Aegon Targaryen

The Kingswood, 301 AC

It was only once they were leaving the clearing that something hit him. Looking around at everyone to see his wife still seething at the information that had been conveyed their way only the night before, Ser Roland remaining tight lipped as always but he did notice he was clearly biting his lip and one of his cheeks on the inside too. Whether that was due to stress, anger, or a feeling of defeat was difficult to say. It wasn't them he was worried most about, it was the fact that he only realised then that Lord Jon had not so much as spoken a word over the last two days.

It was…strange.

For someone who was so opinionated and often spoke out against him bending because it wasn't right in the eyes of the law, the fact he hadn't so much as uttered a whisper did not sit right with him. No one else seemed to notice either as they made camp for the night after riding for hours straight. It was tense, the air surrounding him feeling like a cloud of thick fog that he was struggling to see ahead of. Had he done the right thing? He'd handed over Ser Kevan to his brother, and given him a hint that may potentially give him the opening to invade the Westerland's and put an end to the Lannister's for good, but in doing so he'd just given one of his remaining bargaining pieces away.

So why didn't it seem to bother him?

That was something he'd also come to notice. He was set on taking back what was his by right, and now so much of it had been ripped out from under his feet and yet he didn't seem affected by it? Was it just he was struggling to come to terms with everything? Or was it something else? Questions. Too many damned questions. Yet it wasn't those ones that was bothering him the most. Hence when Arianne finally fell asleep after ranting over her traitorous brother that night he sought out the man who had helped raise him. It took him a long time to find him, but he eventually did beside a stream seated on a nearby rock in the soil. Clearly noticing him from the sound of his footsteps and eyes meeting his own before looking away. No greetings, no honourifics, and it further told Aegon that he did not approve of what had happened.

"You do not agree with the decision to halt."

Lord Jon said nothing in response, leaning against a tree and waiting on him to speak. When it became clear he was not going to do so, Aegon huffed in annoyance.

"My Lord, you will answer your King."

His voice had a bite in it, being cautious in the very small possibility there was someone listening in. The Kingswood wasn't visited often, mostly used by people wishing to go on hunts but nothing more than that. Watching as the mans lips curled in which further confirmed his disdain.

"You shouldn't have fallen into the trap."

Trap? What did he mean by that? There was no trap in place. Considering everything, it was surprising the talk had been as amicable as it had been. He knew now he wasn't going to beat his brother, one look at the silver dragon when it flew overhead was enough proof of that considering Vēzos was only the size of a small pony currently and had an incredibly lanky body whereas his brothers were more broad. Clearly not having come from the same clutch of eggs. He'd read on it when he was young with Septa Lemore, of how Valyrian's of old specifically bred their dragons to have different traits much alike someone bred dogs to do the same.

"Pray tell me how I fell into a trap, my Lord?"

Lord Jon looked at him incredulously like it was obvious. Mayhaps it was obvious to others but it wasn't to him.

"Your Grace, whilst it is wise to hear from your sister first on the matter the wolf has ensnared you. How do you know that what he says is happening in Dorne is indeed the truth? How do you know it isn't a plot to keep you away whilst he further secures his position? How could you give something like a hostage up like he were simply a sack of meat? How did you not counter with anything when by rights you are the King! Not him. The law is clear the eldest sibling is the rightful- "

"Watch your tongue, my Lord."

His voice got low, eyes narrowing slightly. Yet he didn't stop, only paused for a second.

"You do not have the Golden Company, say it is true about Dorne then you no longer have all of Dorne due to your wife who you never should've married! You should've wed your aunt and then you would've had three more dragons on top of everything! By shackling with the harlot- "

His knuckles stung. Not even noticing why until there was a single moment of clarity and he saw the red pooling around Lord Jon's nose. A few moments of silence followed as he realised what he'd just done and why his knuckles were currently hurting. Not to mention the pooling blood which confirmed it was highly likely he'd just broken Jon Connington's nose. How dare he? Whilst he did make a point that politically his marriage to Arianne wasn't great, she was still his wife and she was blood. To insult a wife directly in front of her husband was disgusting and the fact he'd done so as openly as that? His distaste for her was well-known, but to outright call her a harlot?

"If you ever dare so much as call my wife a harlot again, my Lord, I will have you removed from my court. That is not a threat, that is a promise."

