Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

by Alperez16

My take on what a possible Jon Snow show set after season 8 could be.Bloodraven has one last trick up his sleeve before he dies,a contingency in case his doubts prove true.A broken man Beyond the Wall may not be as broken as he seems and as the ramifications of Northern Independence and Bran Stark being named King play out, House Targaryen and its last scion seek to have the laugh.

10. Stormbreaker

Summerhall 306 AC.

The Honorable Smuggler.

Davos could see the same regrets on Jace's face that he himself now felt. The same questions that were being asked and answered. As they rode into the camp and made their way to the large tent that served as the Company of the Rose's meeting place, Davos cursed that they'd not sent for these men sooner. Had they had them with them when they faced Ramsay Bolton during the Battle of the Bastards, then they'd have won it far more easily than they did.

As for having them during the Battle of Winterfell, Davos did his best not to ponder on just how many of those who passed may yet still live. His thoughts then went to a young fierce girl and one who was not to his princess for once. A girl who like Shireen deserved a better fate than the one she'd known. Glancing at Jace, seeing him close his eyes and rub at the crease on his forehead, Davos would wager that he too was thinking of Lyanna Mormont.

'Or mayhap his brother'

The party that rode with them was made up of all three Kingsguard, Lady Malora, Val, Tormund, Free Folk guards, Jace, and Davos himself. In the sky, Aegerax and Syrax both flew and Ghost walked by the side of Jace's stallion. The white wolf garnered just as many looks as Jace himself was, or so it seemed to Davos' ever-watchful eyes.

When they reached the large tent, four men walked out to greet them. Each of them was well over six feet tall and despite their tanned skin, all were very clearly of Northern descent. Jace stopped his horse and the Kingsguard, Tormund, and Val all dismounted. With a look back to him, Jace, and then he himself did likewise.

There was silence for a few moments as both groups took in the other. Those on their side looked at the four men in front of them and neither group seemed willing or able to speak. Just as Davos was about to move forward, Jace brushed his hand against Ghost's white fur and told the men in front of them and those around them, not to be alarmed by what they saw. Then, almost in the blink of an eye, the golden eagle and the red dragon landed no more than a foot away from where Jace now stood.

" Ao gōntan sȳrī, Aegerax." (You did well, Aegerax) Jace said affectionately as he stroked the red dragon softly before turning to the golden eagle. "Aye, so too did you, Syrax."

Normally it would be either of the two fantastical beasts that Davos' eyes would be focused on, for now, it was the four men in front of them. All of whom were looking at the sight in front of them with varying degrees of wonder and awe on their faces. Yet, it was when once again Jace rubbed his hand through Ghost's fur and spoke softly to the white wolf, that those expressions truly warmed up.

"King Jacaerys, we welcome you and your companions to our camp. You'll accept guest right?" one of the four men asked as he moved forward slightly.

"Aye, we'll be more than happy to accept guest right from good and true men such as yourself," Jace replied.

"Rickard." the man called out and a younger lad stepped forward with a plate of bread and salt. Jace dipped the bread into the salt and tasted it before each of them did the same.

"Torrhen Snow, King Jacaerys. My companions, Hugo, Artos, and Brandon Snow."

"Well met, Torrhen," Jace said, before introducing each of those with him. Davos was watching keenly for the reaction when he named Tormund and Val as Free Folk and found that there was little if any.

They were led into a tent and as they walked inside, Davos bit back a chuckle. The sight of a dragon and an eagle flying no more than a few feet off the ground and then landing by one of the seats that had been set up near a table was more than enough to amuse him greatly. Those with him too. Other than Jace who looked upon it all with the gaze of a proud father.

"I'm afraid the ale here is piss, King Jacaerys. Though we've heard tell it's better in the North?" Brandon Snow said as they took their seats and ale was poured for each of them. Tormund licked his lips while the Kingsguard refused to drink.

"I've tasted worse," Jace said as he took a swallow from the mug even before Tormund had the chance to do so. "The Ale they brewed at Castle Black had no right to be named as such. Though we all drank it all the same." Jace chuckled.

"A starving man will eat any food, your grace, a thirsty one will swallow any drink," Davos said, to an even truer laugh from his king.

"Aye, you have the right of it, Davos, as always."

"That's a fine army you lead, King Jacaerys, do you really need our swords to win your war?" Artos Snow asked.

"No," Jace replied simply. "Yet I made the call regardless. Though I wished I'd made it sooner….ah, but today is not the day for such regrets. Davos, if you will." Jace turned to him and Davos handed him the agreement for the Company of the Rose's services. A fuller and truer agreement than the one sent to them by letter or already signed between them and the Iron Bank.

"You truly intend to fight against the North?" Torrhen Snow asked.

"I am the North, Torrhen. My cousin sits a throne she didn't earn and doesn't deserve. My brother stripped her of all rights to the North when she married Tyrion Lannister, against her will though it may have been."

"He did?" Torrhen asked curiously.

"In his will, he named me as his heir...Alas it, his crown, and so much else was lost and so it's my word alone you have to name it true." Jace said, all four men looking at him while Davos had no need to do so to see the sadness in his king's eyes.

'Ever is it so when he speaks of Robb Stark'

"My blood entitles me to name myself King not just of the North, but of Westeros itself. Yet, no one has ever cared about what I was or was not entitled to. Certainly, my cousins will not. I am of the North, however. I've bled for it, fought for it, died for it, and been exiled for it. As much I am a dragon, I can't deny I'm a wolf too and I'm far more of the latter than the Fish who calls herself Queen in the North or the Raven who believes he's king of everywhere else."

"My king needs not the men of the Company of the Rose, yet, it's only my king who can give you what you wish for," Davos added when Jace had finished speaking.

"Which is?" Torrhen asked.

"A home," Jace said simply.

There was some discussion then about the battle to come, Davos barely paying attention and instead looking to Jace. It was clear from the lad's expression that his heart wasn't in the conversation either. As for the agreement with the Company of the Rose, it had been signed, sealed, and delivered, long before they'd landed in Westeros. This was but a formality. A getting-to-know-each-other meeting and the truth of them would be proved when they faced off against the Stormlords and later the North.

They seemed at first look to be honest and straightforward men. Men who were clearly Northern, given how they poked, prodded, and challenged, and only when that challenge was met, they accepted. For the first part of the meeting, they named Jace as King Jacaerys. By the end of it, they had knelt and named him their king. The difference was a huge one if you knew how to look at such things. Despite their wishes that Jace would join them in supping together that night, it was left to Tormund, Val, and the Free Folk guards to be their representatives. For their army and its commanders would not take kindly to such favoritism being shown to a new ally.

"Another time, Torrhen. I've much to do tonight and I'd not be the company that I'd wish to be." Jace sighed.

"I'll hold you to it, your grace."

"Be sure to do so," Jace replied with a warm laugh.

As they rode back to their camp, Jace asked Davos how he thought it went and both he and Lady Malora said that they felt the men were trustworthy.

"They'll fight for you, Jace, and after…" Davos said.

"I'll know the truth of them." Jace resolved.

"Aye."

The meal they held that night with the leaders of their army was one that Jace departed from early. Davos and Lady Malora along with Ghost, Aegerax, and Syrax all joined him and the Kingsguard as they made their way to the ruins of Summerhall. Jace then spoke to the lady softly as firstly Ghost, then the golden eagle, and finally the red dragon entered the ruined keep.

"I know not how long I'll be. But I must do this alone." Jace said and only Ser Humfrey saw fit to argue.

"Your grace…" the Lord Commander began only for the king to interrupt him.

"There is naught in there but ghosts of the past, Ser Humfrey. Only they, a white wolf, a red dragon, and a golden eagle."

"His grace must walk this path alone, brother." Lady Malora said and Davos, the Kingsguard, and the lady all looked on as Jace entered through the broken door and was then lost to them in the darkness that lay behind it.

Summerhall 306 AC.

The White Dragon.

Ahead of him, Ghost, Syrax, and Aegerax had explored and seen things that Jace had not as of yet. Through them, he knew that other than those outside the ruined keep, he was alone or as alone as he ever was these days. With each step he took, Jace felt it more and more. The power of this place, the magic it possessed, and the history it held within its burned and blackened walls.

Other than the rebellion that was to come more than twenty years later. Or during the Conquest and on that fateful day in King's Landing when he stabbed Dany through the heart, this was as close as his family and House came to its end. A fateful attempt to birth dragons from stone had taken a king, prince, and a famed member of the Kingsguard from the world. Aemon's brother, the Unlikely King, Duncan the Tall, and the Prince of Dragonflies all fell to the fire. Yet, as was so often the truth of things, death paid for life, and amidst the smoke and flames, his father had been born that day.

"When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone."

Walking around the ruined keep, Melisandre's words resounded in Jace's head, and yet something felt off about them. The red comet had come far after his father had died, its coming then being interpreted as different things to different men, and women. Dany, he knew, had believed it to be a herald for her rise from a meek princess to a fierce Khaleesi. Stannis, because of Melisandre's guidance, had believed it to be a sign that he was the Prince that was Promised. Yet others had named it Joffrey's Comet or even a harbinger that blood would be spilled to avenge his uncle.

"Only one person brought dragons from stone," Jace said. His words almost dying in the still of the night.

'No, there was another'

He heard the voice, almost as if it had been whispered in his ear. A man's voice and though he couldn't name it so for certain, Jace named it that of his father regardless.

"Aegerax," Jace said smiling when he saw the red dragon perched high above him, its purple eyes looking right at him as he passed beneath him.

