A/N: Great news guys! I have been accepted by my top choice of Medical School! All your prayers and well wishes were answered!

Some great stuff coming up.

Enjoy and comment!

Chapter 9: Valonqar

"What were you three thinking?!"

Faced with the she-wolf's wrath, Daemon's eyes were trapped at the floor while both Rickon and Visenya eyed others. The former his Dornish muna and the latter her kepa.

This did not go unnoticed by Rhaegar, and he was also not amused. "Don't give us that look." He stood, eyes narrowed and quite enraged - same as Lyanna. "You could've been killed. Lost down there for days!"

"We brought a guide," mumbled Visenya.

"Who?! Your cousin Joanna?! Allowed Arya to follow you?!" Rhaegar leaned down and pressed his hands into Visenya's cheek, forcing her to look him in the eye. "If a cave-in had harmed them, what would you have told your uncle Ned and aunt Cersei? Hmm? 'Forgive me, but I lost your daughters cause I wished to play adventurer."

The words seemed to have an effect on Visenya, whose defiant expression took on a more fearful quality. Rickon, while apologetic from the start, still sought to defend himself. "Kepa, did you see what we found?"

"Eight dragon eggs…" Lyanna bit her lip. That was truly the hardest part about punishing them. Dangerous though it was, what the children did was extraordinary. "You should've told us what you were planning."

"Then we would've never been allowed to do it… and the eggs would still be there." Rickon rushed to his own. "See, it feels warm! I feel the warmth!"

Rising from her chair where she had been silent, Elia looked at her little Daemon. Of all of them, he resembled a Targaryen version of Oberyn… but without the same cocksure attitude and daring. He was quiet, bookish, and gentle, much like she was. She clicked her tongue. "It was extraordinary, but also reckless. You'll be confined to your chambers for the next few days, aside from meals and your duties. Rhaegar, do you mind escorting Rickon and Senya to their chambers?"

The King looked at her. "Lia?"

"I wish to talk to Daemon alone… and I believe Lyanna should do it with me?" She gave Rhaegar a pleading look.

He wouldn't be the amazing husband that he was if he couldn't read her. "Alright. Come along, then. I'll even tell you a little story about recklessness." Hand on their shoulders, he guided the children out. Leaving Daemon to his fate.

Elia knelt by her son, cupping his cheek. "Daemon…"

"I'm sorry!" he blurted. "I tried to tell them not to but they were insistent and I never wanted to be thought a coward or Aenys come again…"

At his fast babbling, Lyanna came to steady Daemon. "Hey… my son, please." That allowed him to calm a bit.

"Just tell us what you found." They would punish all of them appropriately - as Ned and Cersei were undoubtedly doing for Joanna and Arya - but her curiosity was piqued. "We've been so busy worrying for you, that I believe no one has truly asked you that question."

Daemon gulped. "I saw a dragon… a big skeleton. The size of Balerion."

That confused them. "Anything else?"

"Some Valyrian writing near a jar… I couldn't tell really what it was beyond ''Oh Starks of time to come, know that if the Pact occurs again, that salvation is behind these walls. I never regretted what I had done, knowing my kin would never harm the North, nor family's future was anything but assured.'"

Blinking, Elia looked at Lyanna, who sighed. Going for the door. "Brother," she called out.

Benjen entered. "Yes, your Grace?"

Shaking her head at the remark, Lyanna pointed to her son. "Please take the hatchling to see his grandmother, the Dowager Queen."

"Right away."

"Daemon, repeat what you said to your grandmother. She'd wish to know."

"I will, muna." Two kisses on the cheek from each of them and he was off.

Lyanna leaned back in her chair as they were left alone, groaning. "Your children are gonna be the death of me."

"My children?" Elia huffed. "If I recall, you bore half of them from your womb… and raised all of them alongside me." Taking a seat across from Lyanna, she narrowed her eyes. "And I do believe that when they do naughty things it is your influence?"

"What do you mean by 'your influence?'" Lyanna shot back.

"They don't call you the 'she-wolf' for nothing." Elia chuckled. "You are a wild one."

A smile curled on her face. "I do believe you like my wild side, dear wife." She folded one leg atop the other, letting the long, lithe limb display plenty of skin - Lyanna greatly enjoying how Elia's eyes flickered lasciviously towards her leg. "And what of you? That brother of yours, and your mother if I remember the stories you told. After Oberyn's birth she pretty much had any lover she wanted, man or woman."

