I really didn't mean for it to take this long to upload… but life truly does just get in the way sometimes. I'm sorry about that! I'm still not totally back up to schedule but hopefully this will be a step in the right direction.

As such, I'll keep this brief. As always I own nothing that belongs to either George R R Martin or HBO, I only like to play around in the playground they have given us.

Throughout their history House Targaryen had cremated all of their dead. Initially performed on Dragonstone, that had changed for those of the Royal Line when the Red Keep and King's Landing had been completed, now the ceremonies were performed atop a large hill that overlooked the city that had been set aside during the minor planning and had been used for the funerals of the majority of House Targaryen. Since the Restoration that had seated Luke upon the Iron Throne the only Targaryen death had been Princess Daenerys and her body hadn't been recovered, so as the court gathered atop the hill near to the pyre, Luke was keenly aware that the ceremony was a historical one along with being heart wrenching for him on a personal note.

Margaery was clinging to his arm tightly, her face covered by a deep black veil to hide the tear stains that plagued the Queen's face. He too was dressed in nothing but black, with not even his trademark gold making an appearance on his clothing. Alongside the King and Queen stood all of his family. Jaehaerys was close to the Baratheon girl and the three children, while Visenya was holding Saella tightly, Luke's middle daughter having flown back alongside his eldest to pay her final respects for the brother than the entire realm loved.

High above them flew the dragons. Five flew in the skies above the city, with only Aegon's own mount missing. Valaxes would do the honours, but Luke was putting off calling down the hulking black dragon for as long as possible, trying to prolong every second that he could muster. It was Daeron that broke the King out of his stalling as the winds began to pick up slightly, with the Kingsguard Knight leaning in from behind the King to whisper. "Your Grace, it's time."

Not having the energy to argue, Luke simply nodded. He looked up into the sky to where Valaxes was soaring, and watched as the largest dragon twisted in the air and descended down, landing on the peak of the hill with a thud that rocked the ground beneath the courts feet. With a deep breath and a solitary nod towards the High Septon, Luke signalled for the ceremony to begin.

He didn't listen to the words spoken by the Faith's chosen, nor did he sing any of the hymns. Instead Lucerys Targaryen stared at the pyre, the wrapped body of his son looking so small and cold when in life Aegon had been tall, warm and full of life. He blinked away a tear that dropped down his face and focused in on the High Septon's voice.

"… our brother Aegon will be committed to the flames as his ancestors before him also were, and he shall enter the Father's Golden Hall to the warm embrace of those that travelled before him. Father Above, judge Aegon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone justly."

The High Septon then moved over towards the pyre and placed upon it a colourful crystal before retaking his place alongside the rest of the court, signifying the end of the religious aspect of the ceremony. Now it was simply time for Luke. He took a deep breath and moved his free hand around to grip Margaery's own tightly, steeling himself to project the fateful words out as strongly as he could manage.

"Dracarys."

Valaxes cocked its head to the side questioningly before rearing up and flapping its wings, letting out a gentle jet of fire towards the pyre, engulfing it immediately. He felt Margaery buckle slightly and kept his grip firm, holding her up as his eyes were fixed completely on the funeral pyre as his hope for the future went up in flames.

Time passed quickly from that moment, and Luke barely registered anything as the pyre burned to ash until he felt another hand upon his shoulder. "It's time to depart." Turning round he saw it was Daeron once more. Forcing a smile, Luke nodded and led the court away from the pyre, turning and saying one final farewell to his eldest son as he moved away from the depressing hillside.

Inside the Red Keep the Queen's Ballroom had been dressed up for a feast, though the atmosphere was solemn and quiet. No musicians filled the halls, and instead of an overload of noise, the conversations were hushed and whispered. Luke simply sat in his large chair silently, Margaery at his side as the two parents simply willed time to pass so that they could retire at a decent time.

His silence allowed the King to scope out the room. Some of the tourney guests had departed in the time between the fateful joust and the funeral, but his heart was warmed at the sight of so many familiar banners. Even Lord Tarly had returned to the Red Keep for the first time since his resignation. Luke's eyes kept getting drawn to the closest table however, where he spotted all of his children but Daeron huddled together. Saella had her back towards him and he sighed, before looking over towards the door where Daeron was stood, his helm casting a shadow over his face so that Luke couldn't see the Kingsguard's expression.