Moving further through the ruined keep, he finally made it to his destination. Not that he'd set out with one in mind when he'd begun walking. The Great Hall was open to the elements. Large and spacious and around it the tell-tale signs of the damage the fire had caused was still clear to see. Closing his eyes, Jace felt the wind brush against his cheek, Ghost, Syrax, and Aegerax all then coming to where he stood. When he reached out his hands, he touched them one after the other and dropped to his knees.

The pyre was high and beneath it lay seven dragon eggs. Around the great hall men and women looked on as strange men began to chant and what looked like blood was poured over each of the eggs. Men who wore the seven-pointed star said prayers and a red priest spoke words in a language that Jace couldn't understand or recognize.

Then out of the corner of his eye, shadows began to move. Dark and foreboding, they seemed to disappear and appear almost at will. Looking at those closest to him, Jace could see that they saw them not. The king, the prince, the heavily pregnant princess, not even the men in white cloaks paid them any mind.

Jace tried to call out, to warn them. Yet no words would come from his lips and his eyes refused to seek the shadows out. Instead, he found himself moving to the princess who was heavy with child. His grandmother. Dany's mother. Rhaella Targaryen, the mother of his father, and as he reached her, Jace stretched out his hand to touch her. Only for her to disappear right in front of his eyes.

"Watch, Learn, do not repeat the mistakes of the past.'"

Again it was his father's voice, and this time Jace was certain of it. Turning from where his grandmother had stood, Jace looked to the pyre and watched as the shadows became more than that. Faces were before there were none. Robes and chains that named them as who they were. Maesters of the Citadel and just one look at them was enough to tell him that they meant his family harm.

When the fire started, Jace heard the screams. He saw the look of shock on the face of the Unlikely King, the panic on the face of the Prince of Dragonflies as he searched for his wife, and the determination of Duncan the Tall as he tried to move them all to safety. Instinctively, Jace moved to his grandmother and followed her outside. Almost reaching out to help her only for his hands to find no purchase and other hands to guide her to safety.

Jace saw it when she collapsed, heard her screams as she readied to give birth, and watched as Duncan the Tall walked back into the fire to save his king. The wind brushed his face once more and his eyes closed of their own volition. Words were again whispered in his ear and for the briefest moment, Jace swore he felt fingers touch his cheek.

"Here is not where you need to be, my son."

Before he knew it, Jace was back inside and moving to the pyre. Around him, the fire raged and yet he felt no heat and walked through the flames without fear. Jace moved to the eggs and watched them as the flames licked around the edges of them but never quite reached them. Seven became four, then two, and then one. All of them were lost to the fires and yet, for some reason, Jace was certain they weren't truly lost, only misplaced.

"In time you'll find them all, my son. For now, I can show you only three. You know who they belong to, who they've always belonged to."

The loud screeching of his eagle and his dragon took him from the dream, memory, or vision he'd just experienced. Turning to see why Syrax and Aegerax were so agitated, Jace could barely believe his eyes. Both of them sat on what could only be dragon eggs. Looking around for Ghost, Jace almost laughed when he saw the white wolf too had found a dragon egg, and while he sat on it not, he guarded it just as keenly as Aegerax or Syrax did their own.

Jace took off his gambeson and laid it down on the ground. Moving to Syrax, he rubbed her golden feathers softly and picked up the golden egg she rested on. Aegerax's was as red as he was, while Ghost's was as snow white and pristine as the white wolf's fur. After he'd placed all three on his gambeson and tied them up in it, Jace once again dropped to a knee and closed his eyes.

"For far too long I've not been worthy to bear your name. I've not been man enough to be who I was born to be. It's taken me too many years to accept my blood and for that, I beg your forgiveness. I am the son of the dragon, the last scion of House Targaryen and I give you all my oath, our line will not end with me." Jace said before rising to his feet and picking up the gambeson and the eggs it now held.

He walked out into the coolness of the night and felt lighter in his heart than he had in a long time. In his hands, he carried not just dragons yet to be born but a future yet to be realized. A dream of things to come. Of the family that he'd one day name his own and of the restoration of his House to what they'd once been. All of it, he'd rebuild all of it. That's what he resolved himself to do and anyone who stood in the way of that goal would feel a dragon's rage.

The North 306 AC.

The Red Queen.

Her dreams were filled with images of Dragons and Direwolves. Of being chased through the Wolfswood and finding nowhere to hide. The only respite she found from them was upon waking to find that her husband lay beside her in their bed. Each night they retired, she and Harrold would exhaust themselves with their coupling. Sansa was finding happiness in her marital bed which she thanked the gods for. Then once they were done, she'd close her eyes and the dreams would come.

Ravens had arrived from the Vale which spoke of Jon Snow crowning himself king and even of a marriage. Something that Sansa found made her angrier than anything else. Why that was, she still had no true idea, but a part of her wondered if that was what she truly feared about Jon's relationship with Daenerys Targaryen. That, if it had been allowed to continue unhindered, Jon would show himself to be more dragon than a wolf, and in doing so, she'd become powerless once again.

It had not been why she'd spoken his truth to Tyrion, not truly. Yet it had certainly been part of the reason. Now, Jon was married, he had named himself king and had shed his bastard surname. Sansa felt that made him far more dangerous and an even bigger obstacle to what she truly wished for. What had been denied to her all those years ago. To be the queen of not just the North, but of all Seven Kingdoms. More than that, she worried now that Jacaerys Targaryen wouldn't be content to let her and Harrold keep the two they held.

"Sansa?" Harrold stirred from beside her and Sansa smiled as she shed her worried thoughts for now.

"My husband is truly tired this morn," she said playfully and Harrold took her hand and placed it on his half-stiff cock as a way of showing her that he very much was not.

Coupling with light streaming in through the window was wanton, wicked, and indulgent. Sansa loved it all and after Harrold had spent inside her and brought about her own release, they both rose together. After dressing and breaking her fast, watching Harrold go through his morning exercises in the yard was where she soon found herself. Each move he made was one that stirred something in her and yet in her dreams, none of them were a match for one of Jacaerys' own.

Again shaking the fearful thought from her head, Sansa made her way to her solar and spent the morning dealing with matters of the North. She looked over lists of men, supplies, horses, and weapons. Counted the numbers that she believed they could gather and those that Harrold said the Vale could. All in all, they could raise more than fifty thousand men. Far more than she had believed Jon Snow ever could. Fearfully she worried now that it was far less than a married Jacaerys Targaryen would find rallying to his cause.

"How could they let him marry," she said angrily. "He swore an oath."

Sansa ignored the voice in her head that said he very much did not. As she had the raven's scroll that she'd received some days after her coronation which told her such. In truth, she'd cared not because she believed that just as he'd shown himself to be up to then, Jon Snow would remain a proud and honorable Northern Fool. Again, in her head, a voice rang out and named Jacaerys Targaryen as very much not one.

He was born in Dorne and the Dornish are far from honorable.

He's married now and she's his family, not the Starks.

Dragons are not wolves and they burn their enemies.

And you are his enemy are you not?

Unable to concentrate, Sansa rose to her feet and walked out through the door. With her guards and her ladies behind her, she went in search of her husband and found him in his own solar. Just like her, Harrold was going over numbers as well. Though unlike Sansa leaving it at that, her husband went far more into detail. The number of cavalry they could call upon, archers, where they should march to or not. What garrison they should leave behind and even when or if they should fight.

Welcoming her with a smile and a soft kiss to her lips, Harrold bid her take a seat and sent for wine for them both. Something that Sansa knew she was overindulging in a little and yet cared not. When it arrived, they sat, sipped their wine, and Sansa gathered her thoughts. The plan came to her almost in a rush and her smile beamed as she knew then that it was certainly the answer to all her problems regarding Jacaerys Targaryen.

"If he has the Reach, he has the numbers does he not?" she asked, preparing the ground for what she was about to propose.

"We can't be certain he has the entire Reach, Sansa," Harrold replied, her little look at him that showed she was disappointed was more than enough to get him to add his agreement a moment later. "Yet marriage makes a difference and so, yes, they'd outdo us in men if not the quality of those men."

"Would they use ships to attack?" she asked and Harrold considered it for a moment before shaking his head.

"The Reach won't wish to fight a war in the North, Sansa. No, they'll at most use them to blockade or stop our trade."

"Are there other allies that he can bring to his side?" she asked worriedly and Harrold again shook his head.

"Who? The West? The Riverlands? No, neither will support his claim and your uncle is Lord Paramount of the Trident."

"The Lords of the Narrow Sea?" she asked, remembering her talk with Wolkan about this very subject.

"Are a pitiful bunch. They bring few men and they didn't rise for the Dragonqueen did they? So would they rise for a kinslayer?" Harrold asked and Sansa almost laughed as their thoughts were so attuned.

"I fear them winning a victory, husband. What it may do and given that and the coin that the Reach can gather, as well as their number, I fear that battle is the last thing we should offer."

"At some point, we must, Sansa. If we're not content with our lot, then at some point we must face him in battle." Harrold said and she nodded, before then speaking her plan.

"Without his wife he's lesser is he not? His grip on the Reach is lesser?"

"I would imagine so, yes."

"And getting to a man leading an army is far harder than striking at the woman he left behind is it not?"

"Sansa?" Harrold asked almost shocked by her words.

"I know what my brother will do, what Tyrion will do. They'll send Bronn against Jon. Seek Gendry to rise, and join up with their own army. We both agree that the Reach won't attack us and that at some point we'll need to face off against my cousin and his army. Do we not?"

"We do."

"Then while Bran and Tyrion weaken it with their efforts, let us do the same with our own. Some coin for a catspaw and an easy target in Desmera Redwyne. We can't allow them too much time together, Harrold. We can't allow them to bring a child into this world." she said, her fingers touching her own stomach which as of yet had not seen her womb quicken.

