Chapter 46: Fosterings

"These are just so fuckin' impractical."

"They can be," Rhaenys replied from where she sat in front of the polished silver mirror, brushing her hair. "Dresses aren't worn for ease… though in the southern heat they let the air in."

Ygritte looked down at the… monstrosity she had on. It was a simple white gown without sleeves. The fabric reached her ankles but billowed out, a flowing dress unlike some of the even more maddening outfits that the ladies at court were fond of. "Alright, I'll give you that, but these are a bitch to run around in. I stumbled like three times yesterday."

"I remember." Rhaenys snickered, setting down the brush and picking up an eye pencil. "Those were amusing."

Frowning, Ygritte swatted Rhaenys upside the head. "I ought to toss you on your arse." Her blue eyes flickered south, scanning the Targaryen Princess. Rhaenys had opted for a dark red gown of her house color. It had sleeves, ones that went to mid-arm, but otherwise was far more revealing than Ygritte's. Plenty of her cleavage was on display, the skirt ended just below her knees, and it plunged in the back enough that if Ygritte could, she could shove her hand down far enough to reach Rhae's yummy bits. "But that arse looks so damn good in that dress I'll pass."

Rhaenys smirked at her through the mirror. "Down girl. Last night should be enough for you."

"None's enough with ye', love." She batted her eyes at the Princess, who blew her a kiss. "Lookin' forward to a day with that cunt not barking at me."

"He means well."

"I kin' fight already."

"In armor?" Ygritte just glowered at her. Rhaenys smirked, rising up and encircling her arms around Ygritte's waist. "You should just accept that I'm right, like a proper lover."

She rolled her eyes. "If ye' want a girl who'll bob her head like a fuckin' seal to whatever bullshit thin' you say, git one of those southern idiots."

"I don't want them, I want you." Mollified, Ygritte didn't resist when Rhaenys kissed her. Nor did any frostiness last long, dissolving into a close embrace as their tongues danced.

As much as the south discomforted her - Ygritte stifled under the unbearable heat and humidity, chafed from the inane rules and courtesies, ached from Alliser Thorne's training, and internally withered at the thinly-veiled judgment from the other ladies at court - Rhaenys was her refuge. Hard as it was to picture fierce, independent, snarky Ygritte as swooning with love, it was the truth. Rhaenys taught her the proper manners of the south, bought her comfortable and airy clothes, gave her pointers in how to handle the drills of a southern archer, and if Ygritte wished her beautiful Princess would've fed the ladies that insulted her to Nymerion with relish. It was for her that Ygritte allowed herself to become a wildling in the south, and when coiled in bed making love or even just cuddling, everything was worth it.

Rhaenys was her refuge, but that didn't mean she necessarily had a welcome relationship with the family of her lover.

As the two of them entered the royal family's private dining hall, she noticed two things that canceled each other out. Ser Benjen - Rhaenys' Stark uncle - wasn't there and that made Ygritte sigh in relief. The Starks hated her, and her Free Folk instincts wanted to hate them right back if they weren't Rhaenys' kin. On the other hand, Queen Rhaella wasn't there and she was the only one so far who unabashedly approved of Ygritte's presence.

That didn't mean they were alone, though. "Took you long enough, sister," piped Princess Alyssa, smirking at the two of them as Ygritte took her seat across from her and next to Princess Myrcella. "Can you talk this morning, or is your tongue sore?" Alyssa's eyes twinkled as they shifted to Ygritte. "Or is her tongue sore?"

"Shut up, Lyssa," Rhaenys growled, while Myrcella blushed a bit… a blush shared with Prince Daemon. Prince Rickon and Princess Visenya joined their older sister in a chorus of snickers, while Missandei just sat there quietly, as if not knowing what to do.

Ygritte leaned back, smirking a bit. "My tongue should be sore, but ain't… had a lot of practice with it since meetin' yer sister up north." The reactions to that were… quite exaggerated versions of themselves. Those that giggled did so far more, while the blushes seemed to bleed from how red they were.

Alyssa's brow merely rose. "Good one, wildling." She shifted her gaze to the shocked Rhaenys. "This one can handle herself. Good for you."

"This'un?" Ygritte asked, eying her lover. "What dis' that mean?"