It took three cups of wine before the King had had enough. Standing, he didn't even react to the majority of the room following his actions as a mark of respect, and instead he turned and walked out the door, the familiar sound of armoured boots following him to his chambers. He changed into his nightwear and sat down in a comfortable armchair, staring into the fireplace for what must have been an hour before he knew he needed to talk to his defiant daughter.

"Ser Taron." He called, and the doors opened to the ever-faithful Kingsguard knight of House Edgerton.

"Your Grace." Ser Taron bowed.

Luke thought for a moment as to whether he was doing the right thing, but after only a moment of contemplating he was firm. "Send for Princess Saella, I wish to speak with her." Ser Taron bowed again, and Luke continued to watch the flames as the sound of footsteps on the stone floor grew quieter. The flames crackled and twisted, and Luke had to blink furiously as he swore he saw the image of two men duelling within the fire. Shaking his head he moved to his desk and poured another cup, clumsily spilling some in the process. Grumbling, he returned to his seat and waited for the door to open once more.

He was waiting for a while, but eventually it knocked. Luke placed his goblet down and moved to a more formal sitting pose. "Enter." He called, but was surprised to see the Kingsguard knight once more. "Where is Saella?"

Ser Taron had been a member of the Kingsguard only a couple of days fewer than Luke had won the Iron Throne back, and had been ever present throughout all 25 years. That bred a little familiarity, and Luke noted there was no hesitation in the Crownlanders answer. "The Princess has retired to bed, Your Grace, she will be departing for Starfall early in the morning."

"She refused, you mean." Luke mumbled. "I should have guessed."

"Her exact words were that she came to say goodbye to her brother, not to mend bridges." Ser Taron explained. "I tried to persuade her otherwise, but the door was quickly shut in my face. I thought it unwise to use more force, but if you wish it…"

Luke waved that away. "Leave her be, Taron. Her position is clear." He grabbed his goblet again and downed the sour liquid. "And Daeron?"

"He is posted outside Lady Jocelyn's door tonight, Your Grace." Taron explained. "In Maegor's Holdfast, so away from the Tower of the Hand."

That was something at least. "Thank you, Taron. That will be all." Luke stated. Taron once again bowed, and soon Luke was left alone with nothing but his thoughts and a decanter of wine that he fully intended to drink in its entirety before he attempted to sleep.

The funeral of Prince Aegon had been a tough one to go through, though for Lord Edric Dayne it was the frostiness between his wife and his mentor that was the challenge over saying farewell to such a loved person. Saella had stayed just the one night in King's Landing and had fled the city before Ned had awoken the day after the funeral, leaving nothing but a letter on the discoveries that she had made while flying over Greenstone and the island of Estermont with Princess Visenya. The King meanwhile had all but locked himself away in his chambers, leaving the running of the Seven Kingdom's to fall to the Dornishman.

Ned had been fine with that for the first three days as he wanted to leave Luke to his grief, but as petitions mounted and some rather harrowing information about the antagonistic Essosi regions became known through Lysono Maar, Ned had finally had enough and stormed up towards the Royal Chambers. Outside of the King's doors stood Ser Rolly and Ser Daeron, both looking extremely bored.

"Lord Hand." The Lord Commander stated.

"Ser Rolly." Ned greeted back. "I must see him."

Rolly sighed. "His Grace has decreed that nobody is to enter, not even the Queen."

"His Grace is grieving, and not in his right mind." Ned explained. "He mourns his son when he should be avenging him."

Daeron was the one to react first, taking a step towards the Hand and lowering his voice. "Avenging? It was an accident, was it not?"

Ned sighed as he looked over at the young Kingsguard knight. "It certainly looked that way, but I believe not."

Ser Daeron Waters was often overlooked within the first generation of children born to House Targaryen after the turn of the fourth century post Conquest, spoken about only in terms of his controversial birth and his white cloak in wider circles, but Ned was quickly reminded that beneath the calm façade that had been built up through years of snide remarks and abuse from his peers, a dragon still lurked beneath the surface. The White Cloaked bastard's nostrils flared up in anger as his violet eyes darkened ragefully. "Who?"