"I don't hold with killing a woman, Sansa," Harrold said distastefully.

"One woman's life is a small price to pay," Sansa replied, picturing a silver-haired Dragonqueen and how broken Jon was after he'd killed her.

For what felt like an age, Sansa looked at Harrold and awaited his response. Eventually, he nodded, seeming unable to speak the words aloud and yet it mattered not. Rising to her feet, Sansa moved around the desk and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. She whispered promises of the night to come and felt the heat rise between her legs as she left Harrold's solar. Whether that was because of the thoughts of what they'd get up to later or what she was about to do and take from her cousin, Sansa cared not.

By mid-afternoon, it was done. The catspaw had been sent out and though it would take a moon or more for him to reach Oldtown, reach it he would. At her meal that night, she and Harrold were even freer with their affections than they usually were. Sansa found that her libido was raised and she was certain now that it was the thought of taking a piece from her enemy's side that was the reason for it. As she sipped her wine and felt her eyes roam over Harrold's fit and firm body, Sansa felt more and more like a true queen.

Was she to but look in a looking glass at that precise moment, then she'd have thought she had seen a ghost come back from the dead. For never had she more closely resembled Cersei Lannister than she did right there and then.

The Stormlands 306 AC.

The Lost Son.

Asher had been asked to shadow the king. To learn as much about him as he could and to report back to the commanders of the company. While they'd already knelt and accepted the terms that Jacaerys Targaryen had offered them, they still had some questions about the man himself. Questions that it was up to Asher to find the answers to.

To his surprise, he was welcomed to ride alongside the king, given the freedom to speak with him often, and had even sparred with him once or twice. It was humbling as Jacaerys proved himself to be a far better swordsman than Asher was. Though given the words spoken by the Wildlings that rode with them, it really shouldn't have surprised Asher that much. As when it came to fighting, the king had been doing so for just as long and even more truly than Asher himself had.

The closer they got to where their scouts said the Stormlands army was encamped, the more serious the king became. His japes, smiles, and almost relaxed nature as they rode were quickly replaced by a man who seemed focused only on the battle ahead. It was something that Asher had seen with Torrhen, Brandon, and the other commanders of the Company of the Rose. Even with himself and those he named as his truer friends within the company. So it surprised him when two days ride from where they all believed the battle would take place, he found himself praying beside and then having a full and frank conversation with the king.

"You're different from the others you serve beside," Jacaerys said as he rose to his feet. The oak tree served as a poor substitute for the Weirwoods or even more truly the Ironwood trees that Asher still thought of fondly.

"I am?"

"Aye, most of those men have never even seen the North," Jacaerys said as he looked to the sky and then to the woods around them. "They speak of it with fondness and wistfulness. When you speak of it, you long for it like a man longs for a lover's embrace."

Asher felt his throat grow dry and for a moment, he believed that Jacaerys Targaryen could see right through him. That those dark grey eyes knew every truth that Asher tried to hide. Even those he had yet to admit to himself.

"Most of the Company have never seen the North, your grace." Asher deflected.

"While you were born there." Jacaerys said as Asher gulped. "Be not alarmed, Asher Forrester."

"How?" he asked shakily. As he'd named himself a Snow just like so many others within the company and had yet to reveal his true name to anyone outside of it.

"I travel with a Mistress of Whisperers," Jacaerys said, a half smirk on his face as he spoke. "She knows more than most and when it comes to my protection or those I allow close to me, she judges them even more harshly than I myself do."

Asher looked at the king more closely now. There was no anger, no true suspicion, and only curiosity in his expression. Or so he believed. Deciding that since the truth was outed already, Asher now spoke more fully on that truth. Telling the tale of his exile, why that had come to pass, and finally asking the questions about his family, and Gwyn, that he'd thought he'd find no answers to until they traveled north.

"I remember hearing of the problems between your House and House Whitehill. Though not what those problems were truly about. As for your House, you heard of the Red Wedding?" Jacaerys asked. His expression was one of sadness now.

"Aye, I heard of it." Asher spat.

"It pains me to tell you that your father was among those who fell."

Asher felt himself almost crumble under the weight of what Jacaerys had just told him. His questions came thick and fast and the answers to them were not ones that he truly welcomed. His brother Ethan had fought against the Boltons in the Battle of the Bastards and he was among those who died. While Ryon had fought against the dead during the Battle of Winterfell and had fallen there. Jacaerys had briefly met one of his sisters, Talia, while he knew not the fate of Mira. As for the Whitehills, well most had perished during the Battle of the Bastards and whether or not Gwyn was alive or dead, Jacaerys knew not.

"I'm sorry to bear such news and wish it was more comforting words I had to speak to you," Jacaerys said sympathetically. "But all I can offer you is this." Asher turned to look to the king who reached out his hand and put it on his shoulder. "Your family lives on through you. All that they are, all that they have ever been, all they have ever done, is reflected in the man you are and will be. As long as you draw breath, they draw breath. For even if you turn out to be the last of your line, your line only ends with you if you allow it to."

They weren't words that forced away the pain that Asher felt, though they were true and honest ones that he later welcomed. As he did the visit from the strange woman that he believed served as Jacaerys Targaryen's Mistress of Whisperers when she came to him later that night. Lady Malora Hightower was guarded by a lone Kingsguard and she walked with an air of something that Asher couldn't quite name.

"May I join you?" the lady asked and Asher nodded. "My king bid me to seek out what I could about your family and I come bearing news that may please you. However, I seek a price to share that news with you."

"A price?" he asked angrily.

"Everything must have one, and I too seek to be paid for my services." Lady Malora said as Asher felt his anger rise.

"How much?"

"Five years." the lady replied and Asher looked at her confused. "A standard contract with your company is it not?"

He looked at her, still unsure what it was she was asking of him but clearer now on her words. Five years, that's how long a man signed to the Company each time. Any who were accepted into their ranks that was. Others who'd been born into them or had served them long enough were given more latitude in their terms of service. As long as they had a pressing reason or gave enough notice and once the Company was not actively engaged in a fight, they could leave when they wished. Those who signed could only do so at the end of their contract. Asher's own was up within the moon and it was clear to him by the way that Lady Malora looked at him and what she had said, that she knew so too.

"And if I say no?" he asked, so as to buy time to think.

"Then we speak no more, I'll return to my bed and Gwyn Whitehill's fate will never be yours to discern nor will the fate of much of your blood"

Asher took a moment, two, and then finally he nodded. Hating himself for doing so and yet needing to know as much as he could about his family, and to his shame, Gwyn even more so.

"I accept."

"Your sister Mira serves as a lady in waiting for Janna Tyrell. She served my niece, Margaery, at one point and was thankfully far from her side when…" the lady stuttered and then composed herself before moving on to others in his family.

Asher had heard what happened to Margaery Tyrell and so many others as the Great Sept and yet hadn't thought that much about it. To hear that Mira could have been caught up in that. Was it not for Lady Malora telling him that his sister lived still, then he'd have lost his composure completely.

"Your brother, Rodrik lives too. He serves now as Lord of Ironrath and is recently wed and soon to be a father. Your sister Talia lives beside him in your family keep. While beyond the Wall in the North Grove, you have a half-brother and sister. Josera and Elsera Snow."

Try as he might to concentrate on having a brother and two sisters that lived, or on the fact that his father had lain with a woman who was not his mother and had brought another son and daughter into the world, Asher could not. Instead, he asked about Gwyn and waited with bated breath for the reply.

"Lives and thinks of you often. Her lands were taken from her and her House is no more. Yet she is as well as can be expected and serves the Lord of White Harbor."

Asher let out the breath he'd been holding in. He thought about asking for leave to send a raven to Ironrath, to White Harbor, even to Highgarden where Mira was and which he was only some miles from. Yet as Malora rose to her feet, he knew he owed her a debt and so he readied to pay that instead.

"I'll re-sign with the company on the morrow, my lady. I thank you for all you've spoken to me of. Truly I do." Asher said and he heard the small laugh that came from Lady Malora.

"It's my king I serve, Asher, not your company. The five years I seek from you are now owed to him."

"My lady?"

"A cloak of white that comes not with a vow of chastity or celibacy, Asher Forrester. By my king's side is where I wish to place you and I'll not place you there alone. Mayhap you'd like to write those letters you so dearly wish to and I'll see them sent. Now if you'll forgive me, I've much work still to do before I take my rest."

Asher looked at the strange woman when she walked away. Wondering just how she knew what she knew and why she'd become devoted enough to Jacaerys Targaryen that she was filling his Kingsguard for him. Shaking such thoughts from his head, he made his way to the command tent and sought out parchment to write on. Then he spent the next hour or more writing to his brother, his sisters, and lastly to Gwyn.

The next morning, Asher found that his last moon of service had already been forgiven and by noon that day, he wore a cloak of white and rode with three brothers of the Kingsguard. When it came time to eat his meal that night, he ate with those men and before he took to his bed, he spoke once again to the king.

"I sought her not to trick you into this, Asher. And can see you have doubts still. Though were I to wager then I'd say those doubts are not on serving me but what serving me means for you and the lady you hold so dear to your heart."

Asher looked at the king and wondered if just like Lady Malora, Jacaerys too had some powers that he kept hidden from those he trusted not. Given that he had a dragon, an eagle, and a Direwolf that did his bidding for him, he certainly had some magic within his veins.

"I live up to my word, your grace."

"Jace."

"Jace," he said, the name sounding odd on his lips.

"My Kingsguard aren't being asked to forswear off women, Asher. Nor to be denied leave to wed or father children. Believe me, the last thing I'd ask of a man is to forgo the things that truly show we're alive." Jacaerys said as he looked at Asher keenly. "In time we'll look North and you'll see your family again, for now, we have things to deal with in the South and once we have, you may send for your lady and bring her to your side."