Elia shrugged. "Some do not enjoy staying among one lover… others prefer consistency such as myself." Biting her lip, she rose from her seat and moved to Lyanna's, grateful ever she was that it was one of those plush armchairs. "Care to make room?"

Grey eyes sparkling, Lyanna placed her legs together and shifted to the middle of the chair. Without delay, Elia climbed upon her lap. Lyanna giggling at the rustle of their skirts. "Having trouble there, love?"

Pulling hard, it was awkward but she made it work. "Difficult, but worth it to be close to you." Two slender, olive-skinned arms wrapped around her neck. "I love you, Lya."

"Mmmm, and I you, Lia." Leaning forward, she kissed her wife on the lips, both moaning at the sweet touches. When she pulled back, Lyanna sighed. "I am not truly upset at our children… worried yes, but risk is the companion to absolute greatness - and there is greatness in all of them." She rested her forehead against Elia's, raising her arms to rest on the Dornish Queen's trim sides. "Baelon, Rhaenys, Aegon, Alyssa… all dragonriders and all great leaders and warriors in the making."

"And now the triplets join them. Who knows what Jaehaerys, Viserra, and Lyarra will show."

Lyanna groaned. "Don't speak of such. They are still my babes and I want them to be young and innocent for a while longer… until we have grandbabes."

Now it was Elia's turn to groan. "Do not speak of grandbabes. I am not that old nor am I that feeble."

"I am of personal knowledge that you aren't feeble, given last night. That was… quite athletic of you."

"Well…" She gave an impish, innocent look that someone Dornish was mostly unable to pull off - which made it even more desirable and lusty. "It depended on the strength of my dragonrider husband and warrior wife." Leaning forward, she nipped Lya's lip, making her groan. "Enough of worries for now. While Rhaegar is on his duties and we have none at the moment, let us recreate last night. Just the two of us."

Smirking, Lyanna's hands drifted up to cup Elia's breasts. Seven children that nursed from here - including Rickon and Visenya - had left the pert globes a bit larger than they had been when they met… something that Lyanna greatly appreciated. "Our husband will be quite put out if we leave him out of it."

Arching her back so as to expose more of her chest, Elia sighed in pleasure. "He's gonna punish us tonight, then. Awaken the dragon."

Lyanna's mind conjuring up just what waking the dragon entailed, her eyes filled with lust. "Completely acceptable." One hand cupping the back of her neck, she pulled Elia down for a kiss, tongues twisting together as she quickly worked at the laces of her dress. Expertly bearing her chest. "By the gods… perfection." Licking and sucking down the perfect olive column of her neck, Lya sucked Elia's nipple into her mouth. "Beautiful."

Gripping the back of her head, Elia grinded into Lya's lap. Moaning like a wanton whore. "Take me to bed," she begged. Rewarded as Lya, still sucking like a newborn babe, cupped her ass and heaved her up. Elia wrapped her slender legs round her strong wife's waist, eager to see stars just as she always did.

"Follow me, daughter."

"Kepa, please don't make me…"

"Stop it, Sarra." Silver hair tied back, exposing how slender and beautiful his face was compared to 'the monster' as she had dubbed the other one that yelled and challenged her kepa, Daemon gave Sarra a sweet smile. "This is for your protection."

But Sarra shook her head. "I'm not even ten namedays. I don't want to marry."

"It won't be consummated, Sheira will make sure of that… but his wealth is large and will protect you in case something happens to me. In case Maelys defeats me."

"No one can defeat you. You are the rightful King."

He kissed her forehead. "I wish everyone had as dutiful a daughter as you." Taking her by the hand, her kepa guided Sarra into the chamber. She was there, ever beautiful and youthful in spite of her great age… and so was he. A young man past maturity, eying her with appreciation…

Walking through the large manse in Lys - secluded away in the forested hills of the eastern part of the island city, offering the privacy that such nobles so desired, including herself - Princess Sarra Blackfyre often thought back on that day with mixed emotions.

Sorrow and hate were mixed, weren't they?

It had been the last day she'd seen her kepa, for ride he did to confront his cousin Maelys the Monstrous after. And got his skull ripped apart by the monster's bare hands.

No one was there, or willing rather, to protect her from her husband. From his consummating the marriage far earlier than she had been ready - but Sarra smirked at the thought. Where was Illyrio but dead like a dog in the gutter? Where was she but in control of his fortune and his many properties across the Free Cities.

