Winterfell 298 AC.
Robb Stark.
It was a strange feeling knowing you were about to fight in a war. One that should have been all that Robb thought about these past few days. The worries and fears along with the dangers of fighting in pitched battles against those who wished you dead. Concerns about those you fought alongside and those you left behind. As well as prayers offered to the Old Gods that your courage wouldn't falter and you'd not shame yourself when the fight was upon you. They should have been the most prevalent of all Robb's thoughts and yet they were not. Nor even were it thoughts about his father, his betrothed, or his family. Or at least that part of his family was not who Robb pondered on as he sat in the Godswood.
Instead, it was the part of his family that was in essence the reason for the upcoming war. The brother he'd found out was not truly one. His cousin who in truth had been born the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and who now sought to regain his birthright. Robb was angered somewhat and certainly conflicted when he thought of Jon Snow or Daeron Targaryen as he was and had truly always been. A prince who should be king and who the usurper who sat on the throne wanted to see dead.
"My brother," Robb muttered.
Mere days ago that had been the truth. Jon had been his brother. His, Sansa's, Arya's, Bran's, and Rickon's. He was his father's bastard son and yet his mother had never seen him as shameful or treated him as if he was anything but her own. A beloved brother whose achievements had been celebrated as fully as if they were those of Robb or any of his siblings who'd achieved them. All of it had been a lie, however. An untruth told at first to keep Jon safe from those who wished him dead, or so his father and mother had explained when they'd given Robb and the others the letters from Jon.
A few days earlier.
He'd been asked to meet with his father in the Godswood and so after bidding Wynafryd goodbye for now, Robb and Grey Wind made their way across the courtyard and through the gates that led to Winterfell's most sacred place. While he was the first to arrive, after his father, Robb was soon to find he would not be the only one attending this meeting. His sisters and their wolves, followed by Bran and Rickon and their wolves, along with their mother all then joined them within a few moments of Robb's arrival.
So confused was he by the fact that the rest of his family was here, that Robb saw it not when his mother nodded to his father. Or when she reached into her dress and took out five sealed letters. What he did notice, however, was that the five Direwolves all stayed close to each of their sides and that Grey Wind brushed against him more than once. His wolf offered the comfort of letting him know he was there with him. Not that Robb knew how much he'd need that comfort, mind.
"You know what is said about a truth spoken in front of the Heart Tree?" his father asked, though he directed his question at no one in particular.
"That to lie is to bring the Old God's fury down upon you. And that should you reveal it, then you'll earn their wrath and fury." Arya said and Robb smirked. They were Old Nan's words and had been said to frighten them as oft the tales she told were.
"Aye, though it's more that you cannot reveal that truth without the leave of the one who spoke it to you." his mother said and Robb was surprised that she knew of such. Not that his mother didn't accept that the Old Gods ruled the North, or that there were customs and practices to be followed if you were a Stark. More that she prayed to her gods and not the gods of his father.
"Your Mother has the right of it, as always." His father said, his tone lighter than it had been a moment earlier. Though it was to be a brief respite from the seriousness that his father had greeted them with. "I've brought you here to speak on a truth long hidden. One which the letters your mother carries in her hand speaks of in another's voice. But first I must speak mine own."
For the next hour, Robb, his brothers, and sisters, all listened as they were told the truth of the rebellion and their aunt's fate. A kidnapping that was not a kidnapping, a war fought that was good and true and yet one that mayhap had no need to be fought. While their father named the Mad King for what he was and cursed him for taking his own father and brother from the world, he laid some blame at Brandon Stark's feet too. Something that Robb was stunned by and that even his mother seemed not to agree with fully.
Sansa then asked the question that explained why his father was so wrought with their uncle's actions.
"Your uncle was reckless and headstrong, Sansa. Wolf's Blood ran too strongly in his veins and while seeking to rescue our sister from the man he believed had taken her against her will would be a good a true act, how he did so was not."
"I don't understand, father. Were someone to take Sansa or Arya, I would act no differently than Brandon did." Robb interjected, a smile from one sister and a scowl from the other was followed by the scowling sister making it clear she needed to be rescued not.
"No fool would take me against my will. Nymeria and I wouldn't allow them to. Isn't that right girl!" Arya said rubbing her hands through Nymeria's fur and earning a true smile from both their father and mother.
"What your father is saying, Robb, and what Brandon forgot in his righteous anger was that you can't call for a prince to come out and die and not face consequences. Even had that prince done as Brandon and the rest of us believed he had." his mother said and Robb wished to argue, yet for now he did not.
"Even more so when that prince's father was Aerys Targaryen." his father added.
Wishing for no further argument, his father continued speaking and Robb and the others listened keenly. Robert's Rebellion was never a subject that his father spoke much on and to hear him speak it now was enlightening, to say the least. Robb quickly saw why it had always been in vague responses or none at all that anyone was answered with when they spoke of that and any other war. His father knowing to speak effusively on the one would bring up more questions about the other and so even the Greyjoy Rebellion was not a tale that was spoken much of in Winterfell's Great Hall.
When it got to the ride to the Tower of Joy and the fight that occurred there, Robb listened even more keenly. Only Bran showed a truer interest than he did, as his brother long wished to hear the tale of the fight against the Kingsguard that occurred that day. Not that their father spoke much of this, instead speaking of the end of that fight and the words spoken by Howland Reed that stayed Ser Arthur Dyane's hand. Another lie revealed, though again one his father had taken great pains never to speak himself. Ser Arthur had always said that it was because of Jon that he couldn't strike the killing blow and his father simply added that if it was not for Howland Reed, he'd have died that day. Robb now once again remembered the words and that over time he'd seen the truth of them as Ser Arthur trained Jon.
'The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. They called him the Sword of the Morning, and he would have killed me but for Howland Reed.'
Now he found that while there was truth in both men's lies, it was Howland Reed's words and what they found in the Tower of Joy that truly stopped his father from falling that day. A sister laying in a bed of blood and the babe she'd just birthed.
"My sister bid me promise to protect her son. That Robert should he find out, the Lannisters should they….so I named him as my bastard and yet he was born not as one. For my sister and Prince Rhaegar had been wed and their son was the heir to the throne. A throne that at the time I had no intent to see him ever sit. Much to my shame."
Robb listened not to the plan that had been made between his father, Jon Arryn, and the Sword of the Morning. Nor that the wedding between Jon and Elaena Arryn was not the price of that plan nor something even requested of Jon, but something he and Elaena Arryn themselves had wished for. Other than the fact that Jon, Daeron as his father now named him, was their cousin by blood but yet a true brother of their hearts, Robb listened not. Instead, he welcomed the letters when they were handed to them all, and that other than Rickon leaving with their mother and father, they were then left alone to come to terms with all they'd been told.
Now.
