Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Emergence of the Dragon

Chapter 2: The Warrior

"Talking"

"Thinking"

Oberyn

(Location: Red Keep)

The last time he had ever seen Joan Targaryen, she had been nothing more than a scared little girl. He wondered why that would be so. She was a princess of the realm, with all the luxuries and safety that could afford. Then his sister and her children had answered his question. That night, he saw a side of his sister that he didn't think that she had.

He left the next day, taking his paramour and his children. He told Elia that he would only return once he heard that she was treating Joan as she always should have like a daughter.

When he heard that she had vanished, it had made him sad, and with a quiet, unspoken dread that he dared not voice, that his sister perhaps had been responsible in some way.

But she was not, and the rumors as always traveled faster than sound and he learned that she had disappeared when the royal family hadn't been looking. Just as people had all but given her up for dead, the girl appeared in the North, under the protection of her uncle. Oberyn had heard tales that she lived amongst the wildings and that she only came south to honor the last wish of the ancient blind dragon in black, Maester Aemon.

The king held a tourney soon enough, to celebrate the defeat of Robert Baratheon, that old enemy. Inviting everyone from the north, all the way south to Dorne. But he last he had heard, Joan could barely tolerate being in King's Landing.

So he resolved to not go. Elia had not earned his visit, presumptuous as that might sound. But Doran had insisted, his ever so patient and calm brother reminding him that Dorne had a place in the seven Kingdoms and it would not sit well with anyone if they thought the Crown's closest allies were distant.

If they were too distant to attend a tourney, they would certainly be too distant to aid the crown after all. So Oberyn had relented, breaking his promise and he Ellaria, their daughters, Arianne, and Quentyn were soon on their way to the capital.

The journey was long, and unbearably boring as it always was, but when they finally sailed their ships into the royal port at the back of the Red Keep, Oberyn could spy the black dragon of the Targaryen's from the deck.

He saw Joan sparring in the yard with her eldest sister, Rhaenys. There was a white mound of fur dozing off in the corner, but he was more concerned about the women.

They didn't notice him yet, even as he stepped off the deck onto the shore ahead of the others, making his way closer, so very curious. It became clear that Joan was the better warrior of the two. She led the spar, using her spear against Dark Sister in Rhaenys's hand. His niece held her off as best she could but soon her Valyrian steel sword was knocked out of her hands. They stayed in place for a moment, the spear resting at Rhaenys's throat. "I told you," Joan said, "watch my eyes."

"That's easier said than done," Rhaenys protested.

"Only for you," she said back but with no venom. She pulled back the spear and bent down to retrieve the sword. She offered the hilt to her sister. "You need to practice, Rhaenys."

There was a whistle, sharp and loud coming from the boat Arianne. It echoed across the yard, finally getting their attention. Rhaenys turned to look and she smiled widely. She was truly Elia's daughter, especially when she smiled. "Uncle, cousins, welcome!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to them.

Her sister hung back, resting her spear on her shoulder and observing them with a neutral look. Oberyn took to doing the same to her. He saw that just like Rhaenys, Joan Targaryen was her mother writ young. There were differences. When he had seen Lyanna Stark at Harrenhal, her hair flew freely and her eyes were bright and innocent. Her daughter kept her hair pulled back into a tail and her grey eyes were like steel, guarded. Strangely enough, she wore no kind of padded armor even though she was just sparring. He noticed something else about her. There an earring in her left ear made of iron. There was no artwork on the metal and it was not fashioned into a particular design. It was a simple band of iron pierced through her ear.

Once Rhaenys had hugged and greeted them all, she looked back. "Joan, come over here. Meet the rest of the family," she said with a smile. Oberyn felt infinitely pleased toward her once he realized that she was treating her half-sister like a part of her family, as she should have.

Joan approached cautiously, her hand holding her spear with a small tightness. She looked as if she was approaching a pack of wild beasts. That is, until she reached them. She looked down at Oberyn's youngest daughters. "Obella, Dorea, Loreza," she said, looking at each of them.

They broke into wide grins and swarmed her. Soon their three voices began chattering over one another in an effort to get her attention. Their elder sisters stood back and watched her with judging eyes. Arianne did the same. She was the only one who had gone to King's Landing and not sing praises about the girl. Then again, she didn't spend much time with her either.

Oberyn watched her smile slightly as she listened to his daughters. She answered each of their questions patiently, like she was their mother instead of Ellaria. When they finally quieted down, she looked at the rest of them. "Princess Arianne, Prince Quentyn, Prince Oberyn," she greeted the nobles first, as politeness dictated.

Oberyn stepped towards her. "Hello again, little wolf," he said, using the old name he had given her back when she was a frighten child. He looked at her and smiled like she was one of his daughters. "Although I suppose I can't call you little anymore."

She smiled back at him. "It's good to see you again, Prince Oberyn."

"So you were sparring." He looked over at his royal niece. "If I remember correctly, Obara had to threaten you with being locked out of the library to make you come out to train in the yard." What made it particularly amusing was how Tyene and Sarella would fight to keep Rhaenys in the library.

Rhaenys smiled a little. She remembered the same thing. But the smile did not spread to the rest of her face like he knew it always had. "Things change, dearest uncle. After Robert Baratheon had taken me…"

Oberyn's fists tightened behind his back. The minute he had received that news, he had wanted to ride to Storm's End and take Robert's head himself. Joan looked towards Rhaenys, spear leaning against her shoulder as her right hand rubbed at her left forearm a strange expression on her face. "The man is dead," she told her. "Let's leave it at that."

Rhaenys looked at her little sister and nodded. "I suppose you're right, Joan."

"By the way, your Highness," Arianne said with a hint of sympathetic mocking. "You seem to be missing an earring."

The Targaryen princess looked at the Martell boldly. "I'm not missing anything," she said. She reached up and flicked the earring with a single finger. "This is right where it's supposed to be."

"What is it?" Quentyn asked her. He was so quiet sometimes, Oberyn forgot he was there.

"A memento from the battle with Robert Baratheon," she told them, lowering her finger. "It is the only thing that remains of his war hammer."

