Originally this was supposed to be the penultimate chapter… but I had a look through the bloated finale and realised that I needed to split it, so surprise I guess! There's this one and then 2 more coming as and when I write them. It seems I just can't quite give up Lucerys and his dysfunctional family quite as easily as I thought.
I've borrowed a line from Fire and Blood by George R R Martin, which is an in world book so to me it makes sense to include it here. I still own nothing however, and any character, location or reference to either A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones is simply because I love them and want to play around with the tools they gave us.
Even in summer the Stormlands were aptly named. The rain was lashing down and the lightning over Shipbreaker Bay was the only source of light given the dark, thunderous clouds that hung ominously overhead as Lucerys led the column up towards the imposing silhouette of Storm's End in the distance. The sight gave Luke a familiar angry feeling whenever anything Baratheon came to mind, though as he looked up at the castle he also thought back on the Rosby bastard's charred flesh.
His memories would have to wait though he thought, as with a bright flash of lightning their welcoming party could be seen. A strong host of men, some 500 of them, all stood in formation in front of the castle gates, with more lines of archers dressed in yellow leathers above them on the walls of Storm's End, all with arrows trained on him.
"What is she doing." Ned Dayne whispered harshly. "Surely she hasn't sided with Estermont?"
Luke shook his head, his loose hair dripping rainwater away as he did so, watching as the initial envoy party of five riders came galloping towards them, three of them bearing banners. "No, but that doesn't mean she has sided with us."
The banners only came into sight when the envoys were a dozen yards ahead and slowing down. The first banner was the obvious, the crowned stag of House Baratheon. Next to it was the stalks of wheat of House Selmy, and finally the ship and onion of House Seaworth "In the name of Lady Shireen of House Baratheon, Lady of Storm's End and Lady Paramount of the Stormlands, state your business here." The man in the middle called out over the rain.
It took a moment, but the familiarity in the man's face to a very old friend of his finally came to the Targaryen. "You know who I am, Ser Bartimos." He told Ser Barristan's great grandnephew.
"This is your King, Lucerys Targaryen." Ned called out. "Here to speak with his vassal, the Lady Shireen Baratheon."
The two Stormlander envoys leant in and spoke to one another, leaving Lucerys waiting impatiently in the rain for longer than he had hoped, when finally, the Selmy heir nodded his head and called out. "Three men may join you, Your Grace. The Lady Shireen has decreed no more given the threats we face in our lands!"
"She mocks you." Rolly leant closer to state in Luke's ear. "You are her King."
Luke nodded. "We play this charade for now, Rolly." He muttered, fully intending on letting the Baratheon know his displeasure. "You, Taron and Jorah will join me."
"Not Daeron, Your Grace?" Rolly asked.
"No, Shireen Baratheon will not have any of my kin under her roof." The Targaryen snarled. Rolly bowed his head before he gave out the commands, and Luke was the first to kick his horse into movement, following the Stormlanders through the heavy gates and thick walls of Storm's End which had been lined with dozens upon dozens of scorpions, and they continued through the courtyards to where the big, drum tower stood defiantly in the storms.
Half a dozen stable boys were on hand for the horses when the party reached the entrance to the large tower, and Luke handed the reigns over before standing tall, not wanting to show anything other than strength as he entered the home of his greatest foes. Ser Bartimos Selmy, and the now clear Lord Stannis Seaworth, the grandson of the recently departed Onion Knight, led them through the castle and up, rising a great many stairs until veering into a corridor, where at the end of it lay a room that Luke presumed was the Baratheon solar.
"Your weapons." Lord Seaworth stated.
"The King will keep his arms." Ser Rolly said firmly. "You forget yourself, My Lord."
Luke raised an eyebrow amusedly at the younger man, when a female voice called from inside the room. "Stannis, let His Grace through."
"As you say, My Lady." Lord Seaworth called back through the door, moving to open it to allow Luke and Rolly through while the other two White Cloaks stayed outside the door with the Stormlanders.