In hiding that they were, but hiding in style. Thank you, dear husband. I couldn't have done it without you. There were some things they had to hide… a little better, but it worked out. Her children could train, as did she, and were getting good.

Gods, it felt good as well.

Slave soldiers bowing - it would've been more secure to have the Golden Company provide guards, but that would've elicited enough attention so that their ally wouldn't be able to give cover - she entered the conference chamber of the manse to find him seated. He rose, ever deferent even though she thought of him with distaste.

Something else she hid well. Mostly well. "Lord Connington."

"Your Grace," Jon Connington bowed, red hair pulled back much as her kepa's had in her memory. "Shall we begin?"

"Aye, lets." Sarra took a seat and eyed the former Hand of the King - effectively her Hand if that term could be used. His image was muted but strong and spry… nothing like the sorry state they found him in the middle of a Pentoshi tavern. Overgrown hair and beard, getting weepy with the male whores he purchased with his remaining coin and trying to drink himself to death. Ser Jonothor tried to keep him from dying, but it was only once they forced him to put himself together that he became such a valuable asset for the future. Someone who knew Westeros and the Targaryens

The Red Dragons.

"Now," he began. "I know you may consider it too soon…"

"Of course it's soon. My daughter is barely five and ten. Not even of maturity!" she hissed. It was a sore subject for her, given her marriage.

"Princess, please, Daella has been raised to be strong. She can handle herself… and it is merely hypothetical at this point."

Snorting, Sarra nevertheless had to admit he had a point. "Fine." She crossed her arms, staring at him. "I don't want Daella to marry some oaf as I did. Should be someone that provides more than just coin to Aenar's cause - those can be bought off with titles and commercial influence once we retake the Seven Kingdoms."

"Quite true…" Connington cleared his throat. "The obvious solution would for her to marry Aenar, or Gaemon, but our situation is precarious as it is."

"Aye." This Sarra had to also admit. "There are houses in Westeros that are primed to rebel. The Baratheons… perhaps the Hightowers, although their closeness to the radical elements of the Faith of the Seven disquiet me."

"Would you consider a marriage to one of Doran Martell's children?"

She shook her head. "Too risky at this point… I can't trust him with his sister as Queen." Maybe for one of her other children… or for Aenar once he was on top.

Connington pursed his lips. "Would you consider…?"

"No marriages to Dothraki horse lords!" Sarra yelled. "They are decentralized and wouldn't be loyal anyway!" Leaning back, Sarra's brows furrowed in thought. "We need not marry for alliance yet… Daella is beautiful and a true dragon - perhaps she could bind us to the red dragons?"

Face souring, Connington mumbled something under his breath. "Rhaegar's whores' seed."

"Would make ruling more palatable later." Such separated her from her mentor. You hated them all, as do I… but I am flexible. Your inflexibility destroyed you. "Prince Baelon."

"The bastard Crown Prince?"

"He's the only boy worth a damn." Her uncle spoke it so. "Prince Aegon is a sickly waste of seed, Rickon an insult to their heritage, and Daemon is Aenys reborn, a spineless coward." Sarra shook her head. "Daella is the one. The future of our house, the true heir to our founder, the Warrior Without Peer. Only the best for her, and it seems that this Baelon is the best." Little did she know that someone was eavesdropping.

I will provide the future for our house? Pulling back into the courtyard, Daella reflected on what she just heard, running over to a large acacia tree and climbing - her slender body and innate agility making her an expert climber. Sitting on a thick branch she let her legs dangle, letting her muna's words echo in her mind. A girl, and the third-born at that, by tradition she would be nothing but a bargaining chip to be married off to gain alliances for the heir and the spare. Even Gaemon as the spare would be seen as a half-chip, but at least he would be groomed to take over if Aenar failed to provide proper heirs.

Gods, she groaned at the thought. Aenar as heir of House Blackfyre - she'd rather have a lizard than her eldest brother. That idiot… by the Gods he's Aegon the Grasper come again. If he had a half-dozen, nay, a full dozen bastards already from the whorehouses and servants quarters from here to Ibben then she'd be surprised. He'd need a wife, and a good wife, but nothing could fix that sort of attitude.

