It was a day that was long awaited. Seventeen years before the proclamation had been made. By expectation, his children should've wed as soon as Rhaenys had flowered, but his wife was adamant they wait until after the fostering had occurred with them all. Something he was glad for now, as it allowed extra years to plan everything out. Invites had been sent far and wide. Dorne, the North, the Summer Islands, even as far as Yi-Ti but to his knowledge no one from there had arrived. It wasn't something to be insulted over because never had the Freehold been allies with Yi-Ti. If what was written in their texts from hundreds of years before were true, the Mellarys' were banished for refusing to invade there.

One of the servants were helping attach various metal ornaments to his clothing. It being expected that whenever there was a mass gathering of all families such as this, each family member must wear a piece of everything the other was known for. Other than Velaryon, Tarennis, Dallaeron, and Mellarys that is. His long hair had been partially braided back with some strands woven through black onyx beads much like the bells the Dothraki wore in their own braids. The top portion of his clothing coloured blood red as per House Targaryen's colour with numerous black and red stones sewn into the silk that were so small they could barely be seen in amongst the detailing. Coming up to his neck which was rather uncomfortable but he wasn't going to say anything about it as rarely did he need to dress as such.

Alas, as Lord Freeholder of Dragonstone and father to the two who would be bound as one in only a matter of hours, he had to look the part.

Instead of standard chains, the ones he wore were made of solid gold. They had once belonged to his grandmother Lady Freeholder Shaera who had then passed them to his mother and on her deathbed had asked him to wear them. Rhaegar had been surprised by such a thing, wholly expecting for her to pass the heirloom to Daenerys or Rhaenys as the next females in the family. A pin nicked his skin as the fabric was going through some last minute adjustments as the heavy chains were placed looping around his neck, drooping over his shoulders, and linking to his sternum on buckles that were so delicately carved it was mind-boggling that such a craft was even possible. It especially meant a lot to him that it had been Viserys who had gifted them to him. Having taken up the hobby of metal carving after the death of their mother and father.

After what felt like an age, a cape was attached to his neck made of the finest velvet available and lined with delicate lace that had been designed to look like roaring dragons. The last thing handed to him was a single dagger, one passed from Lord Freeholder to Lord Freeholder going back more than seven hundred years. Made of Valyrian steel and blessed in the fires of the Fourteen by Valyrian pyromancers before the Doom. Some had escaped before the Fourteen unleashed their wrath on Valyrian's of Old, but they had all died out long before so if there was any magic in the dagger it was now another unknown. So much had been lost in the Doom.

The servant that was aiding him walked away after the blade was sheathed on his hip, turning to the looking glass and almost laughing at how extravagant everything was. One day, it was for one day. At least, until Aemon and Daenerys would bind as one that is. The last time he had dressed as such had been the binding of Viserys and Maela. At least his brother had a happy marriage. Whilst neither had said anything, it did not pass his gaze that Maela had been touching her belly a lot. Their family was growing, and that was something that filled him with joy. He picked up the elaborate headpiece then. Those outside of the Freehold would think it was a crown, but in their eyes a crown was different. Crowns were worn to signify status, headpieces were worn for ceremonies. Hooking behind his ears and tight on his forehead to ensure it would not fall off until it was time to pass it to Aegon the same as Elia would be passing her own to Rhaenys. After the binding both would be given back to himself and Elia, their children having their own headpieces crafted fourteen days later.

Elia wore a dress of scarlet red with a sash of orange with gold chains looping the length of the fabric. A jingling noise breaking the silence with every step she took from the numerous charms of multiple gemstones on every single link. Sleeves made of lace with designs of suns, spears, and stars.

"That headpiece looks ridiculous, husband."

"I am aware, dearest wife. Where is our other wife?"

"Fussing over Rhaenys as are Rhaella and Daenerys. Aemon and Viserys are with Aegon."

Since no one was nearby, there was no shame in him speaking the common tongue. It was something he had made apparent with both of his wives he would wish to speak. Not many Valyrian's spoke the common tongue, and only a handful spoke it fluently. They were blood of the dragon, they were children of gods, they would not insult oneself with speaking a language that was not High Valyrian. Rhaegar had always been a learned boy, the priests that taught him always remarking on such a thing and had been pleased when he had been asked to be taught the language. And the lessons had come in useful when his mother had agreed for him to bind with Elia and later when he had bound with Lyanna. Neither of his wives spoke High Valyrian before they had married.