Oberyn looked at it with a new eye. His youngest daughters looked at with complete awe. Quentyn was just as impressed and Arianne was slightly less so. Ellaria looked at the earring a little more closely. "It's a bit plain, isn't it?" she asked. She did like to wear jewelry people could recognize.

Joan shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine. I wanted it like this."

"Why did you only get one instead of two?"

She became serious, almost as if she was about to give a lesson. "It's something I took from my teacher amongst the Free Folk."

"Free Folk?" repeated Quentyn. He was frowning in confusion. He didn't know who they were supposed to be.

Oberyn saw how she was trying to restrain the urge to sigh in exasperation. It was a little amusing. "You call them wildings." She ignored all the looks of recognition and continued on. "My teacher is the best spearwife of them all. She had this old, battered ring in her ear. I asked her about it once, wondering where it came from. She told me it came from the first person who nearly killed her in battle. She was able to win but she took that ring from him and kept it for herself. It was a reminder of how someone could easily kill her as she could kill them."

She turned nostalgic as she talked about her past. There was a slight smile to her lips as she spoke. Oberyn could tell that she did not regret her time amongst the wildings and perhaps even missed them. He noticed Rhaenys frowning too. She looked confused. "Wait, if that's a memento, why do you still have that piece of surcoat tied to your spear?"

"That's my trophy from the victory," she told her sister. "It's something that she also taught me."

Now Oberyn wanted to see how well Joan could wield her spear. "Would you care to indulge me, Princess?" he asked her.

She looked at him with idle curiosity. "With what?" she asked him.

He walked over to the nearby weapon rack. He pulled off a spear and tested its weight. It was suitable "A spar," he said.

Rhaenys became concerned. "Uncle is that truly wise?" she asked him. Her sister stayed silent. "You just finished sailing from Dorne to King's Landing. You're tired."

"My darling niece, I would have thought you knew that an attack could come at any time and any place." He kept his eyes on Joan, who watched him back, her spear resting on her shoulder. "Would you like to test me, little wolf?" he asked her.

She nodded once. "If you insist," she said.

They stepped away from the others, back into the yard proper. Oberyn took notice of how she held her spear. As he had seen before, she knew how to wield it. She moved confidently, the long shaft of her weapon unhampering her. "This will be an interesting little fight," he thought to himself.

He started to move towards her. She responded differently. "Gods, it's hot," she said, planting her spear's butt on the earth. With her other hand, she started to pull at her tunic, pulling it upwards.

"What is she doing?" he wondered. Her tunic came up, revealing pale skin and her breasts. He looked at them and could admit that they were quite lovely. They were neither too large or too small but formed perfectly to her bod—

A sudden weight shoved him to the ground, right on his face. He tried to get up, only to find sharp teeth clamped around his neck. He turned his eyes up and saw a wolf on top of him, pure white fur coating it. Cold metal touched his chin. He looked at Joan, who had her tunic pulled back down. "I don't fight fair," she said. "Ghost, off."

The wolf climbed off and went to his mistress's side. As soon as he was off, Oberyn's family swarmed around him. They helped him get back to his feet, making sure that he was alright. He was glad for the attention but his eyes found Joan. She watched them all with that guarded look again. But there was also a longing and sadness. She looked as if she wanted to be a part but knew she couldn't.

Without saying another word, she turned and left them. Her wolf padded behind her. Rhaenys realized that she had left too late, turning her head to see her go back inside the Red Keep. "Damn it," she muttered. "Now I'll have to go find her and make sure she knows that everything is fine." She didn't sound irritated by the idea, but more looked at him. "Did you really have to challenge her to a spar, Uncle?"

"I was interested in what she would do," he replied without shame. "I hadn't expected that." It was certainly something original.

"I'm surprised, Rhae," Arianne said. She looked at her cousin with a curious expression, like she was trying to understand some kind of puzzle. "The last I remember your half-sister could barely stand being in the same room as you. She practically ignored any attempt made for reconciliation."

Oberyn watched both his nieces. When she had gone to King's Landing before, Arianne told him and Doran that she didn't pay much attention to Joan. She had only said that she was short and cold whenever they were together. It was clear to him that Arianne didn't have a high opinion of Joan.

"Things change, Arianne," Rhaenys told her. "So do people. Joan's not the same as she was before." Just hearing those words told Oberyn that his niece was different too.

"I find that hard to believe. The way I've seen things just now, she's still the same."

Her face darkened. "She was asleep for three days after her battle with Robert Baratheon, her body battered and bruised, her arm all but broken and covered in wooden splinters from her shield. The first thing she did when she woke up was ask after me. Aegon and Visenya had to force her to stay in the bed because she wanted to go check on me." She looked hard at her cousin. "Tell me she's still the same now."

Arianne was surprised by the emotions coating her voice and her face. But she didn't give Arianne the answer she wanted to hear. Instead she looked at her brother. "I would say that you are going to have an interesting time trying to court her, Quentyn."

Quentyn just blushed at that. Oberyn's youngest daughters giggled at the blush and his eldest smirked. "What do you mean 'court?'" Rhaenys asked. There was a different tone to her voice. She tried to hide it by sounding curious but Oberyn heard it all the same.

"You don't know?" her cousin asked her. "This isn't just a tourney to celebrate your half-sister's victory against the rebel stag. The king has invited all eligible men of noble houses to come and court Joan. He hopes to see her betrothed by the end of the tourney."

Oberyn watched his niece's eyes flash with anger and outrage. Her hand tightened its grip on Dark Sister. For a moment she looked like she wanted to draw it and go cutting her way through the Red Keep until she reached her father and demanded an explanation. "I…see," she finally said with a tight voice. "If you all will pardon me, I have something to discuss with my family."

He would've felt a bit insulted that she didn't consider them to be family. But there was something about the way she said those words and how she walked away from, her pace angry yet quick. If he didn't know any better, Oberyn would've thought that Rhaenys was…jealous. "Well, if she is," he thought to himself as the Dornish party finally went inside the Red Keep to find their customary rooms, "This will certainly be interesting."

Jaime

(Location: Red Keep)

Jaime had been surprised to hear that the tourney was also a way for Princess Joan to get a potential husband. Though probably not for the reasons people would assume.