The glare thrown his way was not subtle but this time he chose to ignore it. Instead focusing on not scratching his knuckles which now were itching as opposed to stinging from how hard he must've punched the man.

"Now, you will tell me what trap I have seemingly fallen into."

A few more minutes followed as he finally managed to stem the blood flow with his tunic and turned towards the stream to begin cleaning it off of his face and noticeably wincing when he got close to his nose.

"You're going to Dorne, by doing so you're out of sight. That gives him time to consolidate everything."

Aegon paused, letting those words sink in and breathing deeply that as much as he disliked them, they did hold merit to them. He had just given his brother time to further consolidate his position, and he'd also given him a hint and gave him Ser Kevan Lannister. Understanding dawning on him and wanting to punch something himself that he'd agreed to something so stupid. Yet his brother did offer him a boon by offering him an army from the Reach to help take Dorne back from Quentyn to instil Arianne. That was something not many people would do never mind two who were actively vying for the same end goal. It was likely more political than nought, but he wasn't going to complain about such a thing. By now, Jon had cleaned as much of the blood off as he could and walked away towards their camp for the night yet he stayed. Thoughts overcoming him that weren't there beforehand alongside realising something that had been obvious right from the beginning.

He wasn't winning. He'd lost long ago.

It wasn't a thought he was pleased about but it was true. How could he win? He only had a few thousand in his army, only a handful of House's had sworn for him, he'd lost the support of Dorne, he'd lost the Golden Company, and now there was time for both sides to consolidate themselves. There was no way he was coming out on top. It wasn't the realisation of this that bothered Aegon though, it was the way he just accepted it. For years he had been working towards the goal of taking back the Iron Throne, was he really ready to give up all that work? Deciding then to make his way back to camp because there was a lot for him to think over and what it could potentially mean in the great game.

Arianne was still asleep, her arms splayed across the pillows in a position that was surely not comfortable and he took care to move her so she would not wake to an aching body. She was angry enough, a body in pain was not going to make anything any better. Staring at her face for a few minutes and considering everything. It wasn't a nice feeling, that he had been ensnared so well and there was no way he was coming out on top. Not unless he allied with the Vale and the Westerland's, and he'd be damned if he so much as considered the latter option. The Lannister's were still actively at war with Jaeron. Mayhaps if he let them fight it out and then swoop in in the aftermath? It was a tactic that had worked many times in the past, but it was not a tactic he agreed with nor was it one he thought he ever would attempt. However, if they did succeed in instilling Arianne, that could change the tides in his favour. Ideas were spinning in his head, ideas Aegon did not know if he would ever act on, but ideas nonetheless.

Margaery Tyrell

Kings Landing, 301 AC

It took them ten days to reach the Red Keep again, a place that was now her home even if it did not feel like it. She didn't think it ever would feel like home to her. It didn't have the white walls, intricate carvings, tapestries, or mazes that Highgarden had. It didn't have a large sprawling garden or the high rose bushes which was both for show and for a first line of defence. It wasn't situated as the sole building atop a hill overlooking everything surrounding the castle. The whole journey back not much had been spoken, they had agreed they would discuss it directly with their families first before making any further moves.

At least they had time.

How much time Margaery could not say, and she knew there was a fair chance her grandmother would suggest to herself in private to put an end to the madness by hiring an assassin for Aegon, yet she didn't agree with such a thing. She'd wholly expected to walk into that clearing and for there to be a massive argument. Yet there hadn't been, both had agreed quickly from the beginning that they were both rightful, and they would not hold that against one another. Her face had been still then, but the relief she'd felt was palpable in that moment. Mayhaps there wouldn't be an internal war within the current war they were fighting with the Lannister's. The Lord's of the Vale were expected to arrive in a few days and were currently resting for a day at Stokeworth which would also hopefully go well.

If so, their only opponents left on the board were Dorne and the Westerland's. If things went well with Aegon they might not even need to do anything drastic with Dorne. Ser Kevan had been taken to the black cells to await questioning but whether it would be her husband or someone else to do the questioning was unknown to her as of yet. Megga pulled the last strand of hair left into her thick braid that had been woven with multiple rose buds and tied it off, looking to her in the mirror and nodding softly. Turning to her slightly younger cousin and smiling to herself that she may have found her a match. Nothing was set in stone yet, but it was looking to be likely.

