CHAPTER 8

(Plots)

ROBB STARK

"A soft rebellion, won't get Lyarra back!" I shouted.

We were at Winterfell at what must be the tenth strategy meeting, I had attended that week. The strategy was mainly concerned with defence. We were being entirely reactive. Westeros had deemed the northern rebellion 'the soft rebellion' because we had yet to make a move.

"Prince Robb. Calm yourself in the Kings solar." Said Wylis Manderly. Prince Robb, I was still getting used to that. Small Jon Umbers words still rattled around my head.

FLASHBACK

"Rhaegar Targaryen is nothing to me. Nor Aegon neither, why should we bow to some flowery seat in the south? Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?"

Umbers words echo around the great hall. It has been three days since Lyarra had been kidnapped. Every bachelor in the north had taken issue with Rhaegar stealing yet another northern woman. It didn't matter to them that she was a bastard - and when it was revealed she was Lyanna's - there was uproar. Lyanna was one of the most popular women in the north, the stuff of legends. And now her daughter had been taken.

My father gave his reason, on hiding Lyarra - or Visenya - and the other Lords accepted it at once. As did I. Although I had felt wounded that Lyarra wasn't my sister by blood, it does not change the place she has in my heart. Lyarra being a cousin and a princess, meant that I could marry her without the stigma attached to it.

"It was the dragons were married, and the dragons died long ago, in their place we have a bunch of silver haired pricks, who don't know how to keep their pricks in their pants - There sits the only man I mean to bend my knee too. The King in the North!"

END FLASHBACK

"Robb. What would you suggest?" Father said calmly.

I licked my lips nervously. All my father's banner men or then emissaries were looking, Lord Bolton, the Manderly twins, Daryn Hardwood, Rickard Karstark, the Wull and Big Bucket and Dacy Mormont to name a few.

"We attack."

"Who and where?"

"It doesn't matter who, as long as we bait them into an invasion, on our turf. Then once they come, we smash them and show Westeros how weak the dragons are. There must be other Lords in the seven Kingdoms who want independence. The Greyjoy's for a start, the Riverland's? Once we have enough rebels, then we can assault Kings-Landing and get Lyarra back."

"Everyone out. Robb remain." They all did as they bid, as did I. Once they were gone my father sighed. "We cannot attack."

"Why?" I answered.

"My sources tell me that Jamie Lannister left Kings-Landing a couple days ago to Casterly Rock. Tywin has his heir, which means he will no longer attack, Baratheon is his debt and will follow suite. They will only attack, if Rhaegar bids them too."

"That's a good thing. Two Kingdoms neutralized. "

"Precisely, which means attacking them, would be very foolish. It also means we no longer have the support of the Riverland's."

"The Tully's - "

"The Tully's were willing to protect us from the Lannisters, not the King. I have had several ravens from Riverun urging me to make peace, Jon Arryn in the Vale has urged the same thing. Our rebellion is an un-popular one to anyone outside the north."

"The Greyjoys - "

"There is no quicker way to unite the other Kingdoms against us, than to join up with thieves and rapers and that's what the Greyjoys are. We could never trust them."

"But we must do something!"

"Must we. Everyone knows we're in rebellion. We've closed off trading. Captured any southern ships that were in our docks. Defaulted on our taxes. And proclaimed ourselves the Kings of Winter. The initiative lies with King Rhaegar. He must attack. But where? The neck is almost impenetrable, he would lose tens of thousands before he could even set eyes on Winterfell, deepwood motte is the same story. Whiteharbour is closed off and Wyman Manderly has a secret fleet of boats to prevent any armada landing in the north. Every option leads to thousands of southerners dying. But if they do nothing, they will be seen as weak. Rhaegar is in a terrible situation, and he knows it. He will sue for peace. And that's how we'll get Lyarra back.

"And if the peace talks fail?"

"Then he has exactly the same problems as before."

"What if we smuggle her out?"

"Too risky. Too much could happen to her on the way back from Kings-Landing."

"So doing nothing is our best option."

"As hard as it is. Yes. The North protects itself. And winter is coming.

DAEMON BLACKFYRE

To the denizens of King-Landing I was Daemon Mopatis, the son of the famous Cheesemonger Illyrio Mopatis. We were introduced to the court by Lord Varys as social climbers, wishing to gain lands and nobility, in exchange we offered better trade deals and of course lots of gold to fill the Kings coffers.

We had made ourselves very popular with our cheap trade deals, we were the toast of flee-bottom and the court. My Valyrian looks were explained away, as my mother was from Lys. In fact, my Valyrian looks endeared me to the court, and many a lady too. They all wanted Prince Aegon of course, but they settled for me.

However, that was one side of the coin. The other side was the true me. Daemon Blackfyre, the last. I had come to Westeros to claim what my ancestors never could. I had been sent to court, to endear myself to the nobility. To make allies, so dissent and bide my time.

My time was coming. War had come to Westeros. The North was rebelling again. There was talk of a hidden princess. And I was informed by Lord Varys that it was all true.

I could've kissed Ned Stark; he had raised the perfect bride for me. A princess that could unite house Blackfyre and Targaryen and give my rule more legitimacy. And what's more, the girl was raised to hate and fear the Targaryen's and her hand would give me the north. The biggest realm in the seven kingdoms. And apparently, she was gorgeous.

All I had to do was to woo her. That was easier said than done. The Targaryen's kept a close watch on her according to Varys. And they did not get along.

There had been a few dinners, very tense, and more often than not, involved some argument. The latest one had been over Visenya wanting to spar in the courtyard. She refused to spar with Aegon (ha!), preferring to spa only with Kings-guard members, every morning at sunrise.

