New Chapter. Calm Before The Storm.

Thou and I are but the blind instruments of some irresistible fatality, that hurries us along, like goodly vessels driving before the storm, which are dashed against each other, and so perish.

--Walter Scott.

297AC. 7th Moon.

Summerhall.

"Let me!"

Wylla called out as she grabbed a tangerine from the bowl before Lyarra could and helped her separate them one by one on a smaller plate much to the other girl's amusement as she placed her hands back on her lap.

"You do realize I can do that by myself of course."

Wylla shrugged as she handed the plate over to the silvery blonde girl who took it gratefully.

"I know. But it's only been a few days since… well…"

Wylla shuddered silently, a dark look on her face and from where they both sat in the godswood that afternoon, Lyarra saw how Brienne's shoulder stiffened.

She knew the older lady had been feeling guilty ever since what happened. But it was certain not her fault. She had after all, ended her duties for the night, and just like the faceless men, the sorrowful men were a sneaky lot.

"It feels odd, not writing a letter to my grandfather or even my father and informing him of what happened."

Lyarra sighed, eating her tangerines.

"You know why. If it so much as reaches the North, then my father would find out. I cannot even tell Robb as much I would love to. And besides, the issue will soon be resolved, seeing as we already know who sent the assassin after me."

Wylla nodded before their attention was taken by the shrieks of the two dragons and they watched as Reeva and Aegarax stumbled and rolled over each other in a sort of practice fighting, but Reeva was bigger and stronger than the slightly smaller Aegarax as the onyx scaled dragon was pinned to the ground and Reeva roared in victory, spewing fire out of its mouth much to Lyarra's fond amusement.

"They've been doing this lately. Or rather yet, Aegarax has taken to challenging Reeva, but Reeva always wins."

Wylla giggled silently.

"Well of course Reeva would win! It's obviously going to grow faster than Aegarax. Do you think it's an issue?... An… abnormality?"

She hesitated and Lyarra turned to her with a frown.

"It is not an abnormality, Wylla. Among nestmates, there's always going to be one who grows faster and stronger. Almost like an alpha yet not. Reeva seems to be that nestmate for Aegarax. I believe that, if there had been more eggs and more dragons, this would still have happened.

Seems like some dragon right of passage for Reeva to be challenged before they're accepted."

Lyarra joked and Wylla nodded with excitement in her eyes.

"And they can breath fire now! I'm sure no one would dare touch you, especially when we all return to the Red Keep."

Lyarra said nothing to that.

She was very much enjoying Summerhall and it's tranquility, and though she enjoyed the Red Jeep very much, the floweriness of the people in it could occasionally get too much.

Brienne moved slightly, giving way for Missandei to walk over with a letter in hand.

"Missandei, is all well?"

The Summer Islander curtseyed.

"Yes, your grace. This just came in for you, from the Lady Allyria."

Lyarra perked up as she took the letter from Missandei's hands. She had written her aunt very briefly, not wanting to impose on her newly married bliss. But it seemed she was now up for letters.

"Oh that's lovely! I was beginning to question whether or not to send a letter to her."

Lyarra commented mostly to herself even as the dragons continued their playfight, trying to roar each other into submission but mostly coming out as shrieks of anger.

Wylla would have called it adorable if the beasts were not already developing sharper fangs and even sharper claws capable of ripping her in shreds if they so wished.

Dear Lyarra,

I hope you are faring well at Summerhall. It is a beautiful castle, is it not? Beric and I passed by Summertown on our way to his home after leaving King's Landing in the beginning of the year. I am so glad we are close to one another.

Speaking of family, Edric is well though I believe he misses you. He continues to squire under my husband and is even better than before.

Husband. It certainly feels like it's been years since I've been married to Beric, and yet it is only but a few moons. Soon, I will journey to King's Landing and watch you be wed to the Prince Aegon. My sister would be over the moon I just know it. Her daughter wedding her dearest friend's son, she must be glowing in whatever afterlife she currently is.

All is well here at Blackhaven, and when you wish to, I will not stop you from visiting. Summerhall is the private residence of the crowned prince and so one cannot just decide to visit except already invited.

I look forward to seeing you again.

My regards,

Lady Allyria of Blackhaven.