Naturally, with Jaeron having grown up in the North, it did make sense to have the North be more on their side. She'd researched the House's there including the Clan's in the mountains. Hardly any were of a suitable age until she'd heard the name Cley Cerwyn mentioned and how his father was looking for a suitable match. A lesser branch of House Tyrell may not be wholly accepted, but if she spoke the right words in her husbands ear he may be able to talk some sense into the Lord who had sworn for him. The Cerwyn's weren't a large House by any means, they would've been ideally looking for second daughters or smaller House's, it was whether they would accept a Southron bride to be their Lady one day. If anyone could handle it though, it was Megga.

They stood up then and began to make their way towards the outer courtyard which was solely for family. The stories contradicted on who had commissioned it. Some said the conqueror had built it to please his younger sister-wife, some said Alysanne had done it, and some said that Princess Daenerys had done so prior to her marrying the Prince of Dorne which in turn inspired the Water Gardens being built for her comfort later in life. It wasn't something that needed to be answered, it was just peaceful. With polished white stone walkways and marble statues on either side, to the numerous flowers from lilies to roses to heather. A fountain of water in the centre of the courtyard which was surrounded with tables and benches for people to sit at. Smiling brightly at seeing Willas already there awaiting her.

She was to meet with her grandmother later that night where she would bring up the betrothal possibility to see what she thought on the matter. Thus deciding they would dine together that night alone and her husband had agreed to such a thing, stating he had duties to attend but what those duties were Margaery could not say yet. It irked her a little that he wasn't letting her in on everything, even if it made sense. She was his Queen, and as of right now she had yet to be able to weave the pieces to work in her favour. One day, she kept speaking those two words to herself. Nodding to Megga who took the hint and continued to the opposite side of the courtyard so she would be out of earshot before turning to Willas.

"How did things go?"

Straight to the point, as always. There weren't many people Margaery could be so upfront with but her brothers and grandmother were some. It felt good to not need to hide behind courtesies and smiles.

"No agreement other than neither want to take up arms with one another."

"Then why has he asked me to ready an army to march?"

So he'd already spoken to Jaeron. That would save her some time at least. Briefing him on why he had been asked to help gather an army and why the army was being used. For a moment, Willas remained quiet and tapped his cane a few times in a slightly annoying rhythm. He'd likely already come to the same conclusion she herself had, and what it could possibly mean.

"It's definitely a risky move, but it could work to further smooth the sides."

"Tis true. One army is inconsequential in the grand scheme as we have a lot more. Aegon has lost most of his support so he will be grateful that my husband is willing to help in such regard. We're still waiting on more reports coming from Dorne and the whereabouts of Prince Oberyn, Prince Tristayne, and Myrcella Waters. I can't imagine all the Lord's and Ladies of Dorne are pleased by the blatant disrespect of their custom of eldest child rules and not simply eldest son- "

Willas finished her train of thought.

"They'll likely support Arianne in taking back what it hers by right. If his Grace is willing to aid her in doing so, it will go a long way to mending the breach between ourselves and Dorne. Although I will say it pleases me they have agreed not to take up arms with one another."

Margaery herself would not say it aloud, but she was pleased by such a result too. It was a thought many people likely had in the back of their minds especially because there were a lot of people who were alive during the last Blackfyre rebellion. A series of leaves that fell from the tree and branched off to form a new tree. It was a tale as old as the stories went, if the stories were true it was how so many House's in the Reach could trail their lines back to Garth Greenhand.

"He's not in a position to attack as of now which is soothing."

"Yet that is now, not always."

Exactly. Humming a little as she reached out to take a grape from the tray lay on the bench and enjoying the tranquillity that came with being here. Whilst it didn't look like Highgarden, there were times where it felt like it, and she cherished it.

"How long will it be until the others are set to arrive?"

"I know nought, brother. All we know is they are heading for Westeros. We do not know their ship design or name, we do not know who is with them, we do not know when they left or where they left from, we do not know if there have been any storms on the eastern side of the Narrow Sea or any squabbles in the Stepstones. It could be on the morrow, it could be a sennight from now, it could be never. The seas after all are rather perilous."

He caught what she was saying, watching the tiniest uptick in his lips at the side yet not quite turning into a smile. There was a reason the Gardener's had chosen to build their Seat on the highest hill closest to the banks of the Mander. The Reach didn't have the natural fortifications that the Riverland's did with their many rivers and lakes, didn't have the mountainous terrain of the Vale, didn't have the swamps and snows of the North, nor the scorching sand dunes of Dorne. As far as terrain went, they were forever exposed, and they had to take advantage wherever they could.

