"Loreon! What is this I hear about a letter from Lord Hightower?" Lady Johanna's voice vibrated in the walls of Casterly Rock.
Her son, Lord Loreon Lannister, was sitting at his desk, his maester beside him with his hands placed together, a look of worry on his face.
Looking up from his letter, Loreon couldn't help but roll his eyes at the questioning look on his mother's face, how she craned her neck, very interested in finding out the contents of that letter so that she could voice her opinion. But most importantly, so that she could take over, as she always did.
With Loreon having been only four years of age at the time of his father's death in the war, Lady Johanna Westerling has served Lannisport as reigning Lady of Casterly Rock. She had successfully salvaged the lands which had been destroyed by Dalton Greyjoy, the Red Kraken, and paid all the debts the Lannisters owed the Crown in terms of gold.
Her good-brother, Tyland Lannister, who had served on the Green Council as Master of Coin, had stolen and hidden away all the gold from the royal coffers when Rhaenyra Targaryen had taken King's Landing. As such, when Rhaenyra's sons, the current King and Hand, demanded that the Lannisters pay their debts, as the saying goes, she could hardly be in a position to refuse.
She did the right thing and replenished the royal coffers when asked, although she could hardly be pleased at the thought of offering help to the Blacks, the ones who had her husband killed.
Looking up at the maester, Loreon dismissed him with a nod, and then folded the letter in half, once his mother came closer, to stand next to him.
"Well?" she asked, expectantly, her foot tapping on the floor in annoyance.
Sighing, Loreon stood up and faced her. "If you must know, Lady Mother, Lord Hightower is informing us of the Crown's plans to officially recognize Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen."
He saw the way his mother's curious expression instantly changed to that of disdain. "What? That woman is dead!"
With a small shrug, Loreon responded, "Mayhaps the King wishes to honor his late mother."
"Honor?! That woman deserves no honor after the war she started." Johanna argued.
"Come off it, mother! I may have been young at the time, but I have heard of how the late queen mother, Alicent Hightower, usurped the throne for her son. That may have played a part in what started that war. Or mayhaps how her son… Aemond, was it? Mayhaps how her son killed Rhaenyra's."
"You are correct when you say you were young. You know nothing of what I have been through. Of what I have sacrificed protecting our lands from that criminal, Dalton Greyjoy! Nothing brought me more joy than seeing his son humiliated and our prisoner."
"Hardly any time after that, you had the fool killed."
"He deserved it!"
"Did he? For the crimes of his father?"
A long silence followed, through which Johanna and her son eyed one another suspiciously. Johanna knew where her son was getting at. Whether or not he himself should be punished for his father's actions. Johanna was certainly not in the mood to start such a discussion. His father, her husband, did no wrong. They protected and fought for the rightful king.
Deciding it best that they change the subject, that is just what the woman did.
"What else does that letter say?" Johanna demanded, looking the folded parchment.
With a sigh, Loreon handed the letter over to his mother so that she could read it thoroughly.
"Yes, just as I suspected, we will soon receive a summons from the King." Johanna stated after a while, her fingers tightening on the parchment, in anger.
Loreon put on a cloak, determined to go out and walk the grounds.
"Indeed, mother. And when we are summoned, we shall go." Loreon replied, looking over his garments for stains.
Johanna stepped closer to him and hissed, "You have no shame, my boy. How easily you succumb to this injustice without protest!"
"Injustice? How so, mother? Because the winning side of this damned war was not the one our House fought for?"
"Your father died fighting for the rightful king. Had he still been alive to this day, he would have spat on any official summons from that boy King."
"Then it is a good thing that he is dead then, isn't it?" Loreon told her, nonchalantly.
These last few words finally made Johanna snap, and slap her son across the cheek.
Loreon stumbled back, hitting the door, his hand over his cheek, anger in his eyes. He realized how cruel his words may have sounded. In truth, he cared not for either side of that damned war. All he cared about were the consequences. He had spent his entire youth under his mother's thumb, berated for not despising the Targaryens as his mother so clearly did.
She did her duty and stayed silent in the public eye, of course, but inside the walls of Casterly Rock, all the maids, all the guards and the maester had had to listen to how his Lady Mother was trying to reignite the flames of war. He was tired. He could no longer bear the resentment. He was not his father, and he was certain the King would not repeat his mother's errors.