The inside of Shireen Baratheon's solar made it quite obvious what house she belonged to. Baratheon banners draped from all walls, while standards showing the crowned stag stood in all corners as well as either side of her desk. Paintings were hung up beside the banners, the most prominent of which was a family portrait depicting Shireen as a child stood in front of her parents, her head turned precisely so that the full effect of the Greyscale that had plagued her as a child was on show. Behind Shireen, the cold blue eyes of Stannis Baratheon shot down at Luke, the sort of eyes that he knew would follow him around the room no matter where he went. Beside Stannis was Selyse Florent, one of the first Westerosi judged to be executed under Luke's reign. It was a reminder, Luke knew, of what the King had stolen from the Lady of Storm's End, and he wished he had a picture of little Aegon and Rhaenys in retaliation to show the barbarity of her own house.
"Your Grace." Shireen Baratheon brought his attention back to her. She was stood at the side of the desk, now a woman grown at 36, her hair tied back so that like the painting, her scars were clear and on show. She wore a black gown with antler detailing all in gold. His own colours, he also noted. "Welcome to Storm's End." It was said in an obviously unfriendly tone, but the woman still knelt down gracefully onto one knee, her head staring down at the floor so her face was covered by her black hair.
"Thank you, Lady Baratheon." Luke replied formally. "Rise, please."
Shireen did as she was asked, and immediately moved for the table to pick up a small plate of bread and a bowl of salt, handing it over to the surprised King. He took the bread and dipped it in the salt, taking a bite that signified that no harm would be done to either party. "Please, a seat." Shireen gestured to a chair in front of her desk, as she rounded it to sit in her own seat. Luke followed suit, noting that the chair was uncomfortable and creaking.
"You have quite the force assembled My Lady." Luke feigned being impressed.
Shireen looked at him blankly. "We have 3,000 men assembled a couple of hours ride on the way towards Griffin's Roost." She stated bluntly. "That was merely the guard of Storm's End."
"You need 500 men outside the walls to guard Storm's End?" Ser Rolly asked from behind him, and Luke knew that the Lord Commander was also getting frustrated.
"One never knows where enemies lie, these days." Shireen bit back venomously. "People die at dinners, people die on the privy, people die playing games…"
Luke clenched his hands as he gripped the seat arms, the seat creaking loudly at his movement. "Your point is noted, your personal safety is of the utmost importance." The King said through semi clenched teeth. "Are those 3,000 men joining us in eradicating your lands of traitors, My Lady?"
Shireen leant back in her chair, her piercing blue eyes unblinking at him. "It seems you are plagued with traitors, My King. My mother was amongst the first to feel your justice, if you recall."
"I recall it all." Luke bit back. "Let us not play these games, My Lady. I am here to accept the levies raised by Storm's End and to gain any further intelligence into the rebels that you have let fester on your lands. Once that is done, I can depart."
The Lady of Storm's End tensed up at his words, her eyes narrowing. "All I know is that a year ago ships were sighted nearing Estermont for the first time since the war. I sent out scouts who returned with no news." She collected some papers and roughly placed them in front of Luke. "Then my son Davos returned from your tourney saying that the Prince was dead, and the next thing I know you are summoning my banners and claiming that the old Estermont alliance has returned and is responsible." She leant forwards, her elbows on the desk. "I do not like you, Your Grace, you killed my Mother and married me to an old man when I was but a child, forcing him on me. My Father died as a result of your conquest, and when I finally find some peace with a man I can love… he is taken away from me too because of another of your wars." She glared at him coldly. "But despite my many losses and your more recent insults to my House and my kin… my men are yours, because I am Stannis Baratheon's daughter and I shall do my duty and aid in avenging Ser Lyonel Selmy, my dearly missed husband."
Luke nodded his head. "Thank you, My Lady." He said, before rising to his feet. "I shall not impose on you any longer, we shall join your men and rid these lands of traitors once and for all."
Shireen also rose to her feet. "Lord Robert Dondarrion is in command, my son's goodfather. Davos will also be joining you in my stead, to avenge his father."
Nodding once again, Luke bowed his head politely. "Until the next time, My Lady."
"One more thing." Shireen stated just as Luke was about to turn away. "If my son does not return, then Storm's End shall no longer remain a vassal of the Iron Throne. Bring him back alive, Lucerys Targaryen, or by all the Gods I swear it that I will see you suffer."
Rolly stepped forwards, his hand on his sword ready to unsheathe it, but Luke held up a hand to stop her. "You can make your threats, My Lady." He said calmly. "You may even already be pushing your sister's schemes against myself and my son I know not, but they matter little to me. I spared your House and allowed it to regrow out of kindness after the death of your first husband, if you think to test me, I can quite easily change my mind." Shireen stood there stone faced at the threat, not even acknowledging Luke as he turned away and stormed out of the room, his footsteps sounding louder than the thunder outside of the castle walls. He noticed Rolly was quick behind him, as were Ser Taron and Ser Jorah. "That woman." Luke growled as he descended the stairs. "I should come back with Valaxes and destroy her."
