queen," Lucerys said once Malaquo had read the terms.

"And will your queen be willing to sit down with the Triarchs in order to agree to a closer relationship?"

"My queen is ever agreeable," Lucerys said, Bonifer hiding his smirk as he paused for effect. "Until she is not," he warned.

In the end, that's all it took. The ship, its crew, and cargo along with some coin for the offense caused and inconvenience suffered and less than a day later, The High Tide was sailing once again. The Holy had returned to their barracks and the blockade had been lifted. Yet Lucerys felt that there was more to this than met the eye. This was simply a warning shot, a way to judge their response. In time, he worried that a truer one would be fired. Though should that prove to be so, then it wouldn't be words that were brought to bear against Volantis or the Triarchs, it would be Fire and Blood. As it would eventually be brought against the Stag, Falcon, and the Lions too.

Winterfell 290 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

The North was cold, dreary, and very much not to her liking. Even on the journey here, she'd thought so. On the ship and then lather while covered in the wheelhouse she'd brought with her, Olenna had found that even being inside wasn't enough to keep her warm. So she'd not expected much from Winterfell itself. Only to be surprised greatly by the keep, if not by the welcome she received.

For some reason, something or other about hot water being piped through the walls, once you were inside, the cold was kept at bay. The rooms they were given were just as warm and with a fire burning in the hearth, they were most comfortable. Though nowhere near as luxurious as those in Highgarden. or even those she'd stayed in at one of the many other keeps Olenna had visited, they were not the barren savage rooms she had feared. Which was just as well, as Olenna had found to her annoyance that they'd be staying in those rooms for some time.

Over time, the welcome became a little warmer, to Olenna's mind anyway. Alerie had enjoyed the Lady of the House's company more than once, Mace had blustered and occasionally made barbs about them not being welcomed by Lord Jon or his Regent as their station demanded. While Olenna herself took much note of the inner workings of Winterfell and found that the North itself was growing as strong as she'd believed it to be. As for her grandchildren, one of them was far more keen to be here than the other and unfortunately for Olenna's plans, it was the wrong one. Loras took much enjoyment in being put through his paces by Ser Rodrik Cassel the Master of Arms, and in meeting another lad who'd be fostering here alongside him. Margaery on the other hand simply hated every single thing about Winterfell, the North, and the Starks.

"It's too cold, Grandmamma."

"What is this? It looks horrible. I can't eat that."

"Do we really have to stay for longer?"

"No, I don't wish to go outside."

It was a rare thing for her granddaughter to be who caused Olenna's annoyance. Both she and Willas were the apples of her eye, the jewels in Highgarden's much longed-for crown. Willas to one day rule over the Reach and serve as the Warden in the South while Margaery was one day to marry a man who'd see them rise even higher than they already had. Or that had been the plan until Olenna had taken the measure of Robert Baratheon.

In some ways nothing had truly changed, Margaery would still marry a powerful man who'd help them rise, it just may not be the rise that Olenna had hoped for. So she'd at least prayed that her granddaughter would fall in love with the lands and welcome that this could be her home one day. A prayer that it seemed the gods had let go unanswered and so Olenna had offered them a new one.

"Let her at least like the boy," she said as she lit a candle in her room, Winterfell having no Sept for them to pray in.

In this too it seemed that the gods had deserted her. Firstly, Benjen Stark arrived at Winterfell without his nephew and straight into a loud argument with his wife. Then when Jon Stark arrived alongside his cousin and with a number of other children who she'd found out would too be fostering at Winterfell, the boy seemed distracted if polite. At least in those first few days. Then Jon Stark seemed to go out of his way to avoid each member of her family other than Loras.

The young lad was courteous, knew his manners, and bore an expression on his face that at times almost brought a smile to Olenna's own. It was something that she'd overheard Bethany Stark name as Jon's Lord's Face, and watching as it would come over him was enlightening. That he wore it more and more around Olenna, Mace, Alerie and most especially Margaery was very much not. Nor was the fact that her granddaughter almost went out of her way to be disagreeable.

Olenna had even needed to chide Margaery for constantly putting down the North, the Keep, or every other little thing she found fault in. Once again overheard conversations telling her just how little people enjoyed Margaery's company or presence. It was a most unusual occurrence as Margaery could charm any man, woman, or child she ever deigned to do so to. A simple laugh, compliment, or warm expression, and her granddaughter would have them eating out of her hand. Yet here, where Olenna wished for her to do the same, she refused to even try.

"I hate it here, Grandmother."

"I wish to go home."

"It's so dull, so ugly."

If love was what defined a marriage alliance, then the one that Ashara Dayne and Rhaella Targaryen wished Olenna to agree to would be impossible. She doubted that even when Margaery was older she would like this place. Olenna believed that her granddaughter's first impressions would be the ones that she carried with her for the rest of her life. Though she hoped that as Jon Stark grew into the more than handsome man that he undoubtedly would be, that would at least stir Margaery's heart a little. As too would having her aunt to call upon when she and the Bear Knight took up residence in the North.

No matter what words Olenna spoke to Margaery, nothing would change her mind and even when she agreed to do as she'd been bid, her granddaughter did so with little cheer. Never was this more clear than with the ride through the Wolfswood. A warm day where each and every child rode atop a horse despoiled somewhat by Margaery demanding to ride in the wheelhouse. Though it was a day that opened Olenna's eyes a little and set her mind racing.

"How was your ride, Margaery?" Olenna asked as her granddaughter almost stormed into her room. "Sweetling?"

"They made fun of me, Grandmamma." Margaery pouted. "They who are savage and uncouth."

"How so?" Olenna asked, her annoyance at Margaery's words for once being tempered by knowing how her granddaughter's attitude may have grated on people.

"How they dress, what they eat, how they live." Margaery sighed. Naming what made the Northmen savage and uncouth rather than answering the question Olenna was truly asking her.

"No, Sweetling. In what way did they make fun of you?"

"Because I wished to ride in the Wheelhouse, in a carriage."

"But you love to ride, Sweetling. Were this Highgarden then nothing would have stopped you from doing so."

"This is not Highgarden, Grandmamma. As well you know."

At the evening meal that night, Margaery ate little and talked less. Loras did his utmost to comfort his sister while Jon Stark sat with his family and those who were fostering at Winterfell. Olenna noticed how close he seemed to be to both the young girl from the Crannogs and to her surprise, Asha Greyjoy too. Though neither would be a suitable match for the Warden of the North, which she took some comfort from.

As she watched the young lad become more and more relaxed as the night went on, some of the masks he wore began to slip. He was more than handsome, certainly more so than the Starks and Olenna again put that down to who his mother was. Yet there was something else there and in her mind, a thread began to form that willed her to pull on it. It meant that she, like Margaery, was barely present during the meal. Margaery smiled at her more than once as her granddaughter believed that Olenna was picking her side in whatever argument she was still having.

It was the same the next morning as they broke their fast. Jon Stark laughing and japing with the fosterlings, his family, and even some of the servants. Margaery was sitting almost alone and being ignored by all but Loras. Olenna too paid her granddaughter little attention as instead she focussed all of hers on Jon Stark. After eating, it was time for chores and lessons, and then as the girls went about their own daily routine, the boys began to spar. Not that there were not some girls amongst them, as the girl from the Crannogs, Meera Reed, fought just as fiercely as the boys did.