That had been a much harder thing to do and Robb had been very grateful to Wynafryd for her help in doing so. His betrothed had been told the truth by her father not long after Robb and his siblings had and it was much appreciated by him that she had been. The trouble he was having with dealing with all he'd learned was something that was much better shared and halved, Robb had found.
Both Sansa and Arya had accepted it far more quickly than Robb had. One of his sisters cared not for any truth but the one she named. Arya simply said that Jon had always thought her a sister true and so she would name him as her brother no matter what. The words Jon had written to her only reinforced that opinion later. Sansa on the other hand loved the romanticism of the tale. Thoughts of a hidden prince coming to retake his throne were ones that fuelled his sister's dreams no doubt. Given that the prince in question happened to be Jon, only more so.
"He is my brother, now and always and none will be prouder than I to see him named king." Sansa declared after their father had spoken. Then later his sister had wept over the words that Jon had written to her.
Bran was somewhat like Sansa in this regard. His brother hadn't accepted it as truly nor as quickly, but he too had gotten caught up in the tale or so Robb believed. A king served by those in white cloaks, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy, and to their surprise, including their father's, Ser Jaime Lannister too. Robb had needed to think on it more. To consider it more. Not only for the fact that the truth of Jon may change their relationship forever, but it was he and none of the others who were being asked to fight because of that truth.
The letter helped. Its words were soothing and Jon named him as how he'd always seen him and not now as something different. A brother true he called him and hoped that Robb saw him as the same. While blaming him not if he could no longer do so. Jon explained why the fight was now upon them and that he wished it was one that none he cared about took part in. yet his brother's resolve was clear for all to see in how he wrote and the words he used. Robb picked up that letter and placed it in his pack to bring with him when he left.
"Aye, I see you as my brother still, Daeron," he said as he looked to Grey Wind and took what he hoped was not a last look around his room and Winterfell itself.
A kiss on Wynafryd's lips and a promise of a wedding to come. Words spoken to his sisters and brothers and then to his mother. Robb then climbed atop his horse and though he rode next to his father as they left Winterfell behind, he'd not be by his side for long. His days instead were spent with the other heirs of the North, amongst them, with them, and each day they rode, he named his brother as true and good. A king that he would be most happy to bend his knee to.
Dorne 298 AC.
Doran Martell.
Only some of their banners had begun their march. The rest awaited for Oberyn to join them before they did so and his brother was still by his side as they looked to the sea. The ships had been spotted earlier that morn and would be docking by midday. Doran having looked upon them from the balcony of his chambers in the Old Palace. His Myrish Eye showed him not just the silver seahorse of House Velaryon but the Three-Headed Dragon of House Targaryen represented on the sails.
Viserys Targaryen would soon be the first prince to visit Sunspear in a generation. Not even Rhaegar had deigned to visit Dorne during his courtship of Eli or after they had wed.
'At least officially.' Doran thought bitterly.
Doran hated the fact that it was to his lands that Rhaegar had brought the Northern Whore he'd wed, almost as much as he wished he'd known it was so. Arthur Dayne may have been able to survive the Northmen's attack on the Tower of Joy, he'd not have been able to fare so well against the Dornishmen that Doran would have sent against him had he but known who was residing there.
Yet, such thoughts brought him little comfort and there was naught he could do about the past.
"The future, however."
From the moment that Oberyn had told him the truth of things, Doran had considered what course of action he could take. The arrival of Jon Connington had then in turn set that course for him. An offer that was an insult as much as it was an opportunity, or so Doran had later come to realize. Although for him to take advantage of that opportunity he would need certain things to fall into place. The first of them having done so already, Doran was most pleased to find.
While Oberyn wished for war to be fought on their terms, Doran wanted it to be an altogether different campaign. A well-planned set of battles would mayhap lead to an even truer victory. Yet, truth be told, victory was all but assured. The Vale, North, Reach, Dorne, Lords of the Narrow Sea, Company of the Sea Snake, and most if not all of the Riverlands, no force alone could withstand such odds. Robert Baratheon brought the Stormlands, West, and mayhap some of the Crownlands to bear and it would not be enough to win him a true victory. A pyrrhic one, however, well that served Doran even better and so a rushed campaign allowed for things a well-thought-out one did not.
"As does a rushed wedding." he smiled.
Calling for Areo, Doran was wheeled to where his family was already breaking their fasts. There he was met by a daughter who bore a scowl on her face and who stewed in her anger. Two sons who welcomed him warmly and a brother who did so even more so than they. Oberyn was ever keen to see the wedding take place and to depart on his journey for justice and vengeance.
"I've seen the ships with mine own eyes." Doran began as his morning meal was placed in front of him. The fruit and dry bread were not something that filled him with any great desire to partake in and yet eat it he knew he must.
"I'll not marry him, I'll run away." Arianne sounded so much like the spoiled little girl she'd not been in many a year that it took Doran a moment to make it clear that she would do as he had bid.
A nod of his head to Ellaria and Tyene was enough to send them both after his daughter when she then stormed from the room. Oberyn looked at him worriedly and yet Doran just shook his head and forced himself to eat his food.
The rest of the morning was spent going over their battle plans and Doran could find no fault in what Oberyn proposed. Briefly, he wondered if he should let his brother in on his other plans, and yet for now he felt it best if he did not. Timing was too important for those plans to succeed and the last thing he wished for was to argue about them. or worse than that, see them challenged for true. To his surprise, and for a moment, his shock, Oberyn then spoke on some of those plans and Doran worried that his brother had found them out. Only to breathe in relief when it became clear he had not.
"You're certain about sending Quentyn, brother?" Oberyn asked.
"I am, for why do you ask?"
"Would it not serve him better to march by mine own side? To let Dorne see him do so and to know I'll keep him as far from any true harm as I can."
Doran sighed. Every word that Oberyn spoke was true and yet even the risk he was putting Quentyn at, was one that he much needed to take. Jon Snow had to fall and he had to fall either in battle for true or to the knives that Doran sent his way. Knives that he knew would only have the chance to get close to him if they were sent with someone who gave them a reason to be there.
So while Doran could send a contingent from Dorne to fight by the bastard's side, it would not be one that would truly get close enough to him. Sending his son, a Prince of Dorne, that would certainly allow them to do so. It may put Quentyn in danger, but that was a risk that Doran needed to take. One that if all worked out would earn him his blood on the Iron Throne where they belonged and would see a different king crowned than the one all thought they were marching in support of.
Jon Snow was a king that Doran could accept not, given who his mother and father were and more so who he had named as the woman who'd be his queen. Not when he had a more palatable candidate in mind and one whose claim was even truer.
"We must be seen to support the king, Oberyn, not just by our army taking the field, but with all we do. A wedding between our two Houses and mine own son marching side by side with the Dragon. Let them name Dorne as truly as they do the Vale or North." Doran lied.
