Chapter 55: Family Ties

Never had Jaehaerys not realized he was the youngest son. What honors of state went to his kepa and older brother, and what plaudits of war and fighting went to his uncle. His grandmother, and grandfather when he was alive, always tried to give him a sense of love and affection but with such a large family he had to compete for attention. Not like Rhaena or Aegon, who were the first set of grandchildren.

Jaehaerys accepted it and didn't mind so long as he could spend time with his uncle, cuddle up with his mother, or enjoy the undivided attention of his little sister.

Now though, he felt smaller than he ever had before.

Vermithor, curled up on the bed, raised his head and chirped at his bonded companion. Jaehaerys cast a rare smile and reached back to stroke the dragon's head. "At least you'll always be with me, boy." The dragon cooed, enjoying the touch.

What little joy he gleaned from his companion faded as Jaehaerys grabbed the eyepatch. Affixing it to his face to hide the garish injury where his left eye had been. Ripped out by an arrow, cauterized by a molten iron poker. It looked hideous. The eyepatch was little better.

Reminded always of his mistakes. His failures.

Sometimes Jaehaerys wanted to stab himself in the heart. But he wasn't brave enough. Another black mark on his soul.

Departing his chambers, he almost immediately ran into his sister. "Valonqar," she called, hugging him and kissing his forehead. "You look handsome this morning."

He smiled weakly. "We both know that's a lie, sister." Before she could scold him, Jae changed the subject. "How is Daemon?"

She cast a wary expression at him, as if knowing what he was doing. But she didn't comment on it. "He's fine." Thinking of her son made her genuinely happy, and Jaehaerys couldn't really blame her. Whatever his feelings in regards to his uncle, his dear cousin - and nephew - was one of Jae's favorite people. "Playing with his kepa all the time. Truly dragging Maegor out of his weakness and wounds."

"That is good to hear." It was always at the tip of his tongue, the truth of what he knew of his uncle - and their muna. Sometimes he wanted to tell Rhae. All of those times he knew it would just cause her pain for no benefit. As such, he kept his mouth shut. "Is he still not ready to attend the war council?"

Rhaena sighed. "Sadly no. It'll be just me in heading it."

Jaehaerys offered his arm the same way kepa used to for muna. "Would you like me, then to escort you? A Prince is satisfactory for a Queen, I believe."

Giggling, Rhaena accepted. "Lead the way, Prince Jaehaerys." It was good that he could provide his sister with a little bit of levity. Gods only knew she needed it.

The Small Council chamber was… rather empty even as it was full. Those that served his kepa were scattered to the wind, dead, or in open rebellion, leaving only a few holdovers and some loyalists of Rhaena and Maegor brought from Dragonstone. Grand Maester Gawen was a familiar figure, as was Brandon Snow - his eyes sunken and bloodshot from his mourning. Theomare Manderly was present in armor, while Daemon Velaryon wore a fine doublet and trousers.

Ser Gawen wasn't there. Ser Marden wasn't there. Jaehaerys felt their absence more acutely than others.

Rhaena took her place at the head of the table reserved for the reigning monarch. By her side was Tyanna, taller than his sister and wearing black while Rhaena's dress was a mix of black and red. They seemed… if not openly affectionate then clearly intimate. Veiled looks of love and a gentle brushing of hands before they took their places. He noticed, and with everything that happened he just hoped it brought Rhaena happiness.

"Alright then, shall we begin?" Rhaena spoke.

"Not without me."

Heads turned to the entrance, in which a large man hobbled in. Braced by two servants whom held him up by his shoulders. His uncle.

Rhaena rushed to him without a care. Jaehaerys also didn't fail to notice Tyanna hot on her heels. "My love, you should be resting!" Her tone was insistent but also fearful.

Maegor waved her off. "And sit there like a corpse and be not of use? I think not." Silence reigned as they stared at each other, neither one of them willing to break.

Finally it was his sister that did so, sighing. "Fine, but you sit down in my place." Apparently his uncle knew when not to press his advantage, so he nodded.

Now they could finally begin, Jaehaerys quiet and trying to blend into the background. Feeling awkward around his uncle. Matters of import were discussed, to which he didn't feel the need to join in. The defeat of Brandon Stark was first on everyone's minds, as was the continued siege of Harrenhal and Castamere made possible because of the loss of that army. Rogar Baratheon was on the march, however, and whatever Vale Lords that had sided with Jonos Arryn in his rebellion were groveling before Lord Hubert and begging mercy.