It was of course, a father's right and privilege to marry his daughters, doubly so when that father was a king. So the fact that it was going to happen didn't surprise him, what surprised him was how soon it was. From what he could tell the princess was only just starting to tolerate her life here. This seemed like a grandiose way to completely destroy any progress the family had made towards that vaunted "reconciliation" they supposedly sought. Especially since he didn't know if she knew about the betrothal to begin with. There was no way to tell. She might be a dragon by blood but the princess's temper was all wolf, a quiet snarling thing that you weren't aware of until it pounced.

He had a fleeting suspicion right now, as he stood here with his family, listening to his father giving Joffrey some last few instructions. That he would be privileged enough to witness said temper finally be unleashed while he was close enough to actually see the carnage. Even more amusing that it might very well be unleashed on Joffrey. The gods knew that it tested histemper whenever he had to deal with his eldest nephew. He had long suspected that Cersei's husband, one of Lord Serrett's sons (he forgot which really), had gotten himself shot during the Greyjoy Rebellion on purpose so he would not have to deal with Joffrey any longer. Pity for him it only gave him a limp.

"Do you understand?" said Lord Tywin Lannister, sitting at the table before his grandson. Joffrey didn't answer from where he lounged in the chair.

"He does, Father," Cersei told him, sitting by her son. Myrcella and Tommen sat close by her too. Her husband wasn't there, having stayed back at Casterly Rock. "Joffrey will do what is best for the family." She gave her son a look herself.

Joffrey slouched in his chair just enough to look like he didn't want to be there. "Yes, yes, I'll court the girl, make her fall in love with me, and make sure she begs her father for my hand," he said without much care.

Tyrion sat across from him, eating a full and hearty breakfast and drinking frequently from his goblet full of Arbor gold. "You sound as if this will be a simple thing to do, beloved nephew," he said, brushing his fingers against each other to wipe away the crumbs from the toast, the last words heavy with sarcasm. "Courting a princess of the Iron Throne is a daunting task."

Joffrey sneered at him. "What would you know of that?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "The princesses are a bit young for me."

Father looked at them both. "Enough," he said and they all obeyed. He was Tywin Lannister and he made them listen. "Now—"

The door to their chamber was knocked upon, loudly. They all stared at it. Jaime glanced at his father and saw he didn't look surprised. He never did. Being the Kingsguard in the room, Jaime walked over to the door and opened it. "Princess Joan," he said surprised, and more than a little perturbed when he saw his favorite princess standing there.

"Jaime," she said, looking up at him. She was happy to see him but there was seriousness in her eyes. "I was invited.?"

"Father certainly isn't wasting any time," he thought.

He bowed, stepping aside to let her in, a better man than him might have tried to give her some warning. He would settle for making sure that if by some miracle his nephew did not royally screw this up that he would warn the girl well out of earshot of any of his family to stay away. There were certainly better men than him out there but he tended to live longer than those men in his experience.

She smiled, stepping past the door and striding in. He followed her in and kept back. Now he was a Kingsguard, not a Lannister. He noticed how Cersei and Joffrey straightened in their seats just a bit. She was keeping him from sight so he could quickly correct his posture. He watched the princess walk over to Tyrion, smirking. "Started without me I see, Lord Tyrion," she said to him.

Tyrion smiled, up at the girl, taking her offered hand and kissing it. "Forgive me princess, just a bit of toast to combat the headache. I promise I haven't taken a bite off my plate besides that."

"Too much wine again?" She smiled, taking a seat beside him. "It's good to see you again."

He raised the goblet to her. "And you as well, Princess. You are certainly different from the last time we met."

"Things have happened."

"I believe the Seven Kingdoms know that things have happened. My question is would you be willing to tell me a few tales of what happened. I'm sure they would be interesting."

She smiled. "Of course, I'd be happy to."

Lord Tywin didn't say anything. All he did was look pointedly at Tyrion and it was as though his brother could feel that stare at his head like a brand. He cleared his throat Ah, Princess, I have been remiss, allow me to formally introduce you to my lord father, Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. Warden of the West."

The smile did not leave her face but Jamie noticed the change in her eyes, it was a subtle thing, like the summer snows of the north a moment before they became a snap freezing blizzard. as she looked at Jaime's father. There was a hardness to her now. He remembered that she had spent a great deal with the Mad King when she had been a child, the same king that had hated his father. Suddenly he felt like her meeting him wasn't a good idea. But it was too late now.

"So," said the princess leaning back a bit in her chair, fingers interlacing over each other, "you're the lion everyone's so scared of?" She looked him over. "I don't see why everyone is afraid of you."

Lord Tywin did nothing more than pluck a grape from his plate, placing it in his mouth before answering. "Do old mummers tales and minstrels songs impress you so?" And Jamie Lannister had to swallow down his own balking surprise at what must have been the closest approximation to a self-deprecating joke his father had ever said.

The princess must have been surprised to, because he could see even she seemed to momentarily lose that common mix of aloof disregard she held for most people. Her father did not give her time to recover. He saw an opening and took it. It seemed he was playing a different kind of war with the girl than one Jamie had ever seen him playing before. "My grandson, Joffrey," he said to her gesturing to Cersei's firstborn, reaching for a cup filled with water. "I'm sure you've come to meet him."

Joffrey had enough sense, or memory of his lessons on courtesy to stand from his seat, bowing just enough to seem respectful but not enough to seem overly pathetic in his attempt. He smiled with all the charm in him and Jamie could almost say he was impressed at the act "Greetings, Princess," he said, coming forward to her. "We from the Westerlands have heard of your great beauty. Truly, you give your family credit." He reached out for her hand and kissed the back of it.

She waited for him to stop kissing and straighten his posture before pulling her hand away. Those eyes of hers gave away the story. Joan Targaryen was a girl many who did not know her could not read. But he'd known her since she was a girl and had spent quite some time with her since her return. It was always in the eyes. And these eyes were the ones that looked now on prey.

"You say words like that, it makes me think you want something," came her reply

Joffrey kept smiling. "I only wish to have the honor of courting you. Just looking at your beauty makes me half in love with you already."