The Great Hall was filled with the great and good of Dorne. All its Lords and Ladies as well as the knights and men at arms who'd not traveled already. Standing next to him, Arianne still scowled and yet there was a look of interest on his daughter's face. An eagerness to see if Viserys Targaryen bore all the beauty that the Dragons were famed for. Next to her, her brothers looked on with less keen eyes while Oberyn stood and seemed most eager of them all to greet the Dragon Prince.
A hush came over the crowd and then a group of men walked into the Great Hall. All of them were armed and armored and for the briefest of moments, Doran began to panic. Images of his family being taken away in chains and Doran then dragged from his wheeled chair came to mind, before then quickly departing.
"His grace, Prince Viserys of the House Targaryen." the herald said as Viserys moved forward.
His daughter's reaction was a small exhale of air and the beginning of a smile. Oberyn, like he, narrowed their eyes and was taken aback by just how much the prince in front of them looked like the one who'd shamed their sister. Only the smile that Viserys wore and the lilt in his voice, when he spoke, were enough to tell them that it was a much different prince that stood before them now.
"Prince Doran, I am truly honored to be welcomed to Dorne and to be in the presence of such Leal and true men and women," Viserys said, his words spoken with practiced ease.
"As is Dorne to welcome you, Prince Viserys."
"Princess Arianne, a pleasure truly," Viserys said and Doran was happy he needed not to tell Arianne to move to her future husband. As he was, that she did so as eagerly as she did.
Viserys took her hand and placed a kiss softly upon it. Doran saw Ellaria nod to Oberyn and show her approval and acceptance of the man himself.
That night they feasted the prince and any doubts he had that Arianne would not welcome bedding her future husband were put to rest. His daughter flirted openly and truly with Viserys and though there was some reluctance on the prince's part, it was more lack of experience rather than interest that was the reason for that. Something that watching them dance together would prove even more truly.
"They look good together, my prince," Ellaria said after she and Oberyn had finished a dance of their own.
"I see a chance of happiness for them, Ellaria, am I wrong to think so?"
"No, my prince, I see that chance too."
A week later.
The wedding had been all he'd ever wished it to be. It was larger than any he could remember other than Elia's. Yet, even Doran would have wagered there was no bride more beautiful than his daughter and he thanked the gods themselves for being able to walk her down the aisle. It may have taken more draughts than he really should swallow and he may pay for it soon enough, yet it was worth all the pain to come, however.
His spies told him that the sound of the coupling that night was loud and boisterous. As it was on the three nights that followed and though he knew it was unlikely, Doran still found himself hoping that Viserys' seed had already taken root. Watching Arianne and her new husband say their goodbyes to each other, only showed that joy had been found either in the marriage itself or at least in the wedding bed. The prince's goodbyes when spoken to him showed a determination and focus that Doran would welcome seeing in his future king.
Oberyn had set off and Quentyn too had departed. The men with him all bearing Doran's orders and while none of them knew of the others, he had faith they'd see the task he'd set them done. Two kings would fall in the war to come, one that owed him much for all he'd taken from them and the other whose debt was based not on anything he himself had done, but on the sins of his parents. When the War of the Two Kings was over and done with, they'd then crown a Third in their stead. Whether or not that king lived to enjoy a full and true reign, well on that Doran had yet to come to a decision.
"In the end, it matters not. Mine is the blood that will sit the Iron Throne and when this war is done, all debts owed to House Martell will be paid in full."
Massey's Hook 298 AC.
Jon Connington.
They had the good fortune of the gods to help them in their landing. Every ship managed to arrive without incident and their men disembarked with great haste. Looking over the line of tents that stretched as far as the eye could see, Jon did so with a true smile on his face. A plot years in the making was finally set to be realized and the vengeance and justice his heart cried out for, was finally to be known to him. When all was said and done, the man who had killed Rhaegar Targaryen would be dead and Daeron, Rhaegar's son, would sit the Iron Throne.
"Give me to then, Father, if my time is soon to draw to an end, I pray you give me to then before you take me," Jon said to the wind.
Leaving the cliffs far behind him, Jon made his way to the Command Tent and hoped the messages from Varys' little birds had arrived. Their plans were already set. An attack right at the heart of the Stag's powerbase and one that threatened not only a large part of his forces but his very family itself. His king believed it would force Robert to move to where he wished him and should he do so, then it may not even be Daeron who struck the killing blow when the time finally came to do so. Jon knew that there would be others soon joining them who'd like to do so just as much.
Entering the tent, he looked to a man he knew would much like to be the one to end the Stag's life. Ser Richard Lonmouth like Jon did, mourned and missed Rhaegar greatly, yet the Knight of Skulls and Kisses had another reason to hate Robert Baratheon. Another man he mourned just as truly, and so it would be Myles Mooton too that Richard sought vengeance for. Every single one of them who had named Rhaegar a friend would seek justice for the deaths of Princess Elia and the children as well.
'Oberyn, however, will seek blood and blood alone to soothe his broken heart.'
Taking his seat, Jon was happy to be handed the note and to then quickly read its contents. There was to be no change to their plans. No adjustments to be made and so by the morrow, the Company of the Sea Snake would be truly unleashed upon the Stormlands. Keeps would be threatened and yet not sacked. Ambushes would be laid and routes through the Stormlands would be blocked. The Lords of the Storm would soon find out that their battle was not in the Riverlands or against the North and the Vale, but here closer to their own homes. Jon knew full well that men when faced with danger to those they loved were not always clear of mind and thought.
As for the Stag himself, Jon would almost wish to be a fly on the wall when Robert Baratheon heard of their landing in the Stormlands. Knowing how full of rage and fury the blowhard claimed to be, Jon would wager he'd march hard to face them and break them against the walls of Storm's End. Only to find that while they may indeed force the battle to be fought there, it wouldn't be them who were fucked in their arses by an army coming from behind them.
"Is there word from the Reach? From Dorne?" he asked Richard, keen to find out when their allies would be joining them.
"Our prince landed and has been wed, Jon," Richard said handing him another note from Varys.
"Dorne marches as too does Viserys." he smiled. "The Reach?"
"Banners have been called and orders given, some sent directly to Randyll Tarly and Mathis Rowan, or so the Spider's missive claims."
"Good, I'd trust not in Mace Tyrell to march with haste."
They were far more pleasant words than what he truly felt regarding the Fat Flower. Jon still not having forgiven the man for his inaction during the Rebellion and he'd been loathed to see House Tyrell rewarded with a princess for a bride. Only the thoughts of taking the Reach in its entirety from Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon's forces had allowed him to agree with what Daenerys herself proposed. While he knew it was only that the proposal came from his aunt that allowed Daeron to agree to it.