Some would be granted it, others wouldn't, and most still would receive a large fine as punishment and the price for clemency. Given the mess of issues elsewhere, it was decided that mercy would be necessary to focus on other fronts.

Jonos Arryn would serve as an example, and Rhaena would see to that very soon.

As the session ended, Jaehaerys found himself detained by his uncle and sister, requested to stay. While he anticipated what would be discussed, when Maegor placed a kiss on Rhaena's lips - and then Tyanna's unexpectedly enough - he knew exactly what was coming his way. Him and his uncle alone, for the first time since… that night.

This was not going to be pleasant, but he would endure it for the sake of harmony.

It was past time that he reconcile with his uncle.

Now it was just the two of them, alone. Both bearing the scars of battle. "I'm proud of you, Jae," were the first words from his uncle's lips. "You showed courage and valor, distinguishing yourself when you were called to do so."

"I lost."

He shook his head. "In your task, as long as you did not lose, you would win everything. That was done." A small smile filtered across his uncle's worn face. "Your legend was born on those walls, Jae. Jaehaerys the Fierce. Jaehaerys the One-Eyed and the Bronze Fury, defending the Dragonpalace from the Stars and Swords."

Jae shut his one good eye. "I'd give it up to see our family whole again."

Maegor sighed. "Aye, so would I."

Shuffling his feet, Jae cleared his throat. "So what is to become of me now?"

"You've certainly earned your keep, nephew. It is time to rest, for you are the next generation of our family. If something happens to myself and your sister…"

"No, do not say that…"

"It is your responsibility to protect Daemon. To be his regent." Maegor tapped the table. "Which is why I'm sending you to stay with Alysanne, where it's safe."

Aly? Jae's heart soared with the prospect of being reunited with his sister. "Where is she?"

"Greywater Watch."

"A safe place." Probably the safest place in the entire Realm. Arya's family would protect Aly, no doubt, and any attacking army would be damned to find the floating keep. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"

"Anything to protect my family."

Without prompting, tears burning past his lid, Jae didn't know when it happened but suddenly he found himself clutching his uncle. Crying as a wee boy again. "I'm sorry, uncle," he murmured. "Please forgive me."

Two strong arms encircled him. "I forgive you, nephew, and I am sorry as well."

They sat like this for a long time, nephew and uncle reforging their bond. "Uncle… please tell me about my muna."

Hearing Maegor sigh, Jae almost didn't think that he'd speak about it. But his uncle didn't let him down. "It was an arranged marriage to your kepa. She was… unhappy at first, and I was young and stupid. We didn't mean for it to happen, but I knew it had to end."

"Did you love her?"

"I did… still do in a way. And she loved me too… which is why she hated me for leaving her." Maegor kissed Jae's brow. "We both made mistakes, and we both live with the guilt of our sins, but do not think any less of your muna. She loves you and would do anything for you."

Jae nodded. "I… don't. Not anymore. I love her, and I love you, uncle." And with that, Jaehaerys Targaryen released his bitterness. His past grudges. Only pain resulted, and he wished not to be in pain anymore.

"Rider, mi'Lord!"

Leaning up from the chair the servants had placed for him in his open air tent, Rogar Baratheon spotted the Warrior's Son galloping up. He was in full armor - ridiculous rainbow cloak blowing back in the wind - but unarmed and escorted by a troop of Stormlands riders across the bridge and to his lines.

Not bothering to grab his sword, Rogar didn't rise. He wouldn't dignify this zealot with his time. He motioned to Lord Dondarrion, who nodded.

The rider dismounted. "By the compliments of Lord Roxton and Grand Captain Doggett." He handed Dondarrion a dispatch.

"They appointed him Grand Captain? Thought he died trying to shit lead from his arse?" Men chuckled around Rogar, while the Lord of Storm's End enjoyed the messenger's indignation.

"You apostates will freeze in the depths of the Seven Hells for your betrayal of the Seven."

Rogar didn't even look up at the man. "Be more worried about burning in dragonfire in this life, cunt." When Dondarrion handed him the letter, he unfurled it and read the contents.

Lord Rogar,

We both wish a battle, so either you cross the river and we shall let you, or we cross the river and you shall let us.