Standing up straight, the young man of nine and ten said, "I am Lord of Casterly Rock now, mother. If the King summons me, I will go to King's Landing and pledge my allegiance to the King, and swear to honor the title of Queen for Rhaenyra Targaryen. You may join me if you wish."
In truth, Loreon Lannister hoped his mother would refuse the offer. Ever since he had been given free reign over the Westerlands as Lord of Casterly Rock, Johanna had not taken a step back as it had been expected of her. She would not only offer counsel, but would try her best to overrule any decision her son made.
The time has come for Loreon to be the lion he was expected to be. And the first step would be to do what he perceived was right and answer the King's summons as any proper subject would. He would show pride and never apologize for his House's allegiance during the war, but he would do what was right.
"Where you go, I go, my son. You know that." Johanna finally responded, making Loreon regret having given her this option.
"And you will go as the Lord of Casterly Rock's lady mother." He reminded her.
"But of course." Johanna responded with a dose of certainty. Her son, however, did not believe her.
…
"Who is my good boy?" Daenaera whispered, holding her son, Daeron, in her arms, fluttering small kisses on his belly, as the child let out a couple of giggles.
"A handsome boy, Your Grace. The Prince will certainly break hearts." The nurse maid who held Baelor told her.
"Yes, he will. My young dragon." Daenaera stated with one of her charming smiles, just as a knock was heard on the doors. The guard entered and announced her husband, the King.
The maids in the room all immediately bowed when Aegon entered. He was rubbing his hands together nervously. His face ashen, as it often was after an important Small Council meeting.
Realizing her husband's need for quiet, Daenaera passed Daeron over to one of the maids, and instructed to have the children fed and then placed for their naps in the nursery.
On the way out, Aegon stopped the two maids holding his sons, and looked over the children for a short while. He caressed their heads gently and then nodded at the maids to leave.
As soon as the doors were shut from the outside by the guards, Daenaera came forth and took Aegon into her arms. He kept his head on her shoulder and held onto her tightly. These meetings always took a lot out of him.
Daenaera had insisted at one point that Viserys take over all the important matters. That he lead all the Council meetings, but both Aegon and Viserys refused such a proposal. Despite his difficulties, Aegon understood the importance that he be present at all important Council meetings. He was the King, after all. He had responsibilities.
And Aegon did hope that with enough implication, he would eventually overcome his fears. He would be the Dragon King he was expected to be. He did not want to be deemed as weak by the Lords of the Realm.
But how could they possibly understand what was in his heart? They would never understand the pain he felt when his mother was burned alive in front of him. They would never understand how he had been terrorized by her mother's rivals. Rivals who would have rather seen the dynasty end than have Rhaenyra Targaryen's son succeed their king. It is not easy to move past something like that. Aegon in fact wondered if he would ever be able to move on.
"What did Ser Corwyn say? Will the law be amended?" the little queen asked.
"Yes. It will. Grand Maester Alford is preparing the ravens." Aegon's voice was muffled, as he kept his head on her shoulder.
Pulling his head back, Aegon leaned in and his forehead touched Daenaera's.
"All will be well, husband." the little queen, ever the optimistic one, told him.
This had been her role since she had married him. The role of being the bright shining light in his life. Daenaera did not mind it one bit. She understood the importance of having light in the Red Keep after so much darkness had plagued it. The Realm needed a firm but righteous Dragon King, but also the soft touch of a kind and joyous young woman who would stand by his side and produce the heirs he needed.
Daenaera knew of how much she was preferred over the former girl Aegon had been wed to. But at times, she felt she needed more…that she deserved more.
From the moment she had wed Aegon, when she was but a child, six years of age, she somehow knew that she had been destined for him. A Dragon King, with the most beautiful features ever seen on a Targaryen. When he first saw her at the ball, his eyes had lit up. He had chosen her from the moment he first laid his eyes on her. Mayhaps he felt it, just as she did, that their match was fated…willed by the Gods.
He had been the perfect husband. He had not forced her into the marriage bed, and waited ten years for the consummation to finally take place. He made certain that she was ready. When he had first laid her on their bed, he had whispered loving words, words of comfort, as his hands trembled. He had been nervous and his eyes showing the constant sorrows that plagued him.
But despite that, she felt his desire…it was bulging in his breeches, after all. He was sorrowful, but he was still a man. A man with desires. A man who had done his best to hide his desire for her for many years for the sake of propriety.