That night they ate a hearty meal and though it was far from a feast, it was one they ate in good cheer. Jon rose early the next morning and it was he that gave the outriders their orders. The Dothraki members of the Company of the Sea Snake would be joined by archers led by Black Balaq. His former companion in the Golden Company had come to their side after Myles Toyne had passed, the Summer Islander refusing to serve and take orders from Harry Strickland.
"Thanks be to the gods," Jon whispered as they watched Balaq and the others ride out.
Their orders were simple. To harass and harry any forces that they encountered. They were to cause whatever chaos they could in their enemies' ranks and yet were never to engage with them directly. Most of all, they were to report back on the positions and makeup of the Stormlands forces and to ensure that it was them and not the Company that marched blind. Jon had faith that they'd see the job done admirably. As he had that the Company would prove itself a match for a force twice their size, as long as they were warned in advance that was what they had to face.
Watching as the tents were taken down far more quickly than by any other force, he'd wager, Jon made his way to his horse, and with a nod to Richard, he climbed atop it. They had many miles to cover to reach the Kingsroad and see it was blocked to all but themselves. Hard ground to march over to then be able to quickly and without warning force through their advance. What they'd face and where they'd be forced to stop that advance, as of yet was unknown to him, it would not be so for long.
Five days later.
He'd forgotten more about his homeland than he'd realized. The Kingswood and Wendwater Bridge most of all. Jon had always laughed when they'd reached it and he'd seen what it truly offered them. They would be under the cover that the large forest provided and there was a straight path to force an army to march through. Only the gods could have gifted them so, or so he'd said loudly to Richard when they made their camp.
Their outriders had been lucky enough to come across a large baggage train. Balaq sent word to them once he'd taken it and their men now adding it to their supplies. Other than a brief skirmish against House Buckler's remaining forces, Jon and his men had bloodied their swords not. Even that fight was a much lesser one than it should have been and was more of a mummery than anything else. Jon had bid his men to fly the banner of the Three-Headed Dragon and to keep their true numbers a secret. A siege of a keep that they had no true intent to take and the allowing of ravens to fly from that keep, were all part of his plan.
Now, they were in what he always believed was the worst part of any war. True, the fighting could be terrible and gruesome and the loss of life, lamentable. The waiting, however, was the worst of it or so Jon believed. Knowing a battle was coming and yet not the when of that battle was hard. As too were the little doubts that filled your mind as you waited. Questions that you'd find no answers to. Worries that you could never truly put to bed any doubts that you couldn't remove. While waiting, you faced them all.
The missives from Varys helped. News reaching them of the king's march and the North's own. Of how Prince Oberyn had reached the Boneway and led the Dornish Army towards their own and how the Reach had finally set off and begun their march to the Land of the Storms. Jon now knew the makeup of the Stormlands forces and he almost couldn't believe his good fortune. Those nearest to King's Landing had marched and joined up with the Stag while those remaining marched with Stannis. A split Stormlands was something he could only have wished for and yet it was what he was to face.
"All I can do now is wait to face them," he said softly.
The West 298 AC.
Tywin Lannister.
No matter where he was, his missives found him. Be that in Casterly Rock, Lannisport, King's Landing, or now, in Ashemark. Ravens or messengers arrived and Tywin read each scroll or letter with great interest. Never had he expected to read the words that he now did and then cursed the realm and the fools that inhabited it once he did so. He turned to speak to Kevan and then almost cursed aloud. His brother had marched further and faster than Tywin himself, his orders were to pillage and raze the Riverlands and they were now ones that needed to be rescinded.
"Fucking flowery fools." Tywin spat.
There had been few times in his life where Tywin had been blindsided so completely. The truth of Jon Snow and that he was no bastard had been one of them. Jaime turning his back on family and absconding with his grandson and granddaughter had been another. This, however, was far more annoying than either of those two things, or at least it was in terms of what it now forced him to do.
A part of him blamed himself for not predicting this course of action. For not considering that while yes they offered a match with a future king, they were not the only ones who had matches to offer. Deep down, Tywin had known that the Reach would long to join their banners to the Dragon once more, and yet he'd felt they'd do no such thing. That the offer he made them was too good to resist and that the numbers they brought to bear were far too much in their favor. Now, he was faced with the realization that it was the Dragon who had the numbers, not him.
Taking a quill, he dipped it in ink and began to write those numbers out. The North and the Vale, the Riverlands and the Lords of the Narrow Sea, he'd believed that with just the Stormlords and the West, as well as the plans he had put in place to deal with the Riverlords, the Crown had the numbers. When the Reach added their own to their forces, Tywin named the odds as two to one in their favor, mayhap even three should the Riverlands fall as truly as he'd planned. Now, he saw the pendulum swing the other way and what was worse even than the numerical advantage, was the logistical one too.
"Fuck the Riverlands, it is to the Reach we must march."
Standing up, Tywin moved to the table where the map of the realm was laid atop. Looking down on the map, he began to see more problems than solutions. Should he continue his march into the Riverlands, then the Reach would march behind him and Tywin risked being caught between three armies. Even should the Stormlords match as quickly and as directly as he hoped, it would not be a battle he could win.
The Vale and North would have time to join up and his deal with Walder Frey would count for naught and yet, it was a deal that gave him time if little else. Time he'd not now use in the way he'd first intended. Tywin moved his hand over the map and looked down at it with both glee and disappointment. Had the news arrived before they'd set off from Casterly Rock, then they'd have taken the Ocean Road and ravaged the Reach in its entirety. Now, they would need to cross more difficult ground, yet there were advantages to be had in doing so.
"I'll see Highgarden in flames," he whispered. Though in truth he knew he'd not do such a thing lest there was no other choice. The keep was far too valuable a prize to see burned. Its occupants, however, were a different matter.
Moving back to his table, Tywin wrote out the note for Kevan and called for a rider to bring it to his brother. A raven too was sent in the hope that Kevan had not yet reached the Golden Tooth, though Tywin knew his brother far too well to expect that to be the true. As long as he was not bogged down in a siege, something that should not be the case until the army reached Riverrun, then Kevan would return to his side most quickly. Before then, Tywin and the Men of the West would have some hard marching to do and so it would be but one more night spent at Ashemark before he began that march.
Taking to his bed that night, Tywin found he was not to enjoy a peaceful night's sleep. The dreams he had were ones that no matter how much he tried, he could not force away. His army broken, his family taken hostage, Tywin dragged behind a cart to the gates of King's Landing. Then forced to look upon the heads of his children as they rested on stakes. Cersei and Tyrion bearing looks upon their dead faces which showed they suffered much before breathing their last. It was his grandson that Tywin saw next. Joffrey screamed like a girl as he too had his head removed. Kevan, Genna, their children, and even Joy Hill, all then faced the headsman's ax. Until finally, it was his time to pay for the sins he'd committed against the House of the Dragon.