"They are prepared for that, Your Grace." Ser Rolly noted, and Luke could only agree as he remembered the weaponry on the walls.
"We leave at once; I will not linger in this gods forsaken place any longer." The King stated angrily, trying to regain feeling in his arse after feeling numb from the chair as he moved. "But I will not ride ahorse, these Stormlanders grow bold and angry out of sight, they will remember the might of House Targaryen before I am through."
The last time that Luke had flown over Cape Wrath he had never imagined that he would need to do so again. Last time he had accepted the surrenders of the mainland Houses that had joined in House Estermont's rebellion, citing the words of his ancestor the Conqueror in bringing them back up to their knees. Second chances however, was not something that he was going to be offering them. Visits had been made to each previous offending House's castle as the loyalist army made their way down through Cape Wrath. House Tudbury had rejected all knowledge and added 400 men to the King's cause, House Lonmouth added 300 whilst House Wagstaff provided valuable information on the so-called Knight of Shells and his overall plan, including the House in the Stormlands that had provided him with the most help.
And that was why he found himself stood outside of Mistwood, the still burning keep of House Mertyns that sat deep in the Rainwood. Lord Donnel Mertyns had lost his only son, a brother and a cousin to Luke's hands in the last rebellion and the chance at revenge for those losses had seemingly been too strong to refuse. Now the Lord of Mistwood was nought but a bloodied mess, strung up atop the walls of the smoking castle alongside another cousin, Roger Mertyns, with Valaxes staring hungrily at them from behind Lucerys.
It was the heir to Storm's End that was reading out the two Mertyns' last rites as the future Lord Paramount. "In the name of Lucerys of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, I, Davos of the House Baratheon, heir to Storm's End, do sentence you both to die for the crime of treason."
"Please!" Roger Mertyns cried out. "I had nothing to do with this! It's Donnel! He was the one that married Bella to the Knight of Shells! He conspired against you My King, not I!"
Not moving any more than the muscles around his eyes, Luke merely glared up at the pair with deep loathing. Deep down he knew there was room here for mercy, to allow the long lineage of House Mertyns to continue, but the sacking of the castle had confirmed all that House Mertyns had done. Donnel's niece had been married to Ser Patrek, whilst money and men had been smuggled over to Estermont from Mistwood. It had also come to light that another male of House Mertyns, Roger's brother Gregor, had aided the Knight of Shells inside King's Landing both before and after the death of Aegon, helping the murderer to escape justice.
The thought of his son turned that glare into a scowl, and there was only one word that Luke could say. "Dracarys."
Valaxes shook its head sluggishly before focusing on the two men dangling from the castle walls. Leaning over the heads of Luke and those around him, Valaxes opened its mouth and roared, fire bursting out and slamming forcefully into the two men and the wall behind them, caving it in.
Luke let the flames spew out for a few moments more as other parts of the castle got bathed in fire through the breach in the wall before he simply held his left hand up, and Valaxes, knowingly, stopped, shaking its head again before settling down once more. "Tear it down." Luke ordered the men behind him. "By the time we are finished here, House Mertyns shall be but a distant memory."
"Is that wise?" Ned Dayne muttered beneath his breath so that only Luke could hear. "This is a valuable area in the Rainwood."
He looked around and saw Stannis Seaworth, the man who would be benefitting from one fewer House in the forest. "Then let the new Lord of these lands build a new castle, one without the stain of treason in its walls." He muttered, before he walked away breathing in the stench of charred bones and smoke.
His legs took him deeper into the forests, with the King not even knowing why it all felt familiar until after minutes of walking he passed a large grouping of blackened tree stumps, before it opened out into more of a clearing. The ground was bumpy, with grassy ridges and rises dotted everywhere on land that was once flat, yet more destruction caused by the Estermont Rebellion.