There was no signature, but he was sure it was from Roxton. He was an arrogant cunt, while Doggett was colder than the fucking Wall. "Alright then." Rogar was nothing if not bold - damned if he'd concede the initiative to that fucking cunt. The insult applied to both the temporal and spiritual commanders of the army he faced. "Tell your master that I shall cross the river and then toss his head into it once things are done."

The messenger didn't seem perturbed. "The gods will make their judgment, and you will burn in the Seven Hells." Remounting, he galloped away.

"If I run into him I shall also cut off his head," Rogar remarked nonchalantly, heading to another tent of his so as to fully prepare for battle.

"Brother?" It was Orryn, biting his lip. "Mayhaps we should refrain, or at least wait for further reinforcements."

"That would delay the clash."

"The Tyrells are soon to link up with us…"

His other brother present, Garon, scoffed. "Please, and then they'll be reinforced by the fucking Dornish and Roxton will outnumber us even more. If he wants a fair fight, then let's give him one and fucking slaughter them."

"Yes, but why not wait for reinforcements? He has some sort of trick…"

Rogar clapped his hands. "Enough. I will fight. The gain far outweighs the risk of letting the Faith get too close to the capital." His brothers both conceded to him, Garon triumphant and Orryn nervous. Rogar himself grabbed Stormbreaker as his servants affixed his mighty armor. His legend would be born today, he just knew it.

Stonebridge was an important town, being where the Roseroad crossed the Mander at a large stone bridge - hence the name. It could fit four wagons running alongside each other and was controlled by House Caswell… whom had declared for Rhaena and Maegor alongside most of the northern Reach against the Holy Dominion marching from the south. Their forces, alongside those of the Stormlords, guarded the bridge while the rest of the Reach loyalists were marching to the west to avoid the Roseroad.

Such couldn't be helped, and while Rogar would desire the reinforcements he didn't need them. Lord Roxton and Joffrey Doggett outnumbered him but not by much. Forty-two thousand to thirty-five thousand. Not at all insurmountable odds, and he trusted his crack knights and elite infantry against any of the flower warriors the Reach could throw at him.

All was on his mind as he marched across the bridge. He commanded the cavalry in front of him alongside Geron and Lord Caswell. The infantry behind were divided into three divisions - Dondarrion on the left, Selmy on the right, and Caron in the center. Orryn had the small cavalry reserve if things got dicey… or it was time to slaughter the fleeing Poor Fellows. That was his plan anyways.

Across the grassy plain on the west bank of the Mander was the army of the Holy Dominion, to which Rogar was surprised at the large number of Poor Fellows - larger than he thought they would be in terms of proportion. Roxton was under command according to his spies, with the Reach contingent divided between Lord Florent on the right and Ser Martyn Hightower, Queen Ceryse's brother, on the left. The center were Joffrey Doggett's Warrior's Sons and Wat the Hewer's Poor Fellows… to which Rogar drew up his best knights directly in the center.

There were more Poor Fellows than knights, and such rabble would give way to his men without a doubt.

At least that was what Rogar thought.

Hornblows exchanged, the knights charged immediately. Rogar paid no attention to Roxton's defensive stance, comfortable that the infantry and Orryn's cavalry reserve would guard him against flanking attempts. But it wasn't flanking he should've been worried about.

He hadn't noticed at first, but the massive shape of something big grew in the distance. The Army of the Holy Dominion had finally deployed their meticulously drilled elephant forces, and the great beasts lumbered forward.

Contact hadn't even been made before the horses - and many of the knights - having no familiarity with such beasts simply halted in place and started to retreat. The charge broken before it even began, Roxton and Doggett ordered a charge of their own covered by thousands of archers and skirmishers. The cavalry was bloodied greatly. Rogar forced to meet with his infantry before the horsemen and elephants crashed into their hasty line near the bridge.

It was a slaughter. While the Reachmen and Stormlanders were evenly matched, Rogar's knights were ripped apart by the elephants. Gored by their tusks, trampled under their feet. A white elephant ridden by the lead mahout of the Faith tor Ser Geron from his horse with its trunk and trampled him underfoot during a misguided attempt to attack its trunk.

At this, and the inability of the Stormlander infantry to counterattack and push back the now arriving Faith footmen who had formed a rigid line close to the bridge, they simply panicked and fled.

Rogar didn't flee. Swinging Stormbraker like a powerful stag defending his herd - crushing ribcages and smashing heads apart like they were melons - he remained in the frontlines marshaling the strength of his men. Allowing them to retreat across the bridge in whatever good order they could muster.

