Jaeron Targaryen

Kings Landing, 301 AC

Everywhere he went there were peacocks. People literally walking around with their chests puffed out like they were the most incredible thing to grace the world. It wasn't these people that bothered him surprisingly, what did were the people who both puffed their chests out and deliberately held their noses up high as a show of importance.

Gods, there were so fucking many of them.

From as little as squires to the highest Lord's, looking down on anyone who wasn't 'them' like they were nothing but dog shit on their shoe. A feeling Jaeron knew well from before he had known the truth of his birth. It had been ten days now since Robb had ridden out, and two days prior Margaery and Shireen had arrived in the capital. Seeing the way people were looking at his cousin removed lit a flame deep within him. People had cautioned him massively on keeping Shireen close, but he trusted Howland and Howland did make a good point. By keeping Shireen close he has the Stormland's in his pocket loosely. Win Edric Storm over and he'll have them fully in his grasp.

If only Shireen had known Edric growing up, because then he could've used the familial link to his advantage. Alas, that was not the case and so he needed to find more ways to tie the Kingdom which bordered the Crownland's to the south to him. A feat that was not going to be easy because he was a Targaryen, he was the son of the man their previous King had killed himself on the battlefield by crushing his chest in with a warhammer. He'd let the two settle in for a day before seeking an audience with both separately. Ravens were flowing in of people declaring for him and others more or less spitting directly on his face.

Not that he expected more because Stannis was still a prisoner in Dragonstone, Joffrey was on the loose as were the other Lannister's, and now Balon fucking Greyjoy had claimed himself King. He had very few people around him he trusted wholly, and that weighed heavily on him. At least he had Elissa nearby at all times because reports of what was going on in the Kingdom's would be considerably easier to retrieve rather than trusting whispers and stories.

Of all times for the bloody Ironborn to rear their arses, it had to be now.

He'd never liked them, never trusted them, and never saw their ways as incredible. Theon boasted often on being the future Lord Reaper of Pyke and how his father had only wanted to elevate his people to what they were owed for being driven out of the Riverland's by his own ancestor and loyal men from the Riverland's. Harren Hoare was hated by almost everyone but no one dared to attack because his army and defences in Harrenhal were just too large of a task to take on. Once Harrenhal was scorched and every occupant in the castle alongside it though, there were no defences left and so it had been easy to drive the remainder of them back to their stupid islands.

Not that he had much time to think further on it though as there was a gentle knock on the door and a voice he didn't recognise saying that Princess Shireen was here. That had caused a lot of contention, the decision to let Shireen keep the title of Princess. Jaeron saw the potential difficulties it would cause farther down the line but as of right now allowing her to keep her title would further keep the Stormland's and the Crownland's Lord's who had supported Stannis at bay. Not to mention the Florent's, which he was hoping would further bring Edric Storm into the fold considering his mother was a Florent. The main branch might've declared for Joffrey, but the branch he had relations with through family ties somewhat had not.

"Enter."

He called, the young girl walking in with a man he remembered from when he had visited Dragonstone last. Ser Davos Seaworth. Confusion whirring in his mind for barely a moment and deciding to ask at a later date.

"I trust you have been treated well?"

"Well enough, cousin."

Despite what had happened between their families and what was currently happening, their talk in Dragonstone had clearly melted away most of the animosity. She was young, but she was rather smart he'd figured out quickly. Clearly wanting an end to everything much like he did and that meant swallowing ones pride at least to an extent. Gesturing to the basket of fruits that had been brought in that morning ranging from raspberries to melons. Eyes lighting up for a moment as she skipped within and taking the seat in front of him and reaching over for a slice of melon. Watching the older man who was clearly still weary but stepping within too and sitting beside her.

"I apologise for not writing ahead but my father and mother ordered for Ser Davos to remain with me."

Smart, he couldn't fault such a thing. She needed someone with her that she trusted and it was clear from the little interactions he'd seen of the pair she trusted him, and because of this he trusted him somewhat too.