Before Rhaenys could reply, Alyssa giggled. "Ah, all the other men and women that kept our lovely sister company." Oh really? Part of her was jealous, but most enjoyed Rhaenys' dying inside. "Don't worry, they were all idiots. Heavy on curves or muscle, low on cleverness." She eyed Ygritte over. "You're pretty, like a pale version of my birth muna, but not a fool."

"Can't be stupid up in the True North, girl."

"No, I suppose not."

Teasing aside - though Ygritte figured pretty early that Rhaenys was the intended target - the tension seemed to dissipate. Alyssa was fierce but respected a kindred spirit, which had also won over young Princess Visenya as well. "Ever meet a giant?" the daughter of Lyanna Stark asked, leaning forward on the table.

Ygritte smirked. "Plenty of 'em." Visenya's eyes lit up. "They're dumb as a pile of rocks, but honest. Like 'em better'n most men."

"How big are they? I heard they're taller than the Red Keep."

"I heard they're taller than the Dragonpit," chimed in Prince Rickon, who's earlier standoffishness towards her was also warmed by the mention of the giants. "And do they ride mammoth?"

Prince Daemon rolled his eyes. "They're not as tall as that, that's foolish."

"How would you know, bookworm?" Visenya shot back, causing Daemon to roll his eyes again. "Do that again and I'll sit on you."

"Muna said that once to papa… though that wasn't a threat," snickered Alyssa.

Ygritte shared a glance with Rhaenys before clearing her throat. "They're about three men tall… four, if they're really tall."

"Still, wow."

"Pardon," piped up Missy, almost embarrassed to speak. "Is it true that they speak their own language?"

A nod. "Yep… they ain't too bright, so it's practically broken, but I's speak it."

"Would you be willing to teach me?"

Rhaenys smirked. "A girl of language, Missandei?"

She nodded. "Yes… my mistress had me learning language as part of my role. I speak common tongue, Valyrian, Bastard Valyrian, and Rhoynish… a little Dothraki, but I can get better."

"Well, you came to the right place. King's Landing's filled with languages." Missandei smiled at that, the girl starting to warm up."

"This is well good and all," said Visenya, "But back to the giants…"

Ygritte leaned back in her seat, smirking. "I've seen 'em rip a man in half with their bare hands." All three of Rhaenys' younger siblings were riveted after that.

The meal was delicious - plump, juicy sausages paired with crusty bread and fresh citrus fruit. Most of it Ygritte had never even dreamed of before joining Rhaenys in the south, and frankly she didn't want to be without oranges or white bread for the rest of her life. The conversation was better, the Targaryen children far warmer to her than those of the North had been, tales of Giants and mammoth and shadowcats utterly captivating them.

However, the light tone was not to last. "My brother and Elia will like you," chimed Myrcella," Much as muna does."

Ygritte nodded. "Aye, I was quite surprised by how Queen Rhaella accepted me."

"She's always been… supportive of our power as dragons," Visenya answered. "A lesser house might've been forced to keep a female companion of their daughter hidden, but we dragons don't bother with the opinions of sheep."

"Lucky me," she replied, rubbing her foot on Rhae's shin. "But you didn't mention your other mother."

It was as if all the noise had disappeared, leaving the quiet of a cloudless night. "Umm…"

She gathered it. "Stark?"

"Aye." Alyssa shook her head. "You're gonna have to stay quiet when you see her, probably wear your archer armor."

"Not a dress?" Myrcella asked.

"No, the armor. Muna would respect a warrior, and a household guard looks nothing like a wildling."

"Free Folk," Ygritte said reflexively.

Rhaenys winced. "I wouldn't do that around her, love." How dangerous is Lyanna Stark? Something told Ygritte that she wouldn't like the answer.

Given the day to day responsibilities of managing the affairs of his House fell upon his shoulders - as if his brother would be bothered with such mundane matters, though Robert's constant hunts and feasts did manage to keep most of the Stormlords on his side, to be fair - Stannis wanted a calm environment to return to in the residential quarters. A loving wife and lovely daughter, well-behaved nieces and polite nephews. Shireen was always a joy, she never caused him any problems. When she ran to him and hugged him close, her mother's elegant cheekbones mixed well with his eyes and dark black hair, a little bit of the stress of the day left him.