"Really?" she asked. "That's quite different from what you were saying riding into King's Landing. Tell me, have you decided on whether to call me dragon slut, wolf bitch, or just bastard whore?"

She spoke those words as if she was just talking about the weather or someone from the court. Jaime watched his nephew blushed hard from the insult. Quickly morphing into a horrified sort of shock. "I- how did you-"

"So glad you didn't try to lie," she cut him off. "That would have just made it worse for you."

Joffrey's features were quickly morphing into rage and all the civility and handsomeness was quickly burning away "You—"

"Did you say that, boy?"

The words were soft, almost quiet, like rolling thunder from a storm far, far, out to sea, and Joffrey's voice died on his lips as he turned around to look at the cold eyes of his grandfather, who did little more than pluck at another grape.

He seemed at a loss for words, but his lord father seemed to find all the answer he needed on his face. "I'd hoped, being raised in your mother's house, under her roof would have at least taught you proper manners and how to speak to women. But it seems you're too useless for even that small matter. Get out of my sight."

Joffrey looked stunned, Cersei's attempt at some kind of intervention died a little past the word "Father" as Tywin's dark green eyes rolled onto her like a lion spotting an uppity rodent.

With no support and the word of Tywin tearing into him, he watched his nephew beat a very quick, very humiliating retreat out of the room. "Please accept," Tywin spoke as the door closed behind Joffrey, "the formal apologies of house Lannister."

If the Stranger himself would have marched into the room, brought his mother back from the dead and proceeded to kick Jamie in the balls, Tywin's eldest son might have been less shocked. Judging by how Cersei's face seemed to be changing colors and Tyrion choked on his wine, he believed they were in agreement with him.

Joan looked at the old lion. "Are you playing a new kind of game Lord Tywin?" She smirked. "Are you going to try courting me?"

Tywin didn't even twitch at the taunt. "You are a princess of the realm. You are owed proper respect."

"My grandfather told me you stabbed him in the back. He hated you. It didn't seem like you much cared for the feelings of royalty then."

Tywin's green eyes turned on her like they did to Cersei. "Aerys was mad."

"Doesn't change what he said."

Tywin finally seemed to straighten in his seat, offering the girl his full and undivided attention. "Friendship was a one lane road with your grandfather. He finally found a roadblock when he demanded of me what I could never give." Jamie, frankly, had absolutely no idea what the two were talking of but they were both clearly on the same page of this conversation. "If that offends you then I offer no more apology to you than I did to him."

For a long moment, there was silence at the table, the food of all parties was well and truly cold at this point but no one moved to pick up a single utensil or piece of fruit or meat. If Tommen and Myrcella could have been swallowed by their chairs they likely would have done so and if Tyrion and Cersei could have shoved their chairs back and into the far walls, they probably would have done so too just to get away from where they sat between the snarling lion and growling wolf.

Joan took a breath. It was clear she was struggling with what she heard and what she knew. Jaime watched her and wonder what she would do next. But then her eyes settled and they retained their disregard. He knew that it meant she was going to keep hating his father, no matter what he said.

"Liar." Without another word she stood up, fishing out a few grapes of her own from the bowl. And then, please as can be, as though she hadn't just had a conversation with Tywin Lannister, marched right over towards Jaime's still petrified niece. "Myrcella, correct?" she asked.

Myrcella seemed to jump in her seat. She was her mother come again, having all of her beauty. She looked up at the princess with a plain nervousness. "Y-Yes?" she replied. It was not surprising with how she dressed unlike ladies of the court and had a single earring.

"Come with me."

She didn't know what to do. She stayed in her chair, looking at both her mother and grandfather. Jaime felt pity for her. So he broke his silence. "Do not worry, niece. The princess is not going to harm you. She's just going to take you hunting. Who else is coming, Princess?" he asked her.

"Obella Sand, one of the younger Tyrell girls, and Lord Royce's youngest daughter," she said off-hand. He was a little surprised by her first choice. It was the first time she had picked a girl a second time. She turned back for the door. "Come on." Myrcella stood up and followed hesitantly. The princess looked back at her once. "We're going to have to get you a change of clothes."

With nothing more to say, she nodded towards Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, Jamie." Then, quietly, with a look in her eye he "couldn't" identify, she turned back to his lord father. "Lord of Lannister." Her voice was as cold as the Wall.

His father nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "Princess."

And that was all that seemingly needed to be said. She turned and marched out with Myrcella without another word. It took a full ten seconds before anyone of them seemed to breathe in his father's direction.

"What the hell was that abou—"

"Tyrion." His father's voice was almost (almost) soft. "Be silent."

Jamie, Tommen, Tyrion, and Cersei stayed rooted at their places as Lord Tywin finally broke his fast in relative quiet.

Eddard Stark

(Location: Red Keep)

Starks do not fare well south. It was a warning as old as Winterfell itself, Old Nan had been the first one to tell him when she was simply "Nan." His father, brother, and sister all died in the south, his niece endured her family's quiet abuse in the south. No. The Starks did not fare well in the south.

And yet here he was. Robert Baratheon, his friend from childhood was dead, killed by his very own niece.

He had mourned Robert long ago. When his friend chose exile over surrender, Ned knew in both mind and heart he would never see his friend again. Either Robert would remain in those distant lands and die on the field or of old age, or he would return and die on the field. He'd made his peace with that. So when the news came, Eddard did not rage, he did not cry, he did not curse the gods.

He prayed instead. It was all he could do. He prayed that Robert would find the peace in death that eluded him in life. He prayed for his niece and her recovery from what must have been a difficult fight. He prayed that the seven Kingdoms would not suffer the wounds of a long war. He prayed that the Targaryens, especially Rhaegar would know that they were the cause of this. And that it was a Stark that brought it to an end at long last.

He prayed for all these things and more.

When the summons came for the tourney, Ned had tossed it aside, more than content to ignore these just the same as he had ignored all the others from Kings landing for so many years now.

Catelyn would hear none of it. The risk was too great she insisted, this insult, this suggestion too blatant. To remain in the north as though angry at the loss of his friend would send the whispers through the realm and all the Kingdoms would poison the Targaryen's against them.