"There is no need to apologise."

Giving a look towards Arthur who was standing in the doorway to close it but remain guard so no one could get inside whilst they had this discussion. Shireen had yet to be told of his decision to not revoke her title, allowing her time to settle in first because she had not been in Kings Landing for a few years. She had left with Stannis after he had figured out the truth of the Lannister bastards.

"I summoned you to discuss a decision that was made four days prior, cousin."

By now, she had finished her melon and carefully dabbed at her mouth with a cloth to rid her face of all the juice. Staring for perhaps a second longer than he would've liked at her scarred face but she didn't appear to be deterred by it. Likely used to it and didn't notice it anymore. People had been cured from greyscale before, but they'd had the diseased portion of skin removed so their skin just appeared a little darker where they had been inflicted. Shireen was different, for she had been cured from it but still sported the grey scars on most of one half of her face and her neck. They said it was a stuffed bear that had done it, but it wasn't a question he was comfortable asking.

"Shireen Baratheon, you are hereby named my heir until a babe is born to myself and Lady Margaery. During this time you will retain your title as Princess but not of Dragonstone, that title will lie with my aunt if she ever comes back to Westeros."

To say she was stunned was an understatement. Eyes widening ridiculously large before returning to their normal size as she turned to Ser Davos who appeared equally as shocked by such a thing. Running over the possibilities in their heads and wondering what this would mean for the future of House Baratheon.

"If your cousin Edric Storm bends the knee he will be legitimised as Edric Baratheon of Storm's End. If he does not, then I wholly intend to name you Shireen Baratheon Lady of Storm's End and Lady Paramount of the Stormland's. Should Edric bend the knee, I would request you remain here and in time we shall find you a suitable match."

That part disgusted him to speak aloud, but that had been a concession he'd agreed on with the council when he had been considering Lord Howland's proposal. Shireen knew it too, what it meant, but she did not seem against it. Simply nodding her head in acceptance to such a thing. Now, she was both his heir and his hostage. Jaeron knew full well it would not be a forever thing, but for the time being he had to keep her close to keep the Stormland's at bay. They are in the stage of the war where they are trying to recover their losses and plan their next moves.

Word had yet to seep from the Eyrie on what was going to happen with Lysa Arryn wedding Petyr Baelish and still refusing to take part in the war. They had the freshest Knight's, men of summer and of winter, men that would be an incredible boon but also an incredible loss should they go to the other side. He doubted they would, because the Lannister's had murdered Jon Arryn and they were fiercely loyal to the Arryn's of the Eyrie.

"If Edric were to bend the knee and when the inevitable time comes where a babe is born to yourself and Lady Margaery, what then?"

Ser Davos asked with a curious tone, wondering what would happen if this were the case. By refusing to name her Princess of Dragonstone but simply Princess, she was heir in name only and not officially. Yet he had said Daenerys would have Dragonstone if she were ever to sail back so where could she go then?

"That is something yet to be decided. The war is still ongoing, Ser Davos, and I suspect there will be more empty castles than there are currently by the end."

It bothered him he didn't have an exact answer yet, and it clearly bothered both Shireen and Ser Davos, yet they made no comment on the matter for they agreed with his words. Howland had suggested Casterly Rock but that had been put down swiftly because that would be asking for another war by doing so. Either way, she would be granted a Keep of her own and ensure she found a good match for both herself and for the realm, she was family after all. Diluted blood or not, family was family. Not much was spoken after this, going over the basic logistics of what would occur with both options before dismissing both. Only once they were outside letting out the shaky breath he'd been holding in. Arthur stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"How did it go?"

"Better than expected but could've been better. She has accepted the terms."

And she had, waiting on the wax from her seal drying beside where she had written her statement confirming such.

"It's one step closer to getting the Stormland's on your side, take that to heart and not what has been done to do so."

"It feels wrong keeping her as a hostage though."