Olenna, Alerie, Mace, and Margaery had all made their way to the walkway that overlooked the sparring yard so they could watch. Ostensibly it was to see Loras being put through his paces by the man he'd squire for, Ser Symon Lake, or Richard Lonmouth as he truly was. For Olenna it was to watch Jon Stark as closely as she had wished for some time. Finding that just as when he was relaxed with those whose company he enjoyed, the young lad's mask slipped when he was sparring too.

"Dead."

"Dead."

"Very Dead."

The heavily accented voice of the Swordmaster rang out as he and Jon Stark engaged in a sparring session unlike any that Olenna had ever seen before.

"By the gods he's fast," Mace said as the two thin blades moved through the air almost faster than the eye could see.

"Why are Loras' lessons different?" Alerie asked and if it was not for the footsteps Olenna heard behind them, then they may not have received an answer to the question. Benjen Stark had come from his own duties to watch the morning spars too it seemed.

"Syrio is Jon's Swordmaster, Lady Alerie. While he gives lessons to my son and will to others, Jon's are more focussed as he's more suited to the Braavosi Style."

"But my son will receive lessons from the man too, Lord Stark?" Mace asked, making sure that Loras was being left out or not given his due.

"He will, Lord Tyrell. As he will in every other discipline that a future knight of the realm would wish for."

Olenna already knew this, as she did who it would be who gave Loras his spurs when he earned them. While she understood not why he needed to learn some Braavosi sword techniques, looking at how Jon Stark moved she'd not deny they could only be of benefit. Still, her attention was focused only on Jon Stark and so she didn't see the small half-smile on Margaery's face as the young lad took a point from his sword master.

Later that day, she got her first good and true conversation with Jon Stark. Olenna along with her two giant guards, Left and Right, had followed the young man to the Godswood. After entering and finding that it was far prettier and much more peaceful than she'd expected, she soon came across the young lad as he knelt by the most amazing Weirwood Tree she'd ever seen. Tall, and imposing, its white bark pristine and the red leaves the color of blood, it put the Three Singers to shame.

"Lady Olenna, forgive me." Jon Stark said as he rose to his feet, his Lord's Face once again present on his face.

"There's nothing to forgive, Lord Jon."

"Just Jon, my lady."

"Only if you call me, Olenna, Jon." she chuckled, hoping to put the lad at ease.

"Olenna."

She'd planned out no words and so when they came, they surprised even her. Margaery not what she'd come to speak to the young lad about and yet mayhap it was the very thing she should have.

"My granddaughter, Jon." she began, seeing the brief glimmer in those dark grey eyes. Though the face itself remained impassive. "She finds fault where there is none, but most of that I must take the blame for."

"Olenna?" Jon asked confused.

"I'd not told her we were to travel here so soon, not truly prepared her for the North and its unique beauty," she said, seeing the beginnings of a smile before Jon schooled his features once more. "I would beg your indulgence with her if I may."

"There is no need to, Olenna. I understand a little better now that I've traveled myself, for me the South and Casterly Rock were confusing places, and were it not for the tourney….."

"Then you may have been as put out as Margaery seems to be." she interrupted to a nod of Jon's head.

Olenna then found herself looking at a face that showed many expressions but did so only fleetingly. There was what looked like realization, the beginnings of an idea, and even finally a look of resolve.

"Mayhap we can try and be more accommodating, Olenna. A truer feast and some singing and dancing, to welcome Lady Margaery and your family more in the style you're accustomed to."

"A farewell feast, mayhap?"

"You're intending to leave soon?" Jon asked curiously, annoyingly eagerly too to Olenna's mind.

"Within the week, Jon."

"Then if you'll excuse me, Olenna, I've much to see organized."

"I thank you for this, Jon, it means much to me to see my granddaughter happy," she said to a warm smile from Jon Stark that almost sent an arrow to her heart.

"Think nothing of it, Olenna, and forgive me for not thinking of such sooner."

Olenna smirked as she watched the young man hurry out the gates, as she did much over the next few days. The night of the farewell feast when it came was one of the few times that she saw Margaery's own mask slip. Their meal was more of a Southern dish than a Northern one, while the dessert was one of Margaery's favorites and her granddaughter ate it up hungrily. There were minstrels, bards, and even a song sung by Jon Stark himself while Lord Domeric Bolton played his harp in accompaniment.

When the time came for dancing, it was Margaery that was asked first and while Olenna felt that was only right given who her granddaughter was, it meant much to Margaery too given how eagerly she took Jon Stark's hand. They danced well together and did so more than once. Margaery danced too with Loras, Domeric Bolton, and again with Jon Stark before the night was done.

Though she said nothing to her as she left for her bed that night, Olenna felt that Margaery had quite enjoyed it and that the North had finally seen a truer side of her granddaughter too. Still, when the time came to leave two days later, Margaery was more than eager to be on her way and almost refused to wait in line to say their goodbyes to the Starks. Only Margaery's manners, knowing she'd earn her disapproval and that it took little time to organize, made her do so.

It was not long after they had said their goodbyes that the final piece in the puzzle that Olenna had been working on fell into place. Olenna noticed that Margaery seemed more friendly toward Jon Stark than she had been at any point other than when they'd danced together. As for the boy himself, he smiled more and was more effusive, and once again it triggered some memory in Olenna that she just couldn't quite see clearly. So much so that even as they were sitting in the wheelhouse and Margaery was speaking to her mother, Olenna was still trying to figure out just exactly what it was that she kept seeing in Jon Stark.

The answer when it came was one that both shocked and delighted her in equal measure. Margaery held a handkerchief in her hand and as her granddaughter opened it up, what was contained inside was revealed. Blue petals almost shined as the winter rose lay there in all its beauty and glory. Her granddaughter looking at the flower with a beaming smile on her face and Olenna remembered that Margaery had been so put out when Jon Stark had refused her leave to take one for herself. A brief worry that Margaery had done so anyway was soon gone when Olenna asked and was told that her granddaughter had been gifted it by the young lad before they'd left. Memories then of a different lady being gifted the self-same flower and the man who gifted it to her all now flooding Olenna's mind. Though then it was a garland and crown rather than a single flower. Yet, that memory and her own questions upon seeing Jon Stark more closely. Along with those she had regarding the reason that Rhaella wished them tied to the Warden of the North, all now had found answers that she almost didn't dare to believe to be true.

Could she be right?

Could he be who she now suspected he was?

Could she truly be so fortunate?

Could they grow as strong as she dared to hope they would?

Could Margaery capture a dragon's heart where Olenna had failed?

"Grandmamma?" Margaery asked worriedly, the blue winter rose still held in her hand.

"It's very beautiful isn't it, Sweetling?" Olenna replied.

"It is." Margaery smiled and Olenna knew it was time to dig that little deeper into what truly happened seven years ago and more importantly, whether it was his father or mother that Jon Stark lost at a tower in Dorne.

Braavos 290 AC.

Lady Ashara Dayne.

Seeing the royal family together felt as much a relief as bittersweet to Ashara. She had hope for a future in which Queen Rhaella would be fully blooming outside of Aerys' grip. That she would grow to be the strong woman she knew she was. Yet Ashara had never dreamt that neither Rhaegar, Elia nor their children would be there to see it happen.