And they did.

Not many people could swim which protected them from there. The other Seat's dotted along the Mander they ensured to keep close to them. The place of knowledge was kept to them which in turn kept the other Kingdom's relying on them for their Maester's and their Septa's and Septon's as all studied in Oldtown. If there was no clear advantage, House Tyrell would never take part. Many called them craven for such a thing, but she didn't think so. If it was craven to wish not to partake in something which would almost certainly fail, then what did that make those who did partake and ended up in positions they could not shirk of their names? House Peake was relatively recent and even if Lors Titus Peake still held Starpike, his name would never grow strong. Too many times they had thrown their thorns, and too many times their thorns had been thrown back at them with many more arrows too.

If anyone did come up the Mander attempting to take Highgarden, they had to come off eventually and take it by foot. The land surrounding her families Seat looking relatively simple if it weren't for the nettles servants would cover with poison every morning. Anyone who was pricked would at the very least be dealt with severe convulsions and at worst they would die from the stings. Followed by the large rose bushes that surrounded the base of the hill, then the outer walls, and finally the inner walls. By now, the tray was almost cleared of the fruits and small cakes, reaching for another lemon cake and savouring the taste of the sour curd bursting on her tongue.

"How is his Grace?"

She scoffed a little.

"He's not gotten that comfortable with me yet, Willas."

"Yet he doesn't need to tell you anything, so tell me."

A smile danced on her face as she shook her head and thought for a few moments.

"He's determined, he'll try and deny it but it's obvious to myself that he does not want to give up the Iron Throne. Yet he feels guilt for doing such a thing as Aegon is older. Not by much but he is older, and the law does state that fact clearly."

"And that is supposedly a good thing?"

He questioned.

"If that is not a sign of a good man I don't know what is. He knows he's secure, and yet he knows he is not secure. He knows he is loved, and he knows he is hated. Yet no one will dare to attack him outright for the obvious. He does have dragons that are technically not even adults yet."

"We don't know they're adults yet, Marg- "

Margaery stood up now, popping one more grape into her mouth and enjoying the crunch of this one as it had gotten a little cooler. Moving to walk away and ensuring the skirt of her red dress was not tangled in anything and speaking a truth.

"You forget, dear brother. That not only am I wed to a Targaryen, we also have Targaryen blood. Our own ancestor was the last Dragonrider before my husband hatched his own. Rhaena and her children had a relatively simple life for her name after everything, and the broken blood was mended when her eldest granddaughter married our ancestor and her cousin Lord Florian Tyrell. Therefore, we do have a little more knowledge than most. Dragon's are not considered an adult until they are seven, and even then they continue to grow and grow strong they do."

Jaeron Targaryen

Kings Landing, 301 AC

"Uncle, can you help with this?"

He asked Aemon who was seated at a table in his room. Most mornings they would spend together just before it came time to break their fasts and for morning meetings. Milky white eyes meeting his own and nodding softly. Walking over and sliding the book over. He couldn't read it, yet whoever had scribbled the glyphs had done so in such a way there were obvious dents which he hoped would be enough for the elderly man to translate. He may be decent at holding conversations with the language of their ancestors, yet reading and writing it made no sense to him whatsoever. He would try to learn though, there was so little of their heritage left and if he could keep even a portion of it alive, he'd do it. Watching as his fingers trailed along the dents as he whispered too low for him to hear.

"It is hard to say for sure and only the first two I am certain on, but I believe it says tubīs ondurās. Vys kesos daor." (Seize the day. The world will not.)

Confusion whirred because that didn't make much sense but there were other glyphs that had been smudged when something was spilled on it long before given the dark staining. Knowing he likely wouldn't get a concrete answer to what it said. He'd found the book the night prior in the many books in his own solar, tucked between two pages and noticing it did not belong to the book itself and had instead been placed there. Who had placed it there? When had it been placed there? How long had it been there? Who had written it? Hardly anyone spoke High Valyrian like it had been spoken in the Freehold, instead majority speaking the many variations and dialects that had branched from it over millennia. From Volantene, to Pentoshi, to Tyroshi, to Low Valyrian, and even to Bastard Valyrian. Sighing and putting it away back where he had found it and taking a seat at the table.