"How are the children?"

"Neither are pleased with the match- "

"Nor were you, Elia."

His wife gave him a look at this, but soon her lips pulled apart in a brilliant smile. He had been lucky, having never met her until a mere week before they were bound as one yet now they were one in so many ways.

"They are brother and sister, Rhaegar. You know outside of the families of the Freehold unions of such are a sin. I'll accept it, but I'm not happy with it."

It was a strange thought to him, because unions as such were always sought after in the families. It was how they kept the magic in their blood pure and it was the magic in their blood that allowed them to bond with dragons.

"At least Aegon will treat Rhaenys well. There is no one more protective than a brother over a sister."

"By said logic Aemon and Rhaella should wed too then."

"Valyrian's keep to their word, especially if spoken in the Temple in the eyes of the Fourteen. Had Rhaella been born earlier then yes, she would've wed Aemon as per tradition. Alas, she was not. Thus, Aemon was promised to my sister. At least they are only a few months apart in age."

The talk trailed off after this. It being one of many differences between their cultures. The other families would never say the word out loud, but Elia by blood was mostly Rhoynar. They had gone to war with the Rhoynar on multiple occasions, a fact that was never forgotten. The only reason an outcry did not occur over the match was solely because she did have Valyrian blood in her. Diluted Valyrian blood, but Valyrian blood all the same. They made their way into the central room of the manse afterwards, noticing his second wife speaking with her brothers and goodsister's. Wearing the same shade of red as Elia which made her already pale skin look even paler. Gods, she really was a rose. The back portion of her dress plunging to expose most of her back with tassels made of lace with rubies sewn into her long black hair to look like a crown. Unlike himself and Elia, she was not wearing a headpiece. Headpieces were only worn by the parents of the two who would be bound. Aegon and Rhaenys may call her mother, but by blood they were not. Blood was a very important value to the families.

"The carriages are ready to leave. Aegon's and Rhaenys' left a few minutes ago."

That was good to hear, knowing his children were on their way to the Temple where they would be bound in the eyes of the gods. Only family were permitted to see the blood vows, whereas the spoken vows were made in the open. The courtyard of the castle was to be used for such a thing, and it would happen when the sun was at its highest.

"Then we had best call the remaining children and head for the carriages ourselves."

"I'm surprised no dragons will be used- "

"Dragons do play a part, but only when the sun sets and the moon begins to rise, dearest goodbrother."

Lord Brandon rolled his eyes at the remark but no other words were spoken. Servants being sent to gather all of the children. Numerous shadows of dragons flying overhead engulfed them. It not missing his gaze those who did not live on Dragonstone were unsettled by such a thing. They were used to it though, dragons had flown through the skies of the Freehold for thousands of years. The journey did not take too long, a little more than an hour since the streets were mostly empty. Residents of the city heading towards the Dragonmont and the castle to witness the union from afar. When they entered the Temple, it was eerily quiet. Knowing his son and daughter were currently in separate rooms. The main hall so still that the carved statues of the Fourteen appeared to be staring into their souls.

He was at the front alongside Elia. Lyanna sitting behind beside King Eddard and Queen Catelyn since it was not her children who would be bound today. The children of the King and Queen, his siblings, Aemon, and Rhaella in the row behind this, then Lord Brandon and Lady Barbrey, the final row being the Ryswell children. On the opposite side were the Prince's of Dorne alongside Oberyn's paramour Ellaria. Behind them was Princess Arianne, Prince Quentyn, and Prince Tristayne. And in the final row were the numerous bastard children of Prince Oberyn. Priests walking in then chanting under their breaths and carrying a torch in each hand to light the many pyres which would bring light into the dark room. A faint sound echoing at the entrance he recognised- a harp. An instrument he himself played. Followed by softness of a wooden flute which confirmed his children would be entering at any moment. Two more priests walked in then, each carrying shards of frozen fire to further ignite the flames. Meeting in the middle where the statue of His Almighty stood. Torches were swapped for shards of frozen fire as the shards cut deep into the palms of their hands and allowing exactly fourteen drops of blood each to land in the pyre. And finally, the torch was brought down, the flames travelling throughout the room and bringing light to the area.