"I must speak with your Father, Daeron." Ned said quietly. "You will know all, I swear it, in time."

Daeron's hand twitched slightly as if it was going to reach for Dark Sister at his hip, but Ned refused to even flinch, confident that it was simply the rashness of youth. It was Rolly who stood aside first, gesturing to the door handle. "He needs a focus, Lord Hand, but we must take care. Last time… with the Princess… he had the prophecy looming over his head to keep him tempered. This time… I fear what his rage will do."

"That is my job, Ser Rolly." Ned nodded, keeping an eye on Daeron. When the younger knight mirrored his Lord Commander's movement, Ned nodded at the both of them. "Thank you." He said, before turning the handle and pushing it open.

The sight inside the King's chamber was a shock to the Hand of the King. The curtains had been pulled closed and the lingering smell of wine was in the air. He spotted the King slumped over his desk, a goblet in his hands and a decanter with but a dribble of Dornish Red within it beside him. Sighing again. Ned moved over towards the Targaryen. "Your Grace." The Dornishman called out.

"Get out, Ned." Luke mumbled into the wood of the desk.

"No." Ned stated firmly, hoping for a reaction.

He received it. Luke pulled his head up so he was sat upright with a deathly glare in his eyes. Ned noticed that his shoulder length hair was unusually loose and untied, while the formation of a greying beard was growing on his usually shaven face. His clothes were stained too, with splatters of wine and food down his shirt. The King pointed coldly towards the Dornishman. "I won't tell you again." He slurred.

"Good." Ned stated brightly, moving to open the curtains and let in the midday sun to the room. "Because I'm not leaving until you hear me out." He heard the scraping of metal on wood and ducked, noticing the sound of the goblet hitting the wall overhead. "This isn't you, Lucerys. Your realm needs you."

Luke scoffed. "Needs me." He mocked. "The one good thing I did on that fucking throne was have Aegon. He would have been great…" He trailed off as Ned opened the second set of curtains, then turning round to see Luke had slumped back down.

"He would, and many knew it." Ned agreed. "Including his enemies."

Another slight shift as Luke peered over his arms to stare back at Ned, though this time his look was more inquisitive. "His enemies?" Luke asked.

Ned nodded. "You've missed a lot in the Small Council, though you were grieving and I did not want to disturb you meaninglessly. But we had word from Balaq today…" That intrigued Luke even more, so much so that despite his drunkenness he sat upright and looked attentive, vaguely resembling the king Ned had known since the Dornishman had been his squire. "The alliance between Myr and Tyrosh… there is more to it than we feared. And we have confirmation that the Archon's met with a Stormlander on multiple occasions."

The scowl that followed was a familiar one to Ned, one generally saved for any mention of House Baratheon. "That cursed land." Luke muttered. "Would that I could simply burn it all and be done with it."

The words were merely bluster, and Ned simply ignored them as the ramblings of an emotionally vulnerable man. "Saella and Visenya's reports have also been confirmed by Lord Connington, there is movement on Estermont once more."

Lucerys took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. "Tell me all."

And so Ned did. "There is an increase in Tyroshi ships near to Cape Wrath and all small ships in the area are being searched and moved along without being allowed to dock. Smoke from settlements have been seen by passers-by and Saella explained that she thought she saw drills being ran within the ruins."

"It's not a crime to be on the island." Luke stated. "Lady Shireen has done well with the assimilation of Estermont into the holdings of Storm's End and it's a vital line of defence in the Narrow Sea, are we sure these are not Baratheon trainees."

"Visenya landed and got closer." Ned explained, knowing that the worried parent would come out in Luke and was proven right as the King's royal purple eyes widened in horror. "She was not spotted, but she saw a number of banners. Smaller sellsword companies, House Rogers, House Mertyns, House Tudbury, House Lonmouth…"

"All Houses that rebelled with House Estermont seven years ago." Luke noted sourly.

Ned Dayne nodded. "And the lone white shell on a green field."

"The Mystery Knight." Luke scowled. "It's all connected then."

"It seems that way, Your Grace." Ned nodded.