"Tell me, what is on your mind?"

It shouldn't surprise him anymore that even if Aemon couldn't see he was still incredibly observant. Feeling those milky eyes trained on him yet not quite looking directly at him as he waited on a reply.

"The Lord's of the Vale are set to arrive by mid-morning."

"That is a good thing, is it not?"

Was it a good thing? The Vale had yet to take part in any of the fighting, they had opted to remain wholly neutral despite everything. It wasn't unheard of for a House to rebel against their orders and fight for what they believed in, recalling a lesson from long ago from Howland. That people had a choice to either take a side and risk everything, or remain put and not risk anything. Mayhaps it was the Northerner in him, but did he want people to swear to him who were too cowardly to fight for what they believed in? Or did they even believe in him and were simply crawling to him for their own gain? It sickened him the latter was more likely, yet he would reserve judgement until they had arrived.

"I am guessing Ser Loras will be sent away for a time?"

He groaned a little, having thought of that the night prior and being annoyed it hadn't come to him before. Loras had killed Robar Royce known as the Red, the second son of Lord Yohn who was seen only a couple leagues from Kings Landing. Royce's were descended from the First Men and were proud of such a thing, he did not want to take chances in having a member of his Kingsguard at the throat of a man who may just proclaim for him this afternoon.

"My wife will be heading into the city this day with her ladies and many guards, she plans to hold a woman's court. Her brother will be with her."

"A woman's court? Those have not been a thing since Alysanne died."

Exactly the reason for it. He wasn't as stupid as people may believe him to be, his wife would say it was solely because she cared for what the smallfolk would say, yet it was more political than that. They were still wary of Targaryen's and were even more wary considering he had dragons. By his wife ingratiating herself with them, she would be shown to be loving to not only those of their station or other titles. Of course, a part of Margaery did feel for them, but she didn't feel for them as much as she portrayed herself to feel. There were a few times where her mask slipped, and when it did slip he was pleased by such a thing.

"It is a smart move, they do deserve a say. My brother believed the same too."

"Those sworn to him didn't share the same beliefs though."

Aemon snorted at the words and chuckled lowly for a moment.

"Nay, they did not. For men don't like to be reminded of a very simple truth. Without all the titles, gems, clothing, and finery, they are just men. Just like those who are not privileged enough to have been born into luxuries that are so common to us nobility."

He'd never thought about it like that, yet it made sense. Without all the finery they were just like those outside the Red Keep. Both in the dirtiest parts of Flea Bottom to the large homes in Merchant's square. Many people said the Targaryen's were closer to gods than to men and many of his ancestors used such an argument to continue their traditions. It was traditions that he knew he would likely be expected to agree with, yet he didn't know if he could bring himself to do such a thing. For a few days he had discussed in detail the possible boons that could come from wedding a child of his to a child of Aegon's, and many people still pushed back. At least not all were being as subtle in their reasonings for such a thing.

The words did not come up during the meeting with Aegon, the reasoning for such being that it needed to be as clear as Northern air. Margaery was not yet with babe though he hoped she would be soon, everything was beginning to finally fall into place and if he was able to locate Myrcella Waters he may just have the upper hand to take the Lannister's out for good. He'd asked for information on Tarena and he'd gotten his answer. A descendent of the youngest son of Lord Loreon Lannister. All she had to her was her name, she did not have the riches that came with the name nor did she grow up in Casterly Rock. By all accounts, her disdain for her distant cousins was well documented.

Yet would she be able to get them into Lannisport? Jaeron didn't want to trust the mother who had birthed the man who had betrayed him so long before. It was something that would need to happen one day, but how they would do so was another matter entirely. Not only did they have to coordinate armies getting to the Westerland's, they had to plan how to get the armies through the Westerland's to get to Lannisport. Then there was Casterly Rock on top of it. It was not going to be an easy thing to do, yet if he wanted to secure his rule he'd have to do it eventually. A servant arriving confirming that the kitchens were ready as they moved to break their fast. His wife shooting him a wide grin but it was forced for the crinkles at her eyes were not there. Taking a seat beside her as the servants brought the foot out to the high table and helping himself to honeyed oats with berries and nuts. There was to be a large feast to welcome the Lord's of the Vale this evening after all.