"A guest- "

"A hostage. She may officially be a guest but in this case she is definitely not. It is alike what my uncle done with Theon Greyjoy by naming him ward and not hostage. It is in name only."

He chewed the inside of his cheeks at that before deciding not to pursue the argument that would surely follow.

"Lord Varys has requested to speak to yourself, I did not wish to agree on your behalf."

"I shall speak to him after I speak to my betrothed. I have some things I must ask of him, things I should've asked the moment we took the Red Keep."

It had come to him the night prior whilst lying on the oak four-poster bed with deep blue velvet curtains and the softest blankets he had ever felt in his life. Recalling how they had ensnared him to not act against him until the time came. Jaeron could've kicked himself in the face if it were possible for not doing so sooner. There was someone in Essos pretending to be a Blackfyre, and from what Arya had overheard he knew more than he was letting on. Now, he needs to remain multiple steps ahead of everyone for there was no mistaking the obvious, there were likely thousands of people in the Red Keep who wouldn't hesitate to remove his head from his shoulders without so much as blinking.

Margaery had been angry when he told her of the agreement, feeling she should've been here when the decision was made and had rightly pointed out all the cons of such a thing. Yet he had listened, and then he had provided her all the pros of such a thing. Agreeing with some and disagreeing with others. She was to be his Queen, and he was going to ensure she remained looped in on everything. There had been far too many Queen's who had simply just been an accessory to their King's and Margaery was far from an accessory but an asset. An asset he intended to use every opportunity he could. Having a mere few minutes to wait until a soft knocking was heard as he straightened himself up as Lord Varys walked in.

This time, he was wearing robes of the richest shade of purple he had ever lain his eyes on, with swirls of metallic red and trimmed with gold. His face powdered as usual but surprisingly this time smelling of oranges which was much better than the lavender scent he favoured as it gave him and most others a headache. Sitting down and immediately helping himself to some of the fruit that was left as Jaeron offered him some wine which he graciously took. Sipping on the glass and swirling it to watch it move within as he decided whether or not he liked it. Taking another timid sip and placing it down on the table which confirmed he did not but wanted to be polite. Seeing no reason to stall on what was on his mind, he got straight to the point.

"Tell me of this boy saying he is a Blackfyre. Do you know who he really is? What he wants? What he will do to get what he wants?"

Varys did not react to his questions, clearly having expected to be questioned on this sooner rather than later.

"I must ask how yourself and Lady Catelyn even heard of such a thing, your Grace?"

"On that you can thank my cousin Arya for she just so happened to be exploring the dragon skulls when you and an Essosi were discussing the matter."

There was no use lying on what had occurred and how they had found out. A tiny smile forming on the eunuch's face as he laughed so lightly it sounded like tinkering bells. He'd known where Sansa was, likely had for a long time and that grated on him that he hadn't considered reaching out to him to see if they could get the spider further into his pocket earlier. Mayhaps then the Lannister's wouldn't have escaped with no trace of where they had gone.

"You Stark's are sneakier than many give you credit for."

"Wolves hunt on their prey, and in this case the prey was yourself. Tell me, who is he?"

Varys reached over to grab the glass and promptly drank the remainder of the wine in a single gulp before smacking his lips and speaking in riddles once again.

"Dragons in the west, and dragons in the east, your Grace."

Rhaenys Targaryen

Qarth, 301 AC

The dust was still clouding in the air from where the House of the Undying had come down. People deciding now to leave their homes unless they had no other choice to because every time they did, they choked on it there was just that much. City guards had ran at them the moment they had tried to leave the wreckage and had promptly taken them all captive, one trying to grab Morghul but the tiny hatchling had snapped furiously at anyone who so much attempted to come near her.

For five days they had remained in the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. The main place where the governors of the city would meet and discuss and socialise with one another. Or as Shiera put it to eat and fuck and drink. It was taken a long time to assemble everyone together for whatever it was they were planning for them. Why had they even been taken anyway? It wasn't like herself and Daenerys had meant to take down the House of the Undying. The whole thing was a blur and the only things keeping her from going mad was remembering who she was, what she had saw in there, and the dragon she had curled in her lap currently.