"Did I not tell you so?" Orryn replied, nursing a bandaged arm as the force - five thousand men less - began to evacuate Stonebridge for Tumbleton to the northeast where they could wait for the Tyrells.

The Lord of Storm's End, silent, did not even look at his brother.

"I don't want to leave you."

Clutched in a mutual embrace, Rhaena eschewed an immediate response by kissing Tyanna. Their locked lips lacking none of the passion they had once held for each other. Chords of love and lust and devotion quickly mending as if they had never been cut in the first place. "I'll be back, I promise."

"I worry for you," she murmured, her eyes clouded in fear.

"I know." Rhaena kissed her again. "Promise you'll watch over Daemon."

Tyanna nodded. "With my life."

If a bit reluctantly, Rhaena broke the embrace with her beautiful lover… only to be swept up in the strong arms of her husband. It was different, but just as lovely. Mashed into his chest, swept up in his muscles. Hearing his heartbeat. "We'll be back together soon," she told him."

Maegor kissed her forehead. "Only you will be going into battle, my love." He bore no fearful words as Tyanna did. Reminding Rhaena once again that out of the three of them he had seen battle the most.

Perhaps inside he was just as worried. "The Vale rebels were vanquished already."

"Not completely."

"It's just finishing the job. Jorelle and Jonquil will be by my side."

"They can't always protect you." He kissed her, making Rhaena sigh in pleasure. "Just be careful."

"I will. I promise."

Wind whipping in her face, braid blowing behind her, Rhaena narrowed her eyes. Scowl planted on her face. She would keep that promise. Keep it with fire and blood.

"Let us down!" she heard Jonquil scream behind her, holding tight to her waist as if loosening even a little would mean a plummet to her death. "I'll climb the mountain instead!"

"The Eyrie cannot be climbed," laughed Jorelle. "Have a stomach." Once upon a time she had been so terrified, as were all of Rhaena's favorites. While no one but a Targaryen - or Stark with Targaryen blood these days - could truly feel at home on dragonback, one could get somewhat used to it. "We're protecting our Queen."

"We could do it the same with Lord Hubert's force." From her tone, not even Jonquil believed that.

Ignoring their banter, Rhaena gazed down off Dreamfyre's back. Eyes focusing in on the Eyrie - it's white stone sticking out from the grey mountainside that it rested atop. Impassible unless one could secure entry via the one gatehouse and drawbridge leading into the keep… or if one flew. Hopefully Lord Hubert could secure entrance the first way via the traitor he had been in contact with within the gatehouse.

Rhaena would be entering the second manner.

"Look!" At Jorelle's shout, she looked down to spot a large fire burning atop the gatehouse. "That's the signal!"

Lips curling into a vicious grin, Rhaena clicked her teeth. "Dive, girl!" With a roar, Dreamfyre beat her wings and dove, straight for the Eyrie. Rhaena would keep her promise to Maegor, Tyanna, and sweet little Daemon. This would be over before it began.

For those within the Eyrie having the benefit of hindsight to the mistakes of the late Sharra Arryn, they certainly didn't heed them. Visenya and Vhagar had arrived in peace, while Rhaena and Dreamfyre did so in war, bathing the courtyard filled with scrambling guardsmen in dragonfire.

Down dropped Rhaena, followed by her two sworn swords. Dark Sister sang, thirsty for blood, though it was Longclaw moreso than her or Jonquil's barb-tipped spear that thirsted the most. Jorelle roared like the she-bear she was, face dark and desperate for vengeance. Her late brother was avenged many times over, rebels and traitors and zealots losing arms, legs, and heads for her to do so.

A dragon backing them and hundreds of soldiers pouring across the drawbridge into the keep, whatever meagre loyalists Jonos Arryn still had were pretty much doomed. Terrified servants opened the doors to the great hall, and whatever guardsmen in there tossed aside their arms to plead for their lives. Among them their Lord.

Jonos was on his knees, blubbering. Gone the haughty rebel and replaced with a craven fool. "Please, mercy…"

"You're a kinslayer!" Rhaena hissed, kicking him. He fell over, sprawled on his stomach. "You do not deserve mercy!" She kicked him again, and then a third time for good measure before Jonquil stopped her.

"He should die by sentence, not in anger." She agreed, however urged she was to finish the job right that moment.

"Please," he rasped out between coughs, wind knocked out of him.

She spat in his face. "Pathetic! Fucking pathetic!"