But a smirk slowly curled on her face. He may not be the one for the house, but I could be. Fierce, smart, beautiful? One didn't need to be vain to list her strengths. A husband would only be the final piece of the puzzle rather than a desperate move to save her. Baelon - Prince Baelon Targaryen. A wolf in all but his eyes and his blood, but Daella knew not what to make of it. Her own muna had black hair and she was a fierce black dragon.

It was smart, uniting the red and black properly. Hopefully Baelon would be worthy of such honor as herself.

She scoffed, tapping the trunk with her palm. Who would be?

Sliding his hand down the smoky surface of the Valyrian steel blade, Baelon's eyes gleamed in awe. "And this is yours? No restrictions? No loans?"

Grinning, Aegon cracked his knuckles. "None. The blade is mine. I even named it - Fyrefist, the scourge of our enemies."

"Fyrefist…" Handing it back to his brother, Jon could envision it now. "Just think of it, brother. An army of wildlings, ready to attack the wall and pour into the North." There was a light snowfall, almost setting the stage for the vision. "Then out of nowhere out from the sky sweeps Valyrax and Tessarion. Flame emerges from their maws, while leaping from their backs are the two of us. King Baelon, First of his Name, and Prince Aegon. They carry Blackfyre and Fyrefist respectively, and together with their direwolves Ghost and Smoke, we cleave massive holes in the middle of their line."

Closing his eyes, Aegon could just picture it. "I'm sorry, but that sounds purely awe-inspiring."

Grinning, the Crown Prince whooped. "Look at us brother," Jon grabbed his shoulder, pounding Aegon's chest even if his brother had a quarter head on him. "Ser Aegon and Ser Baelon! Dragonknights both, fire and blood to their enemies!" A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. "Ser Egg and Ser Jon, Aemon and Baelon Reborn!"

"Critical distinction, you are the heir, not I." Aegon laughed. "I'd technically be Baelon in the scenario."

"Valonqar, by Tessarion just take the win." Rhaenys emerged from… somewhere, immediately yanking Egg into her arms and rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. "I guess I'm Alyssa then," she laughed, overpowering her little brother easily."

Aegon squirmed, trying to get out of her headlock. "Hey! Hey! Stop that!"

Unable to resist a laugh, Jon just crossed his arms. "Why? This is quite amusing." His grin widened. "If you're Alyssa though, that means you and Egg would be married… or you and I if as I originally said."

"What? Marry you two? Ugh, gross." Rhaenys let Aegon go, allowing him to dart back, rubbing his scalp gingerly. "Why not just marry uncle Oberyn?"

"Considering him, he might like it," Egg remarked, only to get punched by Rhaenys. "Enough with hurting me. Punch Jon for once."

"I can't, I actually like him," she shot back, showcasing the great sisterly affection she had for poor Egg… well, she had plenty. Shown when Rhaenys leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head. "Gotta try to use leverage to flip a person over if they're giving you a headlock - bend your knees when you do."

He smirked. "Duly noted, sister-wife."

She shook her head. "Under no circumstances would I marry you, Egg… handsome though you are." Punching his shoulder, she then shifted her eyes to Baelon. "Jon, if I was about to marry some bald, toothless old codger I might be persuaded to do with you what the Old King did with the Good Queen… but I'd rather not have Dany and Sansa slit my throat or feed me to their wolves for stealing you away."

"Dany and Sansa… come on, they're not that way."

Both Egg and Rhae stared at Baelon as if he grew three heads like their sigil. "Are you kidding? They literally call themselves your future Queens."

Jon rolled his eyes. "That's for a game."

"Doesn't look like that, brother," Egg shook his head. "Believe me, I envy you. Having two wives set up for you on the outset…"

"Stop calling them my wives!" Jon was irritated… but knew exactly how to bother his brother. "But think of it, Ser Aegon, you need not be embarrassed. You'll be in Dorne soon, beating off all the hungry girls with a stick."

Blinking, suddenly Egg's tanned face went beet red. "Please don't speak on it."

Rhaenys giggled. "Yeah… and maybe some of the boys as well. They'll be dying to play sticks and stones with you."

If Egg couldn't get more mortified… "It isn't like I have some pet boytoy like you with Torrhen Karstark."

Another revelation, one that made Jon narrow his eyes. "Really, Rhae? You're still with him? You don't even like him."

"I like him plenty," Rhaenys countered. "He's fun, I don't see the problem."