"You may take my head, but you'll not break my spirit," Tywin shouted, though in truth seeing his family meet their ends was enough to do so.
"Who says I want your head, Lion." Daeron Targaryen replied. Tywin looked at him incredulously before he was then dragged and tied to a stake. "I'm a Dragon and Dragons bring the fire."
It couldn't be so large and yet it was. The bronze and silver dragon covered the ground in shadow as it flew over Tywin's head and landed next to its master. Then, Daeron Targaryen climbed up onto the dragon's back and Tywin heard a word he knew not the meaning of. At least not until the flames came a moment later
"Dracarys."
He woke in a cold sweat. Tywin was relieved he had the presence of mind to understand it was just a dream and nothing else. For had he not then he'd have jumped from the bed in a panic and sought to put out the flames he'd believed himself enveloped in. Instead, he hurriedly drank a mug of cool water and rose to his feet. His legs were shakier than he wished them to be and yet soon enough he stood firmly and proudly once more.
What he'd seen in his dreams was but one possible outcome of the war to come. It was not one he'd see come to pass and by sheer will alone, Tywin would make sure he was the last man standing when the smoke cleared. Daeron Targaryen would die at the hands of the Catspaws he'd sent his way. His wife and child would meet their ends the very same way and those who supported him and had placed their banners next to him would learn the most valuable lesson of all.
"Only a fool pulls on a Lion's Tail and expects not to be bitten," Tywin said as he moved to dress. A whistling sound soon came from his chambers as the Rains of Castamere were heard once more. A smile upon his face as he left Ashemark behind later that day and thought of how he'd soon need a new song to be sung.
'The Lion's Roar.'
Rosby 298 AC.
Robert Baratheon.
Robert stared down at the map of the realm that had named him its king for nigh on five and ten years. A realm that now sought to name another in his stead.
Ours is the fury, not since the Trident did Robert feel those words as truly as he had these past few days. To find out that not only had his brother by choice betrayed him so completely, but that it was more than likely that his foster father had been complicit in that betrayal, had brought about a rage that only the spilling of blood would see calmed. Whose blood he wished to spill the most, Robert couldn't truly say. Both Ned and his nephew had equally earned his wrath and fury.
The damnable thing was that he'd been so very proud of the boy he now wished dead. Had believed him to be as good and true as any man he'd ever known. Until the truth had revealed itself, Robert would have even been proud to name the lad his own Now, he wished nothing more than to end Daeron Targaryen just like he had his father before him. He wanted to see Ned Stark beg and plead for his nephew's life before Robert took the boy and then his traitor of an uncle from the world. When he left King's Landing, that and that alone had been his goal. Or so he'd told himself.
In truth, Robert knew that it couldn't simply stop with the deaths of Ned Stark and his Dragonspawn of a nephew. The Starks one and all would need to be put down, as too would the Arryns. Robert could not allow any of them to live and he needed not Tywin Lannister nor his spiteful cunt of a daughter to tell him so. Nor did he need Littlefinger to whisper in his ear that there were other ways to bring about those deaths than facing either man across a battlefield. Unsavoury though those tactics may be to some, Robert was not above employing them to get the job done. More so now that he'd found out what the Dragonspawn and those who supported him had dared to do.
"What do you mean an army has landed on my lands?" Robert bellowed.
"The Company of the Sea Snake, your grace. An army of sellswords that we were sure were in Essos, are very much not."
"And you're telling me that the Dragonspawn is behind them?" he asked incredulously. Varys looked worried for once before he answered.
"I am, your grace."
The Eunuch had almost lost his head there and then. His information both angering Robert greatly and proving other tales he'd spoken to be false. Robert may not have attended many meetings of the Small Council, nor remembered much of those he had, the one where tale had been spun about the Company of the Sea Snake, he very much did. His initial instincts that it had to do with the blasted Velaryons were now shown to be right and he liked it not.
It made him question the Eunuch's loyalty and only that he was doing so to almost everyone who now served him, would have cost Varys his life. Had it not been for his brother then it certainly would have, but Renly and Stannis had been there at the meeting when Varys spun his tale and spoke up for him now. Or, the former did at least, it had been far too long since he'd heard tale of his other brother. Robert now feared the reason why and it had been that more than anything that had forced him to stop his march at Rosby.
As much as every fiber in his body willed him to march north and face the Dragonspawn or the Traitor Wolf, as he'd begun to think of Ned, he could not do so without the men to beat them. His goodfather led the men of the West and Robert took no comfort in the fact that Tywin Lannister too knew all too well the sting of betrayal. The Kingslayer was now confirmed to be by the side of the Dragonspawn. as he and Barristan Selmy served the Dragons once more. Robert doing his best not to worry about the fates of his children who he knew were somewhere in the Vale. They were not to his knowledge held as hostages, or so he believed, since no word about ransom or threats to their safety had been sent his way.
'Could those words have been sent to their grandfather?'
'Could that be used against me and get Tywin to turn his cloak?'
'Can I trust the Lions or will they prove themselves as bad as Wolves and Falcons?'
Robert hated that his mind would turn that way and yet he found at times he could stop it not. At others, he'd think dark thoughts about Myrcella and Tommen's fates. Images of bloodstained cloaks and a dark-haired purple-eyed boy sitting on Robert's throne. Laughter rang around the Throne Room as Daeron Targaryen spoke words that haunted Robert and would force him from his slumber.
"I see no Babes, only Stagspawn."
At times and much to his surprise, Robert would almost weep over what fate he'd believe his wife would suffer should he lose this war. Stannis and Renly too. Even little Shireen who he'd given not a single thought to since the day she was born. Given his plans for the children of his enemies, he could see naught but death for any that bore the blood of the Stag or that of the Lion in their veins. Memories of a babe that he'd once held in his arms and who he'd long since forgotten her face, would come to mind as well.
"Though for the life of me, I can remember not her name either." he laughed bitterly.
If it was not for his rage, Robert may have crumbled under the weight of the forces arrayed against him. Tywin may believe they have the numbers to win the war but Robert was less assured that this was true. Nor did he place much faith in the Reach to bring their true numbers to his side if he was being honest with himself. True, he was offering to make the Rose of Highgarden a future queen, but Joffrey was no true prize, and the Reach itself was full of Dragonlovers.
Half at best, was what he could hope for, or so Robert would wager. The Tyrells along with those most closely allied with them and he feared he'd lose even more than that in truth. Tarly and Rowan, Ashford, and others, against a son of Rhaegar Targaryen, those men would rise not to fight him. Robert's best chance was they rose not for that son and yet he believed that not either. As for the Riverlands, he'd find no allies there, much though it pained him to say so. Hoster Tully had only risen for them during the Rebellion based on marriages, and the fruits of those marriages were who he'd rise for now.