Without thinking, she drew Dark Sister and was about to swing it and sever the cunt's neck when a voice called out. "Your Grace, please refrain!"

Halting mid-swing, Rhaena turned to glare at Hubert Arryn, surrounded by his own loyal retainers. "You wish me to show mercy?"

Jonos looked relieved, though still shook. "Thank you! Thank you, cousin…"

"Shut up, wretch!" Hubert's gaze held nothing but contempt for his fallen kinsman. "He must die, but of our own way. The Moon Door."

"No!" screamed Jonos.

The men around all of them were not so horrified. "Moon Door!" Jonquil shouted lips curled in vindictive pleasure.

"The Moon Door!" Jorelle was next, to which the Valemen picked it up.

"Moon Door!" Soon all of them chanted it, demanding it for their traitorous liege. The killer of their beloved Lord Ronnel. Blood already soaked the Eyrie as Hubert and his men purged the ancestral castle of House Arryn of the firebrands, Stars and Swords, zealot Septons and all the other treasonous detritus collected there by Jonos Arryn. Regular levies surrendered, pledging fealty with trembling knees. Some would be given amnesty in exchange for fighting, some would be sent to the Wall.

Rhaena was willing to be merciful, but for Jonos Arryn… Not only was he a kinslayer, but he was pathetic about it. She found herself disgusted - disgusted and enraged. "Allow this to be an example to all the Vale," she proclaimed, voice hard. Surely to some of the older Lords present this was not her talking but Visenya in her younger years. The same voice, the same steel said to exceed that of even Aegon. "Jonos Arryn, for the crime of treason, murder, and kinslaying, I hereby sentence you to death as proscribed by the custom of your people." She drew Dark Sister and pointed it at the Moon Door. "Let him fly!"

"Let him fly!" Already many knights surged forward, grabbing the last son of Sharra Arryn by the arms and legs. Hoisting him up.

"No! Please mercy!" he screamed, shrilly and without dignity. He was crying, face covered in snot and a wet stain at the front of his trousers. Rhaena would not look at the back of them, not wishing to know what she would find.

Rhaena was not impressed. "If you actually fly, then the gods will grant you mercy."

Hubert chuckled. "Two brothers take to the sky, your Grace. But only one actually flew." She nodded. Ronnel, taken up into the air by her grandmother. Laughing like the child he was at the majesties of the air.

For Jonos, tossed out through the Moon Door as soon as it groaned open, there was no dragon, nor was there any laughter.

"First time I'm meetin' yer brother."

The heart was gone out of Rhaenys. Preparing herself for the day was more than a chore with Brandon gone - she just didn't want to bother. Her natural beauty was still there, but staring back at her through the silver mirror was simply a haggard woman. Beauty clashing with the sustained onslaught of negative emotions.

Grief.

The lack of a will to live besides vengeance and that her children still lived.

Had they died, she would've walked into the maw of Arrax and let the flames consume her.

"I wouldn't worry about it." In the years since being admitted into the ranks of the Northmen - and the southern court some of the time - Ralla of the Free Folk only had a trace of her accent left. Most of the time, she could pass as some highborn of the south… at least the more provincial houses at least. "Maegor looks tough but he's a fucking softie underneath all that muscle."

"Like the dragon Lady here!" Slapping her thigh, Gelina likely would never have that problem. She seemed to revel in her contempt for the etiquette of the society that had captured and now coopted her. In truth, that was part of her charm.

It was why Rhaenys kept her around. She was the only thing grounding her, keeping the Princess from falling apart.

"Wait, if yer' dragon is Arrax, who's this one's?"

"Balerion, the biggest of them all."

"Bigger than Arrax?" Her eyes went wide. "Fuck me in the arse and cunt."

Rhaenys felt a rare smile on her lips. "Dragons grow till their death, albeit slower as they age. Balerion's been around for about two hundred years."

"Fucking hells." Gelina shook her head. "Sure ye' ain't some demon?"

Ralla shrugged. "The Faith seems to think they are. I just happen to think them divine in some way… still too early to say whether it is for the good of the world or the ill of it."

"And to think you used to be a wildling once, Ralla," Rhaenys quipped.

"Free Folk!" This time it was the both of them that responded. The door opened and a female servant curtseyed. She murmured in Ralla's ear - certainly she was more approachable than Gelina, who rather blatantly and hungrily eyed the maid up and down, if only to set her off balance for she laughed when the girl left with a squeak - to which Ralla stood. "Maegor's here. Forgive me if I would rather be elsewhere."