The rest… "You ungrateful little harpy!" Not so much.

"I'm not bothering you, Lady Hightower! By the seven hells, leave me the fuck alone!"

"Don't use that language with me, young lady!"

"Father uses it all the fucking time!"

He'd been standing just outside the private dining hall for several minutes now, debating whether to just walk away. Debating the contents of the royal ravens with the maester and master-at-arms seemed preferable to this, and the raven was likely written by Lyanna Stark herself what with the thinly veiled threats. Only Shireen, tightly hugging his waist, kept him from budging. "How long have they been at this?"

"Since before you came," Shireen replied. "Only then, Edric and Gendry started it."

"Of course." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What were they fighting about?"

"Who's javelin struck the killing blow of the boar we're eating." She shifted awkwardly. "Mya refused to choose sides, Edric called her a… 'cunt,'" that word was whispered. "And it all broke loose."

Typical Mya, sensitive to the family. If only theirs wasn't so fractured. "And how did your cousin Bella get involved with your mother?"

"Mama tried to settle the argument by banishing Gendry and Edric to their chambers without supper. Cousin Bella said something foul about uncle Robert and it just escalated from there."

Sighing, Stannis kissed his daughter's forehead and steeled himself. If he could handle the Ironborn, he could handle this.

Just a moment later, he deemed the Ironborn to be easier. "What do you want from me?!" Bella screeched, slight in appearance but with the spirit of a massive stag in her. "To realize that my father isn't a giant cunt with a fat arse?!"

But Lynesse Baratheon was not one to back down to anyone, and her beauty just accentuated her strength. "I expect you to show your family respect."

"You're not my mother!"

"I wish I was. At least then you'd have one parent who didn't pass on the traits of a tramp!"

That got a half-eaten bowl of stew thrown at her face. "Don't talk about my mother, you bitch!"

Stannis, normally dour and quiet, was stirred into action. "Enough!" The chamber went quiet, eyes flickering to him. "You will not speak to your aunt that way, Bella! Go to your chambers and don't come out until morning!"

"A curse on all of you!" she shrieked, storming out.

Confronted with a shaking Shireen and a trembling Mya, Stannis kissed his daughter and approached his wife. "I'm sorry for that."

Lynesse cast him a look of relief but also fatigue. "I pity her husband… that girl all grown up with her beauty, temper, and bitterness will be the seven hells on anyone."

"It's my fault, uncle Stannis," Mya murmured. "If I hadn't been week like Edric said…"

"Easy, easy." He went to hug his niece. "You are not weak. It's not your fault." Stannis vowed to have a conversation with the one truly responsible.

That man burst out into laughter when Stannis relayed him the story. "That's my girl! A right hellion like her papa!" Robert slapped his knee. "And brother, don't get too banged up about the boys. Ned, Elbert, and I were always getting into dumb competitions like that. Made us fuckin' men! To this day I never miss a throw, be it bears to rabbits."

"Your skills at hunting are not the issue, brother." One could never shout down Robert Baratheon… The man was all laughter, rage, and wind - out of either end. Going at him was like the storms battering Storm's End. Impossible. "Your children aren't getting along well together… Gendry and Mya have the closest relationship and even they are distant."

"Pfft," Robert waved him off. "What's the harm? Siblings fuckin' squabble - I'd be worried if they got along!"

Wincing, Stannis leaned forward, weaving his hands together. His eyes flickered to Stormbreaker hanging on the walls, flanked by two shields bearing the Baratheon stag. "The time has come to be more… direct in ensuring their amity."

Robert's brow rose. "Why?"

"A raven came from Sunspear… the King and Queens are there, as you recall."

"Oh? From Lyanna?" Stannis didn't miss how Robert's eyes lit up.

After she essentially threatened to gut him like a fish, he still desires her. Stannis wasn't surprised given the eminently available Robert Baratheon still refused to marry, but it was still embarrassing given how august their house was. "It was in the name of the King." He'd edit out the veiled threats. Robert wouldn't register them anyway. "Rhaegar requests that in several moons, Prince Baelon be fostered by us for a period of three-fourths of a year."