Lyarra smiled as she finished reading the letter. It was a shame Allyria would not be able to visit anytime soon with the curfew still in place on Summertown, and Summerhall close to outsiders and under close watch, she knew Aegon would not allow anyone entry, no matter how close they were to either of them. Especially since Allyria would have to also bring her own retinue for a visit.

It mattered not though, she was patient.

She could endure this for a longer while.

She stared at her bandaged fingers. They still hurt, and the Maester suspected they'd be permanently scarred. That was no issue to her. It was only two fingers and not very noticeable. She just wanted to be able to grasp things like she used to.

Letting out a sigh, Lyarra glanced up into the open skies.

The Red Keep.

The King's Solar.

"The Magisters have promised to deal with Illyrio Mopatis, Arthur. You can be rest assured this incident will not be happening again."

Arthur said nothing where he stood, fists tightened in anger as his old friend folded the letter in his hand.

"That is a relief. Though I would very much prefer to deal with the bastard myself. Pardon my language."

Rhaegar shook his head.

"You do not need to hide your fury with me, Arthur. Like yourself, I am most wrought with this situation. Summerhall is supposed to be well protected. It is the home of the crowned prince after all. For such a thing to happen…"

He sighed in frustration and Arthur's shoulders slumped.

"In any case, have you heard from your niece?"

The Kingsguard member nodded.

"I have. She seems to be fine, but I cannot be sure."

"The Lady Lyarra is a strong hearted young woman. From what I have seen of her, she will be fine. And she has the dragons to protect her, as well as a growing direwolf."

Arthur sighed defeated. He had almost failed in his promise to his sister. The protection of his niece.

A knock on the door and the Queen walked in, making Arthur bow in greeting.

"Your grace."

"Arthur, have you heard from Lyarra?"

"Yes, your grace. She is well, from what she says."

Elia smiled fondly.

"I think she speaks true. If she was unwell, my son would have brought her back here without a moments notice."

Arthur said nothing, only bowing and excusing the couple to continue guarding the King with Jaime Lannister by his side who had been guarding the Queen.

"How are you, Rhaegar? You have been rather quiet lately, even before the attack on Lyarra."

Elia asked as she sat down opposite her husband who sighed quietly as he massaged his forehead.

"I am fine, Elia. Perhaps I just feel a bit… disturbed."

"Oh?"

"Hm. I don't know how to explain it, but disturbed is the right word. I got another letter from Aemon."

"Is all well over there?"

"Perhaps. He says it is colder."

Elia smiled.

"Isnt the North always cold?"

Rhaegar shook his head.

"The way Aemon described it, Elia. He said it is colder. And the nights are getting longer as well. He says something has changed. He is old, my dear, and so I am inclined to listen to him when he talks about change."

Elia said nothing at first, looking out the large window of her husband's solar before speaking up.

"I worry for Aegon too. Those dreams he has talked about… beyond the wall… why is my son having these dreams? Why are you taking it very seriously?"

Rhaegar turned to his wife at that.

"Elia—"

"I know you are taking it way more seriously, Rhaegar. Did you perhaps… she another… dream?"

She asked rather apprehensively and Rhaegar immediately shook his head.

"Not since that night, my dear. But the dreams all feel connected. I just… I worry he might become like me if he keeps having these dreams. Chasing after the same thing I used to obsess over. I do not believe the Lady Dayne will be as patient as you when it comes to allowing Aegon chase after dreams."

He joked and Elia chuckled softly.

"I believe that is good for him. Aegon is much more stubborn than you are. He needs someone like her in any case. I hope for their return sooner rather than later as well."

Rhaegar nodded absentmindedly, a smile settling on his face.

"Ah, and how is Rhaenys? Is she well? No complications?"

Elia laughs softly.

"You worry too much. She is hale. Her pregnancy seems to be treating her well. Better than mine had at least."

Rhaegar huffed.

"The Tyrells better care for her."

Elia smirked in amusement, placing her hands on the table and taking her husband's hands in hers.

"I'm sure she is well. I will pay her a visit in a few moons. Perhaps when she is about to give birth. I believe having me there with her would make it easier. I did not have her mother with me for my first birthing and though your mother was by my side, it still felt different from home. I am well, and I can do this for my own daughter."

Rhaegar nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. And it has been quite a while since we focused on the Reach in any case. Show them that we have them in our minds."