The Battle of Mistwood had been the first major engagement that Luke himself had been involved in during the last war. There had been other battles of course, most notably the Battle of the Crag, where the hastily gathered Stormlands loyalists had clashed with the rebels on the shores beneath Griffin's Roost and Lyonel Selmy had fallen, causing the Baratheon forces to retreat. Mistwood had been the bloodiest on the mainland though, as the Crownlands and Stormlands had caught the Estermont contingent from the North while Ned Dayne and the Dornish had trapped them in from the South. Aegon himself had been in the front lines of the battle, killing Robert Estermont himself while Luke had been above, burning the forest in a hope to stop any escape. It hadn't worked exactly as planned, but it was a major victory for the loyalist forces.
Luke could see it all play out once more in front of him, the bodies falling in mounds, the sight of Aegon's purple plumed helm had truly stood out even from the height the King had been at…
"That is the plan, Father." Aegon had said when Luke voiced his disagreements, still a boy of 16 but one that already had within him the courage of three men. "Let them come for me and you can pick them off far easier."
And come for him they did, Luke thought bitterly, through cowardly means and treachery. Aegon was dead, his body burned to ashes and scattered while only grief and anger remained.
"Brooding will do you no good." A gruff, northern voice sounded behind him. Luke turned around to see that two men had followed him from the flames of Mistwood, Ser Rolly was his ever faithful shadow and friend, while Jon Stark was also there, and the one speaking. "And I speak from experience."
"Jon." Luke greeted. "I apologise, I just… needed to get out of there."
"I almost sent out a search party." Ser Rolly stated.
"How did you find me?" Luke asked. Jon simply pointed his index finger towards the sky, where Luke watched and saw that Valaxes had now taken to the air alongside Rhaegal, the two biggest dragons in the world flying around together as they had done as hatchlings. "Traitor." Luke jokingly growled towards the air.
"I know what it is like, Luke, to lose those you love and want nothing but revenge." Jon stated. "I felt it when my Father… Lord Stark… lost his head at the hands of the Lannisters. I felt it again during the Great War. It is deep now and overwhelming, but in time…"
"In time it will dissipate." Luke rolled his eyes. "I have lost too, Jon. My parents, my brother, my sister." He clenched his fist. "My son…"
"And we shall have justice. Patrek Estermont will die."
"And what of after?" Luke asked quickly. "Last time I stood on this field we were nearing the end of that war and I decreed it would be the last. Yet here we are once more, mourning and killing and I think of what could happen to Visenya if she is out there with me… to Daeron…" He sighed. "And then there's the future… in two decades there will likely be more war once the babe in that woman's belly comes out a boy, or perhaps sooner if it's a girl and Alyssa comes of age deciding to fight her Mother's wars for her…"
Ser Rolly frowned. "It will not come to that, Luke." He insisted.
The King just chuckled bitterly. "It always comes to that, old friend. My legacy will be this, a plague of angry Stormlanders vying for my head and the heads of my kin. First it was the Usurper, then Stannis Baratheon, now his eldest daughter and her vassals and next his youngest and my own grandchildren will grow up hearing the bitter words that her tongue will wag."
"The future is never written, Lucerys." Jon said calmly. "I see Shireen's son and I do not see that bitterness in him. I see the same mirth and love for life that I heard stories about as a child growing up, listening to Lord Stark speak about his friend. I see my son, enjoying his company despite being having some Targaryen blood within him and knowing the histories." The Lord of Winterfell placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "We must strive for better, always. Our children feed off our own anger, but we teach them otherwise, lest it fester into another generation."
It was something that he had struggled with as a parent, though the calming influence of Margaery, with experience of the more positive side of the Stormlands House, had seemed to allow his own children to grow up without the same resentment and anger that Luke still felt deep within him to that day. "I feel old, Jon." Luke said with a sigh. "Once I let go of this anger I have within me, I seem to have aged years since Aegon was killed. All my energy, gone."
"We are old." Rolly was the one to shrug.
"Aye." Jon nodded. "But we can still grow and let go of our past grievances. Once this is all over and we return to our homes, I sense a change in the air."
Luke wondered if it were possible, the impact of Robert's Rebellion was ingrained in who he was as a person and had driven him for so long to do some terrible things, but also what he felt was a lot of good, too. "If I think about the future, I'll lose sight of the here and now." He said, mainly to himself. "Jocelyn Baratheon can wait; my legacy can wait. Until I have given the Queen Patrek Estermont's head, this war is all that matters."
He looked up to the sky once more to Valaxes who knowingly let out a bone chilling roar of warning to all of the King's enemies as a reminder of what would meet them. His House words. Fire and Blood.