When he had finally entered her, he had laid kisses all over her face, and he had admitted his love for her. Their first time had been better than Daenaera had ever imagined. She had wanted more to follow. More than one night alone. But that night was all it took for a child to be conceived. His seed had taken root in her womb, and a few moons later, Grand Maester Alford confirmed that she was with child.
Heavy with child, Aegon had refused to touch her again, afraid that his passion would somehow harm the child. At that moment, Daenaera understood that duty had to come before her own pleasure. She had to provide a child for the King and the Realm.
Daeron's birth had been a most joyous day for the entire Realm. The bells were rung, the ravens were flying to inform every Lord and Lady of the birth of the Prince of Dragonstone, Daeron Targaryen. Daenaera had named her son after the father she had barely known, the father who had died courageously in battle. She wanted to honor him, and Aegon indulged her.
A few moons after Daeron's birth, Aegon had started visiting her bedchambers again. Daenaera knew that she was expected to produce more children for the ruling House Targaryen, but the look in Aegon's eyes told her that this was not the only reason he was coming to her. He wanted her. He truly did. As passionless as he seemed in the public's eye, he did not hide the lust in his eyes when he saw her wearing those thin white nightshifts.
Soon enough, after Aegon's frequent visits, Daenaera was with child again. Many moons after, came a very difficult labor. Daenaera's screams were heard throughout the entire Red Keep. The maids and the Grand Maester were worried that she would not make it.
Aegon was wild with desperation. Viserys could not reason with him. Grand Maester Alford advised her husband to not enter her chambers, because he would risk distressing her. A most absurd thought. Daenaera wished Aegon could be there, holding her hand through the pain.
The Gods had been good to them. After so much misery, the Gods were granting their family all they desired. Visenya was present when Daenaera's second son had been born. He was small, frail even. But Visenya had cared not. Daenaera remembered how her good-sister had taken the screaming child into her arms and kissed his little forehead.
Daenaera named him Baelor, in honor of Lady Baela Targaryen, the woman who had housed her and taken care of her after her parents' passing. The child was weak, but Daenaera never loved him any less than his brother. Her Baelor had survived, and was now one year old.
The labors have been difficult. And most costly. Daenaera had been bedridden for many moons. Aegon had visited her every day, always saddened to see his beloved wife in such a state. And because of that, he had not touched her since. Fearful that another labor would do her even more damage.
Daenaera had made many attempts to charm him back into her bed. She longed for him. The septas had warned her many times of the wanton ways of women and how she, as the Queen, should set an example and avoid this path.
She had written to Baela, asking for her advice on this matter. The raven had arrived from Driftmark shortly after, with Lady Baela's personal seal. She had of course advised her not to listen to the septas. The little queen had blushed madly at reading the next words, "Fuck him the way you see fit." Lady Baela had never minded being so crass in her wordings.
But Daenaera had taken her words seriously and showed courage, entering her husband's chambers late in the hour of the wolf. She had worn the most beautiful, and even the most revealing silks.
The guards had asked no questions, as was expected of them, and let her inside. Her final attempt had been futile. Instead of lust, Aegon had gazed at her with sadness, shaking his head and ordering her back to her bedchambers.
"Am I doing the right thing?" Aegon suddenly asked her, pulling Daenaera out of her thoughts.
Cupping his cheeks, Daenaera said, "You are honoring your mother. How could that ever be wrong? Or mayhaps…you worry of the outcome?"
"I do. Ser Gedmund has not returned to Court."
"Then you must dismiss him as Master of Ships." Daenaera encouraged.
With a half-smile, Aegon gazed into her sea-blue colored eyes, and admitted, "That is what Viserys and Visenya both want."
"What is holding you back?"
"I have no replacement. Alyn is away on his voyage, and the Crown needs a Master of Ships." Aegon explained.
The next few moments were spent in silence. Daenaera was gazing at him with determination, while Aegon looked nervous.
Mustering up all her courage, the little queen grabbed her husband's hands and dragged him to the back of the chambers, where the bed was located.
Aegon's eyes widened as Daenaera turned around, demanding that he help her with the dress.
"Daenaera…no…" he was mumbling, but his hands were working on the bodice.
"I have been a Queen for so long. A mother as well. Yet very few times I can say I have been a woman. I want you to take me, Aegon." She whispered, making Aegon's knees wobble.
"Take me." She whispered once more, when she felt him relent, when she felt his body pressed to hers, his lips on her neck.