"Fostered? Prince Baelon?" Robert leaned back, for once wistful and quiet. "That boy is the son I should've had. Cunning, powerful, skilled… a dream for any father." He eyed Stannis. "Don't get me wrong, I love my boys, but Gendry's too quiet and gentle while Edric's got a stick up his arse. Can't ever loosen up and have a good time."

That would only deepen Edric's insecurity if it was ever vocalized - probably one advantage of Robert never spending much time with his children - but Stannis pushed it aside. "Prince Baelon, Princess Daenerys, and Lady Sansa have all been betrothed to each other."

"Like his father, eh? Figures."

"Regardless, they are arriving soon for a week. Gendry, Edric, Mya, and Bella must be on their best behavior, as do you. The royals already think little of us. A good report from Prince Baelon and Princess Daenerys could go a long way on having the remaining indemnity payments waved." With that increased tax revenue from the land, Stannis could see their old holdings stripped away slowly bought back.

Robert leaned back. "Imagine the look on Lyanna's face if he came back knowing all the proper things in life."

"Of course, brother, of course." Some things didn't change.

It was not often that Tyrion Lannister stilled himself from reaching for the bottle of wine resting not too far from him on the table. Yes, such was his reputation - a degenerate drunkard embarrassing his father, such a reputation spread mostly by Tywin himself. Exaggerated, but Tyrion wasn't so arrogant that he couldn't accept it had more than a kernel of truth.

Yet he refused the wine. As Master of Coin, he needed to keep his wits about him when dealing with the complex financial figures of the entire Realm. A headache for sure, but thankfully their Graces and his own father weren't spendthrifts or extreme misers. Gold that came in were spent wisely and without much complexity - aside from the astronomical budget for feeding the dragons, but Tyrion wouldn't ever complain about that to the King. Or, gods forbid, the Queen Mother.

The door opened without knocking. Normally it would annoy him, but Tyrion's lips curved into a tiny smile at the intruder. "You look fucking bored," Nymeria Sand snorted, plopping down into the chair across from him and crossing her legs. Slouching, making herself at home.

He wanted her to be able to. "One could say that this is rather dull," Tyrion admitted, that smile still on his lips.

Nym rolled her eyes and pointed to the bottle. "If I was you, I'd be drunk all the time."

A chuckle. "You drink not to keep sharp in case you need to fight… I drink less since I want to enjoy my time with you as much as possible." It was true - wine let him loose, but also dulled memories. Tyrion didn't want any memories of Nymeria to be dulled.

"Ugh, what a priss." In spite of her words, she blushed a little. Even a Sand Snake wasn't immune to his charms. "So what are you actually doing, knowing I'll regret asking?"

"Tax receipts… trying to make sure we still don't drain the treasury reserve after the Iron Bank makes its cut."

"I already regret asking." Nymeria huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. She was lighter in skin tone than most of her sisters, but her features were classically Martell unlike Tyene, who seemed only to inherit her hair and accent from her father. Understandable, for Ellaria's mother was from the Reach I believe. All in all, it made for a beautiful combination, especially when wearing a slit dress that exposed her lovely legs. "Seven hells, why is the Iron Bank getting you annoyed?"

"They kept us afloat while the plague ravaged our tax base. Thankfully the smallfolk breed like rabbits and the sickness was contained mostly in the Crownlands - we'll be out of the woods in six years at the most, but until then these interest payments will kill us."

A shrug. "Stop paying. What is Braavos going to do, invade?" She chuckled. "I've seen the Sea Lord's son wield a spear. My sister Elia could run circles around him and she's half my age."

Tyrion eyed her with amusement. "Is that all you can think in terms of? Stabbing things with a spear?"

"The spear is more Obara's weapon, which you should know given you love to watch us spar." That was true, he did - it was better than one of those brothel shows he used to frequent. Nym grinned as he watched her. "But I would think you like stabbing with spears, especially in me."

He rolled his eyes as she bit her lip, but nodded. "That I do." He hadn't felt this comfortable with a woman in… well, his entire life. "Mayhaps after I finish this…"

Nym stood up. "I'm not that patient, and worked up a lot of energy sparring with Obara."

Tyrion smirked. "Now?"

"On the desk." She motioned to the stacks of papers. "Get these off before I toss them all to the floor." It was not an idle threat. That had happened once before, leaving Tyrion to spend an entire afternoon getting all the financial documents in order again - completely worth it to be with the luscious Nymeria.