Almost in an instant the wine seemed to melt away from Luke's system, as the King rose to his feet and gripped the edge of his desk tightly as if he was trying to squeeze the life out of it. "So the handful of Stormlander traitors have made common cause with Myr and Tyrosh and seek to destroy everything I have built once more." He surmised. "No, I say. My son shall be the last thing that this mystery cunt takes from me. I shall raze both cities and Estermont to nought but ashes by the time I am through with them. The Narrow Sea shall run red with blood."

His voice was chilling, but Ned knew better than to counter him. "I wanted to bring this before you before I acted, but I am ready to convene the war council on your orders."

Lucerys looked at him coldly, though the emotion Ned knew was directed elsewhere. "Do it." The King nodded. "And I shall be there too."

Ignoring the urge to grin at the King seemingly being back, Ned quickly bowed his head. "Your Grace." He accepted the command, before turning around and leaving, his mind focused on the hostilities they were preparing to face.

Black was one of the colours of Jocelyn Baratheon's House, but despite the expectancy and the will to show her love for her husband by extending her expected mourning period, she was sick of the sight of it. Even as she sat away from her children for the first time in a long time, black followed her wherever she went as her three Ladies were covered head to toe in the colour, sewing their stitches in silence. It maddened Jocelyn, who had wanted to try and feel normal for the first time since the accident.

The youngest of her ladies and perhaps the one she was the most-friendly with was the 18-year-old Alissa Cole. The daughter of former Golden Company sellsword Lord Will Cole, Lady Alissa had recently married the heir to Dyre Den, Ser Lucas Goldriver, and the pair resided in King's Landing as the knight had a posting in the ranks of the Gold Cloaks. The other two were a lot older than Jocelyn, with both being Grandmothers in their own rights. Lady Renei Celtigar was the unhappy wife of Lord Monford Velaryon, while her brother Lord Edwell's wife Lady Helena Bar Emmon was also sat with the Baratheon.

After what seemed like hours but was really only around ten minutes of silent stitching Jocelyn let out a frustrated growl and threw her needlework onto the table beside her. "This silence is maddening. I am not a delicate flower, My Ladies." She looked over at Renei. "You are the biggest gossip I know, Lady Velaryon, surely you have something to say."

Renei Celtigar's eyes widened in horror. "My Lady… it would hardly be appropriate."

"My husband is dead, My Ladies." Jocelyn stated bluntly, the words stinging. "We cannot change that. I have three daughters to take care of now, I will not break at the mere thought of who is fucking who when they shouldn't be."

Alissa Cole snorted, causing the elder ladies to look at her oddly. "I'm sorry." The younger girl apologised. "But that just reminded me… Lady Hayford is pregnant again."

And to Jocelyn's complete happiness, the gasps and groans that tended to follow such salacious news continued. "How many is that now?" Lady Helena asked.

"This will be 8." Jocelyn explained. "The triplets, the twins, and the other two, I forget their names."

"The wetnurse has certainly been busy." Lady Helena chuckled. "I remember their wedding. Scandalous."

That had occurred before Jocelyn had been born when Lady Hayford had been in her infancy, a poor move for House Lannister to gain influence elsewhere that was halted by King Lucerys who had claimed that all children would be of their Mother's dynasty. "I suppose House Hayford needed the added numbers." Renei added.

"What of your own marriage, Alissa?" Jocelyn asked. "How is Ser Lucas treating you?"

Alissa blushed a deep crimson that matched her house colours. "Well, My Lady." She stated.

"A fine man, that one." Renei giggled. "If I were 30 years younger…"

Jocelyn laughed at that. Lady Velaryon was often scorned by her husband for the brothels of the city and though she would remain faithful, she had a tendency to fantasise otherwise. Jocelyn picked up her stitching once again, the purple dragon of her husband's sitting proudly in the centre of the embroidery hoop.

"Have you heard from your sister, My Lady?" Alissa asked then, and Jocelyn peered over towards her young friend, who had a nervous look on her face.

"Shireen sent her condolences, and offered myself and the girls refuge at Storm's End if we need it." Jocelyn explained. "But we shan't, our place is here in the Red Keep now."

"Edwell heard about the argument that poor Aegon had with the King." Helena explained. "A sad affair."

Jocelyn clenched her jaw together. "The King will say what he feels is best for himself, but the girls are too young, as is young Asher."

"A betrothal is simply that though." Renei shrugged. "I've seen plenty fall apart in my years. Words are wind, as Monford likes to say."