"Fucking Duplicitous Trouts." Robert spat.
As he looked down on the map, his eyes again drawn to the north, Robert knew he could not march that way. Without the Stormlords he had no true army to call upon. Less than eight thousand men he'd gathered from his Bannermen closest to King's Landing and those of the Crownlands. Against the Knights of the Vale or the North, it would not be enough.
'Nowhere near enough.'
Calling for Ser Mandon Moore and Littlefinger, Robert readied to give the order that he had but no choice other than to speak aloud. His Kingsguard arrived first and the slippery Master of Coin was not too far behind him.
"Ready the Men, We March into the Storm." he all but shouted.
"At once, your grace." Ser Mandon replied, hurrying from the room a moment later.
"You've sent your Catspaws?" he asked Littlefinger once Ser Mandon had left them alone.
"I have, your grace."
"To the North and the Vale too?"
"I…"
"Send them, let the deaths of their kin break their spirit before my hammer breaks their bones."
The ravens flew that very night. Robert sent word that he marched one way while he instead marched another. His fury pushed down deep inside of himself for now. Vengeance was put on hold for a different day, but only on hold. For Robert would see them dead by his hands or by the hands of knives in the dark before he breathed his last. Yet the prayer he offered up to the Father spoke more to the truth he felt deep in his heart than any he'd ever spoken before.
"Give me one chance to face them, one great battle, and then I'll welcome my end."
The Eyrie 298 AC.
Elaena Arryn.
Her son was a curious child, his eyes ever alight and searching. Duncan could be quiet at times too, almost as if he was contemplating some important matter, such was the look on his face that Elaena would see when she stared at him. A trait he'd gotten from his father or mayhap even his grandfather, or so Ser Barristan had said before he, the other Kingsguard, and her husband had set off for war.
Daeron and she had argued much when it came to the Kingsguard. Arthur and Sandor took her side while Barristan and Ser Jaime were far keener to be seen to be taking the side of the king. In the end, Elaena had gotten her way, she was to stay in the Eyrie and would need no more protection than what the keep itself provided. Meanwhile, Daeron was facing a war, and the Kingsguard belonged with the king. Besides, she had Winter and Frost by her and Duncan's sides and there were no more faithful and diligent protectors than the two Direwolves. Neither of whom had left their posts since Daeron, Robert, and the Brotherhood had departed.
So, protection-wise, Elaena felt as secure as she could be. The Eyrie too had some extra guards that Lord Yohn had appointed. In Ser Donnel Waynwood, it had a most capable Castellan and other than the fact she now shared a residence with the Scary Fish, Elaena had no worries. At least none for herself and Duncan that was. For when it came to her husband, brother, uncle, cousins, and those she had named friends, she worried far too much and so she offered prayers for them in the Eyrie's Sept often. Which had unfortunately led to her only run-in with the Scary Fish.
"You think you have it all, don't you? That you'll be queen one day and just like you and your bastard husband have cast me down from my rightful place, so too will you cast Cersei Lannister from hers." the voice rang out behind her, Elaena was confused as to why Winter had let the Scary Fish creep up on her without warning.
"I took nothing from you, nor did I ever wish your current situation upon you," Elaena replied firmly and with restrained anger.
"You truly are a conniving little bitch aren't you." Lysa spat. "Not content with stealing my son from me, you force me to be confined in my rooms like an errant child."
"As you did my brother, lest you forget."
"HE IS MY SON AND YOU TURNED HIM AGAINST ME!" Lysa screamed and this forced Winter to growl menacingly at the woman.
"You allowed not my brother to grieve for his father, nor to be with his sister to help him through that grief."
"HE WAS NOT HIS…."
Winter had howled so loudly that Elaena had been spared the end of whatever rant the Scary Fish was about to let loose. Ser Donnel then arrived along with Elaena's guards to escort both of them from the Sept. The Scary Fish back to what had become her wing of the keep, while Elaena was most grateful to be led back to her own. As she was to find that she'd arrived just as Duncan awoke, she now remembered fondly.
Moving now to the crib to look down upon her son, Elaena smiled to see Duncan dreaming happily. Her son wore a half smirk on his face and she wondered if it was Dragons or Direwolves that he played with in his dreams. Duncan may have only spent a few weeks with Tyraxes as company, but the dragon and her son had bonded just as much as he had with Winter and Frost. Elaena was in no doubt that they, along with Ghost, would do all they could to keep her son from harm.
"As too would your father and I, Little Dragon," Elaena said softly.
The knock on the door stopped her from just wiling away the hours starting at her son as he slept, Elaena was happy to see both Ysilla and Mya enter the room once she'd bid them to. Like her, her cousin and friend couldn't get enough of Duncan and at times it was almost a friendly battle between them to see who got to hold or play with him. Now, however, it was other matters that brought them to her room and Elaena felt her breath still when she saw the raven's scroll in Ysilla's hands.
"From his grace," Ysilla said, handing her the scroll.
Elaena took the scroll with shaky hands and then relaxed once she saw the seal. Breaking it open, she saw Daeron's handwriting and let out the remainder of the breath she was holding in. All was well, the army had marched and had yet to face any resistance and the Company of the Sea Snake had landed without incident. There were other words written that were more personal and that Elaena knew she'd be re-reading before taking to her bed, yet those for now could wait. Her husband was unharmed if not safe. Robert too. Until they were both back with her and Duncan, this would be the best she could hope for. Elaena was under no illusions that they'd both not be in grave danger soon enough.
The day itself then passed without incident. While Elaena would eat her main meal in the Eyrie's Great Hall and would sit upon what had once been her father's seat, she ate her other meals in her chambers. By some grace of the Mother, Duncan usually would need to be fed just after Elaena herself had eaten and her son was a hungry dragon at times. Then as was her wont, she would bring up Duncan's wind and they'd drift off to sleep together, even if it was but briefly.
Some mornings, Elaena would allow Myrcella and Tommen to join her and Duncan when they broke their fast. The two children understood only some of what was going on and yet from what Elaena could see, they held no malice in their hearts for Daeron, Duncan, or herself. Tommen even japed that he had always hated being a prince, while Myrcella seemed happier to have some distance between her and her older brother. She knew not what their father had told them and whether or not he'd even told them that he was their father. However, she was fully aware that at some point that truth would need to be revealed and so she'd do all in her power to be there for them both when it was.
'Children are innocent of the crimes of their families and always should that be so'
Her husband may be fighting against monsters and men who thought differently, but Elaena knew how true Daeron's heart was and that he'd never allow himself to become a man such as Tywin Lannister or Robert Baratheon. There would be no cheering of a child's death or rapists sent after their mother on her husband's part. As for the Old Lion and the Stag King, should they try to do so to her and Duncan, they'd find only the fangs and teeth of wolves to be what awaited them. As well as the talons that a Falcon could bring to bear.