If the Gods hadn't been so cruel, Aegon and Rhaenys would have thrived in Essos. Ashara had thought long and hard about all the possibilities. She was confident that Rhaegar would not have gone against the Lords wanting to see the dragons gone from Westeros after all that had happened with Aerys. Would that someone had done the right thing before this whole debacle. If someone had killed the Mad King before Harrenhal, then all of their troubles would have been avoided.

"I wish I had." Arthur had confessed during their stroll after she had told him her thoughts. "I think about it all the time. When I think of Elia, of Lyanna, and of what you most of all went through because of my inaction, I wish I had been the one to end Aerys' life long before Jaime ever did."

"You were too dutiful to shame yourself by killing Aerys."

"Yet I would bear the shame proudly to see Elia's smile, to hear Rhaenys' laugh, and to be able to see Aegon and your daughter grow."

"Arthur… You would have been executed."

"And I would gladly have traded my life for them all. My life is worth nothing compared to this. Nothing."

"You cannot think this way. They need you, the children, Aemon, they need you to be strong." she insisted, shaking him.

"It's because I haven't been strong enough to stand up when I should have that they need me now. The moment I witnessed Aerys burning a man, I should have done it. It was Elia who stopped me that time."

"I remember," Ashara said sadly.

"And I wasn't there when she needed me. That will prey on my mind till I meet the Gods. I couldn't help her, couldn't help Lyanna either. I let Rhaegar leave knowing that if his Goodbrother wasn't willing to listen to him, he would be killed. I wasn't there for you when… When you lost -"

"You are but a man, Arthur." she cut him off, feeling her heartbreak as she realized the extent of her brother's guilt. "The only thing you can do now is watch over the children."

"Aye, I owe King Aemon to see that his family is safe. And most of all I owe Queen Rhaella for failing her and her son."

She didn't insist, knowing that nothing would change her brother's mind. His sense of duty was what made him bond with Rhaegar, more than anything else. It had been what had kept him alive to this day. Ashara was all but certain that he would have taken his own life if it weren't for the fact that Rhaegar's son drew breath still.

Instead, she spoke about their home and their brother, about their sister and nephew, Arthur's longing to be with them clear, and yet she understood he couldn't. He was still hunted down by the Usurper and she knew that his whereabouts were being monitored by Varys. The Eunuch who to her mind still needed to prove whose side he was truly on.

As good as it was being with her brother, Arthur still had his charge to attend to, and she walked back to her room feeling emotionally drained.

"May I have a word, my Lady?" Prince Viserys' voice rang politely behind her, surprising her. "I wish to learn more about my nephew and the North."

"Of course, my Prince," she said, nodding at Barristan as he stood beside her chambers' door. The knight's intent gaze on her, made her frown though she had no time to question it.

"Please, Lady Ashara, I may have no choice but to be called this way by my family's supporters, but you've known me since I was a babe, and you've been my nephew's guardian since he was born. You are the closest to a family other than mine own that I've known to this point."

"I… It would be improper, my prince."

"Soon this title will mean very little anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I intend to become a knight. Like your brother. I want to uphold the true values of knighthood and protect my family from harm." Viserys said firmly and with conviction.

"You can be both a knight and a Prince, Viserys." she said and he smiled at being called by his name."

"Not if I wish to wear a White Cloak."

"You want to become a Kingsguard? To Aemon?" she gasped.

"Aye, that is my wish. I was too young to protect my mother, my brother, Goodsister, and niece and nephew." he started, and she noted that he didn't talk about Aerys, whom he was the closest to. "Is something the matter, my Lady?"

"I have just now noticed how grown you are now, and it pleases me to see the wonderful young man you are sure to become."

"I… I am not sure I deserve such praise, but I intend to do so by serving my nephew when the time comes." Viserys said, puffing his chest.

"Things may not turn out the way you wish, Viserys. Aemon is unsure about his place in this world, and I am not…" she sighed loudly, not willing to voice her concerns out loud. "Have you talked to your mother about your desire?"

"She… She changes the subject constantly whenever I've tried to broach it. I understand that some things are expected of me if Aemon refuses his birthright or if something happens to him. But I believe the Gods will protect him until then and that my true role is to protect and shield his back when it's needed most."

"What if he refuses to be king?"

"Then I will protect him as a knight should he wish it. Do you… Do you think he would?" he asked, his assured demeanor suddenly changing.

"I think he would love to have you with him, whatever he chooses," she replied sincerely. "However, as long as Robert Baratheon rules the seven kingdoms, I doubt you would be safe to join your nephew in Winterfell."

"I thought about it, you know? About going to the House of Black and White and asking for them to end the Usurper's life, but I have nothing to offer in return but my life and Dany said that my path was with Aems…"

"Your sister?"

"Oh, forgive me, my lady. I was just rambling. Do not mind what I said. Do you think I can write letters to my nephew? I want to hear from him that he is well and happy."

"I think he would like it very much, Viserys. I know for true that he wonders the same about you and your siblings."

Viserys' blinding smile wasn't enough for Ashara to forget what he'd said about Daenerys. She had heard from Arthur that the girl had dreams that most of the time turned out to somehow be realized. Everything she had seen of her nephew had been later confirmed in letters and reports from the North.

"So the princess has dragon dreams?" she wondered.

"Not every day. We noticed it happened a lot when she feels the need to sleep with her dragon egg. Both she and Prince Maekar seem to be somewhat influenced by theirs."

"How about Viserys?"

"There is no doubt that possessing an egg changed him too. You remember how close to Aerys he was?"

"Aye, Elia feared he would grow up entitled and mayhap as cruel as his father."

"He had bouts of rage before his mother's wedding. Oh, he never turned it against his family, but we did fear the coin had turned on madness for him. Whenever he was upset and angered, no matter how his mother or I punished him for his insolence, there was this simmering rage that exploded whenever he was alone. Until he got his egg."

"You mean that -"

"There's magic in these eggs, sister. The Targaryens feel it and it has changed them dramatically. It has calmed Viserys' temper, gave Daenerys prophetic dreams, as for Prince Maekar…" Arthur trailed and she could see him shivering.

"What about him?"

``Tis as if he could read your mind sometimes. This child does not talk a lot, but the words he says should never be discarded."

"Another dreamer?"

"Not quite. Play cyvasse with him and you will see what I am alluding to."

"Isn't he too young to play cyvasse?" Ashara frowned.

"Wasn't Aemon playing at his age?" Arthur retorted knowingly.

Ashara thought back to the time her son got his hand on his namesake's Egg and the changes that seemed to flow through him. Aemon had said his first word after touching it and had been able to voice his thoughts, concerns, and feelings at such a young age. He had matured quickly and it seemed that they had to thank his connection to Egg for it. It seemed too that the Gods favored Rhaella's remaining children just as truly.

Her time at Braavos was coming to an end, and she spent the evening playing cyvasse with the Queen's youngest son. Ashara marveled at how the boy described his moves and what she was doing wrong during their time playing. It made her miss Aemon even more and she smiled as she saw Maekar and Daenerys do the same while she told them tales of her son.

"Will you go back to the North, Sister?" Maekar asked while they moved to the rooms where they were usually supping, Ashara smiling at hearing him stubbornly call her so.

"Well, my nephew calls you Mother. This makes you my sister. Mother, tell her." he said matter-of-factly, thus making Daenerys say the same, to their mother's amusement.

"She was brought in court with your Goodsister, and she had raised your nephew, so in a way she is family. As long as Ashara doesn't mind being named so, I have no objection either."