"Oh, Rhae." Jon shook his head. "As House Karstark says all the time, we are kin. We wouldn't want the same kind of relations with them as Kepa and I have with Lord Robert and Edric," he spits the last part as if he had just tasted the most sour of medicine. "You need to be smart here."

"You're the second person to tell me that… just drop it and trust me to know what I'm doing."

Jon sighed, but nodded. "Fine." He shifted his feet. "I just don't like you being with people that… aren't really worth your time."

Her brow rose. "You think that? I thought you liked the Karstark boy."

He shrugged. "He's alright."

"He's a cunt - handsome I'll admit, but a cunt." Egg didn't mince words.

"It's just that you're a Princess, and my sister. You're worthy of someone better. We all are." That led to smiles… and a group hug. "This family, we're destined for greatness… look at the triplets? Finding the legendary dragon eggs in the crypts."

"I suspect Visenya and Rickon did put them up to it - Daemon's a sweet kid but not an adventurer." Rhaenys was right as usual.

"I can talk to him if you like." Egg shrugged. "I know something about pushing oneself to get over limitations."

"That you do, brother, that you do." Jon pursed his lips. "Listen, wanna go on a dragonride?"

"What for?"

"Do you really need a reason?" Both shook their heads and started to head for the gates…

Only for a voice to call out. "Aegon!" It was Asha, running over with a scowl on her face. "Lord Stark wants you in the stables."

"What for?"

"You think he'd fuckin' tell me?! Get your ass over there!"

Sighing, Egg gave an apologetic look to his siblings. "Next time then."

Jon nodded. "Aye, next time." He patted Egg's shoulder while Rhae kissed his cheek, and then they were off - running to the gates.

"So what's their deal?"

Egg shrugged. "Planning their eventual wedding for when Rhaenys is negotiated to marry your father."

Asha's eyes nearly bugged out of her head before they narrowed, shoving Egg. "That's not funny, Targaryen! I don't even want to think about my father… ugh." Theon sometimes whitewashed their family, thinking them proud warriors upon the sea, but Asha knew better - feeling the Targaryens were more family than her own blood kin. "Whatever. Good thing I'll be sure the Starks'll keep her out of trouble. They're more prudish than the Most Devout."

"If only I'll have that protection… going to Dorne."

"Oh yeah? All the girls will want to swallow your cock, no doubt." He groaned, which made Asha laugh. "Why so glum? Most men would give their legs for a Dornish girl between their legs?"

He shook his head. "I'm… I'm still a virgin."

"I'm shocked." She truly wasn't.

"What if I… don't know how."

A sigh. "Well, there are ways around that."

"You mean like a whore?" His uncle Viserys had offered once but Egg demurred.

Asha laughed, hugging him with one arm. "Let's get back to King's Landing, then I'll tell you." He didn't like the glint in her eye, but Asha was like his sister, so Egg didn't think on it too much.

He didn't realize that he was a Targaryen - sisters were… of a different sort among his own house.

Flapping hard, massive wingbeats nearly clearing the ground below of snow, Nymerion landed with a thud. Giving Rhaenys one last jolt before both of them finally settled. The Princess chuckled, easing herself slowly to the ground. No matter how many times she rode her legs still trembled slightly afterwards. Quite the irony she thought, finding the curved neck and snout of her dragon pressing into her. Cooing slightly.

She stroked Nymerion's snout. "Good girl… you did well."

'Well, perhaps. But Valyrax still won.'

The ground shook as the large, lumbering form of the Black Dread Reborn trundled to Nymerion's side. Mouth hanging slightly open - as if the draconic version of a chortle - Valyrax nudged his smaller sister with his neck. 'Just seems like a loss cause I'm so awesome,' he preened. 'Compared to all others, you're quite good, valonqar.'

'Don't call me that! I hatched fifteen seconds after you!"

'Still younger, so you're still my valonqar.' Nymerion growled and nudged Valyrax back, which caused Valyrax to reciprocate.

"Enough, boy, enough!" Ever dashing and cute in his all-black riding armor and red cloak, Jon trundled up next to Rhaenys. Trying best to stifle a laugh. "Must you antagonize your little sister?" He rubbed up and down the join of his neck and head, calming the great black beast.

Rhaenys smirked. "Replace 'little' with 'big' and he's just like his kepa."

Both dragons seemed amused at the witty retort, while Baelon blushed a bit. "Yeah, well… you kinda need to be taken down a rung, sometimes."