"You'd let us wed?" he asked, unsure if that was what he was being offered or not.

"Would it make your oath to me any less true if I did?" Jacaerys asked.

"No. I live up to my oaths, regardless of how I feel about them."

"I try to live up to mine own, Asher. Some days doing so better than others." Jacaerys sighed. "If you and your lady wish to wed, then wed you will. If in the future you wish to leave my service, then I'd ask only for notice to give me time to replace you. I seek not to tie you to my side unwillingly. Yet I seek you by my side regardless."

"I understand this not, You…Jace."

"Ser Humfrey wishes for honor and legend. Ser Sigorn to be more than some people think he is and Ser Triston to serve his gods and his king. Me, I seek men I can trust to shield my back and guard my secrets. Men who are happy to stand by my side and aren't afraid to call me out when I'm being a fool or making the wrong choice. Good men and true, Asher, I seek them more than anything. For that cloak you wear was once the symbol of such."

"It was."

"And shall be again," Jacaerys said determinedly. "Do you wish me to free you from your oath?"

Asher looked at the man in front of him, unsure what to say and yet the words came almost unbidden.

"No."

"Not today then." Jacaerys chuckled. "We'll see if that's true on the morrow."

"It won't be," he said firmly as Jacaerys nodded at him and then walked away, a white wolf, golden eagle, and red dragon soon joining him as he did so.

Wearing a white cloak was not what Asher had come back to Westeros for, yet the more he wore it, the more he was beginning to think that it may have been why the Old Gods had allowed him to return. More than that, he was truly beginning to believe that was it not for this very reason, then he'd either never have set foot in Westeros again. Or once he did so, he'd find out that all he ever loved or cared about was no more. That the family and the girl he loved with all his heart, would all have fallen and been lost to him. Where now, they lived and were very much not.

King's Landing 306 AC.

The Kinslaying Hand.

Bronn falling was something that shocked him. He'd come to think that the man was invincible almost. Tyrion had even believed that Bronn would at least have found a way to survive or avoid a straight-up battle. Or that their messages telling him to do so would have arrived in time. Had he known that Jon Snow was leading the Reachlords and that he was provoking Bronn into a battle, then he'd never have sent him there in the first place.

Yet I'd not known, nor had the king, Why?

That was something he couldn't really understand either. How Bran Stark who knew everything or always seemed to, now know as little as Tyrion himself did. Not a single move that Jon Snow had made had been foreseen by the King. With all his ravens, his sight, and all the gifts that Bran possessed, it was left to Tyrion's grasp of tactics to be best able to predict what would happen next.

Although not even you were able to predict half of it.

Never would he have imagined that Jon Snow would marry. Tyrion had seen how broken he'd been after he'd killed Daenerys Targaryen and he would have wagered that Jon would have died alone. Yet not only had he taken a wife, but Jon had taken a wife that was the very best one for him and the very worst for them.

Was it Davos?

Someone else?

Jon himself?

Sitting at his desk, Tyrion drank and tried once again to know things. Finding very much to his annoyance that all he truly did was get drunk once more. Sleep when it came was because of his drunkenness and not his tiredness.

The dreams when they follow were of being chased by a white wolf and a red dragon. Of being bound and gagged and taken to the Kingswood and looking into a pair of eyes so dark that they almost looked black. Eyes that stared at him with a mixture of contempt and anger.

"Run, Run for your life." Jon Snow said as he cut the rope that tied him and Tyrion did as he was bid.

Waking from the dream, Tyrion felt the sweat run down his back. It always ended the same, so far at least. He always woke before the white wolf or the red dragon caught him and he always feared the one day when he did not. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he drank and allowed it to clear his head. Or as clear as his head was ever going to be these days.

Once he was finished, Tyrion walked to the water bowl and threw some water on his face. He then made his way to his chambers and changed his clothing before walking out from his rooms and seeking to break his fast. To his surprise, they were joined by the king that day and Tyrion was soon to find himself with no appetite for his morning meal. Bran's words sent a shiver down his spine and he'd wager those of Podrick Payne and Bienne of Tarth's spines too.

"Jon marches on the Stormlands," Bran said emotionlessly.

It was that simple. That direct. Even though his own reports had suggested that was where Jon Snow marched, Tyrion still felt discomfited to hear it being named as so by Bran Stark. As he was by the fact that other than the one plan they'd agreed on, the king offered no other solution to the problem at hand. The pure unadulterated truth was that should Grey Worm not feel the need to avenge his queen, then they were fucked. For Tyrion placed no faith in Gendry Baratheon to slow or stop Jon Snow's march to King's Landing. For he had no doubt that was where Jon truly marched to.

His appetite gone and seeking more wine, Tyrion was soon to find things going from bad to worse. Again it was his scouts, his spies, and not anyone else's that brought the news. Bran even almost seemed shocked to hear it when Tyrion then shared it with him. It was yet another move in the great game that he'd not considered Jon Snow ever making. Another that he really should have predicted and one which could derail all their plans completely.

The Iron Fleet sailed to blockade King's Landing from the sea. Jon Snow would soon march to do the same from the land All their hopes rested on the Unsullied not only returning but bringing the Dothraki with them. Time was their enemy now. Gendry needed to at least slow Jon Snow's army down, to delay them, and as Tyrion tried to work out the sums in his head, he feared they were soon to run out of time to do anything else but run.

How could he not know?

How could Bran not see?

How were they to stop Jon Snow?

The last of those questions was the only one that Tyrion found an answer to. Even if it was not an answer he much liked. They were not to stop Jon Snow, they'd done that when he'd spoken words in his ear and sent him to kill his queen. Jon Snow was dead and Tyrion was starting to believe that nothing or no one could stop Jacaerys Targaryen.

So he drank and knew things once more. Tyrion found little comfort in doing so and once again fell asleep in his chair with his head resting on his desk. The dreams returned as they always did. A red dragon's roar sounded out while a silent white wolf stalked Tyrion through the Kingswood. He ran as fast as he could, his legs paining him and yet they slowed him not. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrion saw Ghost's white fur. Turning to his left, he heard the crashing of the trees as the red dragon landed and blocked off his escape. Then he felt the pain in his stomach and looked into those dark black eyes as the dagger pierced his heart.

"She deserved better than you. Better than me." Jacaerys Targaryen said. "Say hello to your father for me, Kinslayer, for I send you the same hell you sent him to."

When he woke, Tyrion wept and poured himself another glass of wine. There was no point in running and nowhere truly to hide. His only hope now was that he'd not run out of time completely.

The Battle of the Storm 307 AC.

The Truest Friend.

King Crow had split their forces again, just as he had when they marched against the Sellsword. This time into four instead of three, as they had an even larger army now. Tormund found it all amusing and a little annoying too. How a name brought men to the battle instead of it being simply the nature of the man who led them doing so.

When they'd marched in the North, Tormund had seen how just because of his name, some had rejected any approach from Jon Snow. How they'd either feared the Bastard of Bolton or refused to go against him, simply because there was Free Folk in their army. Tormund had been well aware that even during the Battle of Winterfell, the presence of him and his people had not been as welcomed as it should. By some at least.

Here, now, no one was allowed the chance not to welcome them and that among the many other things that Jon Snow had done for their people, was why they'd follow him into the seven hells if he but asked it of them. Not that he would and even now in the upcoming battle, he asked them to fight smart and let the size of the army they fought with be enough to hold their hands some. Though not all, for Tormund, would have his fun regardless.

"You really think they'll fight?" Val asked as they rode to the parley.

"Some men are fools and full of pride," he replied before he looked to Jon Snow and to the white-cloaked knight that looked as much to Val as he did to the king he guarded. "You fucking him yet?" he asked and ducked the slap that came from the fiercest Spearwife that he knew. Tormund laughing all the while.

"Fuck off, Tormund." Val snapped, though she did it half-heartedly.

He knew she'd stolen the man and for a kneeler, he wasn't a bad sort. Ser Humfrey knew loyalty at least. Which was more than he could say for the man they rode to parley with. The Bastard Smith had traveled Beyond the Wall with them, briefly at least. He'd fought with them in Winterfell and yet now foolishly had decided to stand against them.

For why? Who? The Broken King that sat on a throne he had no right to?

Tormund understood it not. He knew not how a man could be loyal to one who'd not lifted a weapon or done a single thing against the dead, other than drive a wedge between King Crow and the Dragonqueen at the worst possible time. If all of that was not bad enough, only a fool would face this Jon Snow. Jace, as he had bid them all to call him, and only Tormund still struggled with doing so.

This was not the boy who'd come to Mance's tent all those years earlier. Not even the still learning to be a man that had come with him to Hardhome. It wasn't even the hard unrelenting bastard that had led them to Winterfell and in the Battle of the Bastards, or the one that followed with it. Had it been so, then Tormund was certain that the Night King would have found his end at Jace's hands rather than at the hands of Arya Stark.

"What bothers you so?" Val asked, noticing a frown that even Tormund knew not he was wearing.

"The Bastard Smith," he said and swore he almost heard Val growl.

"A disloyal fool."

"Aye, but I understand it not," he said to a shake of Val's head.

"When have you ever needed to understand a fool to kill him, Tormund?"

"Har, you have the right of it, as always."

They soon reached the place where the parley was to be held. Jace, Ser Davos, Lady Malora, four Kingsguard, Tormund, and Val, along with four men of the Free Folk and of course, the animals. A Direwolf, Golden Eagle, and a Red Dragon. All of them tied in bonds of fealty to the man who now wore black armor and a red cloak, and who looked as much a dragon as the red one did.