"My Queen, I -"

"You wouldn't dare go against your prince's wish, would you, Daughter?" Rhaella teased her, her smirk showing how unserious she was about the whole affair.

"I guess I have no choice, then." she sighed as Maekar and Daenerys shouted victoriously, making everyone laugh in the process.

"Sister?" the little prince's voice brought her back to reality.

"Not for a while, my prince. I must go back to my family at Starfall. I am needed there."

"Oh, of course."

"But I will send word to your nephew about you and your siblings. I am certain he will be delighted to hear from you."

"Can you send him a gift from us as well?"

"A gift, my prince?"

"Dany asked Father to make a cyvasse board for Aems. So he can play. I helped with the idea."

"That is very thoughtful of you, my prince."

"Hopefully it will make things better between you all." Daenerys butted in the conversation.

"Princess?"

"Aems is angry, Sister. He is very wroth with you and Mother. His home is full of golden roses because of you and he hates most of them. He only loves blue roses, not golden ones. You should know that." Daenerys answered noncommittally.

She threw a concerned glance at Arthur and Rhaella, both of them remaining stone-faced until the children retired for the night. Ashara knew instantly the girl was referring to the Tyrells' sigil, though she could not figure out why her son would be angry at her.

"He seemed glad to have young Loras soon fostering with him. Why -"

"My daughter tends to extrapolate on her dreams, Ashara."

"She seemed so sure of herself." she pointed out.

"We knew the Tyrells were at Winterfell. Richard sent word as soon as he learned of their presence."

"Aye, but she said he hates them. What if Loras did something to displease him? What if Olenna or Margaery -"

"You know my grandson more than anyone else. Do you think we have a reason to worry?" Rhaella asked, and Ashara noticed how the queen gripped her hands, a clear sign of nervousness she had not lost since her life at court.

"If one of them made a remark on me, or his family, mayhaps. But I don't think Olenna would let this happen. She has much to lose if they don't find common ground."

"There. There is no reason for Aemon to be angry. We take note of what Daenerys says most of the time, but when it comes to the interpretation of feelings, she may not be the most reliable source. "

Ashara nodded, not sure if the queen's response was to reassure her or them both. There were so many things she questioned, her son's reaction being one of them, as well as Viserys' wish to become a Kingsguard. Yet it was to her brother she turned once more, not wanting to get on the queen's nerves just before her departure.

In the end, it mattered not, for her feelings on the matter would make themselves known the very next day. She had been summoned once again to the Queen's solar and had been charged to look over the Martells' behavior. Ashara was tasked to see if they were to be trusted to keep to their end of their bargain.

"This will not go well, my Queen. Not with your son and certainly not with Dorne."

"I will handle my son, but we need Dorne by our side, Ashara."

"You're right, Your Grace, though I believe they will feel slighted by you once they find out about Aemon. They are under the assumption that Princess Arianne will be Queen once wedded to your son."

"I never said that." Rhaella snarked.

"You're playing with words, Your Grace, and playing this game with Snakes is not the best thing to do. They hate Rhaegar, my Queen. They hate him still for the affront he made to Princess Elia and their hatred will extend to the result of their perceived slight to the one they still cherish."

"Aemon has nothing to do with this."

"Neither did Aegon and Rhaenys, yet they've been killed all the same because they represented a threat. Aemon will be a threat to Dorne's ambition. You're putting a target on my son's back -"

"My grandson, Lady Dayne. You're forgetting your place in all of this."

"And you are as delusional as Rhaegar was if you think Doran and Oberyn will be content with a Prince and not a Queen!" she yelled with desperation.

She could feel Rhaella's burning gaze on her, yet it was a battle she was willing to fight, for she knew and was sharing part of the resentment Dorne did toward the fallen Prince. Rhaegar had been Arthur's friend and brother by choice, but Elia had been hers. Had it not been for Aemon being innocent in the part his parents played, and for the love she bore for him and Brandon Stark, she would have taken no part in this foolish plan.

"My Queen, My sister speaks out of turn, however, she has the right of it."

"You too, Arthur?" Rhaella gasped, disbelief and disappointment clear on her face.

"We live in Essos, my Queen. Exiled and far from what truly lies in Westeros. The Game of Thrones is still being played and Ashara has protected King Aemon so far to the best of her abilities. She is of Dorne, close to the Martells, and she alone can give us an insight into the Dornish sentiment on House Targaryen."

"The Martells feel they are owed nothing less than the Throne itself," Ashara added to her brother's statement.

"What do you suggest? A betrothal between Aemon and Arianne Martell?" Rhaella frowned.

"They will never agree to wed Arianne to Lyanna Stark's son."

"Then what will you have me do?"

"Wait, my Queen. I bid you to wait before concluding any deal with the Martells. If I can… Mayhaps find a way to bring Dorne to the fold by fostering bonds of friendship with Aemon… Other betrothals between Dorne and the North… Or with those leal to you."

"Won't they feel slighted when they know the truth?" Rhaella asked crisply, turning Ashara's argument against her.

"By the time Aemon's truth will be revealed, most of the Dornish houses will be tied to Houses close to him, thus House Martell will have no choice but to accept him," she replied. "Give me leave to try, my Queen. At the very least let me assess all the possibilities. For Aemon, I beg of you."

"You truly love him, don't you?" Rhaella asked, surprising her, yet she had no doubt about who the queen mentioned.

"He may be your grandson, Your Grace. But he has been mine own son first and foremost, and my loyalty is to him above all."

"Very well. You have my leave to do as you wish. I give you three years to come up with a plan, Ashara. Three years, not one day more."

"I thank you, my Queen," Ashara said, relieved.

"And I thank you for looking out for my grandson. I would, however, bid you to choose your words about the deceased carefully next time. Zaldrīzes dōrī nārhēdegon." Rhaella's cold voice and piercing violet eyes sent chills down Ashara's spine.

Even weeks later as she set foot back into her family's land, welcomed eagerly by her little sister, Ashara couldn't shake the feeling of that last encounter. For a moment she had been transported back to another time, another place. In front of a throne made with thousands of blades, and facing another person, with the same unforgiving eyes. Where Aerys' gaze burned with raw anger, Rhaella's was cold, yet still as unsettling. Ashara had been sure that the dragon in her Queen had awakened for a long time now. Even had she not been, then the promise of her queen's words left no room for any other interpretation.

Dragons never forget.

King's Landing 290 AC

Cersei Lannister

She thought that nothing would hinder her joy at that moment. Her beautiful daughter looked almost exactly as her mother had. Her small blonde curls surrounded her beautiful face and her green eyes matched those of her love's own. Her girl was a Lannister through and through, to Cersei's relief. Though Cersei had always made sure to take drastic measures to not bear a child from her overbearing husband, she was now more than happy to see her efforts were not in vain and that the Gods had once again blessed her with Jaime's child.

Seeing Jaime holding their babe in his arms warmed her heart, yet she could not forget her twin's words which quickly brought down her blissful mood.

"She looks like you. Nay, she is more beautiful. She is perfect."

Younger and more beautiful, Maggie's words returned to haunt her once more.

"Where is the drunk fool?" she wondered out loud.

"Probably inside a whore and drinking some more. I don't care. Barristan is with him and I have no intention of leaving your side."

"You're a Kingsguard, Jaime."