Elia hummed even as Rhaegar leaned down, placing a kiss on her knuckles and making her smile.

The North.

He ran through the thick forest, the pitter patter of limbs rustling the dead leaves on the ground as well as crunching into the snows.

His breathing was not labored though he had been running for what felt like miles.

He had been on a hunt, and now his belly was full, he felt sated, and the taste of what surely was blood stayed in his mouth.

The castle was over now.

Home.

Winterfell—

"Wake up, Bran!"

Bran Stark sat up in bed with a small gasp, heart beating fast even as an unconcerned Arya waltzed into the room like she owned it.

"You overslept again! Mother asked me to come check if you were still alive."

The 11 name days old sneered half-heartedly even as Summer, Bran's direwolf trotted into the room, stomach bulging slightly from being fed and claiming the spot next to the fireplace, tongue rolling out in satisfaction.

"Ugh. Go away Arya."

Bran grumbled as he laid back in bed, throat a little dry but a strange taste in his mouth.

"Whatever. Better not sleep again! Mother's in a mood this morning. She got a letter from grandfather or something."

With that, Arya walked out once more, slamming the door intentionally and Bran winced slightly.

Another odd dream.

Not that he truly minded.

It just… he wanted to know why he could do these things.

None of his siblings seemed to be going through why he was.

Running as a wolf like Summer… flying in the air like his beloved raven friend. Was it any surprise he preferred to rest in on most days and just… dream?

With another groan, he sat back up, eyes connecting with Summer's. The direwolf practically laid on the ground, resting up from a hunt, but knowing eerie eyes stayed on its companion as if urging Bran to… remember something!

Ned Stark's Solar.

"I cannot believe we are to have connections with those weasel faced degenerates."

Benjen laughed humorlessly where he sat opposite his brother in his Solar.

Ned was quiet as his thought lay with the letter his wife had received from her Lord Father on her brother's marriage to a Frey as well as the welcoming of a child in a few moons time.

"I am not too surprised. Edmure Tully has always been… gullible."

Benjen snorted.

"I did not think stupid enough to be entangled with those hillbilly looking lot."

Ned sighed, looking exasperated.

"They do not commit incest. They are not Targaryens."

Benjen waved his brother.

"We do not know if they do not commit incest either. It would explain the weasel features they all seem to carry regardless of who marries into their line. I pity their child. He would quite possibly have the Frey looks and the Riverlander Lords are not exactly friends with Walder Frey and his abominable lot."

"Indeed. Hosted has apparently tried to keep it quiet for a few weeks and that was why he did not inform Catelyn, but the Lords of the Riverlander seem to have been informed already and many are not happy with the thought of having a half Frey be their future Lord Paramount.

Some are even asking Hoster to declare the marriage void and claim the child a bastard, but that is not possible without the approval of the High Septon, and Hoster does not want Riverland news spreading to other parts just yet."

"More like he does not want to become a laughing stock… again."

Ned could not blame him. After that business all those years ago involving the man's middle child and some boy from the Vale, Hoster was not ready to sully his family name even further. And yet, his son seemed to have done that for him.

"Speaking of marriages, how is Lyarra? I still find it hard to believe she is to be the future queen of Westeros."

Benjen mumbled mostly to himself while Ned Stark smiled softly.

"She is well, from what I can tell. Robb and Arya write to her as often as they can and Bran wishes to go stay with her."

Benjen chuckles.

"He still wishes to be a knight?"

"Indeed. But I cannot send him to Lyarra. She has not even settled in yet, I cannot burden her this way. Brynden Tully on the other hand…"

"Good man. Great knight."

Ned nods.

"I will send him a letter after the gathering of the Northern Lords is all over. Perhaps a visit to Winterfell for him is in order. While I will not allow Bran out of my sight so soon as he is still 10, I believe he feels listless at the moment. He spends most of his time in his chambers, sleeping whenever he has no duties or practice. This should at least excite him."

Benjen smiles.

"It should. I was much like him as a child. Thankfully I seem to have found my calling with the Night's Watch."

"Speaking of the Night's and Watch, tell me, any news?"

The younger Stark shrugged as he relaxed into his seat.

"No wildlings as of the moment.

Although… it is getting a lot colder over there."

Ned raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"This is the North, brother. It is always cold here."