"As do you, valonqar, as do you." Both stared at each other before simultaneously bursting into laughter, hugging closely. "I can beat you at sparring, but one day I will beat that Black Dread of yours."

"You're just bigger than me, Rhae." While Daenerys was tiny and Sansa only tall compared to the two of them, Rhaenys was tall and willowy much like their muna, getting the Martell blood rather than Arianne and her siblings - who were short like their Norvoshi mother. "One day I will reach maturity and then I shall be truly the Conqueror Reborn."

Groaning, Rhaenys grabbed Jon's hand and led him away from the dragons. Strolling atop the snowy hill overlooking the Wolfswood - likely to be her favorite place once she really began to explore it with Nysar while fostering here. It was calming, and quite beautiful.

She found she enjoyed experiencing it with Jon in a way she didn't with Egg or her other siblings. Blood of the wolf as much as she was the same in spirit. The Viperwolf of House Targaryen. She rather liked that name, but worried what Baelon would think - nothing could compare to 'the Conqueror Reborn.'

"You must be proud of that title, valonqar."

"Oh, I am. Our kepa - Rhaegar the Good King - I hope to live up to his legacy and continue his great works."

Rhaenys smiled. "You will, Jon. I have no doubt you will match or exceed kepa, such is why you have that name." She sighed. "I, on the other hand, have a different name." Biting her lip, Rhaenys looked away, not wanting her valonqar to see his reaction. "I've heard they call me the 'Second Queen who Never Was."

"What?!" His reaction surprised her, Rhaenys finding his eyes narrowed and face red. In the distance, the dragons began to stamp and rumble from their kepa's anger. "Who says this to you?!"

"Jon, calm yourself." Rhaenys said it authoritatively like the big sister she was, but not without some worry. "What the fools say matters not… it just shows…"

"I don't care what this shows." He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. "You're my sister, and no matter how tough you are it is my duty to protect you."

She blushed. "Jon… you're my little brother yet you still defend me as if you were kepa." A smile spread on her face. "This is why you're going to be a good King."

He shook his head. "Just ask and I will give the throne to you, Rhae."

A sigh. They call him brash and arrogant, but truly he is not. "I won't do that to you." It would cause more problems than it solved, but between the two of them only she still wouldn't. "I cannot lie and say that I wouldn't be a good Queen for the sake of modesty, yet it is still what it is. Egg and I - myself for my ferocity and him for his desperation to prove himself - are too hot-headed for our own good. Alyssa… she is me but lacking more patience, as does Visenya. Rickon is too wild and untethered to the duties a King would take, while Daemon doesn't have a spine yet." She winced. "As much as it pains me to say. You, Baelon, you're the best of us."

Without delay he hugged her, a hug Rhaenys reciprocated with joy. "I love you, sister."

Her heart swooned. "I love you too, brother." Rhaenys cupped his cheek, kissing the other one. "I always wanted to be a direwolf like muna, and here you are as one."

He chuckled. "I wished to be a viper like muna or uncle Oberyn as well."

"I saw your sigil."

"Aye… suppose we're both, and dragons."

She loved hearing that. "Wolf, viper, and dragon."

"And fuck what anyone says."

"Yeah!" That was even better, Rhaenys turning out to the wide landscape. "Hear that world, fuck what you say! We're of all of our parents, and we answer to no one!"

"Dragons answer to neither man nor god!" Both of them bellowed like dragons before Rhaenys slipped in the snow, falling on her ass. "You… need help?" Jon giggled before Rhae kicked his feet out from under him and he tumbled as well.

"Serves you right," she replied, smashing a clump of snow in his face. "If only our pups were here, then it would be perfect."

Rising, Jon grumbled as he brushed the snow from his face. "Of course only the pups. While I enjoyed when Valyrax and Nymerion played with us like that, I don't think they could do it now… lest we require every bone in our body to be broken." Gods, he had a wit about him even if he wasn't as eloquent as Dany or Sansa… or honestly even herself. "But seriously, Rhae. If you cannot be Queen, then when I take the crown I want you as my Hand."

She gaped at him, eyes wide. "You… you'd want me as your Hand?"

"Why not? Grandmother was kepa's Hand, and there's no one I'd rather have."

Lips quivering, she shook her head. "Damn you, valonqar. Why must you do this? Be such a damn good brother?"