Normally there was a small council meeting directly after first meal, but not today. There simply wasn't enough time to do so. The scout confirming they were not on the outskirts of the city and would be at the Red Keep within the hour. Turning to his wife and nodding her way which was the agreed cue for her to leave with her brother, Lady Mira, and her cousins the Ladies Alla, Megga, and Elinor. The day prior she had suggested a betrothal for Megga which he saw merit with, confirming he would discuss it with Lord Medger when he saw him next to see if he was agreeable. Further tying the Reach to the North would be advantageous, especially given what he knew was beyond the Wall. It was a heavy burden, as hardly anyone knew what he had seen and what he knew was coming. He'd need to tell people one day, but how could he do so without being labelled as mad? That was a question for another time as he walked down the throne room towards the Iron Throne and only stalling for a second before making his way up the stairs to take seat.

It felt strange still. Knowing what he was sitting on, knowing what it signified, knowing who had sat here too. Yet it was his, and he would proudly show such. The doors being opened as the many Lord's were sworn in and noticing from the various people with the same sigils they were coming with their brothers, sisters, wives, sons, daughters, and mayhaps even granddaughters. Only a handful he recognised as they came to Winterfell when he was young for business not known to him. All being introduced and each stepping forward and bowing or curtseying as they done so. Seven Lord's and one Lady had come. Belmore, Coldwater, Corbray, Waynwood, Royce, Redfort, Baelish, and Templeton. Not all and the one needed was not here. Although, Lord Robyn was still a child and if he was recalling the news correct Lord Baelish was technically the boys regent as he had wed his mother. It also wasn't lost on him Lord Yohn's eye twitched ever so slightly as he was introduced confirming the man was not liked and taking note of such a thing.

They would not have their meeting until the following afternoon, and due to this he had agreed they could settle into the Red Keep and were being given quarters in the main Keep (he didn't trust them enough to have them in Maegor's and being so close to him). Instead using the time to call a council to discuss everything over the last couple of days but there wasn't much to go on. Being near the end when a guard walked in directly his way, Arthur stepping to his side as a precaution.

"A rider, your Grace. From the Riverland's."

Why would there be a rider from the Riverland's? Fighting to keep his face still as he asked for the rider to be granted entry. A weed of a man, very tall but with no muscle to his body. Obvious dirt on his face and a stench that wasn't quite the somewhat familiar stench of Kings Landing clinging to him like a wet rag.

"Your Grace."

He spoke and attempted to bow but he done so a little too low. Knowing at least one member of his council was fighting back a laugh at the display.

"You have come from the Riverland's?"

"Aye, I was sent forth with a letter."

"May I see this letter?"

He reached his hand out for it and soon a neatly rolled scroll was placed into his palm. The man standing awkwardly as if not knowing what to do. After a few moments ordering he be taken to be freshened up and to be given a full meal before he left. Only once he was gone did he take his seat at the end of the table and scanned the scroll but there were no sigils to determine where it had come from. Pressing a little to crack the wax seal and unrolling it and reading it. Then he read it again, and again. Eyes widening a little each time as relief and happiness washed over him. Eyeing those at the table and confirming.

"Ser Brynden has sent this forth, he is currently travelling with the Brotherhood without Banners to get out of the Riverland's safely to Duskendale where he plans to get a ship for Kings Landing."

A couple pairs of eyes widened at the news but also in happiness. The fact he currently only had two Kingsguard was a topic that had been touched on many a time since Robb's army had been attacked by the Lannister army.

"That is not the only good news. My younger cousin Arya Stark, has been found and is travelling with him."

Alongside a half-feral cat but he didn't read that part aloud. Leave it to Arya to befriend a half-feral cat. She done so in Winterfell and he had no doubt that she had done so whilst she was in the Red Keep. Her whereabouts or lack thereof had been a cloud over his head for so long, knowing she was not only safe but was heading to Kings Landing with her granduncle their way had him feeling a deep joy. Quickly reading it again before realising there was another line at the end, obviously crammed in and deliberately difficult to read. Frowning as he brought it closer to a flame to read it and when he did confusion was even deeper.

"This cannot be correct."

"Why would you say such, your Grace?"

Jaeron sighed a little before looking to Lord Howland, thinking for a few seconds before confirming what was on the scroll.

"It says Lady Catelyn is with them, yet all reports confirmed that she died in the battle."