That Lady Larissa's presence drew Rhaena Targaryen to Estermont cannot be doubted, for the island was elsewise lacking in charm, being damp, windswept and poor.
The words from Archmaester Gyldayn's Fire and Blood: A History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros rang true in Visenya's mind as her uncle's ship lay at anchor nearby the island of Estermont. The rain lashing down proved the dampness, the wind buffeting her cold and wet hair around proving the windswept, and the poor… well, her Father had made that a finality seven years prior. All those that were currently on the island were traitors to King Lucerys' reign and the thought of her brother's murderer being allowed a second longer to draw breath brought the seemingly hereditary rage up inside her.
She could see the castle itself in the distance, the trees that would have once covered it from view having long since been cut down or burned. Its walls were blackened and crumbled, with the remnant of what could have been a tall tower now crooked and open to the elements without a roof. It would be easy to fly over them with Bloodwing and rain fire, she thought.
But there were signs of the Knight of Shells not just being a clever tourney knight. Though small despite her far-eye, atop the highest inhabitable parts of the ruins and in the mountainous outposts she saw movement of machines, scorpions at a guess. The last time she had flown around the island they had been unprepared, but it seems like that had changed.
"They are prepared." Her Uncle Lotho affirmed for her. "They expect dragons."
"They will get dragons." Visenya stated bluntly. "Would that I could ride out now and blast them all to ash."
Lotho tutted. "In time, child." Her Uncle said gently. "All things will come in time."
"If only I was here last time." She muttered in the common tongue. The topic of seven years earlier had been a common one ever since Lysono Maar had revealed the identity of Aegon's murderer. While her father and elder brothers had been fighting, Visenya had been halfway across the world stuck waiting weeks for an Ibbenese host to allow her to further explore Ib. What had initially been an incredible experience and what she escaped her wedding to do had ended up feeling like a waste of time.
"I thank Bakkalon that he did not take you during that time, as I will thank him should you survive this." Lotho stated, raising an arm to sweep her sopping wet hair away from her mauve coloured eyes. "I still wish you would return to Lys…"
"I will not run while my brother's killer is out there!" Visenya exclaimed, pointing over towards the ruined castle. "My Father…"
"Too many of us have died because of your Father, child, I will not lose you to him like I lost your Mother." Lotho interrupted, the usual bitterness whenever the topic of Lucerys Targaryen appeared.
Visenya shrugged him off. "Father loved Mother." She bit back. "They were happy together."
"He stole her." Lotho bit back in common. "He stole her, he raped her. Valarra did what she needed to do to survive, I refuse to believe…"
"Believe." Visenya snapped. "I have seen their letters, I have all of her writings, uncle, as I have told you a thousand times."
"He loved her, so you say, and she died." Lotho countered. "He loved his sister, it is known, and she died also. He loved his son…" Visenya began to growl, stopping him before he went too far. "I worry for you, Niece. I have lost many in my family and you are my last piece of my beloved sister, I would not want to lose you too. Your Father is a poison and this is the product." Now it was his turn to point out at the island. "All men that know they will die if they face him, but men that are willing to do so anyway in defiance."
Visenya scowled. "You sound like you would join them given a chance."
Lotho scoffed. "Do not take me for a fool. I am allied to Westeros through you, but our alliance has been good for Lys. I would not risk that by ignoring this plot. The Disputed Lands are disputed no longer and safe under Lys' rule. That will continue."
"Because I won them." Visenya scoffed. "Through Bloodwing you won that war, Uncle, do not forget that."
Nodding, Lotho leant on the railing of the ship. "It is true, and the one thing I thank that man for is his blood, for it has made you formidable." He then turned to her. "But I would prefer you alive, Visenya. Always alive above everything, and this will not be a battle like any other you have faced. These men, they are prepared for Dragons. Dothraki were not, Myr and Tyrosh were not."
"I am alive, and I am a Targaryen." Visenya said firmly, turning away to return to her cabin. "It is my duty to fight for my brother, and I will do so even if that means putting myself in danger."
She could feel the sad gaze pierce through her back as she walked away, but the anger in her heart wouldn't allow her to turn back. Though Visenya had never truly been a perfect Princess, one thing she had always had was loyalty to her family. As she slammed the door she leant back against it, reaching deep into her shirt to pull out a small, golden locket that had been given to her as a young girl. Valarra Rogare may have been her Mother and she held great fondness for how Margaery had been given everything, but she had been raised by Daenerys Targaryen more than anybody else, and it was her example that Visenya had always aimed to meet.