Pentos 298 AC.
Dany.
They were magical creatures, mystical almost. Yet at their heart they were children. Her children. Each of the three dragons was as eager for her attention as the other, yet all three were as different in personality as they could be. It had been that which had led Dany to name them how she had. Two for her brothers and the last for her nephew. Viserion, the cream dragon was brave and resolute, or so Dany saw him and the brother she named him after as. Rhaegal, the green dragon was thoughtful and composed, as she had been told her older brother and Daeron's father had been. As for Darax, he was fierce and almost regal, the dragon her other two children followed after and his coloring was that of their House.
"Black and Red, worthy colors for a king."
Dany knew that Daeron had his own dragon and something inside of her told her that it would be she who took Darax as her mount. She believed too that Viserys would one day ride his namesake and at night she dreamed of all three of them doing so. However, there was always a fourth in those dreams with them and atop Rhaegal's back and it had taken many of them for Dany to realize who it was that the green dragon would name its rider. Something that still brought a true smile to her face when she thought about it now.
"My Great Nephew is just as small as you are, my child, but just like you will grow, so too will he," Dany said as she lifted Rhaegal into her arms. The green dragon coiling itself around her shoulder and the screeches from his brothers were more than enough to allow Dany to bid them join him.
She knew that the battles were more than likely already taking place. That the war to regain her family's throne was upon them. So while Dany had listened to Illyrio, Lemore, Jon Connington, Viserys, and Daeron when it came to their numerical advantage in waging that war, she'd not lie and say she wasn't still fearful. Nor that at night when she lay her head down upon her pillow, she didn't curse the gods for not giving them more time. For not allowing her children to grow so that they could play their parts in that war.
"As fearful as I would be for each of you."
When her thoughts turned too dark or she began to fear too much, it was to her betrothed that Dany would force her mind to turn to. Viserys was now a man wed and she prayed that her brother had found some love with his new bride. Her wedding would take place only after the Iron Throne was won and the Usurper and the Old Lion had fallen. A wedding to be held in the Great Sept, just as her nephew and Goodniece's had been. The first such of a Targaryen Princess since her mother had been wed there.
"Would that you could be there to see it, mother," Dany said softly as a tear fell from her eye.
That tear never had a chance to roll down her cheek and Dany chuckled as the warm breath made it evaporate. Darax tilted his head and looked deeply into her violet eyes after he'd wiped her tears away as only a dragon could. The small dragon only turned his blood-red eyes away once he was certain that he'd chased away her sadness as much as he had her tears. Dany offered him a smile and a soft touch of her hand in thanks for doing both.
"Mine own marriage will be much happier, on that I vow, my child," Dany said to a nod of Darax's head.
In time, she did not doubt that her words would be answered by a roar from her fiercest child. That her other children would answer them too even if they were bonded by then to their riders. Dany knew too that in her brother and nephew, she would have two protectors who ensured that her future husband treated her well. However, if he did not it would not be the true dragons or those who were men that Willas Tyrell would need to worry about. Instead, it would be the dragon that Dany herself had become. A dragon forged now in flames as much as her children were.
Placing her dragons in their resting places, Dany bid them all to get some rest and told them that she would return soon. Walking from her room with the two Unsullied guards and the two men from the Company of the Sea Snake that were among the detachment left by her brother, Dany made her way to the Magister's chambers. Soon enough she was sitting in front of Illyrio's desk and listening as he told her all he knew about the war and the location of her brother and nephew.
"No true battle has taken place as of yet, my princess." Illyrio began. "The Company of the Sea Snake has landed and set about its work, while Prince Viserys had left Dorne to set about his own."
"And my brother's plans?" she asked curiously.
"Are unknown to any but Lord Connington, King Daeron, and the Prince himself, my princess."
Dany nodded at that, both happy that they were being so careful and for now able to fight away any worries she had that something had gone wrong.
Later that night, Dany spoke to her children and told them of their future riders. All but Darax, listening eagerly to the words she spoke. Viserion seemed most keen to meet his namesake. Rhaegal, for some reason, was a little more reticent and it took Dany some time to understand why that was. The benefits of growing as his rider did were outweighed in her son's mind by the lack of them regarding the words that Duncan could not yet speak.
"Then it shall be from your mother that you receive all the praise and guidance you need, my child."
Darax, Dany was to find, wished to have his own words spoken to him when his brothers slept. Dany welcomed the black and red dragon to her bed and placed him beside her on the pillow. She spoke for quite some time about the things they'd do together. The places they'd go and the homes they'd make for themselves in the Reach and King's Landing. At one point during the night, Darax roared as loudly as he could. It may have barely resonated as a roar but it gave a glimpse into what one day would be a powerful one. A roar that would strike fear and doubt into the hearts of any who dared threaten his mother, their family, or their House.
"My Sweet Brave Boy," Dany said as Darax trilled at her words.
Sleep when it came brought dreams and though at first they were worrisome, soon they were very much not. Dany dreamt of knives in the dark and attempts on her brother's and nephew's lives. Attempts that were easily countered and which only brought a dragon's wrath down upon those foolish enough to try such a thing. Yet there was one part of the dream that she couldn't quite let go of. One thing that she believed needed for her to take some action to avoid.
Upon waking the next morning, Dany hurried to the Magister's chambers and had to speak to Illyrio while he was still dressed in his bedclothes. She asked him how quickly a message could be sent to her nephew and to her betrothed, the latter almost more important than the former given the nature of what she'd seen in her dream.
"Through Varys we can have a message in the king's hand in four days, in five or six Lord Willas too would have received word from us. For what reason would there be such urgency, my princess?"
"My dreams come true, Magister and I saw Lions in a Rose Garden."
The messages were sent that very hour. Dany watched as they were taken to wherever it was that would set them on their journey for true. Standing on the balcony, her children all flying in the air above her, Dany made a promise that she hoped she'd never need to deliver upon.
"I'll bring the fire to any who harms my family. To any who dare threaten my future. I am Princess Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons. My mother's daughter and you should fear my wrath and rage."
The Vale of Arryn 298 AC.
Daeron Targaryen.
He had been stupid, reckless and it had almost cost him his life. Daeron had been far too keen to be with Ghost and Tyraxes when they were hunting. While he had believed too that in the Vale they were safe from any Catspaws or knives that Tywin Lannister or Robert Baratheon sent his way. Had it not been for the Brotherhood, then this war would be at an end and his wife and son would already be in mourning.
So, Daeron had taken the scolding when it came from each of the Kingsguard. He'd then made a solemn vow to first Arthur, and then Sandor, that he'd not even go to the privy unless there was a man in a white cloak with him when he did so. At times Daeron would have to stop himself from chuckling at the fact that Sandor had checked the one he'd used at the Bloody Gate just to make sure it was indeed as empty as it seemed. His loyal protector's words were more than enough to bring a smile to his face even now.