They had to go. He had to go. It had to be him. Luwin agreed. So had Rodrick. He had very nearly ignored them all.

It was only when he received the letter from Joan, that he decided he needed to go. That he needed to see this young woman that was nearly a daughter to him with his own two eyes. For her, not the realm, and not for Rhaegar, would he go south.

He gathered his belongings, things he would need for the long journey, and left Robb to his place as the Lord of Winterfell, offering what few instructions were important. But he was more eager to see his son manage the affairs of the house and lordship on his own.

He could have sailed from White Harbor, it would save him a week's journey. But he'd never liked sailing, so he marched, himself, and his lady wife. With a column of men at arms, twenty and five of them. Arya had wanted to come, begged him to travel with to see Joan, Sansa had done the same to see the Red Keep and Brandon for his Knights of the white cloaks and the dragons. But all of them would stay in Winterfell. He would never allow his children south if he could help it.

They passed the Neck, the crags and bogs of Howland Reed's home the final passageway before reaching the twins. He considered stopping there, visiting his longtime friend but decided to leave him to his peace. The crannogmen had little resources and hosting a party, even one so comparably small, would take what little they had to spare.

Then they were past the Frey's ancient pass, in the Riverlands proper, and there they stayed for two days, allowing his lady wife to see her childhood home again, hug her brother and her uncle before they were on their way once again. The Tully retinue, much larger than his own, joined them for the journey south.

The days grew hotter, the air smelling of grass, water and livestock, and Ned soon had to abandon the heavy fur cloak with the knowledge that now he was truly south. It would later be remarked by his men, that they'd never seen him smile the entire journey from that moment on.

When the Red Keep was finally in sight, Ned stared at the seat of the Kingdom with a quiet, subdued loathing. A stranger could not see it, but his wife could. She did not say a word when he decided the Tully's would have the "privilege" of entering the city first.

When at last they crossed the gate, it was as he remembered it, closed, like a noose around his neck, with people pressed together so tightly it was a wonder they could breathe, smelling of sweat, hot air, piss and shit. He wanted to return home.

When the herald announced them in the courtyard before the keep itself, he could see the eyes of the nobility turn to them, their tongues wagging and their whispers traveling. Some looked at him as though he might turn into a wolf and begin tearing them apart, while others turned their noses up at the sight of him.

Ned ignored them all, allowing his lady wife to take the lead in the southern pleasantries for him, smiling at some, using her courtesy as a shield against others. He was too old for this game. Too old and just indifferent to it.

When they dismounted and began the walk to the throne room, where the royal family was no doubt waiting. Ned could finally feel the air around himself again, not suffocated by a press of bodies and he allowed himself to take a deep breath.

Just before they entered, however, she came around the corner. Ned looked at her face, finding a wary, caution that wasn't there before and he wondered what these Targaryen's had done since her return.

"Lord Stark…" She had only ever called him by his formal title twice. Both times were during the first week that they'd met. And he realized then that it wasn't anything the Targaryens had done. It was him. She was afraid he would be angry with her.

He didn't say anything as he marched in close, and he saw the girl straighten her spine, seemingly bracing herself for whatever she thought was in store for her. He leaned forward and hugged her. It took a moment, something that felt interminable before he felt her arms reach up to hug him back, fingers of her hands fisting the cloak at his back. "Did you get my raven?"

"I did," He answered, pulling away. She looked down at the ground. She looked less like a princess and more like a child who had done something wrong. He reached out and lifted her cheek back up, grey eyes looking into grey eyes.

"He was your friend," she said quietly.

Ned nodded. "Yes. He was." It was simple truth, and he didn't care who heard. "It is a loss I grieve. But one I can bear. I could not have borne yours." She looked like she was ready to cry, the relief made her whole body sag.

Finally she looked behind him. "Lady Catelyn." Her eyes kept wandering.

"They're not here," he answered before she could ask. "I will not have them in this place if I can help it."

The sadness returned to her eyes, no doubt she had been looking forward to seeing her cousins again. "I suppose it's for the best."

He heard the brush of his lady wife skirts, the click of her heels as she stepped forward behind him. She smiled as kindly as she could. "Princess, we have something to give you. The Wull wanted to make sure you received this." She waved a servant forward. "He told us he wanted you to keep practicing."

It was a long object, covered in heavy cloth. Handing it over, Ned watched her unwrap it a set of pipes and a bag. "I will do as he says," she answered, smiling at Catelyn before turning her eyes to him. "Come. I suppose it's time we brought you to the throne room," she said, leading them down the hall.

They followed her, and when the doors finally opened the herald announced their presence. "Lord and Lady Stark, of Winterfell."

All at once the crowd quieted to a hush, all eyes rounding on him as Ned, with his wife by his side entered the hall. Southern silks and vibrant colors were his greetings, a harsh contrast to boiled leather and heavy wool. Only Catelyn seemed to soften the image he must make, dressed in fine dark green, smiling kindly where he only looked with cold indifference to these strangers and distant lords.

Before he knew it, he reached the throne itself. "Lord Stark…" Rhaegar's voice was something out of memory, none of them good.

Nevertheless, after a moment of staring at this man whom had stolen his sister and mistreated her child, Ned Stark did as was expected, and bowed. "Your Grace." It was meant to be a title to always be given in praise, in deference. Yet so cold was his tone he felt his wife grabbing his arm in equal measure of fear and reproach.

"Be welcome in my hall… goodbrother," Rhaegar at last said, gesturing for Ned to rise.

He did so, and met this man's eyes again, the eyes of his king. A thousand words passing between them just as they stayed silent, the chasm that would never be bridged remaining as gaping and wide as before.

"I thank you, Your Grace."

A month would pass before he left for the North again. A month before he saw the Neck, and the bogs of Greywater Watch, and felt the chill of winter cold in the summer air. A month before he would head home.

But before he could make it there, Howland Reed would not let him pass twice without a word of greeting and a surprise of his own to share with the Lord of Winterfell. A surprise about a boy with blue eyes and black hair asking after Eddard Stark.