"I will make you proud." She whispered into the locket to the small carved D in the left side signifying her aunt. "You were never afraid despite knowing you could be flying to your death, and neither shall I be." She kissed the engraved D, while also pressing a kiss to the V on the right side for her Mother. "If I see you soon, do not think badly of me." She whispered to her Mother too, before placing the locket back underneath her shirt, keeping them close to her heart.
The distant Velaryon ships were mere specs in the eyes of Lucerys Targaryen as he looked eastwards off the coast of Cape Wrath. Somewhere in the distance sat the isles of Estermont, and once more he was going to set them ablaze. The aging man in him was grateful that the war hadn't been as bloody as before. Whereas once he would have relished the feel of battle take over him, the thrill of ending his enemy's life and Blackfyre dripping red with blood, now he simply wanted it over, for House Estermont never to rear its ugly head again and the turtle banner to simply be lost to history.
Closer to the banks of the mainland his army were being ferried across to the ships of House Redwyne. Some 7,000 Crownlanders and 3,000 Stormlanders were boarding the warships of the Reach House, a formidable army intended for total destruction. It was a lengthy wait, but as the sun began to lower in the sky the last of the ships had started to move towards the island, giving Luke the signal he needed to summon Valaxes down towards him, with the large black dragon slamming into the cliffside and lowering its neck for Luke to mount.
"Sōves." Luke called out once he had strapped himself into the saddle, and the familiar feeling of being launched into the air returned once more. Luke turned around to see that Rhaegal had also joined him, the now Northern dragon following Luke's lead as they flew away to battle.
The island came into sight as dusk neared, the winds howling around almost threatened to rock the bulky creature beneath Luke's legs, but the determination in the Targaryen was filtering through to his dragon, and Valaxes let out a loud roar, louder than any thunder that Luke had heard since being in the Stormlands.
He could see the tent village dotted around the blackened husk of a castle. He could see that a cover had been pulled across the remains of the main tower that Valaxes had destroyed with his flames, and a wooden sept had been erected on the exact position that Aegon had knighted and then killed Ser Alaric.
He was lurched to the left by Valaxes as a scorpion bolt whistled through the air, an action that focused Luke completely into the present. On one side of him was Jon Stark on Rhaegal, while also in the air on the other side of the island he could see the red scales glistening in the sunset light of Bloodwing and Visenya. Setting his face determinedly, Luke gripped onto the saddle in preparation and muttered Valaxes' favourite word of all.
"Dracarys."
I really liked this chapter. There's a lot of reflecting given the nature of 'the calm before the storm' and I loved delving deeper into a grieving Luke's mind as well as Visenya's given her upbringing, though my personal favourite part was the tense meeting with Shireen. Remember Luke was the one to force her at such a young age to marry Jon Connington and has brought her family nothing but misery, and she will have been in contact with Jocelyn too… a truly fun one to write. There are a number of unsubtle and subtle insults littered in that interaction.
Then I wanted to get the two sides of Luke at almost 50 years of age. He still has that ruthlessness, but it's littered with a tiredness that has come with age and a never ending cycle of death that keeps hitting him.
And Visenya is also torn between two places, that of her paternal family and that of her maternal, who detest Luke and want nothing more than to keep her in Lys with them instead of fighting Luke's battles. Lotho isn't totally wrong about the people Luke loves dying…
Thank you everybody for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Next time: The Battle of Greenstone.
Reviews:
Hail King Cerion: It's not really under the control of the Crown, but it's the Free City that the Iron Throne is most closely allied to because of Visenya.
The Advocate7: I think my plan is to change it up and start my Harry Potter story as per the poll, but almost half of that is already written (27/60 chapters) so I can see a world where I upload 2 stories at once when I'm finished with the writing of that one. Whether that's the Tyrell or Arryn story I'm not sure yet, it depends how I feel at the time. Even then, the Tyrell story is a lot shorter than my usual efforts.
DonquixoteMel: Jon knows the truth, he's one of the few people that does so he understands Daeron completely, but this is the first time he's ever come down to King's Landing and if I'm remembering right the first time he's even come further South than the Neck, so they haven't really had much interaction.