Rhaenys had found out Morghul hated any kind of attention except on her snout where she would make a noise akin to purring. But if she dared touch her back? Bite. Touch her legs? Bite. Touch her wings? Hiss. Touch her tail? Snort and stomp off. It had amused Shiera greatly but Sansa was looking to them all curiously, the personalities of them all still being surprising. Drogon was fierce, Rhaegal was proud, Viserion may as well be an oversized kitten with how cuddly he was, and then there was her own being a little spitfire.

"Who is it we will be meeting again?"

Shiera sighed at her question, having answered it many times already. It wasn't that she had forgotten, it was just she had no idea what to talk about right now.

"The Pureborn, the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers."

"I wish they'd hurry up."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Sansa spoke to her reply, this breaking the conversation as they all fell into silence once again. She'd taken to counting the bricks in the walls, then she had counted the amount of buildings she could see from the window outside, then she had counted the amount of birds that had flown by. Anything to keep herself occupied but she was running out of ideas. Feeling Morghul move and climb up her chest and knowing what she wanted. Quickly moving into a position and barely even wincing now as she latched on and began suckling. When Dany had told her how she had to feed her own in the Red Waste, she'd been disturbed, but they had to eat and they weren't giving them meat either of them liked as all hissed at the miserable scraps they were given.

It could be worse, she supposed. Leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes to think on all the possibilities. The Undying Ones were an ancient lot hence the name, the Warlocks who were not part of the group were too, and they were a huge part of Qarth's identity. When the building came down though, no one else had escaped and the thought did disturb her somewhat that she had unintentionally killed dozens of people. Mychelah would be wringing her neck when they next met up that was for sure. After everything she had risked for her, going into exile for her, Rhaenys had willingly gone into a pit of vipers with no backup plan hence why they were now here. There was a jangle of keys a few hours later. Or perhaps days later. It was difficult to keep track of time in this bloody room. The door opening as two guards walked in and tilting their heads as a sign to follow them out.

They were taken to individual rooms then where baths had been drawn and fresh clothing had been left out. Noticing a bowl of a dark red meat in tiny cubes which Morghul hesitantly sniffed at before taking a timid bite. Her long black hair being brushed out and washed thoroughly by a slave before being decorated with fire flowers and braided into a Qartheen style. The dress left out was a deep red and noticing it matched Morghul's burgundy scales, wondering if that was deliberate but there was no point thinking on such a thing. By the time she was dressed, she walked over and coaxed the hatchling onto the palm of her hand and taking a spare cloth to wipe at the blood on her snout from the meat she had been feasting on.

And then she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It felt like an eternity had passed before someone came to escort her into the main hall. Seeing the numerous thrones but there were far from a thousand of them- mayhaps not even a hundred. Roughly half of them were empty and scanning the faces of everyone seated on them in their best finery and covered in gold jewellery with glittering gemstones, some with exotic feathers from a bird she wouldn't even be able to guess, some wearing a sash of fur but it was difficult to tell what animal it had come from. Clearly they were going all out to show their importance to them. Morghul clambered up onto her shoulder then and was hissing lowly at them all in distrust. Not that he was alone because Drogon was also hissing too alongside batting his tail on Dany's back as he was also perched on her shoulder clumsily as he was a fair bit larger than her own dragon.

"I trust you know why you have been brought here?"

"I cannot say as we have not been told a thing since we were taken here, but I'd be willing to wager it was due to what occurred at the House of the Undying."

The man who spoke wore clothing which dictated him as a member of the Pureborn, the official rulers of Qarth although all four groups technically ruled. Qartheen politics was not something Rhaenys wanted to get her head wrapped around.

"I entrust you know how serious such a thing is. The Undying Ones and the Warlocks are a massive part of our identity- "

Xaro stepped in now, turning to the man who was speaking who curled his lips in even more in annoyance but decided not to speak up further.