Willas

(Location: Red Keep)

Willas is not above admitting that the princess is very much unlike any woman Willas had ever known known. He wasn't sure if he should stay away or not because of that. But he couldn't stay away from her. The king had proclaimed that this tourney was also to find his daughter a husband. And Lord Mace Tyrell smelled an opportunity.

He would have brought Loras too but his youngest brother refused. Willas didn't know why but Loras would not even consider the idea of courting the youngest daughter of the king. He suspected it was because of his brother's…preferences but now he wasn't so sure.

The day he rode into King's Landing, well ahead of his family so as not to waste time, she wasn't there. He wouldn't meet her for another two days. When he did, she came through the gates without any announcement at all, a group of girls at her back with a dead animal on a sled and a white direwolf beside her.

The only reason he even saw her there was because he'd been reading a book and the courtyard of the Red Keep was surprisingly free of the traffic and bustle of the people that came with at least two dozen houses of Westeros gathering for a tourney. People were inside, plotting, scheming and backstabbing. She eyed him as a servant walked up to take the reins and she dismounted the horse, giving it a foul look in the process. Then she saw him and his cane. "You're Willas Tyrell then?" she asked him.

"I am," he replied, moving to stand.

Before he could even get a word in edgewise to continue his courtesies, she kept talking. "They say you've a specialty with horseflesh. Can you help figure out why this horse hates me?"

It was an odd start to a courtship but considering how insistent his father had been, he wasn't going to object. In the last few days the rumor mills had been full tilt and even getting her to look at any of the suitors was a task fit for a knighthood quest. Lord Tywin's grandson, Harold Hardyng were two of the more well-known rejections so far.

He would take the opening for what it was, curious or not, and in the following days, he was starting to believe that it was working, or at least that he was doing a little better than his remaining competitors. He gave her instructions in proper horsemanship as she spoke to him about the Northern wilderness amongst other things, all done in the eyes of chaperones from both his family and hers.

Just when he believed he was beginning to make some genuine headway with her, coaxing one of those hard-won smiles from her in conversation, the entirety of the Targaryen line seemingly crawled out of the woodwork to make continuing his pursuit all but impossible. Suddenly, Prince Aegon would find him and talk with him for hours about any subject he could think of ranging from politics, to finances, Princess Rhaenys would seek him out to discuss history, of his breeding methods for the horses and even medicinal solutions for the pain in his leg, and Visenya would continuously distract Joan whenever he seemed to politely excuse himself (escape) the other two.

But even so, whatever possessed them of this sudden interest in him waxed after a few days, their interest turning to other visitors of the Red Keep, it was only later that he would notice, in hindsight, that they were all his would-be rivals.

The princess Joan was an oddity, at least in his experience. She was blunt, honest, and brandished a spear like she could stab her problems until they stopped being problems. Hardly the picture of the woman he'd thought he'd marry in his childhood, or even just a year ago. But therein lied his own fascination. He wasn't in love with her, not yet, but he could see himself growing to if he let it. If she let it.

Then of course his family arrived in full splendor to the capital. His father arrived with aplomb and bombast, with his two brothers and sister, a grand spectacle to shield the quiet arrival of the Queen of Thorns right behind him, sharp eyes instantly surveying the "field of battle."

One conversation. All it took was one conversation. His father greeted the princess, with smiles, hugs, and laughter, his sister with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and his brothers with polite courtesy. And he could see when it started to happen.

Right in front of his very eyes how those iron bars that he'd started to slip through closed so firmly once again. Her eyes becoming those cold sheets of ice that had looked at him that first day in the courtyard from atop an unruly horse. With every spoken word, the ice he'd thought he'd managed to thaw refrozen once again.

He wondered what had happened, if they'd done something wrong, or if there was some way to reverse it. He walked with her the next day in the godswood, while his sister and brothers walked beside Prince Aegon and Princess Visenya behind them. As his cane struck a root, he stopped. "Careful," she warned him, gripping his arm to make sure he did not fall.

"My thanks," he said back. He looked around the godswood. The sun peeked out behind the foliage of the trees and the birds chirped happily in the air. "The godswood have always seemed a wild thing to my eye." he remarked.

"I thought that was the whole point of a godswood," she replied.

That was true. He smiled a bit. "You should come to Highgarden sometime, Princess. There are gardens aplenty inside our walls and a labyrinth made out from briar plants. You could walk amongst our gardens."

It was a pretty picture he attempted to paint for her. She shrugged. "Not really sure if I like gardens, Willas."

He was caught flat-footed by that frank declaration. All his life he had heard people praise the beauty that was Highgarden. They took a step in its gardens and were completely entranced. Never heard had he heard someone say they didn't like a garden, especially a lady. "Why is that, your Highness?" he dared to ask.

"The whole idea of it is… false," she said. "If you want to find beauty in nature, you shouldn't have to corral it into a single place and force it to become what you want it to be. Beauty in nature is wild, untamable." She spread her hand out at their surroundings. "Like a godswood."

He supposed he could understand that view. He didn't agree with it per se. A garden wasn't a place of imprisonment. It was a place where men and women could help shape and design the growth they wished to see. It was a piece of empty land a person could make beautiful with time and care, no different than a blacksmith forging a gorgeous blade out of a hunk of metal.

It said a lot about her, or perhaps this friendship, not quite courtship, they had struck that he flatly told her she was wrong and they kept talking. The second the words left his mouth he thought his name would be mentioned alongside Joffrey and Harold.

Soon though, more days passed, and met her other friends, Samwell Tarly and Eddison Tollet. He remembered Sam. The boy had been shy and a disappointment to his father. But now, after Robert Baratheon's invasion, he seemed more outspoken and perhaps a little more confident.

When he, Loras, and Margaery, were invited to sup with the king's children, Father had been ecstatic. He had proclaimed that the betrothal was at hand and urge his children to attend. The centerpiece of the dinner was a deer that the princess had killed herself. But the princess was nowhere to be found.

None of them, not even her siblings knew where she'd gone, or why she wasn't here. They waited, hoping she was just late, and when she did not arrive the guards were asked, and when they did not know, the Kingsguard, Ser Jamie, was sent for. He was her guard today. From there it was a search, because no one knew where Ser Jamie was either.