So, this morning, I accidentally wandered into the private courtyard where she sparred. I first heard the song of steel and then I saw her. She was a lithe little thing, she danced around Sir Arther with a thin sword, her two braids whipping the air as she moved. She was no match for Sir Arther of course, no-one was, including myself.

I watched her for a little while longer, the two oblivious to my presence, or just ignoring me. When Visenya dodged a particularly savage attack, I clapped. And the song of steel stilled.

Instinctually, Sir Arther moved in front Visenya, I held up my harms.

"Are you lost, boy?" Said Sir Arthur.

"Yes, but I'm glad I am, for I never would have met such a beautiful sight otherwise."

I saw Visenya blush, and smiled inwardly, I've still got it.

"You've seen the princess, now go back to your nest and gossip."

"Sir Arthur don't be mean; he's just being nice."

"As you say Princess."

Visenya moved behind her guards and struck out towards me, holding out her hand. I looked at her hand, it was grubby. Then I looked at her face. Despite the grubby quality, and sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, she still looked radiant, her rough appearance, adding a certain ferocity to her beauty.

I took her hand and kissed it. She giggled.

"Who are you, my Lord? Are you a relative?" She said gesturing to my purple-ish eyes.

I grinned. "I'm no lord, however, if my father keeps bribing people at his current rate, I'm sure I will be. Alas, for now, I am just Daemon Mopatis, son of wealthy cheese-merchant."

"I'm Lyarra."

"Lyarra?"

"In private. In company I must be Visenya."

"Princess Visenya, or your grace." Added Sir Arthur.

"Well, Lyarra, since I'm here, fancy a spa?"

"Can you fight as well as Sir Arthur?"

"No, but I can fight dirtier."

She laughed. Oh, what a heavenly laugh it was. Wooing her would be no chore, it would be my delight.

"Very well I accept."

Sir Arthur looked at us both disapprovingly, and then he handed me a blunt tourney sword, and no padding.

We circled each other, I sent out a few probing swings and watched her dodge them with relative ease. My purpose here wasn't sparring practice.

"So, Lyarra, how does it feel to be a Targaryen? Must be a big change? Once a bastard now a Royal Princess, a dream come true."

Lyarra told me what she thought of that, by slashing at me. I parried the blow and side-stepped, sticking out my leg to trip her. She avoided the leg.

"What's your favourite part of being a Princess? The royal dinners, filled with more food than half of kings landing?"

I stepped back to avoid another savage blow.

"Or perhaps the company, I imagine it must be a treat to be hugged and kissed by King Rhaegar himself?"

"Are we" - slash - "talking" - slash - "or" - slash - "fighting?" She said breathlessly hacking at me.

"I heard the prince is very handsome. Some people are saying that he is Aegon the conqueror come again. And that would make you his sister wife!"

That did it, she lunged, overextending herself, I disarmed her then entombed her in one arm against my body, my blunt sword held against her neck.

We stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily, I noticed her cheeks were flushed from the proximity as well as the exercise. It took all my mental willpower, to not get hard behind her. "I told you I fight dirty, Lyarra." I whispered.

She then kicked my shins, and I released her, howling with laughter and pain. Sir Arthur then chose to lumber up to me.

"Do that again. And your father will have a new daughter."

I gulped, flashing him an affable smile, which he did not return.

"How did you know about the dinners?" Lyarra asked pointedly.

"May the Gods bless your northern bluntness."

"Cut the crap. How did you know about the dinners?" She gruffly. She tried to look tough but instead she looked like a pissed off kitten. It was cute.

"The Princess asked you a question." Said Sir Arther, who had picked up Dawn.

"Information like gold, is a currency, and my father is rich in both."

"And what does your father want with me?"

"To bribe you, for your favor, with lavish gifts, so that your father may give him favor in return."

"Your gifts would be better spent on those less fortunate, nothing that glitters interest me, save the sword."

"How about a charitable give away to the people of Flee-Bottom? Would that give me your favor?"

"You want me to give you a Lordship?"

"That is my father dream, not mine."

"Then what do you want of me?"

"I want you to sing. To share your gift with me and the people of flee-bottom."

"You want me to sing to the small folk. Why?"

"Food and gold are all very well, but a man cannot live on bread alone. Together Lyarra we can feed their bellies and souls. With food and music."

"That's it? You want nothing else?"

"Nothing, but your voice, Lyarra."

She assented and I left her, promising to meet her tomorrow to talk details. A concert would be a great excuse to woo Visenya. It did two things, endear me further to the common folk and the nobility, as well as give me valuable time with the girl.

We would be seen together in public, a package pair, which would have a great subliminal effect on the public's mind. I also just really wanted to hear her sing again. I heard her a few nights ago, and it shook me to my core.

When I took the girl in the brothel later that day, it was Visenya that moaned beneath me, and clenched around my member. It was her face super-imposed over the whores, looking up at me.

I informed Varys and Illyrio of our meeting afterwards, they were bubbling with glee, though not as much as I was.

Chapter 9 is available on my P*TRE*ON (Albigor is my p*tre*n username) for those who can't wait 3 - 4 weeks for me to post on A03 or .Net.

Teaser for Chapter 9

DAENERYS

At long last she was mine. In a few minutes that northern niece of mine would knock on the door, and I would begin the conquering. She may put on a brave facade, but I know a submissive in the bedroom on sight, my numerous paramours were sufficient training to develop that skill. But Visenya was no mere whore though, she was the blood of the dragon. She made my blood sing and my cunt quiver with delightful anticipation.