She felt him brush her golden locks to the side, granting him more access. He was tender. He had always been so in their lovemaking.
"As my Queen wishes." he whispered in her ear, before placing his lips to her neck, sucking on the hollow area where her pulse could be felt.
Daenaera's breathing hitched as she felt his hands roam all over her body, as the blue dress pooled to the floor. She was nervous. It had been so long…and the guards were posted right outside her doors.
But she did not care this time. Her husband was just as eager as she was, and she would receive the pleasure she was owed.
Aegon pushed his breeches to the floor, turning her around in his arms and kissing her deeply. Her porcelain white skin was glowing and her sense of propriety long forgotten, as she moaned into his mouth.
Pulling back slightly, her forehead still pressed on his, Daenaera made certain to rid him of the rest of his clothes, wanting to see him as she had not been able to for many moons. Aegon did not have the built body of a man who had been wielding a sword his entire life, but it mattered not. He was still a most handsome man with his unique features.
Tracing her elegant fingers over his chest, Daenaera flashed him a pearly white smile and whispered, "I love you, Aegon."
His breathing hitched, not at her touch, but at her words. While they did show affection to one another as any husband and wife should, they so rarely used such words.
She saw the expression on his face. He was frowning, his eyes closed. He was breathing heavily.
"Aegon…" Daenaera encouraged, pulling him close for another kiss. He reciprocated and the erection she felt near her thighs as they pulled each other close once more, made her understand that he was not about to back out. He simply had something to say.
"You deserve better. You always have. I picked you when we were children, because I knew you would be different. I saw how kind you were…and how beautiful. A child of six, and yet when you walked into the throne room that day, you shined brighter than any torch. I could see no one but you. I knew that you were the one." He said rather quickly, his eyes still closed, even as he sensed her caresses.
When he finally opened his eyes and gazed into her clear blue ones, he whispered, "I do not know how you can love me so. I have been a burden…a most broken soul. In the first years after we were wed, I left you alone. I treated you with kindness, but never affection. It took so many years. It only got better after Viserys returned. I have not been the husband you needed."
"But you have been the one I wanted. The one I still want. Those moments of sadness…those screams of pain…all the guilt you keep inside yourself…you are more than this, Aegon. You are not the same young man as you were after the war ended. You are a dragon. The King the Realm needs. A most kind, peaceful, and yet brave soul. And you are your mother and father's pride." Daenaera told him convincingly.
The minute she cupped his cheeks once more, Aegon let loose his tears, taking her in his arms kissing her with a force she had never felt before. The desperate act of a man in love. And this time, he did not hesitate to return her affections by using his words.
"I love you, Daenaera!" he exclaimed, loudly, making her giggle and respond, "Good. Now show me, husband. Take me to bed."
Laying back on the bed, Aegon followed on top, caressing her body, his lips finding the peaks of her breasts, tracing them teasingly, making Daenaera moan loudly.
This made Aegon look quickly towards the doors, worried of who might be hearing them. His most eager young wife grabbed a hold of his manhood, turning his attention back to her.
"Look at me, husband. I am here. We are all that matters."
His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the pleasurable way in which she moved her hand over his most intimate parts, in ways she never has before.
Just before reaching his peak, Aegon grabbed her hand, kissing it sweetly, before positioning himself, and the moment he entered her was pure bliss for them both. Daenaera was moaning in ways which would make the most experienced whores in the Street of Silk feel shame. She threaded her fingers in her husband's straight white hair, and begged for more. Aegon eagerly complied, whispering again and again how much he loved her, and how he wanted even more children with her, the fear of who might be listening long forgotten.
…
The Vale of Arryn had mended quite nicely after the end of the war. Despite the civil war following the death of Lady Jeyne, the soil remained fertile, the rivers clean, and the Valemen followed the motto of their Kingdom, choosing honor over pettiness.
Lord Joffrey Arryn had managed to impress all those who had initially fought against his ascension, and convince them of his capabilities to govern. With his blessing, his former rival, Isembard Arryn, now served the Crown as Master of Coin and protected the interests of the Vale in King's Landing.
The benefit of having fought for the right and winning side during the war, meant peace and prosperity for the people. It meant Lord Joffrey had gained their love and never-ending support, not only for himself, but for his only child as well, his little Jeyne, now five and ten years of age.