The entire time the music continued, spotting five people at the opposite side of the room far away from them all being the ones playing. There would be more music for the public binding which this was not. There was no need for extravagance with only those who shared blood surrounding them. Rhaenys was the first to walk in, tears immediately coming to his eyes as he took her in. She wore a gown of such a deep shade of red it was bordering on brown, with gold detailing on the top portion made of lace, the flames surrounding her making the yellow stones she loved glint like tiny suns. Hair being intricately braided with chains woven into the black locks and falling over her shoulders like his sister often wore her own. Around her neck was an ornate necklace gifted to her by Lady Mellario on her tenth name-day, having to fight off a smile in amusement when Prince Doran's face soured upon recognising it. He was estranged from his own wife, not accepting the betrothals agreed as he wished for his eldest son and daughter to take the highest positions in Dragonstone, Lady Mellario of Norvos did not agree and a massive fight had broke out between the two. What had ultimately caused the fight was unknown, but the pair had never so much as stepped inside the same building since the hatred ran so deep. One of the Priests raised his hand and handed her one of the shards. Rhaenys taking it and without hesitating cut into her own palm before clutching his hand and chanting words under her breath. Aegon appeared then, wearing clothing almost identical to his own but instead of chains on his shoulders he wore them from wrist to hip, following his sister by cutting into his palm and clutching the palm of the Priest too.

"Ānogri leti. Hen Baeraks laehossa, Mēre Rhaenys Aegōs issi." (Let us bind blood. In the eyes of Baerax, Rhaenys and Aegon will be one.)

Both his children were looking to one another now, patiently waiting on the next step. Once the music stopped, himself and Elia walked down to meet them and remove their headpieces and secure them to their children's heads. Squeezing their hands gently and smiling to give them reassurance before taking their seats again. Both had spoken against the marriage for a long time, but he had sworn in the Temple they would wed. To break an oath made in front of the Fourteen was a sin. There had already been one broke in the last year, when Rhaenyanne broke the agreement made by her father Vaemond by wedding Maevon. Something which had heavily insulted House Dallaeron which by blood rippled to House Caeniar. However, that was something for another day, today was one of celebration.

Shards were placed in both of their hands as they stood directly in front of one another. Priests circling them and chanting under their breaths. Aegon made the first move by placing his shard on Rhaenys' bottom lip and sliding it down the soft flesh, a single stream of blood coating his daughters chin. Rhaenys reaching up to gather some of the blood before etching the glyph for fire on Aegon's forehead in the liquid. Dripping down his forehead and smudging to the point it did not look like the glyph anymore. The process being repeated but instead of the glyph for fire being etched on Rhaenys' forehead the glyph for blood was etched instead. They carved into their palms again at this before clasping tightly. Their blood joining as one as the fires rose higher which was a sign His Almighty and Their Holiness approved of the binding. A thin cloth was tied around their hands at this to lock them in place, blood dripping onto the stone between his children.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va syndroti vāedroma. Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzī. Prūmī lanti sēteksi. Hen jenȳ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozūndesi. Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo. Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi." (Blood of two. Joined as one. Ghostly flame. And song of shadows. Two hearts as embers. Forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time. Of darkness and light.)

His children continued.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sȳndroti vāedroma." (Blood of two. Joined as one.)

"Kostōbi Baeraks, aōho laehoti urnē. Perzyssy sīmonā." (His Almighty Baerax, with your eyes looking. Rise the flames.)

The flames rose again, an even larger smile coming onto his face as this meant the Fourteen did approve of the union. The Priests handing over two goblets now, noticing his son scrunch his nose up at the next step. Not that he blamed him, because many did not find this portion of the binding pleasant. Each goblet contained honey water which was said to disguise the taste somewhat- but he knew from experience it did not. The cloth being removed and blood flowing separately from both palms still. They waited a few moments before raising their palms over the goblets to allow them to fill. Once filled, they swapped and drank deeply.

"They're doing better than I did."

"That they are, Elia."