"I am sure the Princess' did not mean to destroy the House of the Undying, Karog. However, I believe we should hear them out on what occurred within the walls before any judgement is made."

Murmuring broke out then, echoing around the room like dozens of crickets hidden in the grass. Loud enough they could hear them doing so yet not loud enough to make out what they were saying. A few minutes passing before the one at the centre stood up who was dressed the fanciest which painted him as the leader of the Pureborn.

"We shall hear them out."

Much to their credit, they had heard them out. Fully at that. Both deciding to keep what they had seen in those halls to themselves. None of it made any sense to her, and if it didn't make any sense to her it definitely wouldn't make sense to them either. Silence ensuing before they began whispering to one another again and having to fight off the urge to twitch her eye at the blatant show of disrespect being shown their way. Shiera noticing as she nudged her arm lightly and gave her a look.

"It has been decided that you will all have two days to pack up all of your belongings and to be out of Qarth. Neither will you come near nor will you step foot in Qarth again. If you are, you will be sacrificed in our rights. Beforehand, you will all kneel at the wreckage and repent your sins."

Their sins?! It wouldn't have happened if they hadn't tried to keep both them and their dragons chained up for their own selfish needs! Rage bubbled deep within and she had to fight to keep it from bubbling over the top but there was no use in fighting the decision. Honestly, the sooner they were out of this blasted city the better. Clearly they'd held a trial without them present which was probably a good thing given everything. Guards walking to them and escorting them outside towards Xaro's manse to begin packing their belongings. The ship they had come here on waiting in the docks and the moment she had stepped inside Mychelah stormed over and began yelling at her.

"And for Xaro Xhoan Daxos?"

One of the Thirteen tightened his lips at her question, eyeing the man who had caused this by taking the dragons in the first place. Raising his hand for more guards to enter the room to ensure things did not go ugly between them all. The Thirteen and the Pureborn detested one another, and if the Pureborn wanted them punished for acting in accordance to something a member of the Thirteen had done.

"There will be no punishment for Xaro for he acted in accordance for the benefit of our noble city."

Rhaenys' nostrils immediately flared in anger at this, spotting Daenerys stiffen ever so slightly too but keeping a better expression than she was.

"Then we in good faith cannot consent to kneeling at the wreckage if you will not hold the perpetrators accountable."

Sansa spoke, hearing the tiniest spit in her words and feeling a wave of pride enter her at who she was becoming. From a young girl betrothed to a bastard playing King to captive of the Lannister's and now she was finally growing fangs. Not that they came out often but in time they probably would make many more appearances.

"There will be no need for punishment, Princess, for there will soon be no one to hand out a punishment."

Only then did Xaro raise his hand and move his fingers in a way she did not know, the guards dropping their spears and a spark of fear entering her at what this was. Yet they did not come towards them. No, they went for everyone seated on the thrones. Screams and shouts echoed in the room, people tripping over the robes as they tried to flee, blood beginning to pool so much it looked like a river of red. Slowly trickling down the stairs leading up to the dais where the thrones were and coming closer, closer, oh so close. Only then did something snap and she grabbed Sansa by the arm as Shiera grabbed Daenerys and then they ran. Away from the carnage, wondering what had happened, why it was happening, and what it would mean for them. They needed to get away from here and fast. People were running towards the Hall to figure out what the commotion was as they made their way through the many streets towards Xaro's manse. Hoping it wasn't too late. Mychelah stood at the door with a couple of guards and storming towards her.

"Don't ever do that again!"

"We need to leave."

This did not stop her tirade though. Feeling like a little girl terrified and asking for her mother before it stopped. Tightening her lips and looking down. After what felt like an eternity, Mychelah stopped and walked over to pull her tight into her chest.

"You may not be my daughter by blood, Rhaenys, but you are my daughter in all other senses. Please don't do something as brash as that again."