Rhaenys nodded. "Go ahead." Soon it was just her and Gelina. "Undoubtedly it would be awkward to be alone with one's former lover."

Minutes later, as her brother dropped down from the massive form of Balerion, Gelina clicked her tongue. "Fuck me, I'd kill mi'self if I let that hunk of man meat go."

"I thought you only desire women."

"I do, but fuck me… That man might turn me." Her and her theatrics.

All of it swept by the wayside when Maegor got close enough. Rhaenys sobbed once and ran into his arms, to which her brother accepted her in a crushing embrace. The first time they saw each other since after his marriage to Rhaena, and by the gods so much had happened. "Sister," he murmured into her hair as Rhaenys clung to him. "I am sorry."

Drawing some comfort from her brother's hug, just as she did when she was little and had nightmares, Rhaenys sucked in a halting breath. Trying not to burst into tears. "What am I going to tell the children, Maegor?" It was something she avoided thinking about, but with Maegor here she finally had the support to delve into that agony. "Lyanna… she won't even remember him."

"They're grandmother is there, and Aegon, Saera, and Alaric are strong northmen. They will make it through this, I promise." She nodded, grateful for the answer. "Let's head inside."

"I'll have a servant fetch you some food and a bath…"

"Later, first take me to the war chambers - before I forget." Typical Maegor, his determination overriding everything else. She was grateful for it. It provided a distraction.

Once there, Gelina tried to force her way in, but Rhaenys made sure she left. The wildling hadn't liked it.

Maegor didn't help but notice. "I'm glad someone is warming your bed right now. You need the intimacy."

Rhaenys looked at him, eyes wide and mouth open. "She and I aren't lovers…"

"Not by lack of trying on her part."

"Brandon has only barely departed from us!"

"It's not disrespectful to him that you seek out intimacy, to heal." He smirked. "Based on her looks, he's enjoying watching from the afterlife, believe me." That earned him a punch in the shoulder. "Alright, that hurt."

"You deserved that, fucker."

"Fine, fine." Her brother gazed upon her in sympathy… in empathy. Brandon was his best friend and closest companion king before she had ever met the man who would be her husband. He hurt too, burned for vengeance against Tyrion Lannister with the same heat as her. So she didn't spit dragonfire when he spoke his next words. "We must leave the Westerlands be for now."

Rhaenys may not have exploded indignantly at that, but it didn't mean she agreed. "You'd deny the North its vengeance?"

"Vengeance will come…"

"When?" Rhaenys slammed her fists on the map-table, trembling. Trying to restrain herself from tearing at him. "When shall I gain my vengeance? Find the rotting body of my husband and my children's father to place in the crypts of Winterfell along with his head? Hmm, brother? I'd like to know."

Maegor pinched the bridge of his nose. "When the circumstances of war allow it, sister. Do you think we can just walk into the Westerlands again? Hmmm? Our… nephew is trapped there, so I would love to do so!"

"Let me deploy Arrax and…"

"Allowing the Riverlands to fall simply destroys us!" Maegor shouted back. "An opening to which the Faith's main army can bypass what troops we have in the Stormlands and simply march to King's Landing unhindered. We'd be absolutely crushed without even a fight!"

She crossed her arms. "And our dragons mean nothing?"

"They can win battles, but not wars. The fate of Meraxes proves that."

Biting her lip, Rhaenys stared at Maegor for the longest time before sighing. Allowing her mind to calm. "So what then do you propose, brother?"

Maegor reached out and covered her hand with his. Showing that even in their draconic temper, spitting fire and lashing out at each other with teeth and claw, they were still siblings. They still loved each other, even if not in the same manner as other Targaryen siblings. "Are the surviving Northmen of Brandon's army rejoining the fight?"

Rhaenys nodded. "Eager to spill the blood of the Andal."

"Good." He made gestures on the map, ones that piqued Rhaenys' interest. Bold… mayhaps expected, but so bold and blatant in their aggressive intentions that the Faith and Red Harren likely wouldn't expect that of a Lady whose husband had blundered so badly so as costing him his life and honor. "Doable?" he asked.

"I think so. The men are up to it."

"Are you up to it?"

"Kessa."

"Mayhaps I should ask your lover for a more objective opinion."

Punching his shoulder, for the first time in weeks Rhaenys felt a laugh leaving her lips.