The Priests stopped chanting now, taking the shards and goblets from both before stepping back to allow them space. The gaze shared between the two was intense, both seemingly challenging one another on who would make the move. Surprisingly, it was Rhaenys who done so. Leaning forward and kissing Aegon deeply. Rhaegar expected Aegon to be the one to initiate this portion, having a much bolder personality than his eldest child. Maybe now the dragon within his daughter would come to the surface. When they pulled apart they were each handed a cloth to bind their hands to stop the blood, the blood on their foreheads and chins carefully cleaned away so there were no remnants left over.

"Why do we have to drink that?"

He chuckled deeply as everyone moved towards them from their seats, noticing Oberyn playfully smack Aegon on the back and chuckling deeply.

"It is written- "

"In the Godly Flames, I know father."

Elia laughed at the response from Rhaenys as their daughter accepted the embrace from her mother.

"You did well, my little sun."

He'd not called her that in a long time, and it wasn't missed on her as she let go of his wife and wrapped her arms tightly around him and tucking her head under his chin. Lyanna asking a servant to bring something to cleanse their mouths of the blood because he knew from experience the aftertaste was more vile than the initial taste. Two tiny glasses of lakoriks being handed to both. An alcohol that made even the strongest wine or ale taste like water, one that had always been commonly consumed in the Freehold. Both sticking their tongues out in disgust after drinking it.

"Skoro syt olvī ānogri, kepus?" (Why so much blood, uncle?)

There was something endearing about a Northern accent speaking High Valyrian. He'd found that out when he had taught Lyanna the tongue. Kneeling down to look the young girl in the eyes as he answered her question.

"Valyri iksi, Alys. Ānogar Īlōnde dakō. Īlve laehossa, ānogus imazumbas.." (We are Valyrian, Alys. Blood runs in us. In our eyes, blood is joined.)

Her eyebrows creased a little at this, understanding she did not know exactly what he said. Placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling her way.

"Valyrian's believe blood should be joined, and blood is sacred to us. Magic runs in our blood which is what allows us to bond with dragons as we do, much like magic in your own blood allows you to bond with direwolves."

Her mouth opened in understanding, but it was clear she didn't fully understand. To everyone bar himself, children, and siblings, the idea of siblings wedding was barbaric. In Rhoynar custom only cousin to cousin marriages were permitted. Whereas in Northern custom, only if there were too many branches were cousin to cousin matches permitted. The only Stark King who did not abide by such was King Cregan, something which was not accepted but no one dared to take up arms with the Wolf of Winterfell.

"You Valyrian's with your obsession of blood is strange."

Most Valyrian's would take offense to such a statement, but after knowing the Stark's for as long as he had, he had come to greatly appreciate their brutal honesty.

"Come, the carriages will take us to the castle for the remaining festivities and the public binding."

"Please say there is no more blood."

Lyanna snorted at her nieces question, noticing Sansa looked a little pale over what she had witnessed.

"A little more, red wolf. There is a reason this is called the blood vow and the remaining portion are spoken vows. Not until the sun sets will there be another drop of blood spilled."

She smirked at the use of the nickname, having heard from Lyanna they all referred to one another as wolves. Stark blood had magic in it, that much was known. Otherwise they would not have wargs or greenseer's. It hadn't surprised him when Aemon proved to be a warg and had bound with a direwolf of his own, but it was yet to be determined if Rhaella would follow in her older brothers footsteps.

"What was that you were drinking? That made you gag? I thought you Valyrian's could handle your alcohol well."

"It's lakoriks. It's made from fermented berries native to Elyria. In short, even the strongest Northern ale tastes like water in comparison."

"I'll be the judge of that- "

"Brandon!"

It was bordering on amusing how insulted the oldest Stark brother was with his wife's interjection. All being in the carriages now and making the journey to the castle. The streets were empty where they currently were but the closer they got the more people appeared. It wasn't long until guards were called to clear a space large enough for the carriages to get through the mass crowds. People were singing, dancing, and some were pushing forward to try and see into the carriages. More carriages appeared now, but nowhere near as ornate as the ones they rode in which confirmed this was the Archon and Triarch's arriving. Whether they were Dragonstone's Archon and Triarch's he was unsure about currently.