It was a popular saying, and one Helena seemed to agree with. "I told Edwell that myself. But men will be men, and they will always look for ways to improve their standing."

Something clicked inside Jocelyn's mind at that statement and she looked over at the Lady of Claw Isle quizzically. "Have you and your husband been discussing betrothals for your grandchildren then, Lady Celtigar?" She asked.

Helena didn't react. "It was a topic of conversation My Lady, nothing more."

"Clement is 6 now, is he not?" Jocelyn needled further. House Celtigar were a vassal of Dragonstone and so it had been Jocelyn's job to know the family lines as Lady of Dragonstone. "And Arthur is 3?"

"2, My Lady." Helena shook her head. "But strong and healthy."

Jocelyn's smile was fake. "And my Alyssa is 7, how curious…"

She could see that the others had sensed the atmosphere changing, and Helena Bar Emmon had started to squirm in her seat. "I do not know what you mean…"

"Yes you do." Jocelyn snapped, her façade breaking. "Are you hoping for a Prince Consort of House Celtigar? Alyssa is Aegon's heir after all, whomever marries her shall be a powerful Lord, in control of a powerful claim."

"I… we never…" Helena stammered.

"My husband is DEAD!" Jocelyn roared as she glared over at the Crownlander, her face red with fury. "And you are picking at his corpse hoping to rise in station? How dare you."

Helena was as pale as milk. "My Lady, you have it wrong…"

"OUT!" Jocelyn roared, shoving the chair roughly behind her as she rose to her feet and pointed to the door. "GET OUT!"

"Please, Lady Jocelyn…" Helena began.

"Your husband blackmailed his way onto the Small Council, Lady Helena." Alissa shrugged, going back to her needlework. "Surely that would have been enough."

"You dare…" Helena glared at the Cole girl. "You, the daughter of a sellsword."

"And a more loyal man to King Lucerys than your own husband has ever been." Alissa spat back.

"ENOUGH!" Jocelyn roared, raising her arms to launch her needlework at the elder Crownlander, causing the doors to swing open as one of Jocelyn's personal guards that had been stationed outside stepped through them into the room.

The Baratheon guard took one look at the scene and his hand moved to his sword. "Is everything alright My Lady?"

"Please escort Lady Helena to her chambers, Ser Gerold and see to it that an escort is provided to return her back to Claw Isle." Jocelyn spat venomously. "She is dismissed from my service." Helena looked to argue, but as Gerold moved closer she sighed defeatedly, grabbing her things and skulking out of the room. When the doors slammed shut Jocelyn let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding, but she turned towards Lady Renei at that moment. "And you?"

Renei shook her head. "What Edwell says and does has not been my issue since I moved to Driftmark, My Lady. We are siblings, but not close."

"And you and Lord Monford have not been discussing marriages?" Jocelyn narrowed her eyes.

The silver haired woman shook her head. "Only that of our Laena and young Prince Jaehaerys arranged before that dreadful tourney, and even then only as idle gossip My Lady, I swear it. Monterys has the right of finding matches for his own children, Monford simply agrees with them before they are finalised and negotiates for Monterys while in the Capital."

Jocelyn sighed, content for now with the answer. "Please forgive me for the outburst, ladies. I fear I may have rushed this return to a feeble sense of normality."

"The fault is not yours, My Lady." Alissa stated quickly.

The Baratheon smiled at her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "If you will excuse me, I must return to my daughters."

She did not wait for a response, and just exited the room to return to Aegon's chambers where she knew she wanted to just cry. Her mind however was too angry, and as she passed by attendants and members of the court on her way to her room, her mind was telling her that with every glance of pity, behind those eyes was a thought of using Jocelyn's eldest daughter as a way to get onto the Iron Throne, and Jocelyn did not like that one bit.

The Targaryen War Council was a bigger affair than the Small Council. Along with the regular meeting attendees, Luke noticed that Lords Tyrell, Stark and Lannister were all stood around the circular table that he presumed would have a map of the Narrow Sea atop it, though the most surprising face that Luke saw was that of Visenya. Taking his place beside his daughter and waving away his young squire and cupbearer Alan Tarly indicating that he did not want any wine, Luke began the proceedings. "My Lords, My Ladies, it has come to my attention that we may soon be at war." He was pleased at the determined silence and lack of arguments that followed that statement, and so he then turned to Lysono Maar. "Please Lysono, share the developments."