Briefly, Tormund worried that the parley would be broken when he saw the sheer number of men that came over the hill and lined up against them. Then a small group of horsemen rode out from behind them and he realized that the Bastard Smith simply wanted to provoke some fear in them. He was still laughing about it when the horses reached them. For Tormund knew full well that King Crow no longer felt fear.

Why should he, he'd beaten death itself after all.

"Lord Baratheon." Jace greeted the Bastard Smith who looked very different from when Tormund had last seen him.

Gendry was far better armored and he wore the sigil of a proud stag, which Tormund felt was not a sigil that invoked much in a man who wore the Red Dragon and White Direwolf as his own. What was far more impressive to Tormund's eyes was the large war hammer that was tied to the side of Gendry's horse.

"Jon Snow," Gendry said mockingly.

"Jon Snow is long since dead and the world mourns him not," Jace said as Davos then spoke angrily to the Bastard Smith.

"Your advisers are fools if they told you that such word games would serve you well. Though given you've marched your army to face my king, I'd name them all fools regardless."

"Watch your tongue, Onion Knight." one of the advisers said. A large dark-haired man who seemed to have a green turtle on his shield.

"Watch your own, and remember who it is you speak to. Not only is Ser Davos, Hand to the King. He's a man that none of you are worthy of breathing the same air as. For did you all not sit idly by when a princess was given to the flames?" Jace said angrily as the man he spoke to cast his eyes to the ground while Gendry tried and failed to handle his shock.

"Tyrion Lannister is Hand to the King, to the only king we recognize. Go back whence you came, Jon. Back to the Wall, for you're not welcome here." Gendry said after a few moments.

"So be it," Jace said resolvedly. "I'll not mourn your death, Gendry. Not shed a tear for bringing about the end of a line that has lived far too long and which knew the worst of it in its final days. I doubt Arya will even hear of your fall, let alone care for it. Then again it is the curse of you Stags to fall for wolves that care for you not."

"It'll be me that ends you, Jon Snow. My hammer that brings you down." Gendry shouted angrily and Jace laughed a full and loud laugh.

"Not even the God of Death could bring me down, what chance a fool blacksmith of doing so?"

"Make peace with your gods, Gendry Baratheon. You too Ser Andrew Estermont, Ser Cortnay Penrose, Lord, Rolland Caron." Lady Malora said to each of the men with the Bastard Smith. Though one was left unnamed by the woman for some reason that Tormund was unaware of. "For before the night falls, each of you will know naught but their loving arms. Or the seven hells my king sends you to."

At that, the golden eagle screeched from above their head and was joined by the red dragon letting loose a small flame and an even louder roar. Ghost simply moved forward and it was enough for the horses in front of them to almost throw their riders from their backs at the sight of the giant white wolf.

"Today ends with your deaths, be it out there on the field or by my sword when I take your heads after the battle. It was not what I sought or wished for, but it is what you've wrought down upon yourselves. Remember that when your time comes, Remember too that this was and will once again be a land of dragons and none of you have any wings" Jace said turning his horse and riding away followed by his Kingsguard, Lady Malora, Ser Davos, as well as Ghost, Syrax, and Aegerax.

"Well, thank fuck we didn't get dressed up for nothing, Har," Tormund said as he, Val, and the Free Folk did the same and rode away from men who if they weren't shaking in their saddles, should have been.

The Bearded Lion.

Daven had heard it said that the Young Wolf had a mind for tactics. Those who'd faced Robb Stark had spoken of the Whispering Wood and the lifting of the siege of Riverrun. While Daven himself would never be able to forgive or forget what had happened at Oxcross. In the end, it had been the Old Lion resorting to underhanded tactics and allying with Walder Frey and Roose Bolton which had ended the threat that Robb Stark posed, not some grand victory.

As his men lined up, as they readied to face off against the Men of the Storm, Daven believed it would take something just as nefarious to stop Jacaerys Targaryen. For while he may no longer name himself a wolf, it was clear to Daven that his king too had a gift for tactics. As it was that no army he'd ever marched with was more prepared or knew as much about the strengths of what they faced and how they'd line up than theirs did.

"Gendry and those with him believe I bring half the strength I do which though it leaves him outnumbered, they think gives them the advantage. Lord Rowan." Jacaerys said and the Lord of Goldengrove moved forward.

"Your grace."

"Lord Tyrell's actions during the rebellion are ones I now seek to use to my benefit. I give you the Van, my lord, yet I seek you not to hold the line."

"Your Grace?" Mathis asked confused.

"The Stormlords think you craven, my lord," Jacaerys said and Daven almost chuckled. "Not you personally," Jacaerys added before Mathis Rowan could grow too annoyed. "The Men of the Reach."

"Because of Storm's End," Mathis said shamefully.

"Aye, so I bid you to prove them right," Jacaerys said pointing to the map. "Before then proving them wrong." the king's fingers moved in a circle and Daven watched it keenly.

"Lord Daven, the Men of the West. Here and Here." Jacaerys said and Daven nodded.

"Tormund, the Free Folk. I want them here in the trees."

"Aye, King Crow, we can do that." Tormund laughed loudly.

"The Company of the Rose, Lord Waters, and the Lords of the Narrow Sea will come from here," Jacaerys said and since no one asked, Daven took it upon himself to do so.

"Where will you be, Your Grace?"

"There, Ser Daven, right there," Jacaerys said as he pointed to where their lines would break.

It was the one part of the plan he disagreed with and yet, he knew it was necessary. When the line collapsed, someone needed to be seen to try and reform it, and that someone had to be the king. That it would paint a large target on Jacaerys Targaryen's back, well Daven believed that was the point in some ways. The king wished their enemies to go where he wanted them to and with him there, they would.

Later, with his men lined up out of sight, Daven watched the beginning of the battle from afar. Their army was set up in three rows. The king was positioned on the left with two of the Kingsguard by his side as well as the white wolf who looked more majestic and more of a protector than either of them. To the right, Ser Humfrey and Ser Triston led that row and there in the center, Mathis Rowan led their Vanguard.

Horns rang out, arrows soon blocked the sky, and then the charge came from their enemy, just as Jacaerys had predicted it would. They'd shown themselves to be weaker and in doing so had offered up a path to victory. One that even Daven may have taken up, was he on the other side of this battle. As the Stormlords charged, Daven looked on, and then as Jacaerys had bid him to, Mathis Rowan turned tail and he and his men made to flee the field.

"Form Up! Form Up!" he shouted as his men dropped their lances and readied their attack.

Daven looked on as Jacaerys rallied the men. As the lines came together and those behind them were now cut off from those they'd held in reserve. Then with a hand raised and forgoing the need to blow their own horns, Daven's own cavalry began their charge.

By the time they'd reached halfway to the Stormlanders, Daven could see how Ser Humfrey and Ser Triston had turned their men around. On the other side, the king had done likewise and as Daven's cavalry was now joined by the no longer retreating Reachmen, he wondered if those leading their enemy's forces had realized the trap had been sprung or if they still believed they were to win this day.

Lance lowered, Daven could see men cut down horses or hamstring them, as those who rode them tried their best to turn them around. Within moments, his lance had connected and he was in the thick of the battle. Around the Stormlanders, a near full circle had been formed and Daven then heard the horn blow out which called the Stormlands reserves into battle. Daven dropped his lance, took out his sword, and smiled when even louder horns rang out and the men of the Company of the Rose, Lords of the Narrow Sea, and Aurane Waters then hit those reserves from the rear.

As he took a man's head from his shoulders, Daven saw Ser Triston hold off three men at once before Ser Humfrey joined the fight and helped to end it. More horns rang out and then from the trees, the Free Folk and a force of infantry came rushing into the battle and Daven would wager if they'd not known it already, that now the Stormlanders knew the battle was done.

The fight, however, was not yet won and so Daven looked to see where the king was. He found him, cutting down men as if they were nothing and calling out loudly for Gendry Baratheon to come and face him. Men who didn't fall to the king's own blade were taken down by one of those wielded by the two Kingsguard. Ser Sigorn and Ser Asher Forrester both proving themselves to be as fierce as they were skilled.

Though as impressive a sight as it was watching Jacaerys wield Valyrian Steel or the Kingsguard fight, it was the white wolf that left the true impression on Daven that day. Covered in blood that he was certain was not his own, Ghost was like ten or even twenty men and as Daven killed the last man he would in this particular fight, the white wolf's day was far from over. Nor was the White Dragon's.

The Lord of Tides.

He preferred the sea, especially compared to a river that had as many rapids as the Slayne had. Yet when he'd been called to a meeting with the king and Ser Davos Seaworth, and been asked if it could be done, Aurane hadn't hesitated to say he'd see it was. The Onion Knight who now served as the Hand of the King had given him a map of the river too, something which had helped greatly. Aurane would be a liar, however, if he didn't say he was relieved when they reached their destination intact and unharmed.

As he was by the men he carried there. The Company of the Rose were legendary and after today, should he live through it, Aurane would be able to say he fought side by side with them. Almost three thousand men he'd ferried up the river, half that in horses too, and it was a monumental undertaking. Should the victory be as complete a one as they all believed it would be, then in the future men would speak of what Aurane had done. The fame that he'd sought for so many years would finally be his. His name would mayhap even be spoken of with the same reverence as those who'd come before him and who had seen his House rise before its ignoble fall.

Sending the boats back to the sea, Aurane, Duram Bar Emmon, and those of their men who'd fight on land, all now rode with the Company of the Rose. Some men were forced to double up on the horses and did so with nary a complaint. The archers, healers, and infantry who were among them were all as eager for the battle as Aurane himself was. When it came to battle itself, they'd ride and be supported by those they'd leave behind them. So, the horses rode fast but not hard, and with each hour that passed, Aurane worried it would be one too many. Only to find that when they did arrive, they did so with the Gods' own good fortune.