"There are six others. You're my sister and my Queen."

"People will talk."

"Let them. Since when do you care about the opinion of sheep?"

"Fair enough. It's been a week, and this oaf didn't even bother to visit or spend time with her. what did I expect from him?"

"You've riled him up for days when last he came to see the babe." Jaime almost snorted.

"His fault, not mine." she retorted, not hiding the contempt she felt as she remembered her husband's outburst.

"A girl?"

"A healthy babe, Robert." Jon Arryn said before she could.

"Yet a girl all the same! Did you forget how to make boys, woman?"

"The Gods have blessed us with another child, Robert. And you already have your heir."

"I needed a spare. I needed a boy. An Orys Baratheon."

"I guess you haven't prayed enough for it to happen." she retorted, smirking at his put-out look. "You will have to try your luck next time, husband."

"You better, wife, else I will not hesitate in bringing my other son to Court and naming him as true."

"Your Grace, mayhaps-" Jon Arryn started, but Cersei was too angered to care.

"You dare? After I had to bear the insult of you fathering yet another bastard, you dare threaten me with such…"

"Mayhaps this will remind you to know your place." Robert chuckled.

"Do you think I will let it slide? That my father will?"

"What care do I have of what your father thinks?" he asked, shaking his head.

"You should do well to remember what happened to the previous king who had dared to offend the Lions." Cersei spat back.

"Is that a threat, woman?"

"A reminder, dear husband, a reminder that if I have to know my place, so too shall you know yours."

Robert had left and didn't come back since, leaving Cersei and her daughter in relative peace. Grandmaester Pycelle came at least three times a day to make sure they were well, and she finally decided to ask him about the king's whereabouts at the end of the sennight.

"The king went hunting, Your Grace. To celebrate Princess Myrcella's birth."

"What did you say?"

"He went -"

"To hell with Robert Baratheon! The babe! How did you name my babe?"

"Princess Myrcella… That's the name His Grace gave your daughter before he left. Your… Your Grace shouldn't…"

Blinded by pure unadulterated rage, Cersei ignored the old man's warnings and got out of her bed, ignoring the pain of the stitches she felt in her lower area to walk to the Tower of the Hand. She almost ignored Jaime's calls until he caught her swaying.

"I swear to the Gods I'm going to gut the son of a whore." she said through ground teeth.

"What did he do? Cersei? What did he do?" Jaime asked, his voice full of concern.

"That bastard. He robbed my Joanna of her name!"

"What?"

She never made it a secret that should she have a girl resembling her, she wanted to name her after her mother to honor her. In fact, she had been relieved that her husband couldn't do the same when Stannis' daughter had been named after their own mother, her goodbrother not only riling Robert by doing so, but even more by naming his heir after their father.

Cersei knew Robert was going to retaliate to their little spat, though she never imagined he would do so by robbing her of a chance to deprive her of what he'd been so vocal against. That was a low blow, one she would not let pass, and as she charged into Jon Arryn's solar, she was ready to unleash the seven hells on the man.

"What is that nonsense the Maester has been spewing?" Cersei exploded as Jon Arryn rose to his feet and stood quickly. "My daughter has been named without me being informed?"

"I… I thought…"

"Myrcella? You thought I would agree to call my daughter Myrcella? Everyone knew that I wanted to name her after my mother!"

"Robert said -"

"You believed him? Are you truly that deluded? And here I thought you were a competent man." Cersei said with a sneer.

"Your Grace, I understand your upset, but I will not let you belittle me because of whatever disagreement you have with your husband. If you cannot find common ground on this, then I am sorry, but -"

"But nothing. My daughter will be named Joanna, and you will do what you have to fix it, else you will find yourself facing the Lion's wrath."

"In case you don't notice, Your Grace, your words weigh nothing, and I truly mean it, against the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Word has already been sent to the High Septon, there is nothing that can be done anymore." Jon Arryn stated firmly, making Cersei see red.

Only Jaime's hold on her prevented him from launching herself at the Hand of the King.

"I will have you pay for this. You and your former ward you so happily name king, you will rue the day you tugged at the Lioness' tail!" she yelled as her brother tried to help her from the room.

"I think the Queen is in need of rest, Ser Jaime. I would make sure she would calm herself before going out of her rooms." Jon said, and she wondered when the old falcon had ever grown a backbone.

"Who does he think he is?" she exploded as soon as they entered her quarters. "Wait until Father hears of this. I will -"

"Cersei… You will only make a fool of yourself if you involve father in this mess. Do not tarnish your reputation because of a name."

"You were the one saying we should not care about the opinions of those lesser than us. I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"When you fight with servants or Lords and Ladies, you have the upper hand. Yet the fight you will pick with Robert, however foolish he is, is one you will surely lose."

The feeling of betrayal pierced her heart stronger this time. She couldn't even count on her twin brother, her other half, to support her fully. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, as even if he hated Robert with a passion, he always felt conflicted about his duty ever since he broke his oath and killed Aerys. Cersei however had no time to deal with his mood. Not when she was the one being wronged here. Neither she nor her daughter had any say in their fate, and the queen was starting to loathe her position.

The Golden Lioness was supposed to be above everyone, she was supposed to rule and order people to carry out her heart's desire. To enjoy the renown and prestige of being married to the King of the Seven Kingdom. Instead, she had been constantly humiliated by her husband since their wedding and was probably mocked at Court at this very same moment, for her inability to bring a spare to the heir.

Cersei thought now about the snickers she could hear whenever she walked through the Red Keep. Nobody dared to do this facing her, but she knew she was being ridiculed for her husband's vile actions and the bastard he had sired on a noble lady.

Edric Storm had been a thorn in her side ever since she'd known of his existence. Why her father didn't listen to her when she wrote to him about hiring an assassin to rid themselves of the source of her shame, she knew not. Tywin thought it would open old wounds and vile accusations about the Lannisters plotting to kill babes that inconvenienced them. Not that Cersei cared about the Dornish whelps sired by Elia Martell. They would have been threats to her and her children's rule and so had rightfully met their end.

That Stannis and Catelyn Baratheon took upon themselves to care for the whore who slept with Robert and raised his bastard in their keep had infuriated Cersei. Their so-called self-righteousness and need to make things right made it harder for the queen to forget about the bastard. Oh, she was certain Robert had helped populate the slums in Flea Bottom with his get, but lowborns were less troublesome than a noble girl from the Riverlands.

What had the fool been thinking?

Were the servants not to his taste?

Why did he have to bed a lady and embarrass Cersei this way?

Cersei remembered Catelyn Stark's face being full of pity when they got back from the tourney and had then learned of the whole ordeal. This, more than Robert's affront to her, was what had pushed her over the edge. The looks and whispers of the Tully sisters made her loathe them more. So in return, Cersei had made it a mission to hurt them as much as she could from then on.

Stannis' dull wife quickly went back to Storm's End with the proof of Cersei's shame, so the queen turned her ire on Lysa. Gloating as often as possible about the joys of being with child and reminding the Trout of her own barrenness. The Hand's wife went out of her way to avoid her because of it. So Cersei made a point of summoning her each day for tea or luncheon. All while still trying not to spend too much time with the woman at the same time.

It hadn't been enough to sate Cersei's contempt. Especially since seeing his wife sink more and more into despair might have been why Jon Arryn had dared talk back to her.

Had he been a proper man, he would already have had an heir.