Aelor Leranyon was their Archon, their Triarch's being Gaemon Gontheon, Rhaemon Caentylyos, and Viserys Belgaeron. All apart from Rhaemon had been in families that had spanned back hundreds of years. Lucerys Gontheon and Aemon Belgaeron had been slaves risen to high positions when Lord Freeholder Aenar had fled to Dragonstone. Rhaemon had only taken the position in the last year after his cousin Maerys Naemeron choked on a pie without leaving any heirs behind. The castle was up ahead now, the bridge leading up to it almost invisible from the sheer amount of fog there was courtesy of the active volcano nearby. The Dragonmont was not due to spill its contents for another decade at least, so there was no need to worry there. All stepping out as the bridge was simply too slim for the carriages to safely travel up.

Dragons began swooping down, laughing aloud when Maerenox playfully tugged on the tail of Taerax only for both to be split by the bright golden dragon Aeksion. No dragons were as beautiful as the Dallaeron dragons. All being solid in colour but their jewel-coloured scales really made them stand out. Apart from their size that is. Neither Viserys, Rhaemon, or Daeron had a dragon large enough to mount yet, so they had all ridden with other family members to Dragonstone. Shadow appeared then as did Aerithor and Ellaron, clearly sensing their riders nearby. Arrax had been left back at the manse, knowing the youngest dragon would likely get herself into a fight with her bold personality. When they finally reached the castle, the High King of Sarnor was waiting to bless them all in the holy oils. Whilst Sarnor was only now a couple of cities, they were allies going back thousands of years. The Sarnori never forgot it was the Valyrian's who helped put down the Dothraki invasion during the Century of Blood.

"Āeksio Ezīmillior Rhaegar, ānogri grozille syyz issa. Aōhi trēsi talē kirini issi?" (Lord Freeholder Rhaegar, it is good to be bound in blood. Are your son and daughter happy?)

"Sosy daor, aōhe Eglivī." (They are not, your Highness.)

The High King bowed his head in understanding before joining them in walking up to the entrance of the castle. Many of those with him giving the man a strange look as they did not recognise him. Sarnori were quiet people, many people who did not live in the Freehold or Essos believed they had all died out hundreds of years before when many of their cities fell to the horse riders of the great grass sea. Alys Ryswell and Bran Stark were pointing at the many glyphs carved into the walls that were made of black stone. It was only the Caeniar's who still wrote in glyphs out of the eleven families, but they all could read them if needed. Aemon wasting no time in translating for his younger cousins. Some were just random sentences that meant nothing, some were the last words of those who had fallen on this very bridge during battles. A custom to them. Any time a Valyrian died, the last place they stood was either carved with their last words or a headstone was placed with their last words carved were it not on stone. A man standing at the entrance of the castle leaning heavily on a cane as he could no longer walk unaided.

"Iāpa." (Uncle.)

Aemon the Elder smiled broadly, showing a mouth with no remaining teeth as he had lost them a long time ago. The oldest Valyrian alive and the only Valyrian alive who knew what it was like to outlive their dragon. After Heryx had died, his granduncle had never been the same. The only part of him that remained in tact was his sharp wit. His son ran over to engulf his namesake into a tight hug with Rhaenys close behind. Out of them all, his eldest child to both wives were the closest to him apart from himself.

"Ānogri grozille usōven māzion daor, Rhaegus." (Sorry I did not come to the blood bind, Rhaegar.)

"Daor, iāpa." (No, uncle.)

Aemon opened his mouth to retort but was given a stern glare by his son he had named after him which immediately shut him up.

"Everyone is in the courtyard waiting for the spoken vow."

Those with him were pleased in the switch to the common tongue. Even if it was only going to be between a handful of people, it was better than nothing. Dragonstone castle was a dreary place, it was no wonder Lady Freeholder Alysanne felt like she was trapped in a massive cell. So much so her brother-husband Lord Freeholder Jaehaerys had commissioned the building of their manse. Dragonstone was the only city in the Freehold that had a castle on it, having seized the island from the Andal's almost a thousand years prior who had begun building it as a base. They had expanded on it however. Despite how dreary it was though, it had a certain charm to it. It was one of a few structures which accurately showed ancient Valyrian architecture, and that was something that fascinated Rhaegar. Always wanting to learn more on his ancestry and where they had started from. Mayhaps one day he would make a breakthrough in unlocking knowledge that had been lost in the Doom, but that was a child's wish really. The chances of succeeding with that was incredibly rare.