"You all know your tasks. Ignore the camp and those left behind and leave them to our infantry and archers. The men we seek to kill are those on the field. So let's get to killing them." Torrhen Snow said and almost at once a cacophony of horns rang out.

It was a truly fearsome sound as too were the howls of the men of the Company of the Rose as they rode into battle. Aurane would name it as a pack of wolves descending on their prey, only for the fact that the only wolf he had spent any true time with was mute and as silent as his name suggested.

Arrows flew, the men firing them from horseback which stunned Aurane. As too did the fact that it was only his men and those bearing sigils that named them of Westeros, who wielded lances. Not that the fact they wielded them not was any hindrance to the men of the Company of the Rose. Aurane almost watched them in stunned silence as they cut through the Stormland's reserves like a knife through butter. While behind them, his men and he himself, dropped their lances and made quick work of any who'd been lucky enough not to fall already.

'By the gods they're impressive' he thought as he'd occasionally catch sight of the Company of the Rose going about their deadly work.

Aurane had now lost his lance and so was using his sword. While ahead of him, the Company of the Rose was proving the true difference between an army and men who fought for a living. They were ruthless and efficient and they gave the Stormlanders no chance to rally or fight back effectively. Very quickly men began to throw down their weapons and their surrenders were accepted. Those from the lucky few anyway, those who were too stupid or whose fortune favored them not, were to find only death's cold embrace. For the Company of the Rose fought to kill and only to kill. They left it to the amateurs like Aurane and his men to wound or cripple to end a fight.

All too soon there was no one left to fight, no man who wished to be killed, and few who'd not died or surrendered. With no danger to himself, Aurane first turned to his men and was happy to see few if any bore a wound or had fallen for true. He looked then to the men of the Company of the Rose and found that they too had suffered few if any losses. This left him caring now only for the king and was it not for the shout from beside him, then Aurane may have missed the fight and only heard tell about it later.

"The King, The King." Duram Bar Emmon shouted and Aurane felt his heart still.

"He's fallen?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

"No, he fights the Stag, Aurane," Duram shouted happily. "By the stream." the young lord of Sharp Point said, pointing off into the distance.

Aurane's horse was not the only one that now raced toward the stream. Men of the Company of the Rose, his own men, and even Men of the West whose own fight was now won, all hurried to see the fight. When they got there, Aurane wore a smile on his face. For he was certain that unlike at the Trident, this Stag would not be lucky enough to take a dragon from the world. Not this or any other day.

The Bastard Smith.

His advisers had feared a far larger army. They'd spoken of what allies Jon Snow may bring to his side and had been as relieved as Gendry was, to find out it was mainly the Reach alone. Though, unlike them, he'd not been happy to see the Free Folk amongst those they were to fight against. Nor to hear them be named as savages by Ser Sebastian Errol and Ser Cortnay Penrose.

Gendry had regretted seeing Davos there too, even though he had expected it. So he'd given orders that the Onion Knight was to be captured rather than killed. Numbers-wise they were evenly matched and yet as the two armies had lined up to face each other, Gendry had felt something was off. Even when the center had broken as Ser Andrew had said it would, he'd not cheered as loudly as his men had.

The Jon Snow he knew was smarter than that. Davos Seaworth was smarter than that. That's what the voice in his head told him. A voice that sound so much like Arya's that he almost wished to close his eyes just so he could picture her face. Possibly would have done so if he was anywhere else than where he was or if he was not now engaged in a full-on fight for his life. For no sooner had the Reachmen broken and opened up the lines to his charging forces than those lines closed around them and the trap that Gendry had feared Jon Snow may spring on them, was indeed sprung.

"Protect the Lord! Protect the Lord!" Ser Cortnay called out only for his voice to be silenced by a lance-wielding Reachman.

Gendry swung a mace at any who came near him. His war hammer was tied to his saddle and was much too large to be wielded from atop his horse. Not that it made much difference, as the power of his blows was enough to take down any man who came close to him. He only wished the rest of his army was having as much good fortune as he was.

After they'd broken through the lines and before they had a chance to hit the two flanking rows, those rows had moved and closed around them. From far behind the lines, the Westerman had come in a full-on cavalry charge as too had the Free Folk and Jon Snow's infantry. As their horns rang out to call out for their reserves, their horses proved ineffective and their own charge came to an abrupt end. Then, they were encircled and trapped and now they were being slaughtered.

Atop his horse, Gendry looked around for a way out of their predicament. He sought Ser Andrew or Sebastian Errol but found only Rolland Caron. The giant Lord of Nightsong stood out, even atop his huge destrier. Rallying men to him, Gendry pointed to where Rolland was taking down any unlucky to come his way and bid them follow him there. All of them then having to fight through Reachmen and Men of the West in order to make it past the encircling forces.

"Sebastian, Ser Andrew?" Gendry shouted out when he finally reached where Rolland was now free of his attackers.

"Ser Andrew fell, my lord. I know not about Ser Sebastian. The day is…" Rolland began only to be loudly interrupted.

The horns rang out and Gendry, Rolland, and the men who'd rallied to their side all looked to the field behind them. Hope bloomed in his chest as he briefly saw his reserves charge to offer their aid. Only for louder and truer horns to then ring out and Gendry to see that even more men had rallied to the White Dragon's cause. As he had feared, Jon Snow was far too clever to face then how they had and Gendry had led his men into a battle that was lost before it even began.

"Storm's End, my lord. We must make for Storm's End." Rolland shouted and yet Gendry barely heard him. "The keep will hold them back."

Looking around the field, watching his men fall either to their deaths or to their knees in surrender, Gendry felt his anger begin to rise. He saw him then. Out of the corner of his eye, killing his men almost indiscriminately, and that anger quickly turned to rage. To fury.

"OURS IS THE FURY!" He shouted as he pointed to Jon Snow and reluctant though it may have been for some, all his remaining men now followed him as he charged to face off against the White Dragon.

Not all would make it, not even half were still atop their horses when they did, and Gendry wasn't one of those who were. Archers had taken their horses from beneath them. Some had been brought down by men wielding long spears and some had needed to face off in their own battles long before they neared Jon Snow.

Grabbing his war hammer from his now dead horse, Gendry moved on foot and swore he saw Jon Snow look his way and nod. Whether he truly did so or not, by the time he reached him, Gendry was almost alone. Rolland Caron had fallen to the white wolf. Ghost had taken his horse from under him and then the man himself as he lay on the ground. As for the few men who had stood at Gendry's side, Free Folk, Westerman, Reachmen, and the Kingsguard had done for them all.

"SNOW!" Gendry shouted. "FACE ME YOU CRAVEN!"

"I always intended to." Jon Snow replied calmly.

The battle was over, few were still fighting and most of his men were dead, injured, or had surrendered. It had not quite been a rout, but Gendry would wager they'd been beaten ten to one at least. They'd not even truly poked a dent in Jon Snow's forces and his hopes to help Arya's kin by beating the man who threatened them were long since abandoned. Instead, he held a different hope now. To cut the head off the dragon and end him here and now.

Hammer in hand, Gendry swung with all his might and Jon Snow simply sidestepped away from the blow almost casually. Another swing brought the same result and then Longclaw was swung and found purchase where his hammer did not. The fight soon found them moving away from the field. While the ground under their feet had turned to mud and once or twice Gendry had come close to losing his feet beneath him. In those first few moments, Gendry soon realized that it would be good fortune or the god's own favor that would be his only chance of winning this fight. Jon Snow was too skilled, too quick, and far too experienced for him. Not even his extra strength was giving him an advantage as his blows were simply deflected away with practiced ease.

"You should have knelt." Jon Snow said, as he almost took Gendry's eye, the cut instead just causing his cheek to bleed. "Yet like your father, you were a fool."

Gendry raged and swung wildly in return. Again his blows not coming close to catching Jon Snow anywhere and those that didn't simply miss were just brushed away.

"I sent Davos to talk sense into you, yet it was a wasted journey." Jon Snow said as another strike from Longclaw drew blood.

"You would see her dead. Her family dead. Your kin, dead."

"I am a dragon. The wolves are no kin of mine." Jon Snow, no, Jacaerys Targaryen replied. For looking at him now, Gendry could only name him so.

The blows then came at him quicker and quicker. Each of them cut deep into gaps in his armor that Gendry knew not how they had gotten there. Beneath his feet, he felt the water, and as with the breaches in his armor, he understood not how they were now fighting in a stream. Around them, Jacaerys' army was no longer fighting. While his Kingsguard looked ready to move to his aid with but a word from Jacaerys' lips, Gendry knew, however, that none would be forthcoming.

Above them, a golden eagle and a red dragon looked on with keen eyes. Behind them, Ghost did so too as he cleaned the blood from his fur. Though Gendry looked at them all but briefly, the sight of them was forever burned into his mind. It was what allowed him not to feel the killing blow when it landed. What he thought about as he fell down to his knees and then onto his back. Yet as he felt his life ebbing away, it was another sight he saw and he almost smiled to see here there at last.

"Arya," he whispered with his last breath.

Storm's End 307 AC.

The White Dragon.

The raven had been sent to his wife to let her know that the victory had been a full and true one and Jace's thoughts had then turned to the Stormlands and Storm's End. Calling for Davos and Lady Malora to join him, Jace made his way to the parapets and was standing there looking at Aegerax and Syrax for some time before they did so.

"You've seen to his body?" he asked Davos without turning.