It was while thinking such thoughts that her daughter began to cry and Cersei watched as the wet nurse rushed to the babe's side. Her perfect, beautiful Joanna, had been wronged by her supposed father and saddled with a name unfit for her status.

Myrcella. Myrcella Baratheon.

Every time this name was uttered in her presence felt like a stab through Cersei's heart and fueled her hatred toward Robert. She would never, could never forget this humiliation nor was she willing to do so.

Cersei was a Lannister, a Lioness, and she would bid her time until she would get back at those who thought her weak. She would lay low and do their bidding, let them think she had mellowed out, and even go out of their way to call her daughter by the awful name they gave her. She would wait for the perfect moment to strike and get revenge for the slight done to her and her daughter.

All Cersei had to do was just wait for the perfect time. When it came, they and the oaf most of all would hear her roar.

King's Landing 290 AC.

Varys.

A princess to go along with a prince. Varys liked it not. His mind worked out just what alliances were now open to Robert Baratheon to make and once again his eyes turned to the North. Knowing the Stag as well as he did, Varys would wager that he'd seek what he himself was denied. To join his House and the House of the Wolf in the bonds of marriage. Opening the drawers of his desk, Varys took out the parchment and began to write so as to clarify his thoughts.

Jon Stark.

Brandon Stark

Bethany Stark

Benjen Stark.

He wrote the four names down and one by one he crossed a line through two of them. Jon Stark he would wager would be who Robert truly wished the union with, yet the boy was too old for the newly born princess. Which ruled out Brandon Stark almost as truly. Bethany Stark was almost of an age with Prince Joffrey and so Varys had not marked her off his list. While young Benjen and Princess Myrcella would now be a true option.

Yet, the more he thought about it, the more Varys believed that Robert would want only his brother by choice's son and not one of the lesser brother's children to be matched to one of his own. As he did the fact that the queen and her father would seek not a match with any of them. Tywin Lannister had not been best pleased to be shown up by the wolves and that man never forgave a slight, true or imagined. As for the queen, Varys believed that Cersei would go against any idea her husband suggested, simply to be difficult. The rift between her and her husband was one that his own queen would do well to help widen in the years to come.

It forced him to look to the other Great Houses of the Realm. To see who and where the Crown would look to for their alliances. Varys was happy enough at what he found when he did so. Robert would never look to the Reach, his disdain for the Roses and their Vassals was still as strong as ever. Dorne too was out of the question as House Martell would never align themselves with the Lions or the Stags.

Other than his own family, there were none in the Stormlands who offered anything that the Crown would need. The Riverlands too had little to offer, nor did the Crownlands and so it was the Vale that truly was the only other viable option to Varys' mind. A small smile came to his face as he realized that in truth it would only be shoring up alliances rather than making new ones that a union with the new princess offered. Something which in turn once again led his mind back to the ground it had already covered.

"Jon Stark." he sighed.

All roads led North and given that the Tyrells had recently journeyed there. That Loras Tyrell now resided there as a ward, and that Jon Stark and Margaery Tyrell were of age with each other. Varys could see the moves that would occur naturally from this point forward. A true friendship was being forged between Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell, as was oft found between foster brothers. Further trade links between the North and the Reach. All eventually led to a match between the Warden of the South and the Rose of Highgarden. Varys could see it all too clearly and he liked it not. More than that, he understood it not.

How does it benefit the Dragons that the Reach and the North are joined together?

Why allow them to grow so close?

Can Jon Stark truly be turned into an ally?

Does the fact of who his mother is, trump who his father was?

What am I to do?

As it had been each time Varys looked to the North, it was the last of those questions that he found himself concentrating on. Thoughts of an accident and the death of a child were never far from Varys' mind. Only the words from the Queen herself stopped him from looking more closely into exploring if it was even possible to see that realized. Words that caused Varys as much confusion as anything regarding the state of the realm ever did.

Jon Stark is not to be harmed, under any circumstances. To do so is to bring my wrath down full upon those responsible.

With the day ready to begin, Varys put aside thoughts of the Starks and Tyrells, the North and the Reach, for now. He readied himself to break his fast and to go about what all who looked his way, assumed were his duties. To be seen to do so at least. For his true duties took place far from where any eyes could see and were well hidden by the shadows that he took solace from.

To his surprise, it was to be a Small Council meeting that was soon to be his destination and one attended by the king himself. Varys sighed almost as much as the Hand did when yet another tourney was ordered to be held. The princess' birth needed to be celebrated in the only manner that Robert Baratheon did such a thing. A tourney followed by a truly large feast as was the man's wont. Cost be damned and coin to be found as it always needed to be.

The Stag was a spendthrift through and through. While his wife had grown up a spoiled and petulant little girl and had never heard the word no uttered in her direction. Between them, they had wasted the treasury that they'd found and only that his queen had managed to take so much of it with her, or they'd have gone through that as well, Varys wagered. Debts and loans the order of the day from here on in.

Together they were well on the way to bankrupting the Crown. Five years, mayhap ten if Tywin Lannister dug into his own coffers. Certainly no more than that. Not even the increased taxes from the North or the Reach would be enough to slow that down more than a few moons or more. Varys worried somewhat about the prospect of what lengths the Old Lion would then go to in order to cover those debts and loans. A shudder ran down his spine as he almost heard that accursed song playing in his head.

'For it wasn't just for the slight that the Reynes and Tarbecks felt the Old Lion's bite.'

He wondered if his queen would have moved by then. Or had she plans to use the Crown's financially perilous state to her advantage. Varys would wager that given the plans that Rhaella herself had already put in place, she very much had. For while the Crown descended into insolvency, the House of the Dragon's coffers had never been as full as they now were.

His queen was the single largest trader in Essos. As big as the Iron Bank, almost. While in Westeros only the Starks seemed to be following Rhaella's lead. Varys once again found his mind turning to the North and once again liking not what he found once they did so.

The rest of the Small Council meeting was lost to him. Varys paid lip service and only spoke when his opinion was requested. He gave his reports on the state of the realm and on the workings of the Dragons. Listened not to Robert Baratheon's loud angered shouts of 'Dragonspawn!". While taking note that the anger the Stag showed when mention of Queen Rhaella was made had not diminished in the seven years he'd been king.

"Lord Varys a word." Jon Arryn called out, just as the Small Council meeting came to an end. Varys walked slowly with the Hand instead of hurrying back to his chambers. "The Tyrells, Lord Varys, they stayed in Winterfell for some time did they not?"

"They did, Lord Hand. I believe the chill of the Northern wind forced them to stay for longer than they had planned." Varys lied.

"Well, I can believe it." Jon Arryn chuckled. "Yet merely the fact that they traveled there at all gives me pause."

"Lord Loras is to foster there, Lord Hand. He and many others if my Little Birds sing truly."

"Many others?"

"The Young Lord Stark seems keen to welcome far more than simply one or two, Lord Hand. Boys and Girls from all over the North as well as Lord Loras."

"An interesting proposal, one I'd not thought of and yet…." Jon Arryn began before seeming to become lost in thought. A small smile appeared on his face after a moment or two." A most excellent idea, one that mayhap we ourselves should consider."

"Indeed, Lord Hand," Varys said. Though he cared not whether they did or not. "I shall set my Little Birds to look more closely into House Tyrell. Should you wish it of me, Lord Hand?"