Willas however, found himself with a sneaking suspicion. Slipping quietly away, he made his way to the godswood. There she was, laying still under the pale bark, her direwolf curled around her legs, fingers running through its snow-white fur.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hello Willas.

"Princess." He nodded, stepping forward. "You missed the dinner," he said.

She didn't answer. The Tyrell tilted his head, finally catching sight of Ser Jamie at the edge of the godswood, pacing it seemed. "So I did."

Willas pursed his lips in thought. "Would this have something to do with the 'guests' of that dinner? Specifically, my side of the dinner table."

She met his eyes without flinching. "Did you know…" she began. "When I was a girl, your family visited, Willas?"

Not specifically, if he were being honest, but the Tyrells had gone to the Red Keep many times throughout the years. So he nodded. She made a sound in her throat. "When they came, I met your sister, I wanted her to be my friend. I saw your brother, Loras too."

Willas had a feeling he knew where this was going. Now, it made sense. "They ignored you, didn't they?" he finished for her.

She nodded. "And now, here you are."

"Looking for your hand in marriage. With my siblings looking to help me gain your favor, calling you 'sister' and hoping to be fast friends." He was going to have to talk with his siblings about that, especially Margaery. She had been the one calling Joan sister the most.

She let her head fall back against the tree, eyes staring up into bloody leaves that turned the light of the moon rust red through the canopy. "I hate this place, Willas. I hate how the people in it lie, squirm, and slither like snakes trying to crawl atop the cesspit. Your family—you see me and my siblings as nothing more than a way to get a piece closer to the top of the board. You and everyone else. Tywin Lannister's grandson was ready to smile at my face as he spit poisoned words at my back. All the others would lock me in a cage as soon as the marriage vows were said."

"I'm sure that whoever you marry will not stop you from continuing your skills," he told the princess.

"Are you saying that you would permit it if I married you, Willas?" she asked him looking straight into his eyes. "Would that be your promise to get me to be the chess piece that gets you a child that would be an heir? My spear hand for a family that only looks at me out of convenience?"

He took a breath looking at her, and he saw then just how tired she looked. The light of the godswood making her seem older in that moment. "I would," he finally said. "You could ride, and train with the bow, and the spear and the sword, I'd even let you teach our daughters if you wanted…but I won't…" She seemed surprised. "I won't because you do not truly want to marry me right now. You might never wish to marry me. You're looking for the least detestable option. And if you were to say yes to me, I would hope it's because I have a chance of making you happy, your Highness…"

Her smile was slow…radiant. It was not the quick quirk of her lips that were her smirks, or the sharp bark of laughter she would sometimes allow to slip past. This was the first time Wilas could say he saw the princess truly smile and she was the most beautiful woman in all the seven kingdoms in that second.

"No. I won't accept a marriage to you…not today," she finally said. Willas never thought he could feel quite so pleased at a failure. "Will you… still teach me to ride?" He couldn't help it. He laughed.

Elia

(Location: Red Keep)

For a tournament that was being hosted in her honor, Queen Elia found that the Stark girl was doing a rather remarkable job of avoiding the whole thing. Most girls would've been excited to have this honor, yet Joan seemed to try at every attempt to be somewhere else. More than once now they'd had to hunt her down. As it turned out, Ser Jamie was typically the one who helped her escape, either because she corralled him or out of his own sense of humor.

One night of the tourney, at the banquet of the evening she had spied Joan talking with her siblings more than anyone else. And she had to wonder when exactly the change did occur. Certainly the war against the Baratheon had been the catalyst for it but the when still eluded her, was it before or after the fateful duel? Whenever it happened, the relationship between the four of them had changed. And she didn't entirely know how to feel about that.

At that moment, the hall was enraptured by one of the singers in the capital. His was an original piece, composed in honor of Joan's battle against Robert Baratheon. It was not a poor song, she could admit. Elia listened to the music and could almost see the battle being fought in front of her. The way the man sang held her attention, shaping the words so that they floated through the air almost.

And when it fell the raging stag, the dragonwolf howled its victory,
And the storm broke and scattered, subdued by the warrior made from ice and fire.

The song ended and the hall filled with applause, Elia amongst them. Truly, she enjoyed the song. The singer had even made a clever pun in it, calling Joan a Whitefyre. A bastard that would fight for the Targaryens, not against them.

The singer bowed to all as the applause continued. He was vibrant and in the prime of his life, eager for all the applause. But his eyes were focused on the high table, on the royal family, on them. Elia looked at where he was looking and saw that he was looking right at Joan. "Your Highness," he said as the applause finally quieted. "What do you think of my song?"

Joan looked at him. And the queen saw no hint of a smile. "A pretty song. Though you could probably find a better subject than dead men."

She was completely serious, but the hall chuckled as though it were a jape and the singer even smiled a bit more, bowing once at the waist. "I will compose something better next time my princess."

Elia breathed grateful at the fortune that Joan's ill grace and blunt nature had been misunderstood as a joke for now. Already she had offered insults to quite a few of the crown's closest allies. To spurn a bloody song of all things would have just been the topping on this disaster waiting to occur.

The hall quieted, with men and women returning to their cups, their food and private conversations, allowing sound to travel just a bit farther when she listened to her son. "Just a song sister." Aegon whispered, patting her on the knee.

"I killed one man and nearly died for it," she hissed back. "And he writes a bloody song that makes it seem like some pretty, glorious affair? I'm not Tywin Lannister. I don't need or want a Castamere song."

Elia drank from her goblet and glanced over at where the Lannisters were seated. Thankfully, they were too far away to hear the girl's comments

"So I suppose you playing a song yourself is out of the question?" Rhaenys smiled, a wicked, teasing thing.

"She sings?" the queen thought, surprised.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one listening in, her husband turned his head beside her. "I did not know you played, Joan," he stated, calm, his voice soft for the distance it had to travel and the northern girl started to look decidedly uncomfortable.

Apparently, Rhaegar's voice was not quiet enough, because someone, a lady who'd had a little too much to drink seemed to have heard him. "The princess will play?"

The question was like a torch thrown onto dry, oiled kindling, and soon enough the whole room was asking, then stating, then cheering that the princess was going to play them a song, and Joan, for once, looked like a deer who just found itself in the path of a hunter.