The headpieces were once again given back as both himself and Elia secured them to their own heads again, the roll of Aegon's eyes confirming he did not like wearing it at all. At least he would not need to do so until Rhaenys and himself had babes of their own and were old enough to wed. With luck they would be blessed with an equal number of boys and girls. If not, there would always be the children between Aemon and Daenerys or Rhaella and Jaehaerys. Never again would House Targaryen be stripped so thin there was only a few members. The more of them there were, the more secure they were in their position as the top family of the Freehold. His ancestors had sweated blood to instate them to such a high position, it would be an insult on their memory to lose such a thing.

Monford was the first to walk over to him. Driftmark being so close to Dragonstone it took less than three days by ship to arrive and less than an hour on dragonback, they were close in more ways than one. Bound by blood many times, bound by oath many times, and bound by a mutual respect for one another.

"I can see your son is not too pleased, Rhaegar."

"Nay, he is not. Nor is Rhaenys, but they done their duty."

There was no shame between them in speaking the common tongue. They were a mere stone throw away from the Summer Kingdom's as they called them, and they regularly traded.

"I see certain black haired people are not here?"

He simply gave his cousin a few times removed an unimpressed look.

"No Baratheon will ever set foot on Dragonstone again after what happened- "

"Even little Shireen? The sweet little one who is always researching?"

"Mayhaps not Shireen. She's innocent. Wasn't even born yet and cousin Renly was only a babe. Whilst I know Stannis only went along because of duty, it still happened. Because of him and Robert's actions myself, Viserys, and Daenerys were robbed of our father. That is something we can never forgive. They broke the bond, and you know us Valyrian's value nothing above a bond."

Everyone else had gone ahead now, leaving just the two of them alone. Something they didn't have a huge amount of time to do. When they were boys and simply only Heir Freeholder's, they had spent almost every day together. He even took Monford and Aurane out on Shadow on occasion considering House Velaryon had lost the magic in their blood to bond with a dragon. Only a child where one parent came from a Dragonlord family could do so. There had been many attempts to get every family member a dragon, but none had succeeded as of yet. Hence the Freehold being considerably more condensed to what it used to be. How could six Dragonlord families amount of the power and hold of forty Dragonlord families?

"I understand the pain. I lost mine own father in that war as did Aurane. But not only did I lose my father, I lost my wife."

"By tradition you should wed her younger sister Maerelle- "

"No. I know it is tradition but I cannot do that. Mayhaps one day I will take another wife, but not now. Especially since you are about to become an uncle and myself a grandfather."

So he had spotted it too. For someone as bold as Maela, it was surprising how quiet she was remaining about this massive change. There was a reason she was named 'One with the Sea'. If she had lived at the same time as the Sea Snake, there was no doubt there would be a squabble on who was the better adventurer of the pair. She'd taken command of a ship at the age of twelve, telling them she was only going to travel to Surestone- the Northernmost island in the Stepstones. Instead, she had taken the ship to Lorath as she wanted to see the city that had once belonged to the Freehold but now remained disputed. Technically, Lorath was governed by Braavos due to how close they were to one another, but they would be kidding by saying they had full control of the city.

"If the babe is anything like her mother you have your hands full, Monford."

"You're one to talk with your youngest daughter. She may be a dragon, but there's no denying she's a wolf too. Her fangs will only sharpen the older she gets."

By now, they had made their way to the courtyard. Elegantly decorated with mosaic floors, each tile being black, white, or grey. Depicting battles and squabbles long forgotten. His favourite had always been the one of his ancestor Maeressa. After Aenar had fallen, she had taken it upon herself to mount her dragon to help her son despite having minimal fighting experience. Living just long enough to be presented her first great-grandchild after taking a wound from the claw of another dragon that almost tore her in half. Jaenys Celtigar and Maemond Vaelaleas were in their own little world in the corner under the shade of a willow. His children beginning to weave within the crowd and seeing Viserys with Aeralon Celtigar and Vyserya Rhaentheon. From the smiles on the bound paired faces, they had just been made aware of the joyous news. Saera Tarennis was chasing Rhaella alongside Bran, Cregan, and Arya. Something that warmed him greatly to see them getting along so well. Raerion Mellarys had his youngest son on his shoulders, chuckling deeply at seeing Jaererion pointing to everyone and naming them aloud.