"No, No..there's no need for such. Had I known of the other fosterings ... .no, never mind."

They bid each other farewell and was Varys still not thinking much on the North and its young lord, then he may have more closely considered what Jon Arryn had taken from his words. Instead, just as the day had started, it now ended with but one name on his lips. One region in his mind and no answer to the question that continually plagued him.

'What are we to do about Jon Stark?'

Braavos 290 AC.

Daenerys Targaryen.

She laughed at her little brother. Maekar somehow had the ability to make her do so no matter the mood she'd woken up with. Around the table, her mother, stepfather, and older brother were engaged in their own conversations. Dany's mood had been noticed and then ignored somewhat by each of them. Maekar though had refused to allow her to sit quietly and break her fast. Her brother instead wished to play a game of sorts. A game that quickly had her laughing fully and truly.

Maekar was with others a far more serious child than he was with her. With her, he was playful, prone to mischief, and somewhat devious in making sure that he got his way. At times he could be the same with Viserys, yet more often than not, it was the more serious side of their younger brother that their older one would know. When he was with their mother or his father, however, Maekar was the perfect little prince. Only his eyes showed that mischievous little imp that Dany loved so much.

This morning it had been simply tiredness and not a night's dreams that had left her mood needing to be lightened. Dany had not slept well and not even holding her egg tightly to her chest had allowed for that to change. Had she dreamt, then it at times would be that which would require some moments of a morn. Yet, after playing her games with Maekar and then eating her morning meal, Dany now felt ready for the day and her lessons. Something that she swore her little brother was making fun of her over.

"No Mama, train with Vis," Maekar said, rolling his eyes as he looked in Dany's direction.

"That works not with me, as well you know it, son of mine." her mother said sternly. Though a look at the way her lips curled at the edge of her mouth would name that a lie.

"I had hoped you'd join me today, son." her stepfather japed. Dany, her mother, and even Viserys all laughed truly at how firmly Maekar shook his head.

"So lessons it is then." her mother said and Maekar reluctantly nodded. Again her little brother looked at her and rolled his eyes.

It made her snort and she was relieved she hadn't been eating at the time. Dany was certain that had she been doing so, then Maekar would have made an even bigger show of his dislike for lessons. The mummery that she knew it was and the reason for that mummery, both annoying and pleasing her at the same time.

Sighing over elaborately when the Septa made her way into the room, Dany asked to be excused and rose to her feet. She stuck her tongue out at Maekar as she walked by him and heard his little laugh when she left the room. Their morning game was now at an end and while she was in no mood for her lessons, she enjoyed them far more than she let on. Her own little secret and one that only her mother knew about.

"Then why the mummery, Dany?"

"Meks likes it so, mother."

Each of them was like that. Viserys preferred to spend his time in the yard and taking his lessons from Ser Arthur or one of the other Kingsguards. Yet, her older brother would go out of his way to do things he disliked if it meant spending time with her or Maekar. Dany was not fond of the games of war that Maekar would play, not truly understanding the nature of them either. However, one look from his lilac eyes and she'd be sitting beside him, playing those games with him. Losing more often than not too.

As for Maekar, woe betide anyone who made their mother, Viserys, or Dany herself angry or upset. For they'd then reap the whirlwind. Four Namedays old and small, Maekar may well be, but their little brother was at times the fiercest dragon of them all. The most caring one too, as he went out of his way to bring a smile to her and at times, Viserys' faces. Something he managed far better in her case than he did in their older brother's. Though little brought a true smile to Viserys' face lately.

"Concentrate, Princess." the Septa said and Dany nodded her head. She'd not even realized she'd taken her seat and the lessons had begun. So lost in her thoughts had she been.

Soon enough it was time for luncheon and it was only her and Maekar who would be eating it today. Viserys had accompanied the Bold somewhere and her mother was no doubt in her solar. The work she did could be overwhelming and distracting and at times food would need to be brought to her rather than her Mother taking the time to enjoy her meal. Only mornings and evenings were sacrosanct when it came to their family eating together.

"New toy, Meks?" Day asked as she looked at the small figure her brother held in his hands.

"Archers," Maekar replied, his voice sounding much older than he truly was. Another of her little brother's quirks that Dany understood not.

"For why would you need archers, Meks?"

"Redgrass," Maekar answered and Dany just shrugged and continued to eat her food.

The dreams came to her that night as she slept. Dreams of battles and wars, of dragons flying through the sky, and of her brothers and her nephew covered in blood that was not their own. Some of those dreams were as clear as day while others were very much not. Dany woke from them and hurriedly wrote them down in the journal that she kept.

It had been something that Viserys had suggested to her. Her older brother worried about the effect that her dreams had on her and Dany welcomed both his concern and advice. So now, the moment she awakened from the dreams, each and every last thing she remembered would be written down. One journal had soon become two and this was now her fourth. Dany often took the time to read back over some of the others and she found more often than not that the things she'd dreamt of had occurred in some fashion or another.

"My dreams come true," she whispered to herself as she wrote them down once more.

A golden dragon flew over empty lands, alone, scared, until it landed beside an older battle-scarred dragon that had seen better days. The two dragons welcoming each other's presence before taking to the sky together.

A she-dragon wept and then rejoiced. Her trills loud and her roar for now withheld.

A Tiger roared as an elephant charged, only for both to be enveloped in flames as a black dragon flew over their heads. Three sisters weeping before dropping to their knees when the black dragon landed.

A white dragon flew over snow-covered ground, its sights set on the giant wall in front of it where it stopped and landed. The white dragon soon resting beside another and offering it the comfort of its presence.

The same white dragon now flew over lands that were green and fruitful, over deserts that were warm and welcoming. It flew close to the whitest star in the sky and trilled happily as it bathed in its light. Before then turning to fly over a keep filled with flowers, one made of dark stone and finally one made of red.

A rose bloomed and yet withered as the white dragon flew over it and the shadow of a golden lion seemed to force it to the ground. A lion's paw reaching out to crush it beneath it only for the roar of the white dragon to stop the lion in its tracks. The rose blooming once more as the white dragon became a white wolf and moved silently towards it.

A green dragon loosed its flames on all that lay beneath it. Lions, Falcons, and Stags all found themselves kissed by fire as a white wolf felt not the kiss of the dragon's flames.

A dragon of black, red, and gold roared loudly over rock-filled lands. Its roar enough to force all who heard it to scurry for safety, yet none moved faster than the dragon as it chased them down.

Knives lay hidden in the dark and fires were lit as bards sang their songs and men and women danced. A woman in white cried out in pain as a man fell to the ground and breathed no more, only to then rise larger, stronger and to then roar loudly once he did so.

Dany wrote each of the things she'd seen down in her journal and then, as her mother had asked her to, she wrote them out again. This time on some parchment which she held in her hand as she made her way not to break her fast, but to her mother's chambers. With a nod to Ser Barristan, she waited until the knight knocked on the door and soon enough her mother stood before her. A concerned look on her face as she looked to see the parchment Dany held in her hands.

"I dreamed again, Mother," Dany said softly.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. I'm sorry for how long this has taken to be updated and can only promise the next chapter will be much sooner. Up Next: The Execution of a Wildling leads to gifts from the Old Gods and a long overdue talk between Jon Stark and Meera Reed. In Dorne, Ashara speaks to the Martells and finds her family both more and less welcoming than she expected. While a Visitor from the Crannogs brings her both answers and more questions. In Winterfell, a Young Wolf bristles over visitors from the South. Before we take a look at the Old Lion and the Stag of Storm's End.