"Aye. But it sometimes feels as if it is colder over there and beyond the wall. There's this chill that goes through me whenever I go past the wall or even just stand above it."

Ned frowns slightly.

"Perhaps the weather is changing once more. Though there is no news from the citadel of any coming winter."

"I am just telling you what is going on, brother. It could be nothing really. Apart from that, not much is going on. The animals seem to be migrating, and from what I've heard, Craster, the only wilding who would do trade with us beyond the wall might have gone mad. Mumbling about Cold gods apparently."

Ned snorts but says nothing.

"In any case, when is Lyarra's wedding? I wish to know whether or not to begin planning for my great ranging this year or not."

"Another one? You only got back from the previous last year."

Benjen was one of, if not, the best ranger the Night's Watch had, and he enjoyed going beyond the wall. Rangers usually spent at least 4 to 5 months beyond the wall but during greater ones, they could spend up to a year or even two.

"You know me, Ned. I enjoy these things. Staying in one place for too long leaves me antsy. I would rather enjoy the thrill of the sword than stay cooped up at the Wall."

His brother rolled his eyes at the youthful words of his brother.

"I don't know when the wedding will take place, and I hope it is not soon."

Benjen laughs.

"Come off it, brother. If Lyarra is happy then that is more than enough. I kept telling you to at least allow her live with our sweet sister and now, she is in the hands of the Targaryens. She does not even bear our name."

He gave Ned a meaningful look and his brother sighed.

"Apologies Ned, but your opinion should not matter with her marriage. Just let her enjoy like she never had here in Winterfell. As princess and future queen, she will have whatever it is she could ever wish for. I think you should be proud of that, rather than worried. Now, tell me! How is Sansa really taking all this? I would have thought she would be the one marrying the prince after all. Imagine my surprise at your letter."

Ned forced a smile across his face.

"I was not home when I sent the letter to Cat. I can be sure she was not very happy. But she has gotten over it, what with her hopeful betrothal with Jasper Arryn."

Benjen nods.

"A good match. Lady of the Vale is no small fit after all."

"No great ranging for you, Benjen. Even if Lyarra does not marry this year, I am hoping Robb will at least. That is one of the reasons for this feast after all."

Benjen chuckles in amusement.

"Poor boy. He'll be turning 17 in a few days and marriage is on his plate almost immediately."

"As it should. Now, enough talking about marriages."

Benjen eyes lightened in humor. His brother never did enjoy discussing his children and their need to one day be wed.

"Very well! I shall let you off, just this once."

Before they could continue their japes though, there was a knock on the door and as Ned called out for them, Robb walked in with a letter in hand.

"Apologies father, uncle. This just arrived from Bear Island. Not for Lady Mormont though, It was addressed straight to you."

The Lord of Winterfell frowned slightly as he took the letter from his son's hand who immediately sat down.

Ned opened the letter and began to read it, and as he did, his face grew even grimmer than usual.

"Ned?"

Benjen sat up, leaning forward in curiosity and worry.

"Has something happened?"

His brother said nothing at first before looking at his son.

"Find Theon and bring him to me. Now."

Robb slowly got to his feet, concern in his eyes.

"Father?"

"His sister arrived at Bear Islands with some terrible news. Euron Greyjoy has returned and crowned himself the King of the Iron Islands."

Benjen slumped into his seat with disbelief even as Robb backed out of the room in a hurry to go find his mourning friend.

The Westerlands.

Casterly Rock.

"How is she?"

Tyrion asked quietly once the Maester left his wife's adjoining room and the man bowed.

"Better, My Lord. She sleeps less fitfully and eats better."

The Lord of Casterly Rock sighed even as he nodded at the man.

"Thank you, Maester. You are excused for the night."

With that, Tyrion quietly entered his wife's room, walking over to the bed where she slumbered.

Her face was slightly pale and she seemed to have lost some weight as well. Ever done the incident last moon, his wife had been having trouble with sleeping.

She had lost her entire family. Her friends. Her village, in just one night. At the hands of a vicious monster.

All thanks to her good-sister.

Tyrion's lips curled with hatred as his fists shook where he stood.

Cersei.

The thorn on his side. As much as he had tried to ignore her over the years, hoping she would have other things to focus on, like her children, or even gaining power in Ashemark like she enjoyed.