"Just reciprocating for the greatest sister a Prince could have." Now it was his turn to kiss her cheek, which made her blush. But then he sighed, face falling. "We've had so much fun today… I don't want it to end but I have to tell you."

Her brow rose. "What?"

Silent for a moment, finally her brother couldn't keep it in. "You know the story of Dunk and Egg?"

"You mean grandmother's father? Kessa, I know of that. Grandmother told us those stories herself. Why?"

"Ser Arthur is taking me on a similar adventure… to Essos and the Free Cities."

"Oh… oooohhhh." Rhaenys bit her lip. "Well, I'm going to be fostering here so I can't criticize you for leaving home to see the world, but…" Without warning she hugged him. "Just stay safe, valonqar."

Now he was the one to look absolutely surprised. "But, but… aren't you cross with me?"

Rhaenys pulled back. "I cannot lie and say it makes me comfortable for you to be journeying across Essos as a commoner - Arthur protecting you notwithstanding - but I am not Dany. I am not Sansa. I am not munas or Aunt Cersei. You and I, we're warriors. Fighters. Adventurers. This is what we must do, however uncomfortable it makes us." She smiled, leaning in as if telling him a secret. "I shall make sure to be able to travel north of the wall."

"Like we used to play? Fighting wildlings and giants?"

She nodded. "The very same.

"Looks like we're gonna both be in adventures."

"Aye… if you die I will drag you out of the afterlife and kill you myself."

"I can only say with all sincerity that the same applies to you." Again they laughed, ending only when Jon shoved a snowball into Rhae's open mouth. "Vengeance is mine!"

But he'd have been a fool if thinking that would be the end of it.

"Swing! Swing!" Ser Meryn Trant's barks drew the two boys to come at each other, tips of their practice hammers slamming into their armor… it wouldn't kill or main, but hurt like the seven hells it did.

Stannis nodded, allowing a single clap to break his normally stoic exterior. "Good grip," he called out. "Keep your stance firm!" Leaning back in his chair, he turned to his brother. "They are good, are they not?"

Stroking his beard, Robert watched the spar with a smoldering, scrutinizing gaze. Half-intense and half… elsewhere. One of those fugues he often found himself in. Imagining himself anywhere but the reality he was… "Stop!" With a bellow, Robert stood - showing off his rounder yet still beefy, powerful frame. "Stop this weakness in the name of your Lord!"

Almost in mid-swing, both Gendry and Edric had been so relentlessly drilled that they stopped. Muscles straining as they let their warhammers collapse by their sides, though Gendry held a greater care for the weapon than his half-brother - practically slamming the head into the dirt. Each fell to their knees, also as they had been trained. "Lord Father," said Gendry.

"Lord Father," repeated Edric, voice more abrasive and without the gentleness of the heir to Storm's End.

Striding up to them, the imposing figure of Robert Baratheon eyed them with an expression of steel not normally seen in him outside of battle. From what Stannis noticed, his brother was still the lover of life that he always had been in his youth, hosting great feasts, long hunts for his bannermen and any visiting Lord, and still siring bastards off his various whores and mistresses all over the Stormlands. Every person given guest right in Storm's End was met with an explosion of amity and bombastic charm from the lowest hedge knight to Stannis' goodfather Lord Hightower himself.

But not with his children.

Never with his children. By the Mother, he treats Shireen with greater kindness and affection.

Finally done pacing in front of them, Robert quickly yanked the warhammer from Gendry's hands and swung hard at one of the dummies. It didn't just snap in two. The wood essentially disintegrated into a maze of splinters from the force of the blow. Wielding it as if it was a dagger or short sword rather than a hammer weighing four times the mass, he twirled it and slammed the butt into the ground. "Did you see that, Ser Meryn."

Trant nodded. "I did, my Lord."

"Good." He tossed the warhammer back to Gendry. "A warhammer is not some blacksmith's hammer, bashed against something else just to crush it. You must wield it as if it was a sword! An extension of you!" Fists clenched, he met his sons' eyes. Gendry averted his gaze, while Edric stared defiantly… until Robert took a step forward. Edric got the message and looked down as well. "What do you think of them?"

"Pathetic, my Lord. Mere imitations of you, and not good ones," replied Trant.

"Now brother," spoke Stannis, rising and approaching him. "They are but three and ten and two and ten respectively. You cannot expect them to…"

A snort. "I can and I fucking will, Stannis!" Robert bellowed before turning back to his sons. "You have my body. You have my eyes. By the gods above you have my strength and endurance… but you were not near as good as I was at your age because you are not the sons I was supposed to have!"