"I don't fucking care if they're under the seat itself, you don't take a shit until I tell you to, understand."
A crown he may wear and most may defer to him or worry about not showing the king the proper respect, Sandor was Sandor however and crowns mattered not to the man. Certainly not as much as Daeron's safety and for that, he could only be grateful to the gods that he'd earned such loyalty. More so that it was as Jon Snow that he'd first done so if Daeron was being honest with himself. Not that he begrudged or thought any less of the loyalty shown to him by those who did so because of his true name, mind.
Looking to his truest friends, he could only vow to repay the debt he now owed to them. Not that any of them would think of what they'd done as needing to be rewarded or had even done so to earn his favor. They had simply done what he himself would have done had it been one of them who was the target of men with murderous intent. Domeric, Waymar, and Mychel had all come to his aid when he'd needed them most, and the bonds he'd made with each of them being the reason he still drew breath. None of them may wear a white cloak, yet they'd protected the king as if they had been, and their friend would be eternally grateful that they did so.
"As would be my wife and son," Daeron whispered.
Thinking back on the attack, he wondered how long the men had planned it and tried not to think too much more about how close they'd come to succeeding. They'd somehow managed to infiltrate their ranks and disguise them among House Corbray's guardsmen and Daeron had wondered if the House or its Lord had played a part. However, one conversation with Ser Lyonel soon proved that not to be so and even Ser Lyn passed the test that Daeron put him to. Ghost proved even more adept than Daeron's lessons in finding the truth in a man's words and actions.
From that point forward, unless the White Wolf, Bronze and Silver Dragon, or the Golden Eagle showed no wariness around a man who was close to him, those men earned not his trust. Between his familiars, the Brotherhood, and his Kingsguard, Daeron now believed that other than a full-on assault, he was as safe as a man who was riding to war could ever be. Turning to look to where his squire and his Goodbrother were riding, Daeron felt more concern for them than he did for himself. They were but boys still and only that they insisted and he knew he'd shame them forever by doing so, they'd be back in the Vale enjoying their youth for some time longer.
"Boys of Summer they may be, but even they will know the feel of winter's chill eventually. Best it's by your side and with the protection you yourself travel with than on their own, is it not?" The Bold's words resounded in Daeron's mind as he looked to where Gyles and Robert were japing with each other.
With night closing in, they soon brought their march to an end and set up their tents for the night. Daeron called for a war council once he was done reading the letters and missives that he'd been sent from throughout the realm. Jon Connington's words, those from the Blackfish and his uncles, both of them, he thought happily, all needing to be spoken on to ensure that their plans remained the same. Given where they were and how soon they'd be leaving the Vale behind, this was even more true now. For once they reached the Riverlands, their peaceful march would most likely come to an end, and be it battles or merely skirmishes, the first blood would be spilled in the War of Two Kings.
Later as the command tent emptied, Daeron believed he'd won these men even more to his side. Their plans were sound and none raised any objections and even after he spoke to Arthur and the rest of the Kingsguard, none could find fault in what he proposed. It left him ready for his bed and looking at Tyraxes and Eyas, he saw that they too wished for naught but sleep. The voices at his tent and the movement of the flap to let his Goodbrother inside stopped that from being his destination for a little while longer at least.
"Your Grace, Lord Robert wishes a word." Ser Barristan said as Robert looked at Daeron warily.
"My Goodbrother is more than welcome at any time, Ser, feel free to disturb me at his request without censure."
"Your Grace." Ser Barristan nodded as Robert wore a relieved smile on his face.
Daeron waited until he and his Goodbrother were alone and then bid Robert to take a seat. He poured a glass of juice for them both and was a little concerned to see how quickly Robert drank it down and how his hands shook slightly as he did so.
"Robert?" he asked, not helping the young lad's nerves and so he spoke more gently "Robert, whatever it is you are free to speak to me about it, you know this right?"
"I know, I just…."
Moving to sit beside his Goodbrother, Daeron placed his hand on Robert's shoulder once he'd taken his seat.
"Laeny would have both our hides for your worries, Robert. You for having them and me for not putting them at ease. We are family, you and I, and family looks out for family does it not?"
"It does," Robert said firmly and Daeron was happy to see him relax.
"Now what's causing you such concern, Robert?"
"I…your family, Jo….Daeron." Robert stuttered, his name causing even those older than his Goodbrother difficulty at times. "Your aunt and uncle, I heard they are to be wed, that they'll bring you alliances, is this so?"
"They are, though I forced them not and only accepted at their request. For I was blessed by the gods themselves to be allowed to marry for love and I'd seek the same for all my kin." Daeron spoke truthfully as his family knew better than most what it was like to be sold off against your will or choice just so an alliance could be forged.
"I would request you allow me to do the same, my king," Robert spoke overly formally and Daeron shook his head. "Please Daeron, should there be a match to be made, I'd ask you to make it for me."
"Laeny would kill us both should I do so, Robert." he japed. "Yet, to see her brother seek it out for himself, I know your sister would be proud of the man you're becoming. Your father too had the gods gifted him the time to see it for himself. As for mine own pride in you, you've earned it tenfold before this point and only furthered it here today."
It took Robert no more than a moment to swell up and sit a little straighter. The young man he'd one day be was shown clearly to Daeron at that moment. Those who'd named his Goodbrother as weak or even some who'd spoken that he'd not live to see manhood, were they to look at Robert now they'd see the folly in their words.
"So if a match is to be made?"
"Then I'll ensure it is and on the day you are wed, I'll stand by your side as you have mine own."
"I thank you, Daeron, for listening to me, for not just sending me away and naming me a green boy."
"You're far from one, Robert. And as for me listening to you, never do you need to thank me for doing so, nor fear I will not. On that, you have my vow, brother."
Though a part of him wished to, Daeron did not muss Robert's hair and he instead embraced him like a brother true. Sending him off to find his bed, he then sought his own and as he lay down upon it, he wondered if there was indeed a match that could be made and even if there was, would he do so. In the end, it mattered not, truth be told. Be it now or further in the future, a match would need to be found for the Warden of the East and Lord of the Vale. One that mayhap would heal the wounds of the war to come, and so as he closed his eyes and sought his wife and son in his dreams, he did so with one name on his lips. A name for an alliance he'd not yet thought of in truth and yet one that he believed brought more advantages than not. For it was not just the war to come that Daeron had to win, but the peace that followed after it would need to be bought and paid for too.
"Myrcella."
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed and forgive me for the slowness of the update. I'll get to the reviews in the next chapter.
For those following my other fics, Last Wolf and Dragonverse will be updated next.