Little Jeyne, as her namesake, was now set to become the future Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East. The successful leadership of the former Lady Regent, Jeyne Arryn, had assured the people that a woman commanding the Vale could only be seen as a blessing, and not a burden. And they certainly wished to avoid any repeat of the Arryn Succession Conflict which had taken the lives of many of their brave soldiers.
In order to secure his daughter's succession, Lord Joffrey had taken care to appease his relatives with lands and gold, as well as demanding that every House located in the Vale swear before the Gods to honor and protect his daughter when the time comes that she ascends as the second Lady Jeyne Arryn.
Lord Joffrey's dear wife had passed in the birthing bed the day little Jeyne drew breath. As much as he had loved his lady wife, he refused to wed another for the sake of more heirs. Lord Joffrey was determined not to repeat the mistakes of the late King Viserys. He would love, honor and support his daughter to his dying breath, and not make her ascension more difficult through the birth of more children, children whose mother would seek to steal what rightfully belonged to his daughter upon his death, as Alicent Hightower had done.
Surprisingly, his distant cousin, Isembard, agreed to his plan, and swore to support his daughter, Jeyne, when the time was right. Isembard, the Gilded Falcon, as he was called, had just turned thirty years of age, while Joffrey was one and forty. It was safe to assume that Isembard would still live by the time Jeyne's ascension came to be.
"My Lord! A raven from King's Landing!" the maester who served the Eyrie announced in the throne room, holding a rolled-up scroll in his hands, the sigil being a single black dragon.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Joffrey called the maester forth, wanting to read the letter himself, just as his daughter walked in the room.
"My little Jeyne. Come here." Joffrey said with a smile, as he held the scroll in one hand and gestured towards her with the other.
Little Jeyne was known to be a kind and obedient girl, a bit shy at times as well. She was not one to openly express an opinion when she had one. Her features were that of a normal Andal girl, with her dark brown hair and eyes, a bright color, very close to silver.
She preferred not to be called 'Little' anymore, as she was already five and ten, one year away from being a woman grown, ripe for marriage, but chose not to contradict her father.
"A raven, Father?" she questioned with a soft voice, as she made her way over to the small seating that had been placed near her father's throne.
"Yes. From King's Landing. Quite unusual. This is not the Crown's seal." He explained with a frown, knowing the Targaryen sigil all too well, as well as the seal that King Aegon used in his official letters.
A single black dragon.
Little Jeyne remained silent, as her father read the letter, a small smile forming on his face.
"Princess Visenya has written to us. She is establishing a household of ladies, and wishes to welcome you among them." he explained, and Little Jeyne's eyes widened a little.
"I thought she did not wish for ladies. Why now?"
"Mayhaps she is in need of company. She is a woman grown now. Six and ten years of age."
The girl nodded her head, but still thought that there was something else going on. Princess Visenya had long since made it clear that Lady Elinda Massey, her mother's former lady-in-waiting, was the only one she needed to tend to her.
However, she did not voice her suspicions and instead asked, "Do you wish for me to accept, Father?"
"My daughter, I would only agree to this if it is something you desire. Do you wish to go to King's Landing?"
In truth, Little Jeyne had grown bored in the Vale for a few years now. She did not have many girls her age with whom to speak to, hardly any friends in fact. From a young age, she had prepared for her future role as Lady of the Eyrie. She understood her responsibilities, never missed any of her lessons, and always obeyed her father.
"I do wish it." she eventually responded, with a small smile, a desire for companionship filling her heart as well.
"Good…good." Lord Joffrey responded, seeming more interested in the contents of the letter he had not yet fully read.
"Did she write something else?" Little Jeyne questioned, moving a little closer to her father, her neck stretching, her curious gaze hard to control.
"She did indeed. The Princess informs us that the Crown wishes to implement a royal decree, recognizing Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
Little Jeyne had been told many stories of the Dragon Queen. How her father named her heir, favored her and kept her as such until his passing, despite having remarried and the new Queen having given him sons. Little Jeyne felt she was tied to the story of Rhaenyra Targaryen herself. She too was her father's only heir, set to inherit the Vale after his passing.
She had asked her father once why he refused to remarry and have more children, as most Lords tended to do and Kings as well, to which Lord Joffrey had responded, "Because I do not wish for my new lady wife to do to you what Alicent Hightower had done to Rhaenyra Targaryen, my dear daughter."
Watching her father's reaction to the news carefully, Little Jeyne asked, "It is good. Is it not?"
"It is brave." Lord Joffrey acknowledged, a small smile on his face.