Before he could make good on her command, the door opened yet again to reveal his brother. To his credit, the Kingsguard kept a stoic demeanor, merely raising his brow. "Is this a bad time?"

Slumping, Tyrion thanked the gods he was seated - hiding his… rather large little friend. "Actually yes, though I'd be more worried about her indignation."

Nymeria was not amused, crossing her arms. "Unless it's important, please get out, Ser Jaime."

Jaime eyed the beautiful Dornishwoman with some mirth. "The only thing keeping me from despair at having to wear a pink cloak for an entire year is imagining the look on our sister's face when she learns that we lost the wager."

"You haven't told her?"

"No… you cannot give this news unless it is in person." His smile was now an open grin. "But to answer the lady's question, the matter is of some importance." Jaime leaned on the wall. "Their Graces have been spotted. I'd give it a… half-hour before they arrive."

Tyrion sighed. "Well, this can wait." He didn't know himself whether he meant the papers or his alone time with Nymeria. "Queen Lyanna will not be pleased to arrive to a wildling for a gooddaughter, so we better be there."

"That will actually be interesting to watch," Nymeria replied. "The Queen's ferocity is legend and we see near none of it beyond the sparring court."

"Believe me, there are some things you do not want to see, Lady Sand." Jaime kept the door open for the both of them. "Let's just say had I walked in on you… coupling, that wouldn't have been the worst sight I've seen all day." He shuddered. "Father…"

Tyrion's eyes widened. "You saw him… coupling?"

"Oh, really?" Nym was definitely intrigued.

"No, that I could handle." Jaime wiped his face. "I saw him all… romantic with Lady Aekylosh. Courting her like some knight in a song. It was unsettling."

"Father?" Tyrion figured that would be unsettling.

"Did it work?" Nymeria asked.

"Too soon to tell." Ironic, I found a relationship while father is struggling. Few would appreciate the irony.

"I thought you had come to agreement in this."

Narrowing her eyes at her exasperated husband, Lyanna crossed her arms. "You may make me doubt my instincts sometimes, Rhaegar, but I can never trust the Baratheons."

Rhaegar ran his hand down his face, as he often did while stressed. "You think I hold any love for them?"

"And yet you seek to have our son, my son, be shoved into the midst of Storm's End for many moons." Lyanna could just imagine the look on Robert's smug face - her husband, wife, brothers, and all the court were willing to at least put aside the bad blood from the war for the throne for the sake of peace in the Realm, but Lyanna wouldn't yield. "Why not just place the chains on him and throw him in the Black Cells."

"This is a fostering, love, not an exchange of hostages." Elia, as befitting her, was playing peacemaker. "Baelon will have a retinue, and his dragon and wolf… only an hour or two's flight to King's Landing."

"He could have the entire Household Guard there. All it takes is one servant with a knife while he's in the privy or asleep." Why were they not understanding?

Rhaegar peered at her. "You're sounding quite ridiculous, Lya." Before she could scream at him, he added on. "Saying Robert is still hostile to us… what you're insinuating is motivation to kill me, not Baelon."

"Someone tried to poison us!" she shouted. "Poison Lord Tywin… they got his lover and the Master of Coin."

Elia shared a look with their husband before clearing her throat. "After Euron Greyjoy's attack on Dorne, the Small Council is in agreement that it was Connington and the Blackfyres' responsibility."

Lya scowled. "You never know… you just never know." Her indignation didn't seem to be close to swaying them. "Let's just send Jon to my brother in Winterfell, or even to Casterly Rock. They're both loyal and would give him just as solid an education as Storm's End would."

There was a pregnant pause. "Lya…" She wasn't getting what she wanted. "There are issues here beyond that of what we desire, or the best education for Jon." Rhaegar reached forward to clasp her hands in his. "Stormclouds are gathering, and the wounds received during the last war need to be healed in time for when the next war happens, lest it fracture completely."

Eyes flickering between Rhaegar and Elia, she finally settled on her wife. "You agree with this?"

"Yes," Elia nodded, though she had the sake to look saddened by the defiance.

Wrenching away her hands, she shook her head in disgust. "Damn the Realm, and damn the next war. Our son's welfare is all that matters to me, and if it doesn't for the two of you then damn you as well." Lyanna ignored the calls of the both of them as she stormed off.