All she could do was nod into her chest and returning the embrace, having to stop herself from laughing as Morghul let out a little yelp at being squished between them before hissing and moving to behind her shoulder again, hissing at Mychelah for good measure too.

"Mother, we have to leave. Now. Xaro has staged a coup and attacked all rulers of the city. We left in all the chaos."

Alarm danced in her eyes as she barked orders at the guards that they had brought with them and this trusted to be on their side. Heading in to begin gathering their belongings.

"What's its name?"

She reached out hesitantly and the dragon snapped, fighting back a laugh again as she pulled her finger back in alarm.

"She's called Morghul."

Rhaenys was glad she had not brought much with her from the ship or Mychelah's manse in Lys. Enough to get by and everything else was simply gifts from their travels. Deliberately leaving anything she had received here and not caring about if it would slight them. They weren't welcome here anymore or ever again, and it was something that gladdened her. As the sun was due to dip below the horizon, they were on a small galley after trading a couple of the expensive garments given to them for passage to Volantis. From there they could get on a ship for Lys to gather more supplies. Turning to see fiery red hair.

"Where are we going?"

She'd discussed at length with Dany and Shiera on the matter alongside Mychelah what their next steps would be. It was drawing to a close, that much she knew. It wouldn't be long until her mothers machinations bore fruit and it would be fruit which would cause a ripple effect throughout not only Westeros but Essos too.

"We'll be stopping in Lys but after that, home."

"Home?"

Sansa asked quizzically. Tully blue eyes looking into her own with a slight nudge of hope within.

"Home."

Aegon Targaryen

Pentos, 301 AC

"We welcome you, your Grace to our home."

Magister Agaro spoke, gesturing to the manse they had managed to secure a holding in until the repairs had been seen to. A bad storm hit them just as they were coming up towards the Bay of Pentos where they were planning to stop anyway to gather supplies before sailing for Storm's End. This would delay them somewhat though, but hopefully not be much. Things were moving so much quicker than any of them anticipated and they had stalled more than enough. There could be no further hesitation.

"I welcome your gratitude, Magister."

The words didn't sit right on his tongue, having gotten used to having a loose one from spending so long in secrecy and not growing up around nobility. The highest noble he had in his pocket was Lord Jon Connington and he was a disgrace Lord everyone in Westeros believed to have drank himself to death years before. The damage had been accounted for and luckily it was not too costly considering the amount of ships he had with him, commissioning the repair and being told it was mostly surface work that would take a few days.

A few days they didn't exactly have but a few days they had no choice but to take. The first day they had been showered with immense wealth, the second day they had been granted a tour of the city and feeling anger within as they passed Khal Drogo's manse in the city. The first thwart in his plans. He'd grown up expecting to marry Rhaenys as House Targaryen often did. Their blood was different than those who were not them, and especially now that dragons were back in the world. Yet if he married Rhaenys both would be axed from succession which would mean everything those with them had done would be for nought. So he had then intended to wed Daenerys, Rhaenys marry Quentyn, and Viserys marry Arianne to secure a strong alliance between House's Targaryen and Nymeros-Martell. Yet then his aunt was sold to that brute of a Khal and Viserys got himself killed which put an end to all of that.

And now his last straw to use alliances had been trampled on but this time he could not hold it against anyone. Torghen spoke how Jaeron had been vying for a match either with Margaery or Arianne to further secure his claim and now he had done just that by now being betrothed to the Golden Rose of Highgarden. This left two options, and many people were pushing towards it even if he himself did not wish it. He got along with his cousin well enough, there was no use denying that from the few times they had spent together in secret when he travelled to Sunspear. Remembering the one time his brother had walked right passed him and been completely oblivious so long ago. Aegon had only caught a glimpse of him, but there was no denying the shared facial characteristics between them.