His predecessor, Lady Jeyne Arryn, had been one of Rhaenyra Targaryen's fiercest supporters. The Vale had openly expressed that King Viserys' eldest daughter was the rightful Queen of the Realm and many of their brave soldiers fought and died for her cause, even after her own death.
Joffrey had been five and twenty years of age at the time of the war, and although he wished it, he did not participate much. Lady Jeyne had demanded he be well guarded. But he knew of the Battle of the Kingsroad, the Muddy Mess. Something the Valemen and the Riverlords had been eternally proud of. Permanent victory for the Blacks. Defeat of the Greens. The death of the usurper, and the ascension of Rhaenyra Targaryen's son on the Iron Throne.
With love still kept in his heart for the late Lady Jeyne, Joffrey was determined not to disappoint her. The Vale had supported the true Targaryens during the war, and would continue to do so long after. After all, Rhaenyra Targaryen's mother had been the beautiful and kind Queen Aemma Arryn, whose blood ran in the veins of all three of her living grandchildren, a King, a Prince and a Princess.
"His Grace's raven shall arrive shortly with the summons. We shall both go to King's Landing and show our support." Lord Joffrey declared.
…
Alysanne Blackwood was twirling one of her long dark curls in her hand, a most joyous smile on her face, as she read the contents of the scroll having just arrived by raven.
Seeing the sigil of a single black dragon certainly peaked her interests when the maester brought it, intent on giving it to her lord husband. She had demanded that it be given to her, as the Lady of Winterfell.
"My lord husband shan't return until later. He much enjoys hunting with his son. Hand me the letter and I shall inform him of its contents myself. If my eyes do not deceive me, that is a dragon there on the sigil. Any word from House Targaryen is of great importance and cannot wait." Black Aly stated firmly, and made a gesture with her hand, as she sat in her husband's chair in the throne room, her youngest daughter of only eight years of age, Mariah, sitting on her lap.
The maester had long learned that arguing with the Lady of Winterfell would never bring him any win, and as such, bowed and obediently handed her the letter.
By the time Cregan returned from the hunt with his son, Rickon, the whole household knew of the contents of the letter, as his lady wife was happily encouraging her ladies to pack for a long ride to King's Landing. Their eldest daughter, twelve years of age, Sarra, was also choosing from among her very few dresses.
"Woman, I have told you plenty how I despise you reading my letters before me." Cregan grumbled, taking it from their table and looking it over, as Aly let out a soft laugh.
"You will be pleased to know that the letter was addressed to us both. After all, I also have a say in whether or not our daughter is to go to King's Landing, do I not?"
"King's Landing?!" Rickon exclaimed, looking over his father's shoulder at the contents of the letter.
"Yes. Princess Visenya has graciously asked us for Sarra to be part of her new household of ladies." Black Aly explained to him.
"Sarra? A lady?" Rickon asked incredulously with a laugh, as his half-sister scowled and stuck out her tongue quite childishly. Sarra had inherited most of her mother's looks, with her long black curly hair, flat chest, strong arms and legs for a girl of only twelve. Her face was soft however, indicating a touch of femininity, cheeks inherited from her father's own mother, Lady Giliane Glover. This face also revealed grey eyes, same as her father.
There was no doubt to anyone that Sarra Stark was every bit a northerner as her father, and every bit as strong as her mother. She enjoyed arching, riding, and preferred breeches to dresses.
"What is it, Father?" Rickon asked, as he noticed the way Lord Cregan's expression remained stern as he read the rest of the letter.
"The King is set to recognize his mother's rule as legitimate." he stated, making Rickon's eyes widen.
"I can just imagine the looks on Hightower and Peake. And that Gods awful Lannister woman, Johanna." Aly was saying with a grin, as she helped Sarra choose two appropriate dresses for Court.
"This is not to be taken lightly, Aly. These people you speak of will not be pleased." Cregan told her, which only made his wife's grin widen, "Oh, I know! Isn't it wonderful?"
Sighing, Cregan stepped forward, grabbed a hold of her waist and spun her around in his arms, making her face him. His grim look did not wipe away her smile.
"These Houses will feel slighted.", he warned.
"Why does that matter? The King is doing the right thing. We both know his mother was the rightful Queen, Cregan. She deserves this honor. And we will be there to show our support."
"We? You are coming?"
"Of course! As if I am going to miss the scandal."