Words were shared and when needed would step in to help either the Martell's or the Stark's with the language barrier. Other than Oberyn, he was the only one who spoke High Valyrian fluently as he had spent many a year in the Freehold for one reason or another. His goodbrother would call it exploring, but everyone knew it was temporary exile. Haeldon Rhaeleris was speaking with his youngest daughter, Aelinor not looking pleased in the slightest and wondering what that was about. Walking closer so he could perhaps hear a portion of what was being said. Alas, there was no use in such a thing as servants appeared pulling a long table filled to the brim with food for everyone to enjoy. Finding his wives and children not long after and taking seats as they filled their plates heartily.

Pork roasted in honey and spice, the skin so crispy it was almost difficult to cut into. Fish freshly caught off the shores in the ports of the city from rainbow trout to mackerel to salmon. Various rice options to choose from. Candied locusts from Elyria, breads filled and topped with anything and everything. Since they didn't meet up much, the few times they did, there was always a huge feast. It not missing his gaze Eddard was shocked. Brandon however was too busy stuffing his face with a grouse leg, juices from the meat dripping down his chin and falling onto the cloth with not a care in the world of what he looked like. In the North, food was a necessity, not a want. They didn't have a huge amount of options due to the harsh climate, so this to them appeared to be a huge waste. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted his youngest son look around before skewering a chicken whole to drop it below the table. No words were spoken, but he knew Ghost was below them. For how long they had feasted, he knew nought. But soon it was time for the spoken vow, the sun beginning to set now and bathing them in a dim glow and allowing the clouds to take on numerous colours.

"Ñuha trēsy talā anogri grozille issi, pōntāla udir letsi!" (My son and daughter are bound in blood, let us bind them in word!)

The drums started then, starting low and slowly working up. Wooden flutes and harps playing a song he had not heard since Viserys and Maela had wed. Every House had their own specific song that was played for a binding. No two were even slightly similar. His eldest two children slowly standing up to await what was going to happen. A pyromancer walked out then, lighting the archway in flame. Aegon and Rhaenys walking over to stand underneath it and facing one another as a Priest walked over to once again tie their hands in a deep red cloth.

"Mēre Balerion Meraksī iksi, hen Meles Vermāks. Karakses Syrāks laehossa. Tyrakses Vagār Maerks letsi. Aelaryks trēsi talī irughi. Kostilus mēre Vermithor Tessariōn botis. Baeraks, mēre grozilli iksi. Ojehiksi!" (We are one as Balerion and Meraxes, of Meleys and Vermax. In the eyes of Caraxes and Syrax. Bind us Tyraxes and Vhagar and Maeryx. Give us sons and daughters Aelaryx. Please work as one Vermithor and Tessarion. Baerax, we are bound as one. Bless us!)

The pyromancer poured something onto the flames and a moment later they grew so hot many could not remain close to witness the spoken vows. Up and up they trickled until the entire arch was alight alongside the dragon shaped mound of wood at the top. Beating of wings were heard now as dragons of all colours and breeds flew in circles above them awaiting the command.

"Drakarys!" (Dragonfire!)

Forty jets of flame came down then ranging from small amounts from young dragons barely larger than hatchlings to adult dragons with jets ranging more than twenty feet. Encircling them all in a ring of fire so no one could leave during the vow. This was the most sacred part of the binding. Everyone joining their hands as they chanted Old Valyrian under their breaths. Flames rising higher and higher as dragons danced above them. Magic was alight in the courtyard, everyone being able to feel it rushing through their blood. More cloth being brought out and slowly being wrapped around his eldest children until their bodies literally were one apart from their heads.

"Ojehiksi!" (Bless us!)

That was the consent granted. All raising their palms as high as they could as Priests handed out shards of frozen fire. Each taking a shard each apart from those younger then sixteen as they were still mere babes. The flames were so high now they almost looked like they were touching the clouds. Being the only source of light there was in the courtyard now. Still, they chanted.

"Ojehiki!" (You are blessed!)