For those following my other fics, Aemon the Conqueror is up next.

Rhatch: Not Jon no, a different one his foster brothers.

Scarilla: That's sort of the idea we went with, gathering the banners, but doing so with the children, and as you say, it should serve him well. Marge will still be herself when in the Reach, it's just the North that throws her. She likes nothing about it, almost.

Dunk: She very much did not and won't for some time. Yes, Loras will have some heavy lifting to do as will Olenna, but events too will dictate a lot. Viserys is very determined, as you'll see over the next few chapters, we have a fun arc in mind with him and wanted to make him capable and even more, family orientated, also there is a touch of Jaime in him too in that just like Jaime it's his idols rather than his rank or position he wants to live up to. As for Doran, should he hear of it, yes he won't be best pleased at all. Jon's travels will be what truly sets him on his path and we're only a couple of chapters from them. Ashara will have some more fun interactions as she'll be basically dealing with Dorne too.

Rickard: Ashara understands what Jon will eventually need. You still have to take into account what would happen should Robert/Tywin find out. Jon may wish to stay in the North forever, but he would never be allowed to and so while he may bristle that others are making choices for him, his position is one where guess what, others make choices for you. Even as Warden, his future matches are almost always decided by his parents, guardians, and family. Had Ned lived do you think Robb would have got to pick his wife? That's the way of the world they live in, and at least Ashara's motives are good and unlike Rhaella, she's taking more of Jon's feelings into account.

So Jon will bristle as any of us would in the same position, but more often than not, we all come to realize that our parents actually did know best, and like it or not, Ashara is really Jon's only parent.

Creativo: Viserys desea tanto ser un caballero blanco que no aceptará simplemente su destino de no serlo. Ashara básicamente está tratando de estar a caballo entre dos maestros. Tiene que hacer lo que Rhaella desea, de lo contrario quedará fuera del circuito y quiere vengar a Elia y a los niños; al mismo tiempo, ve a Jon como su hijo, por lo que quiere lo mejor para él.

Beth se parecerá más a Arya a medida que avancemos, sin embargo, habrá otros elementos de su personalidad que también la harán diferente, ya que no queríamos una copia con otro nombre, lo mismo que Brandon no es exactamente como Robb. Además, a diferencia de Arya, a Beth se le permite hacer cosas menos femeninas.

CeeLee: Thanks so much for saying so, that means a lot to me, truly.

Do Rodirgo: I'm sorry it took as long as it did, all my fault, not my co-writers, however, the next chapter is only a couple of weeks away, so a far shorter wait.

VwChick: One of the things with Olenna/Jon is you'll see a sort of relationship form with them, right now Jon is distrustful but respectful, later we'll see it more been sort of a mentor/mentee thing.

Fonetiklee: I could write them all as children, and yet that is never how child protagonists are really written or portrayed on screen is it? Unless the aim is to make them as childlike as possible, every single portrayal always has a child act far more mature than their years should allow for. In GOT we have Missandei who is what, 11? Emotionally she may be a child, but educationally she's a savant. Bran is acting Lord of WF at 11, and Arya is 9 when we first see her in the books. Jojen Reed is basically called the Little Grandfather because he acts so beyond his years. Yes, we take liberties, however, we also try and offer up some explanation. Jon here is affected by his dragon egg, as are the other Targ's, Margaery is being trained by the QOT which is a Lordship training ramped up to a hundred. If it's too much for you to accept, then fine, but this is how we've decided to go. I feel there are enough examples of it in young adult fiction, in movies, and in the source material to allow us the leeway that yes, in this specific world and context, some children would speak and act older than what they are.

Xan Merrick: Thanks, my friend. I'm such a big Wyman fan and like having Jon and him work together, so glad you enjoyed it.

Jaenerys Velaryon: Jon here is less driven than Jon in Dragon Cub was, he doesn't have outside forces (and by that I mean magical ones) making him act. Here, it is just himself and so he needs to find a reason to do so, which he's starting to find now. With his age too, again in Dragon Cub because of the outside forces, he moved more quickly, whereas here, even wanting to act his age precludes him from doing too much. But as you see in the last chapter, he's starting to make those moves now and will do more in the future, especially once he's resolved whether or not he's king or queen. As for him or Benjen being talked down to, well they're faced with a strong woman in Barbrey and so you have to accept that. Jon is not anyone's king other than those on the Targ side or Wyman, maybe, btw. The Starks haven't accepted he's going for the throne and hope he doesn't. Yes, he is Warden/Lord of WF, but at the same time he's under the charge of a regent and so some things would be allowed to slide that would not where he not. So it's more the family dynamic we're seeing on show here, for now at least, rather than the dynamic of Jon as Lord, Warden, or King.

Again though, as Jon grows, that side will come more and more to the fore and we'll see him not just saying no to things, but making his own decisions even more clearly and truly.

Rhaella hasn't yet faced any true pushback for doing so and so she's somewhat unaware of just how far she's pushing certain members of her family, she may be rudely awakened at some point.

We have a nice fun arc planned with Viserys, simply because we've not seen him used in the way we wish and also because with Maekar here, we can go different routes. All 3 of Rhaella's children will be given decent-sized story arcs, we hope and yes, you're right, Dorne would not be best pleased.

Torhelm: You must have hated Harry Potter then LOL. Jokes aside, yes, that many words and he's still a child and there will be more to come. I wrote a story of close to 2 million words, where the first 50 chapters took Jon from age six to age 10, why, because it was needed to completely change the canon and to show all the ripples those changes in canon wrought. Here, Ned and Robb died, Rhaella lived and fled to Braavos, because of that, almost all the groundwork that takes place in the original canon is basically abandoned. The dynamics of the main players are almost completely changed and so it takes some time to show what those changes are and how they may later affect things. True, my co-writer and I could have just shown the prologue and jumped to the canon timeline, or we could if we wanted leave lots of stuff out and hurry things along. However, given the changes, the different dynamics, and the amount of setup so that when the canon timeline events (or our version of them here kick off, we feel it's necessary to show it all so that when that time comes, people aren't looking at it and scratching their heads wondering where x, y, or Z came from.

Lady Octarina: I think for Benjen it's Barbrey's forceful personality and well, he'd not be the only man afraid to tell his wife news he'd not cleared with her beforehand would he LOL. He can be forceful too, but in this situation, he was in the wrong and knew it. Loras is sort of stuck in the middle, we'll make it up to him later and he does have someone to confide in too. With Viserys, I've always felt that had he been given a stable upbringing, we'd not see the same Viserys as we did in canon. To me, it was circumstances, not his nature that led him down the route he went. Here, having his mother, obviously, Arthur as a mentor, and finding a goal for himself, all help change him. We have some fun plans with him going forward.

Orthankg: So glad you enjoyed it.

MalSer: Really glad you liked it.

9: So happy you liked it.

Benjon: True there are others, but other than Desmera Redwyne none really bring the same benefits. To bring the Reach fully onside you need to wed a Tyrell, otherwise, you risk it splitting and it being a civil war there, which sort of defeats the purpose, to be honest. Besides, there are a million Jon/Dany or Jon/Sansa stories out there, Jon/Margaery stories are rare so it might as well be me who does something about that.