"You're enjoying this." Cregan stated as a fact.
"You know me so well." Aly whispered and kissed him.
Cregan eagerly deepened their kiss, ignorant to the faces the children were making at the public display of affection. Gods, he loved this wife of his. From the first moment he met her, he had desired her. She had been all his for many years now. She had given him four beautiful daughters, whom he absolutely adored. In truth, he was pleased she would be coming with him. The thought of being parted from her for moons would have agonized him. The whole of Winterfell knew of how often their Lord and Lady shared a bed.
In regards to the letter, Cregan understood the King's intentions and respected his wish to have his mother known as Queen in histories. But as any rational man, he feared the outcome. There were a few Houses who had remained intent on recognizing Aegon, Second of His Name, as King, and having Rhaenyra Targaryen's reign officially declared legitimate would certainly put into question her half-brother's own reign.
He supported the cause, of course, but he needed to be certain that a new war would not be brought to their doors. He would go to King's Landing when summoned and counsel the King, as he had done many years before.
"Rickon, you are a man grown. You are to stay here with Alys, Raya and Mariah, and act as regent in my stead during our absence." Cregan instructed his son. His younger daughters of eleven, ten and respectively, eight years of age should not have to suffer the long journey to the capital, and he knew Rickon would care for them well.
"Yes, Father." Rickon responded.
Turning back to his wife, Cregan told her softly, "We will go, accept Princess Visenya's offer, and support their family. But we will not create or nourish strife between us and other Houses."
"I am not about to create anything. But you know what they say about me, Cregan. I expect you to defend your lady wife should it come to that, or I may have to do it myself. And I would just love to release one of my perfectly shaped arrows in Lord Unwin's face." Black Aly told him, peppering sweet kisses on his face all while speaking.
This last comment did release plenty of giggles from all of their daughters, making Cregan shake his head with a sigh, trying with all his might to hide the small smile that was creeping on his face.
…
Visenya traced the words of the book in her hand. She was sprawled out on her bed, Elinda busying herself about her chambers. A few days had passed since she had last seen Viserys…their moment in the Godswood fresh in her mind. For some reason, Visenya was certain that he was avoiding her.
He had indeed kept to his promise and brought her their Father's books for her to look over. Histories, tales, maps of Old Valyria. And above all, scrolls of old parchment, with their father's own words upon them. Most of them were written in High Valyrian, which was of no surprise. Elinda had oft mentioned how passionate the Rogue Prince had been for the language, and taught it to her mother when she was very young, as well.
Aegon had seen Visenya with these scrolls and asked to have some of them for himself, to which Visenya happily obliged. It truly warmed her heart to see him taking an interest in their parents' possessions. It proved he still held them in his heart.
Putting down the book, Visenya went over to the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Elinda." she called out to the woman, who came over to her side at once.
"Yes, Princess."
"Do you know of what happened at the last Council meeting?"
Furrowing her eyebrows, Elinda replied, "I thought you were informed. The succession law is to be amended and King Aegon has already arranged for the ravens with the summons to be sent."
"I know that. Rhaena told me. But…" Visenya hesitated.
"Yes?" Elinda encouraged with a smile.
"I have not seen Viserys for a while now. When I go to his chambers, the guards send me away on his orders. Do you know what might have happened?" The Princess confessed, knowing full well that Elinda was well informed when it comes to Court gossip.
Deep down, Visenya was certain that it had to do with the Godswood, but she was determined to find out if any Court gossip would confirm that she had been seen…giggling, Viserys on top of her, her dress hitched up, her thighs fully exposed.
"I did hear that Prince Viserys is quite upset. The Council meeting proved to be most troubling for him." the older woman admitted.
Visenya's eyes widened as she gazed at Elinda through the mirror. "Why?"
"I cannot say for certain, but some of the guards were whispering how, in order to appease more Lords and Ladies to accept your mother's recognition as Queen, the Council wants to propose new marriage pacts."
Elinda saw the crestfallen look on the young Princess' face, as she spoke the next words, "With Prince Viserys now recently widowed, they want him to wed once more. Lady Elenda Baratheon's youngest daughter, Ellyn, and one of Johanna Lannister's daughters were mentioned."
...
A/N: Hello guys! This story has been on Ao3 for a while now, and I decided to share it here as well. For those who haven't read it yet, I hope you enjoy it. Leave a review and let me know what you think. I will be posting Chapter 8 soon enough, so stay tuned :)