"Aye, the Silent Sisters have done their work and it'll be interred in the tomb on the morrow."

Jace could hear the sadness in Davos' voice. His Hand had been close to Gendry and had even saved his life once. The last thing he'd have ever wished was to see him fall here and yet there had been no recriminations or doubt when Jace had told him what he'd done. Gendry had been given his chance and had made his choice, that was all that Davos had said and Jace was most thankful for it.

"The Stormlands and the Stormlords, Davos, you know this place better than me, so I need you to tell me if my plans are sound or not for it."

"Jace I…"

"Argue with me if I'm wrong, Davos, I need you to."

"As you command, your grace," Davos said and Jace smirked which then brought a roll of Davos' eyes.

"You truly don't wish it for yourself?" he asked to a shake of his Hand's head. "I mean to name Aurane Waters as Lord Paramount and Lord of Storm's End," Jace said to a shocked look from Davos.

"I'm not certain the Stormlords will take to a Velayron as their liege, Jace," Davos said. Jace wondered what his reservations were and yet for now at least, Davos spoke them not.

"Yet I find I care not, Davos. I need a man I can trust to rule these lands and House Baratheon only existed because the Conqueror placed his faith in Orys. Let it be a new House that rules here now. A house once again formed by a bastard."

For a few moments, there was silence and then Davos got a curious look on his face. Jace waited anxiously for his Hand to point out the flaws in his plan only to find there were none to be found or few anyway.

"I'd have counseled you to change your mind about Lord Waters. In truth, I'm still not convinced. Would that there was a lady of age that could be wed such as Lady Argella and Orys were, but..." Davos began only for Jace to quickly interrupt him.

"I'll not force a marriage on anyone, Davos. Not a Lord, a Lady, or a farmer in the fields. If we do but one thing then let it be to break that particular wheel." Jace said determinedly. Be that because of his mother or Dany, or mayhap even Desmera, he couldn't be certain. Yet it was something he felt strongly about and he could see that Lady Malora agreed with him, though not yet whether Davos did.

"They'll accept it. Though I wonder if you're placing too much faith in House Velaryon. Giving them too much power."

"The Old, The True, The Brave, Davos. If his grace can't put faith in his truest Bannermen then we're already lost."

At Malora's words, Syrax and Aegerax returned. Both of them as always looking for Jace's approval and seeking his comforting touch. Jace could see the blood on Syrax's beak and he spoke softly to the golden eagle, praising her for all she'd done and welcoming the softness of her feathers against his fingers. Aegerax too had blood on his snout and the red dragon trilled as Jace brushed his hand over his scales.

"Ao'll daor sagon mērī syt bōsa, Aegerax. Aōha lēkias se mandia kessa aderī sagon kesīr." (You'll not be alone for long, Aegerax. Your brothers and sister will be here soon). Jace spoke softly and carefully, his Valyrian was coming along well and his lessons with Malora were paying off. Yet, the language still felt strange and new to him.

After spending a few moments with his dragon and eagle, Jace bid them fly to his rooms and sent Ser Sigorn to open the windows to them and let them inside. How they knew which rooms were his was something he understood not, but invariably they were ever able to find him. Closing his eyes, Jace reached out to Ghost and found him stalking his prey in the woods a few miles away. The white wolf would not return until after dark and that it was to be a stag he dined on tonight, felt very apt.

"The Iron Fleet is about to reach King's Landing, Davos. It should take us a moon or two to join them if my sums are right."

"Two I'd wager," Davos replied.

"Then we have much writing to do before then and many ravens to be sent. The Riverlands, Davos. It's time to bring them all to bear or find the truth of them. Starting with Edmure Tully."

He, Davos, and Malora walked back down the stairs and into what he'd taken as his rooms. They were not the rooms that Gendry had taken for his own, as the idea of sleeping in a dead man's bed was something that Jace wasn't comfortable with. For the next two hours, messages were written to each House in the Riverlands. Some of them had already declared for him and some had very much not. Yet Jace had no fear of any true fight there, more he worried about some Houses joining with the Vale and the North and then fighting against him.

Not that Sansa and Harrold Hardyng would find the North as unified as they believed it to be. Or as easy to leave as they may think they could. Still, he'd make this war a series of battles against disunited forces than a single one against a large united one if he could help it.

Once the ravens were written and sent, Jace asked for Aurane Waters to be brought to him and prepared to tell the man his plans for him. That he'd come up with the first of them alone was something that he'd been proud of. The game that he'd once not played was now one he found he quite enjoyed and while he believed the war to be one that had only one outcome, it was the peace that followed that Jace was thinking on too.

The Company of the Rose would be given the Gift and raise Houses of their own there. It would strengthen the North both militarily and in time, economically, as the Gift was both fertile and underutilized. Aurane Waters would hold the Stormlands for him and owe his rise to Jace's own. While Edmure Tully would either turn his back on his family or the Tullys would find themselves Lord Paramount of the Trident, no more. The wrongs of the Rebellion finally being put to right now seemed like the most logical outcome in Jace's mind.

"Lord Waters, your grace." Ser Asher said and Jace smiled to see the newest member of his Kingsguard settle in so well. Four good men and true he believed he'd found and one day the order would be looked on as fondly as it had once been. Or so Jace promised himself.

Jace, Davos, and Aurane spoke for an hour or more. Aurane looked at him in disbelief at what he offered him and accepted it almost immediately. Then they spoke of what it truly meant. The change of his name and his legitimization and whether or not he wished to stay and begin the work here and now or had someone to leave behind in his stead.

"I have a man in mind, your grace. But I wish to march when you march. To fight by your side and see you retake your rightful place as king. It was why I set out from Driftmark. Not to seek a reward but to see a king crowned."

"Then I'm most happy to have you by my side, Lord Velaryon."

"Your grace." Aurane rose and bowed his head.

The next morning, before breaking his fast, Jace made his way to the cells to speak to Ser Sebastian Errol, who was the only man from Gendry's inner circle who'd survived the battle. Proud and not yet broken, Jace half expected the man to curse him or even ask for a quick and clean death. A part of him almost wished for the man to beg and plead for his life and yet, he was met instead with almost stony silence. Or he was until he made his offer and the man knelt and named him king and Aurane Velaryon as his Lord Paramount. Jace then left him with a single warning.

"I take oaths and vows as seriously as any man alive, Ser Sebastian. I live by them and I've died by them. So I make you this one here and now. Play me false and your death will not be clean nor will it be quick. I'll make you suffer and do so by mine own hand. Believe me, that's not a side of me you wish to see."

"I live up to my oaths, your grace," Sebastian said shakily.

"Then when next we speak together it'll be as friends and allies."

That night he curled up in his bed beside Ghost and holding onto three dragon eggs. Syrax and Aegerax rested in the corner of the room and Jace knew that soon enough that pleasure would be denied to him. Both were growing quickly and were almost too large to fit inside as it was. Soon enough it would be outdoors that Jace would need to sleep if he wished for their company. Though as he closed his eyes, it was much different company he was thinking of.

He missed his wife. Wished she was here by his side and was damnably tempted to send for her. It both surprised and worried him in equal measures. Jace having not expected his feelings to have grown so strong or so quickly. His eyes closed, it was Desmera he saw, her and their children. Their son taking his first step, their daughter speaking her first word, and their other son holding his first sword, Jace saw it all.

Waking the next morning, he broke his fast and by noon they had left Storm's End behind. Lady Malora had sent one of her Gyrfalcons to Oldtown bearing another message to his wife, this one bidding her to join him as he marched to King's Landing. The desire to see Desmera again having robbed him of some of his sense and Jace found he cared not. A moon, less if the weather held, a moon and she'd be in his arms once more. Looking at the satchel that bore the three dragon eggs, thinking of the children that he was now certain they belonged to, Jace wore mayhap the truest smile he'd ever worn.

A smile that only grew when he heard the screeches and saw Syrax and Aegerax drop low. One using its talons and the other letting loose its flames on the prey they both now hunted. Bran's spies saw only what it was that Jace, his dragon, and his eagle wished him to see. An army that marched to remove a Broken King and a Kinslaying Hand from the world.

"This I do for me. For my family." Jace whispered.

Dany would have her vengeance, but vengeance was no longer what Jace sought first and foremost. His enemies needed to die not because of what they had done, but to stop them from ever being in a position to do so again. His House, his family, and their legacy. That was what this march had become about and that was all that truly mattered now.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Things are crazy for me at the moment, so my updates will be a bit erratic over the next couple of weeks while I try and bring some calmness back to my life. I will update at least one story a week even through this, will aim for two, but can guarantee one at least. Hopefully, things will just be like this for a short amount of time.

Up Next: Edmure Tully faces a difficult decision, meetings are held in the North which show just how little support Sansa and Harrold truly have, Bran receives a welcome vision and Tyrion makes an offer to a queen. While Desmera and the Arbor fleet set sail from Oldtown and join up with her husband and his army bringing with her welcome news. Jacaerys readies to face off against a Raven he named a brother once and a Kinslayer and a Maester he once called a friend.

For those following my other fics, I'm not truly certain what is to be next, it'll either be Dark Prince or Dragonwolf Danced, and with luck, both.

Missed reviews.

SeaweedBrainisBlue: Logically it depends on the situation. I mean here for example the dragon is small so it's only effective as a proving point that Jon is who he says he is. When it comes to marriages, the biggest issue in ASOIAF is that there are only so many practical and worthwhile matches for Jon Snow to make and timing plays a key part in each of them.

Sansa brings him no benefit, is considered by him as a sister and so would be even more incestuous to Jon than Dany ever was. So for her to work properly as a match IMO, it would need to be a Rhaegar Wins AU where Jon is raised as a Targ.