"Myr and Tyrosh have allied." Maar began. "Together with an as of yet unidentified Stormlander party, they have come to an agreement and have been working together to undermine House Targaryen and Westeros. Together, they plotted to severely injure or kill Prince Aegon while also fortifying the ruins of Greenstone on the island of Estermont."

"I saw Greenstone back in the Rebellion." Loras Tyrell began. "It's nought but a pile of rocks, you made sure of that yourself, Your Grace."

"An effort has been made to shape it into some kind of liveable structure." Visenya explained. "And a large campsite surrounds it. I would put their numbers at about 3,000."

Maar nodded. "And more join daily from the Free Cities."

"What do they want?" Monford Velaryon asked bemusedly. "House Estermont is gone, the island is the property of Lady Baratheon."

"Who has done next to nothing with it." Ned Dayne explained. "It was left alone, with only basic ship patrols around it to stop pirates from the Stepstones from settling. Now, the Free Cities seek to use it as a base."

Jon Stark took a look at the map. "Take Estermont and the Stepstones and our trade with most of Essos is diminished entirely. We would be cut off from all but the Northern Cities. Pentos, Braavos, Lorath."

"Lys would be left to defend the Stepstones on their own." Visenya added. "It looks to me like it's a long play. They lost the Disputed Lands decisively, if they isolate and cripple us so that we are preoccupied then they can move in on Lys without fear of retribution from Westeros."

"But what does this Stormlander have to do with it?" Edwell asked.

That was the question that was plaguing Luke. He looked down at the map and saw a number of figures already placed, with Estermont, Myr and Tyrosh depicting troops already. "Visenya, what banners did you see?" He asked his daughter.

"Rogers, Mertyns, Tudbury, Kellington Lonmouth, Trant, Musgood." She began to list off. "Some sellsword companies… and the Knight of Shells."

For the first time in the meeting Tyrion Lannister spoke up, voicing the reasoning that everybody had quickly come to realise at the list of Houses. "All Houses that rose up in rebellion against the Crown seven years ago." The dwarf explained.

"Is that what this is?" Loras asked incredulously. "A revival of a failed rebellion?"

The Grand Maester seemed to disagree. "There has to be more to it than that." Theobald surmised, more to himself as he stared at the map. "I believe the Princess is correct, but the Westeros side of this plan is personal."

"The Citadel will have records of every noble birth and death." Tyrion stated. "Write to them, have them comb through the records of all the Houses that rebelled last time. Main branch or no. This Knight of Shells must be a long since forgotten member of a rebel house that wants vengeance, there is no other explanation."

"It matters not." Luke said firmly. "Myr, Tyrosh, they will all quake in their boots once I fly to Estermont and burn the island to nought but a barren wasteland." The silence in the room surprised the King, and he looked around at all of the faces staring at him. It was Jon's shake of the head that caused him to speak further. "You disapprove?"

Jon nodded. "All the evidence we have has shown us that this is a plot against you. They know you have a dragon, they will be expecting it, they will have planned for it."

"We cannot be rash here, Your Grace." Ned Dayne agreed with the Northerner. "We aren't going to do nothing, but if you fall…"

"I have cowed dozens of Lords with but a flap of Valaxes' wings." Luke stated bluntly. "3,000 men is nothing."

"It took three dragons to kill 5,000 men on the Field of Fire in weather conditions that were largely considered perfect for them to burn the combined Reach and Western armies." Tyrion countered. "All three of which were either as big or bigger than our dear Valaxes."

"All it takes is one lucky shot." Rolly seemed to agree, and Luke knew that he had been outvoted. "We have the numbers and they are fortifying an island. Strike now with a combined assault on Estermont and we can overrun them."

Lord Monford cleared his throat. "I shall assemble the Royal Fleet." He explained. "We will blockade the island and cut off their supplies and reinforcements immediately."

"I want missives sent out to all Houses that we know are involved." Ned Dayne explained to the Grand Maester. "Demand answers under threat of the stain of treason. If they are involved, they will go the same way as the Estermont's."