In a single movement, all sliced into their palms and allowed their blood to drop into the flames. The moment the deep red liquid touched them power so strong erupted throughout. The area brightenin**g up even more as the cloths were steadily unwrapped to separate his children again. Exactly fourteen drops of blood from everyone feeding the flames.

And then it was all over. The magic disappeared alongside the height of the flames to be nought but just enough to heat the area. The dragons roared as one which sounded remarkably like the Dragonmont when it did reveal its contents before flying elsewhere on the island. To say he felt as though something had coursed through him with incredible power was putting it lightly. Servants walked over to clean the palms of their hands and wrap them in cloth so no more blood would be spilled than necessary. Blood magic was not something to be messed with. All it took was a little too much blood for the spell or magic to get out of control and causing irreparable damage. Baemala Caeniar was the first to walk over, not even attempting to hide her excitement when Aemon appeared with Ghost beside him.

"Dè an t-ainm a th' air madadh-allaidh?" (What is name of wolf?)

To say he was surprised was an understatement, judging by Aemon's face he was too.

"A bheil seann teanga agad?" (You speak old tongue?)

"Ach beag." (Only little.)

The fact she spoke any of the Old Tongue was a surprise. Of course, it was common knowledge other than his own House, Baemala was the most interested in Northern customs. But never did he think she would learn a language native to the North.

"Zyyhi brōzi Gīs issa." (His name is Ghost.)

Slowly, she stepped forward and with a small nod from his son, she reached a hand out. The wolf padding on the ground nervously before moving forward to sniff her hand. Once he was certain she was not a threat, a long pink tongue licked her arm which caused her to laugh.

"Aerea!"

Her daughter ran over now before stopping in fright at what she was witnessing. It was almost amusing. They were Valyrian's, they could bond with dragons. Yet here some were terrified of a direwolf only a year old. Wondering to himself how they would react to Lord Brandon's adult wolf which was currently asleep back at the manse.

"Skore Lentor Dallāron massīt?" (What happened with House Dallaeron?"

They were cut off by yelling from the opposite side of the courtyard. Numerous eyes darting that way as he pushed forward to find out what was happening. Understanding immediately as he grabbed Daeron Dallaeron by the neck of his clothing and pulled him off the servant, his sister and Vyserya immediately leaning down to see if she was alright. Her face was covered in blood and from the shape of her nose, knew it had been broken. Aemon and Baemala moving probably to find either Jacaerys or Jelaerya as this was their son.

"Yydrās." (Speak.)

Daeron shot him a look of complete insult, likely embarrassed at being handled in such a way.

"Dohaeriro ryptios daor." (Slave did not listen.)

"Zaldrīzesdoron dohaerirossa emos daor." (Dragonstone does not have slaves.)

His lips tightened and was about to speak up when Jelaerya yelled through.

"Aōha ēngos urnēban, trēsys!" (Watch your tongue, son!)

Everyone was looking their way now, Daeron deflating at realising no one was on his side here. Turning to his sister and not even needing to speak a word for her to understand.

"Jāle dohaeriro yydratas, lēkia. Jāla vaoresos daor." (She was spoken to as a slave, brother. She did not like this.)

Immediately, he saw red. No other words were needed as he stared at Daeron with hatred. It was only when Jelaerya pleaded her son be left alone did he let go of him, immediately scurrying to Jacaerys who was looking to Rhaegar with equally as much hatred.

"Māzīs, Jakaerys Jelaeryūs." (Come, Jacaerys and Jelaerya.)

For a moment neither seemed to hear him. But soon both nodded and walked over to him. Daenerys helping the servant indoors to have her nose seen to. Giving everyone a stern look daring anyone to speak on what had just occurred. Alas, this was not to be the end of it. A loud yelp and a few screams catching their attention as he ran towards it. Malaelar Dallaeron now had Daeron in a grip so tight the younger could not move, his brothers looking shocked. But not at him. In fact, no one was looking at him. Eyes trailing to one of the pyres still alight and stepping back in shock at what he saw.

"Dany?"

Rhaegar's breath hitched as he took in what his eyes were seeing. His sister, inside the pyre, flames burning the clothes on her body yet she was completely unharmed. Bare fingers moving within the flames in wonder.