For the first time in years, Lyanna chose to sleep alone.

Not… necessarily true. There had been times where she departed King's Landing alone or had been left to hold court while Rhaegar and Elia departed on royal matters. However, not for a long time did she choose to be alone. To leave the warm embrace of her loves. And yet now, her anger as fierce as the blizzards of a northern winter, Lyanna did so. Not a word was shared when she mounted Aegarax, even with such closeness needed to ride.

Lyanna endured. . This wasn't some idle disagreement. The Baratheons were a threat… mayhaps once Robert was dead would she cautiously reassess, but not now. And she was determined to drag this out until Rhaegar and Elia changed their minds.

A dragonride from Dorne to King's Landing was a lengthy venture at the best of times, but in the midst of such a fight it was interminable. The banter and flirtatious touches that normally eased the passage of time weren't an option, and their picnic the one time they landed somewhere in the rainwood was silent and tense rather than the romantic interlude it had been on the journey there - Rhaegar's insistence to make love to them on the grass had made them stay overnight at their campsite on that occasion. No chance for it now. If anything, Aegerax was making excellent time.

Mayhaps the dragon wanted to escape the tension just as quickly as Lyanna did.

Thankfully, the sun hadn't set before the towers of the Red Keep appeared over the horizon. Aegerax roared at the top of his lungs, answered by the faint but still booming bellows from Jaimexes, Maerys, Valyrax, Saephyra, Syrax, Nymerion, Stormfyre, and Goldenwing. Eight dragons, echoing across the entire landscape.

A show of the power of House Targaryen, but Lyanna was intimately aware of just how brittle that power was if their foes knew where the chinks in the armor were.

Serving as a balm to her heart was the sight of her children. Fierce Alyssa, saucy Visenya, bold Rickon, sweet Daemon, curious Jaehaerys, proud Viserra… Rhaella held little Lyarra in her arms, and then Rhaenys…

She greeted her eldest last, but the embrace was the tightest imaginable. "I'm so proud of you," she murmured, kissing Rhae's cheek. "You survived… I couldn't think of what I'd do had you… not…"

"I know, muna. I know." Rhaenys sniffed a bit, but there was a bright smile on her lips. "I did survive, and your skills proved essential." Lyanna grinned through her tears, heart swelling with motherly pride at her daughter. "However, I'd like you to meet someone who was also vital in saving me north of the Wall." She motioned to a redheaded girl - mayhaps a year or so younger than Rhaenys - behind her.

Whatever good mood Lyanna had gotten from being reunited with her children dissipated. She had a feeling she knew who this was. The girl wore the mail armor and boots of a household archer but this didn't hide how pretty she was - slender with white teeth and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Had she come from anywhere else, Lyanna wouldn't blame Rhaenys for falling for her or have an issue with it. But she came from the one place the Queen took issue with.

"This is Ygritte, my savior and lover." Rhaenys, bold in her declaration - though given Lyanna's relationship with Elia, she had no reason to condemn a female lover - walked over to take Ygritte's hand in hers.

Lyanna's eyes narrowed. "The wildling, then." Rhaenys bit her lip, while this… Ygritte was silent. "What is your angle, wildling?"

"Muna!"

"Lya, please…" Rhaella spoke, holding the sleeping Lyarra.

But Ygritte spoke. "My love for your daughter… your Grace."

Lyanna snorted. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." Mayhaps this was unfair, but one didn't grow up in the North without knowing someone killed or raped by a wildling raid. "My daughter made you an officer in the household guard… but Thorne hasn't commissioned you, has he?"

"I'm still in training, your Grace."

"Hmmm, yet I assume you're cohabiting with my daughter."

"Muna, it's not affecting her training…"

"I shall speak to Thorne about that, but considering I know what he'll say, you will need to stay in the barracks until your training is completed. Mayhaps by then we'll figure out your intentions here."

Ygritte gulped, but stood firm. "Anything it takes, your Grace."

Rhaenys glared, but didn't say anything. She didn't have to, Lyanna seeing the anger in her eyes.

I'll protect all of you… even from yourselves. Rhaenys was important enough to protect, as was Baelon - whether they or the rest of the family valued it or not.