Breathing out slightly, he brushed the hair out of his wife's face, pausing only when she moved in her sleep, turning away from him.

It felt like an eternity, standing in the dark room with only a dim light that silhouetted the room.

And then he walked out, into his own room through an adjoining door and into his living chambers where Sandor Clegane stood in a corner, away from the fireplace.

"Is everything ready then?"

Was all he said as he spotted the man and Clegane grunts.

"Good. Lead them Clegane. I do not care how long it takes. Find the mountain. Bring his head to me."

The hound nodded, walking out of the room with the ringing of battle drums in his ears.

This was what he had wanted after all. What he had wished for after all these years and now he would get it.

He would find his brother and he would kill the bastard. Damn the gods and their kinslaying vows. Gregor Clegane did not deserve to die at any other hand but his.

He may be taking 500 men with him to hunt the bastard and his ilk, but his brother… his brother was his!

Tyrion sat on the chair closer to the fireplace, all but staring into it lost in thought.

He had never planned to be like his father who took out enemies that displeased him.

But if he had to, Cersei would pay for the pain she was causing the Westerlands. He knew it was only a matter of time before the mountain struck again. And those pesky Lords would be there to run their mouths once more.

Sometimes permanent silence was better than temporary warning.

The Stormlands.

Summerhall.

Dreamscape.

He was in the North once more.

Beyond the wall.

Aegon shivered at the billowing of the cold air, wearing only his sleep wear.

He looked forward, a gasp escaping his lips at the dead things running towards him.

So close!

"FIGHT!!!"

He hissed at the loud voice that resonated in his head, hand tightening around something, only to glance down.

Right in his hand, was the sword.

The Great Sword like Valyrian steel and yet not.

"FIGHT!!!"

Aegon grunts slightly, turning back towards the coming army of undead and crouching into a fight stance as they got closer than ever before. Their screeches loud and unnatural as many climbed or ran over each other just to get to him.

He gritted his teeth.

Show no fear.

Arthur had instilled that into him a long time ago.

Just a moment… he told himself… and then as he moved to strike, the Great Sword emitted a golden glow so bright, almost ringing like a bell, an echo of a golden force field emanated out of the sword in the shape of an expanding dome, catching many of the undead things in it's path and as it did, the disintegrated right before his eyes.

"Wha—"

He gasped as he straightened back up, eyes wide as he stared down at the sword in his hand.

Light reflected against the gold and silver, the writing on it still unrecognizable.

Was this even real?!

But no! Now was not the time.

He looked back up, the army still continued towards him.

And so he tightened his hands around the Great Sword of seeming legend, and with a powerful shout, ran into battle.

And then darkness.

'COME! CLAIM WHAT IS YOURS BEYOND THE WALL! BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE! COME!!!'

Aegon woke with a gasp, grasping tightly at his half buttoned shirt in desperation as he forcefully sat up with a small cry.

He shivered uncontrollably, feeling like he had been dunked in ice cold water from the North.

His dreams were becoming so real he feared he would get lost in them and loose touch of reality.

Was this why some Targaryens usually grew mad?

A feeling settled in him.

Something was wrong.

Or was something coming?

So that's it for now.

More dialogue but more to let people know what's going on everywhere and how things are coming to head.

Yara is in the North now, Tyrion is awfully pissed and has sent Sandor after his brother, the king and queen worry. Bran sleeps. Yes I have plans for Bran but not what you all think.

Aegon's dreams are beginning to mix with his reality. Honestly I feel dragon dreams might be violent and that's why many Targaryens slowly went mad. Perhaps their dreams mix with reality over time they get lost in it. Rhaegar in this fic almost did and it was the violent deaths of his family that opened his eyes.

Anyways, as you can tell, the sword is by no means ordinary. I feel a sword blessed by the gods would have abilities in my opinion and so why not spruce things up for Aegon along the way!

Only now, he's getting a call to come North. Things will not be easy especially since going North means actually going beyond the wall, and he is the prince! Who would be mad enough to let him go?!

NEXT CHAPTER, cameo from the Westerlands. Cersei stews, Yara gains an audience with the Lord of Winterfell and meets her brother for the first time in years. Pentos writes Westeros. Myrcella finally takes matters into her own hands, but with large consequences.