"Robert!"

Stannis' complaints mattered not. They never did. "You know why you lost to Prince Baelon?! Because he was the warrior that you could never be!"

Gendry's eyes shut tightly. If younger, he may have cried - such had been a great mistake at the time and several bruises from Ser Meryn later ensured he never would. Edric, however, only snarled. "Then the damned dragonspawn should've been your fucking heir!" Hurling his warhammer to the ground, the boy stormed off.

Robert went red with fury. "Edric! Get the fuck back here!"

"Rest easy, my Lord, I'll get him," insisted Ser Meryn.

"Fine, and give him a good switch to the bottom… and three days mucking out the stables for his mouth."

A bow. "Of course." Meryn raced off to dish out the punishment. Stannis knew it would be far more brutal than Robert so ordered.

Snorting, Robert looked at his heir. "Anything to say, boy?"

Gendry shook his head. "No, my Lord. I shall strive to… be better."

Such words did bring a softening to Robert's expression, reaching out to tousle Gendry's hair. "Try spending more time in the training yard and not the forge, my son. It'll do you better." With a nod from the lad, Robert sent him on his way for lunch, himself sagging with a sigh. "Oh, Stannis, perhaps I do wish that Baelon were mine."

"Do not mire yourself in what could have been, brother," Stannis said, truly worried for him. "You have two fine boys of good stock - they'll be the greatest warriors since Lyonel Baratheon or Argilac Durrandon. Just give them time."

He ran a hand through his thick black hair… still a powerful mane even as he rounded thirty namedays. "They are good, but not even close to being able to wield Stormbreaker one day if need be."

"And you shouldn't insist on that, my Lord." Wrapping her arms round his waist, the slender figure of Robert's resident mistress kissed his clothed shoulder. "You should make sure that your successor is one that can carry all that you bring for your House. No one unworthy."

"Ah, you're right as usual, Shae," Robert chuckled, turning and squeezing her breasts with a leer - drawing a throaty giggle from her and a frown from Stannis. "Gods, my head aches even this early."

She smiled. "Let us retire so I can… properly care for your malady, my Lord."

He laughed. "Better than a fucking Maester." Robert thumped Stannis on the back. "You should see Lynesse more often, get her to cure your tight ass before you shit out your intestines!" Bellowing a laugh, he led Shae away underneath his arm, the courtesan smirking back at Stannis.

Truly, Stannis hated her more than Meryn. At least Meryn is an idiot. Though Robert didn't lie about the healing properties of his beautiful wife.

Finding her in the Lady's solar - in all intents and purposes, she was the Lady of Storm's End as the most senior woman in their house - Stannis also found a trio of additional surprises. "Hello girls," he remarked, leaning in to drop a kiss each on the crowns of their heads.

"Hello, papa," said Shireen, beaming at him with her fair expression - skin a milky white and promising a wondrous beauty in her maturity.

"Good day, uncle," said Mya, legs perched neatly underneath her and arms resting in her lap - an untraditional beauty, yet one trying so hard to be a traditional one.

"Uncle," said Bella. What Mya struggled hard to accomplish Bella did effortlessly, clearly the most beautiful of all the maidens of House Baratheon. There was so much of his mother in Bella, Stannis mused. All but the eyes.

Three pairs of Baratheon blues stared up at him - Shireen and Mya with warmth, while Bella's was… impossible to read. He shifted to his beloved wife, drawing her to stand and pecking her lips. "Lynsesse."

"Stannis," she said with love, kissing his cheek before resuming his seat. Still as beautiful as the day he married her. "Are you here to escort us to midday meal?"

"We could all use some hearty food," he remarked. "Up and at 'em, girls."

Mya and Shireen were excited, while Bella held back. "Will father be there?"

"Ummm…" The children were smarter than most figured, but still not old enough for Stannis to talk openly about Robert's affairs. "He'll be taking his meal in his chambers." A liquid meal, wine and… juice.

Her face hardened. "Good. I hate him." With that, she raced off after her sisters. Leaving Stannis and Lynesse to pick up the pieces afterwards.

A/N: Some wonderful sibling moments between the three eldest of Rhaegar Targaryen.

A glimpse to the Blackfyres and Baratheons.

Till next time. 25 comments get you an early update next week.