"They will deny any knowledge." Monford Velaryon rolled his eyes.

"And we shall expect them to aid us when we gather our forces." Jon added. "If they refuse the summons…"

Luke was insistent on what he would say next. "Then as Ned said, they shall follow the Darklyn's, the Estermont's, the Brune's and the Hardy's in their extinction." He muttered darkly. "Inform them of that and explain that they were my words, Theobald. If they conspired to killed my son, then I would see them all burn."

It had been seven years since Lucerys Targaryen had needed to wear his armour, and as he neared 50 years old, his body was changing more rapidly than he had realised when it had come to trying the black steel on again. Despite his age however, the King was determined that he would lead the lines in the coming battles, and so he came to be stood atop a stool in Queen Margaery's rooms while his personal blacksmith was assaulting him with measures and padding. He noticed his wife in the corner looking on at him in a way that showed both amusement and worry.

"This takes me back." Margaery stated with a bit of a cheeky glint in her eyes as she noticed him looking over at her. "I remember your fittings before you marched North just after our wedding… you were so handsome then."

Luke simply raised an eyebrow in his wife's direction. "Were?"

"You are not a young man any longer, husband." Margaery chuckled. "Age is managing to catch up to even you."

Enjoying the now unfamiliar sound of the Queen's laughter, Luke simply rolled his eyes and returned to the smith, who looked like he was finishing up. "Are we done?" Luke asked.

"Almost, Your Grace." The man nodded. "Are there any additional embellishments you would like?"

It was Margaery that answered. "The ruby sigil from His Grace's old chest plate will be required."

Luke, however, wanted an additional change to his now famous armour set. "And a painted purple shoulder plate, if possible."

The Blacksmith nodded. "The paint will come at an extra cost, Your Grace, but we can do that."

Luke nodded his own head in thanks, before he looked at his wife who had a tear brimming in her eye. "He will be avenged." He promised her. The smith and his attendants left the room, leaving only the King and Queen. Luke stepped down off the stool and made his way over towards her. "They will pay." He added.

"Does it have to be you?" She whispered. "I've lost a son, Lucerys, I do not wish to lose a husband too. They will target you."

"They always target me." The Targaryen shrugged. "That comes with riding the largest dragon in the world." The look on Margaery's face showed that she didn't find that amusing, and Luke took her hands in his own. "I swear, I will return to you and our family, and our children will return too."

Margaery looked alarmed at that. "Who is going?" She asked hurriedly.

"Daeron will as part of the Kingsguard." Luke explained. "And Visenya will ride Bloodwing." He was surprised to see Margaery let out a breath of relief, until the reasoning clicked. "Ah, Jaehaerys."

"He's too young, Luke. And we both know he will want to go." Margaery said softly. "He blames himself enough as it is…"

Luke was adamant however. "Jaehaerys will stay here in the Red Keep, I swear it."

Margaery smiled softly at that, reaching up on her toes to kiss Luke's lips gently. It was something that they hadn't done in weeks since the accident and something inside Luke was stirring as he went to deepen the kiss, but as soon as he did, a voice sounded from behind the door. "Lady Jocelyn to see you, Your Grace."

Groaning, Luke released his hold of his wife and stepped away. "Enter." He called out.

The door opened to reveal the Baratheon girl, her hair tied up modestly and her dress entirely black as was expected of her. "Your Grace. Your Grace." She curtseyed twice towards both the King and Queen.

"Jocelyn." Margaery was always the one to treat the girl like family, and she did so again by moving towards her and hugging her. "Are you well? Are the girls…"

"They are well." Jocelyn stopped the Grandmotherly fretting early. "As well as they can be."

Luke moved around to pick up his doublet, putting it on as the women got the small talk about Aegon's daughters out of the way. Once he returned to the conversation he could see that the girl's Baratheon blue eyes were looking over at him. "What is it?" He asked curtly.

"Lucerys." Margaery said warningly, but Luke ignored her.

Jocelyn took a breath and stared back at him defiantly. "You have never liked me, Your Grace, and I suppose in a way I can understand why. My family and yours have done heinous things to one another after all, but I loved your son with all of my heart, the type of love you rarely see in our position…"

"And thousands have died for it." Luke stated bluntly. "My son died because of it. Perhaps more will in the coming weeks. I am not interested in rehashing your feelings, so tell me what it is you want, Lady Jocelyn?"