Arianne doesn't want it, and brings her own issues regarding fidelity and attitude as well as politically too. It can work in a Rhaegar wins au as it's probably the most likely political marriage for Jon. Other than that, just getting Dorne to agree in a canon-type story is a hard thing. Doable, but hard.

Myrcella or Shireen don't work because of who their Houses are. Though Shireen can maybe work in a Stannis to be king fic and Myrcella in a Rhaegar AU.

Dany works in a Jon going East or a more canon fic with Dany arriving when she does, and is probably the most likely match based on how things are heading in the books.

Margaery for me works best of all, simply because in a WOTFK, Jon and her makes the most sense to make an alliance and in a Jon goes South early, or South at all, the Tyrells bring the most benefits. It's the easiest way to get the entire Reach onside and that gives you men, gold, and food, all things you need to win a war.

So while it may be distasteful to some, you have to look at things practically. One dragon doesn't win a war, men, coin, food, and supplies, and a dragon certainly does.

Here in this, Desmera is pretty much the best possible match he can make as the Arbor gives you a fleet, brings coin and you're rewarding the Reach, and well, almost everyone else is dead at this point.

Also, marriage is needed not just to continue the line, but to hold the peace afterward, otherwise you had best prepare to be a tyrant.

Chapter 9 reviews.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.

Rhatch: Really glad you enjoyed it.

Abracadabra: The IB holds great sway, especially in a post-war and post-turmoil-ridden Westeros. There is a reason why no one ever crosses them and why they're so feared. Hell, even Tywin Lannister wouldn't get on the wrong side of the IB. They control a lot of the trade in Essos, and can certainly influence who that trade is with and so for Dorne, to be cut off from Westeros because they won't' kneel, then cut off from Essos because the IB is stopping those that deal with them from trading with them, is a huge thing. Dorne's entire economy is based mainly on trade with Essos and the rest of Westeros.

So basically Dorne is faced with a king they won't kneel to who will either seek to conquer them or simply cut them off from the rest of Westeros and an IB who will deny them leave to trade in Essos, it's not a tenable situation for them and so faced with an ultimatum that in the end costs them little if anything, they accept. They'd already knelt to the dragons once here and were already part of the seven kingdoms, so they don't need force to be brought to bear. That's why they kneel. It doesn't always take war to make that happen and when you're caught between a rock and a hard case, you either accept it or face the consequences for not doing so.

In regards to Daeron, again, it's a different situation. There they had not knelt and so needed to be conquered and yes true the IB had not played a role like they are here. So in some ways, it's the same as the North, it's far easier for them to kneel after Torrhen than before him.

As for why the IB is doing this, well you've seen some of the reasons, they want stability and believe Jacaerys is the best way to ensure that and they've taken stock of the other leaders and found them lacking. There may be other reasons too, but well, we'll find them out in time.

Yes, the Ironborn are terrible, but they also within their history had a somewhat peaceful relationship with the rest of Westeros, other than with Dalton and Dagon and later Balon, Euron, etc. Hell other Houses and regions have cost much more than they have in regards to peace and prosperity. Dorne for example cost far more lives than any and the less said about the Hightowers, Blackfyre supporters etc, the better. Jacaerys fully expects to have to deal with the Ironborn at some point, he doesn't trust them at all, yet it serves him, for now, to be allied with them. He also wishes to do something that Dany promised, to fulfill at least one of those promises, especially considering that Bran/Tyrion reneged on it.

Regardless of all of that, this is a man who made peace with the Wildlings. He understands the need for alliances and just because you may not like the people you're allied with, it doesn't stop the need for such alliances does it? If he can lay down with Lannisters, can make peace with the Free Folk, then he can at least make an offer to the Ironborn, as well as warn them what will happen should they not live up to the agreement between them. Lastly, you make allies with those your enemy may seek to ally with before your enemy does so. Otherwise, those allies may become your enemies too and you then have to face them when it's not to your benefit. In time, Aegerax will be fully grown and would it not be better to face off against the Ironborn and their wooden ships from atop a fully grown dragon's back, than you know, marching on King's Landing and worrying whether or not the Ironborn will join up with Bran and attack the lands you've left unguarded?.

You may dislike the Ironborn, I certainly do, but practicality wins out and has always done so for Jon Snow.

This isn't plot armor, it's logic, there is a difference. It's something the show forgot about and then showed at the same time, where they tell us that Dany taking King's Landing is hard because of blah blah blah and then have her take King's Landing in a matter of minutes with fewer forces than she had originally.

War is not always won on the battlefield, we see this clearly with Tywin Lannister's moves against Robb where Robb won every battle but lost the war. Jon Snow is a strategist as well as a tactician, this is clear in the books and this is who Jacaerys is echoing here. Tactically he can win a battle, as Robb can and strategically he can win a war as Tywin could. That's the big difference between Bookjon and Showjon and well, this is now Bookjon entirely. So, faced with an overwhelming force, with a leader who understands strategy, fighting against those with a lesser force and who are playing catch-up, logically people make decisions out of self-interest.

If Roose Bolton had believed that Robb would win, then he never betrays him, however, he was sure he could not and so he did so. When it comes to gaining allies it's the same thing 99 times out of 100 and the only reason it's not is because of personal ambition or animus. The West joined because they won't deal with Tyrion, the Reach because of Malora's visions and Bronn begin placed in charge of their kingdom. So far the other Houses have come because they were loyal firstly to the dragons and secondly to Jon Snow, some will come because everyone wants to be on the winning side too. That's the nature of war and if you have a strategist in charge of your campaign, then he'll understand that. Which again is why Robb lost and Tywin won.

Jettshay: So glad you enjoyed it.

J: I try not to bring back anyone whose clearly been omitted and not spoken of, hence no Willas or Garlan Tyrell even though both are among my fave characters. For me, the show whittled down the world so much that it's there most clearly at the end when they're deciding the fate of Westeros. Hell, we have 3 Starks and a few others and almost three-quarters of the realm is just ignored. They even had to make up a Dornish Prince FFS.

So I've brought back ones that I feel could somewhat be explained as to why we may not have seen them. Val, Sigorn could have been among the Free Folk we just didn't meet, Cletus could be the Dornish Prince, Aurane, on Driftmark, etc.

Also, no matter how you look at it, the endgame they gave us in the show only makes sense if they were literally the last people alive, I mean, Bronn getting HG, named Warden of the South, MOC, I mean come on.

Arianne and Quentyn both been writing out just makes Dorne a nonsense, they are literally half the entire Dornish plot and they're just ignored. Though Dorne itself was ignored too really.

I agree with you about Arya, her character was butchered just as much as any by the end. She's reduced to pretty much a robot, forgets every single aspect that makes her Arya, and is there mainly to prop up Sansa if anything. It makes no sense that she'd have allowed Jon to go to the Wall, or that she'd choose Sansa over Jon, yet that's what we go.

I won't say what my plans are regarding her, other than I specifically chose this timeline, where she'd be away from Westeros, rather than a later one where she'd be back home. I wanted Jon's anger to be there and to be directed at them all, only for the chance of time and distance to allow him to deal with that anger. As for Arya, we'll see her in the chapter after next, still far away but well, you'll see. I do have a plan, that's all I can say.

Celexys: Really glad you enjoyed it, my friend.

Dunk: Yes in some ways it's to be a shorter one, things are moving quite quickly now that the war has begun, but there will be some slow down too. Jace wishes to rebuild it all when it comes to his House, the throne, the realm, dragons, etc, so yes, Summerhall is part of his plans too. Tyrion thinks he has a solution, so we'll see if it works out for him. As for Sansa, well that scrambling goes up a notch next chapter. Arya will take a while longer, as we'll see our first glimpse of her in a couple of chapters.

Galwithanatitud: So glad you liked it.

Xan Merrick: Thank you, my friend, bankers are the true evil of the world LOL, everyone fears them.

AMonkeyGSuper: I think so too, the WOTFK with Jon and a baby dragon are interesting, and a full-on Jon/Robb fic where they're working together and playing the game is so rarely done. Jon gives Robb the one thing he hasn't got, a way to bring the Tyrells or someone else to his cause, and having Tywin scramble to deal with the truth of who Jon is would be so much fun. Maester Wolf sort of does it a little, though it's a much different Jon.

Modir: No, Bran is just hoping to do so. I'm not going to have him control Drogon, but we will see Drogon again.

Wrysensofhumor: Thanks so much my friend, much appreciated.

Lady Octarina: I actually went looking through the family tree and it's just so hard to find another Martell that fit, so it left me thinking then what would happen were they to completely fall. Yronwood would probably win out and well the other reason I went with them is that because of their closeness to Quentyn, we're given so much info about them. So we know the hangers-on more, or I do, which helps as I really suck at naming OC's lol.

The KG thing, I kind of had the idea of both the different kingdoms/areas and well Jace meeting some along the way, finding them, or Malora bringing them to him.

So with the Redwyne's, I went with Desmera's brothers having died, but there are more. There is a cousin married to Leyton Hightower's daughter and they have a son and also Mathis Rowan is married to another of Desmera's cousins and they have children. But as you see with the visions Desmera and Jace are to have 3 children, 2 boys, and one girl and so one of them will be the heir to the Arbor with the other to be the Stark in WF or the Targ in WF and the other to be heir to the throne.

I've begun work on the Jon/Cersei, messing around a little with it anyway.

Vctor Nova: So far Jace has avenged himself against men he really had no issue with in Bronn/Gendry, so it's been restrained, it won't be against Bran, Tyrion, and Samwell.

Not2Complex. Thanks so much for saying so, I'm really glad you're enjoying it.

Orthankg: So glad you liked it.