Yet he needed allies, and Arianne had the best position to give him not only allies but more strength. The thought he had people in his army who would probably turn on him the moment it came out that he was not a Blackfyre would put him in an even more precarious position but he could mitigate it by having some further strength. Hence why on the eve of the second day when three unexpected visitors showed up, he had wasted no time. Oberyn had found Arianne and brought her to Pentos, and her mother had come with her. A mother who was estranged from her husband and refused to leave Norvos unless she absolutely had to. Agreeing the following evening they would wed and on the fourth day she would join him for Sunspear to wed there too with the rest of the family. This incensed him for Aegon did not have time but this was blown out of the water when a little bird came over with a small piece of parchment on his hands. Taking it and reading it before the blow hit.

Jaeron had taken Kings Landing and people were swearing for him.

It was official. Now, he had ran out of time and any hope of peace was not an option. Jon was still of a mind to press on it all but Torghen understandably did not wish to do so and had even said that if he dared take up arms against his brother he would burn his white cloak in his line of vision. Ser Rolly had stepped forward to attack him for such a thing because it was an insult and only stopped when Oberyn jumped in between them all.

"There is a single issue we need to consider."

He spoke, eyeing them all like they were children who were being yelled at for being naughty. A couple of chests puffing out in insult but they all knew it was a terrible idea to take up arms with the Red Viper of Dorne.

"We know Aegon is my nephew for true, but there was one fault that people forget. We have no farther proof other than a couple of letters- "

"He has a dragon- "

"So did a bastard girl during the Dance, Lord Chicken."

Lord Jon's nostrils flared at the insult but he simply bit his tongue. Eyeing Arianne oddly who didn't know what to say either currently.

"He has the look, he has a dragon, he has an army. That is all true but it is a small dragon and many people who knew Rhaegar personally are now dead or may have even forgotten what he looked like, and the army he has is following him on a lie. Every sign of legitimacy can be questioned."

"You would go against your own- "

"I would not for I love my family and I will do anything for them, I will hear no such slander from yourself Lord Chicken."

For good measure, Oberyn added a noise at the end that did miraculously sound similar to a chicken as he stormed from the room in fury. The words circling in his head and realising just how true they were. He knew who he was, everyone in the room knew who he was, yet all proof he had of such was tenuous.

"I am guessing my brother has more?"

Torghen answered the question.

"A lot more. He has Lord Howland Reed who was there to witness his birth, he has two dragons large enough to ride, he has letters from your mother, father, and his mother confirming everything that occurred between them but none of said letters say anything about yourself. You forget the rush to get yourself and Rhaenys out was not planned heavily in advance plus your father had been dead for a while by that point. Then the fact he has Dark Sister plus two crowns."

"Our fathers crown from when he was Prince and the conquerors crown correct?"

Torghen once again nodded. Having to think long and hard on everything and trying to ignore the sheer amount of eyes waiting on him to make a decision. Vēzos nipped at the back of his leg as he began climbing up his back to perch on his shoulders, reaching up to scratch the dragon under the chin and hearing him trill in happiness.

"I will not take up arms against my brother, but I cannot give up on my claim either."

"Then how do you plan on resolving the issue? Jaeron has Kings Landing and much of Westeros under his belt."

He couldn't answer that question, and that bothered him greatly. Instead going with the simple answer which could mean anything.

"Diplomacy and politics."

The talks went long into the third day but by midday meal they had fizzled out and were replaced with excitement at the wedding. There wasn't to be a grand one here, just one to tie them together and then they would travel for Sunspear together ten days before the army left. That way they would dock in Dorne and his uncle could sent the Dornish fleet up to meet with the Golden Company to attack Storm's End. With luck they could take Robert's bastard son and use him for their own advantages. Saying the words in a tiny Sept in the city considering the Faith of the Seven was not a prominent religion in Pentos anymore. There was no feast, and there was no celebration. Walking back towards the manse they had been staying in for the meantime before spotting a ship with a bright red sail. People on board wearing a lot of armour and two walking down to the streets. Oberyn freezing and pulling away into the darkness as clearly he recognised who that was. Seeing the curious gaze he had on him and replying.

"That's not anyone, your Grace. That is Kevan fucking Lannister."