Jocelyn didn't react to the harsh words. "Alyssa." She stated equally as bluntly. "Already I am receiving hints about betrothal propositions for her from all corners of the Red Keep and beyond. I share your pain in Aegon's passing, Your Grace, and I do not wish to be here so soon asking this as I know what you will think, but I must know where Alyssa stands. She is Aegon's firstborn and heir after all."

Luke's face contorted angrily. "He has been dead less than a week and here you are, asking about succession plans."

Jocelyn simply laughed bitterly. "I knew you would think that…"

"Alyssa is a girl." Luke stated bluntly, interrupting the Baratheon. "Had you have done your duty and birthed my son a Targaryen boy, then perhaps this discussion would be different. But all three are girls, and girls cannot inherit the Iron Throne while a male claimant lives."

"Aegon wanted…"

"AEGON IS DEAD!" Luke roared towards her, his face reddening. "If he were King he could do as he liked with his own succession. But he is not, he was murdered because he fell for whatever charms you forced upon him." He closed his eyes and turned his back to the Baratheon. "Get out. We shall speak no more of this."

He took a step to the balcony and stared out towards his city, vaguely hearing the final drabs of conversation between his wife and that woman. Closing his eyes and trying to calm himself, he began to breathe deeply, though once the door shut behind the retreating Baratheon his wife's voice sounded. "That was ill done."

"She has some nerve." He seethed.

"Jocelyn is grieving, as you and I are." Margaery countered. "The love of her life was cruelly killed, a feeling I know you are all too aware of."

It was a low blow that knocked Luke aback. Daenerys was very rarely even hinted at between the couple with both of them having agreed to put it behind them and focus more on a peaceful realm and a close family unit instead. "It is different." He stated through gritted teeth.

"It's not, and you know it." Margaery stated. "You are still just too blinded by hatred of a man that has been dead for 26 years to see that." He felt her hands snake around his torso as she hugged him from behind. "She was not asking out of ambition, Luke. Even I am hearing the plotters look to integrate themselves with Alyssa, hoping that the times have changed and you shall be followed by a Queen."

It was too soon, he thought to himself. "Aegon should be my heir." He muttered. "It was always for him."

"Aegon is gone." Margaery whispered, equally as emotionally. "But the Realm remains. It is hard, I know, but the people look to you for their strength and right now we look broken."

"We are." Luke muttered, but he turned around and looked into Margaery's deep brown eyes. "But you are right. I need to proclaim an heir. I will not do as the first Viserys did." Margaery nodded at that, repeating the gesture from earlier and placing a gentle kiss upon his lips. "It can wait until the morning." Luke breathed against her, as the royal couple made their way over to the bed, both eager to forget their grief within passion for as long as they could.

Luke is grieving, and his bitterness at House Baratheon is quick to rear its ugly head again because of his emotional state. It's harsh on Jocelyn and deep down he knows it, but he's more focused now on gaining justice for his son.

I enjoyed the War Council scene, gatherings of all of the major Lords and others is always really interesting to me. It's a different mix to the Small Council too with Tyrion, Jon and Loras' inputs adding something else to the table.

Another scene I enjoyed was the Ladies scene. I wanted to give a bit of an insight into the familial relationships between some of the major Crownlander families while showing that everyone has come to a simple truth… Alyssa Baratheon is now a major player in the Game of Thrones despite her age as the eldest child of Aegon. It's that realisation that gave Jocelyn the decision to go to Luke.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought, your comments really do help me out a lot.

Next Time: The identity of the Knight of Shells is believed to be discovered. King Lucerys announces his new heir.

Reviews:

C.E.W: Yes Saella attended! A rare appearance from her, she isn't in the story too much in person.

Hail King Cerion: It wasn't impossible for somebody to survive that procedure but very unlikely until Victorian times. Aegon's loss will hit everybody hard going forwards, Luke definitely included.

DonquixoteMel: When I knew that Aegon would end up marrying Jocelyn as the last story was ongoing I felt it too juicy a comparison to pass up on!

Guest (brewing conflict): The baby will have very little impact on this story as they won't be born by the time it ends.