Elia watched as the girl moved her eyes about the room, seemingly looking at how the situation had escalated so absurdly rapidly. Then she looked somewhere and seemed to calm a bit, Elia followed her eyes and found them looking to Eddard Stark. She wasn't sure if the northern lord was smiling or not, he was too far from them to tell, but Joan seemed to come to a decision under his gaze.

Standing up, she seemed to gather herself before turning, signaling a nearby servant and whispered in the girl's ear. As the servant went off, she walked around the table to the center of the hall. She stood there for a short while. The servant came back with a set of pipes, of all things in her hands. Joan took the stool the singer had occupied. Before she began she spoke. "This song is not for me. This is the song for those that died."

She began to play the pipes and the hall echoed with its song. This song, it was completely different from the one before. She had thought the pipes had been some kind of flute but it was more than that. The music didn't come out of it as much as it breathed with the girl. The song was a sad one, something that poured through each note. Elia listened and thought about all those men who went to war, only not to come back. It made her throat clutch up and tears form in her eyes.

The music played through the hall and where once there was revelry now there were somber faces. The men, specifically those noblemen she knew had gone to fight had their eyes closed in a quiet sort of solidarity. Her husband and children also had tears in their eyes, so did the Tyrells (even their queen dabbed at her eyes). Her brother was practically weeping at the sadness of the song. Lord Tywin's hard face seem to lessen somewhat and turn remorseful almost. The only one who did not show emotion was Lord Stark. Either because he was not at the battle, or because he'd heard the song before.

The song ended and silence reigned supreme in the hall. It was just beginning to become an awkward sort of silence before Lord Stark stood up with a goblet in hand and raised it in a toast. "To the honored dead," he declared simply. It was a toast that echoed up and down the hall. Joan rose from the seat and walked back to the high table. The sad look on her face struck Elia. In that moment, she looked the most like her father.

---

As the tourney came to an end, it was painfully clear to everyone that Joan had not chosen a suitor. When it came for the joust and Elia did not see her sitting in the royal box, she thought she had finally hidden from the Kingsguard. That is until she saw her helping Visenya mount her horse. "What is she doing down there?" she asked immediately.

Aegon looked at her. He wasn't in the joust because he had already joined the melee and won. "Visenya asked her to squire for her," he told her. He sounded as if it was no great problem.

Rhaenys nodded. "She did it to keep her away from the royal box."

"Why?" asked Rhaegar.

She glanced over at where the Lannisters were sitting. "Joan…might've insulted Cersei Lannister earlier."

Had she? Elia turned her eyes towards the Lannisters. None of them looked angry. In fact, they were watching the joust. "What happened?" she asked her son.

"I wouldn't know, Mother. I wasn't there." A jesting smile came to his lips. "It would've looked too odd."

"Odd?"

"We had a small sewing circle, Mother," Rhaenys explained. "Joan was there, except she was fixing a shirt. Cersei made a few derogatory remarks but she ignored them. No one thought of it until Cersei boasted how she was the only true child of Lord Tywin and lamented the fact she couldn't wield a sword. Joan told her that she couldn't wield a sword because she was too stupid to handle even a knife." She stopped, even though it sounded like there was more.

Elia looked at her eldest daughter. "Was there anything else, Rhaenys?"

"Joan made a few…choice comments about Cersei's skills as a mother and the amount of her intelligence, to say the least. By the time she left, Lady Lannister was spitting mad." Even though she was hesitant to speak about it, she did sound far too amused for it to remain hidden..

The horns blared and the joust went under way. Elia knew that her youngest daughter was skilled with a jousting lance. She had to be to come this far. But she still watched with nervous trepidation. Every time Visenya smashed her lance into the opposing shield and rode victorious, she breathed a little easier

And every time her daughter rode to her end, Elia watched Joan. She watched her wait for her sister to come back, watched her that quiet smile, and watched her talk to her sister when they had a moment. The hostility that girl held when she came back to King's Landing had seemingly vanished, ebbing away. Elia could have marked it to her staying away from her and her siblings but she was no fool. It was more than that, something she had no part in.

The final joust of the tournament saw her daughter Visenya pitted against none other than Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides.

Sheer brute force had brought the man this far. Elia could see no form or technique to him, just raw strength that shattered the lances against the black iron plate of his chest and literally shoved grown men off their horses with his own. She wondered how on earth his horse was even carrying him. Between his size and the weight of his armor he must have weighed well over three hundred pounds. Worry clenched her heart as she looked back at Visenya. Her daughter looked like a babe in comparison. The trumpets sounded and the two charged down the list.

The lances shattered against each other and Elia felt herself cringe at the sound, seeing her daughter's body rock back on the horse while Ser Gregor seemed to shrug off the blow like he hadn't even felt it. The two came around for another pass and again the lances shattered.

They would break two more lances before it was over. Elia could see her daughter sagging in the saddle, her body just too small, too weak to go blow for blow against the beast that was Ser Gregor Clegane. Visenya and Joan seemed to talk for a moment. Joan's face was the only one she could see, with Visenya's hidden by her helmet, she was not smiling.

When she marched to the herald, Elia knew it was over. "Unable to continue," the man shouted out to the crowds. "The princess Visenya Targaryen declares the winner to be Ser Gregor Clegane!"

The crowd cheered Gregor lifted his lance into the air with a shout of triumph. All eyes were on him as Elia watched Joan help her daughter dismount. Visenya was cradling her side. A spike of worry shot through her, her eyes following the two girls as they slipped away from the tourney grounds. Soon enough, Rhaegar was calling the winners of the competitions before him, along with Joan. Ser Gregor for the joust, A Frey boy for the archery contest, and Aegon for the melee.

"As the final victors of your respective competitions, the crown gifts Lord Edmure Frey and Ser Gregor Clegane with the prize of one thousand gold dragons each." Ser Gregor and Edmure Frey bowed at the waist with thanks as Rhaegar turned to Aegon. "My son. What would you ask of the crown? Is there any favor you would wish?"

"None right now father." Aegon smiled. "I just wanted to test my skills against the finest in the land."

Rhaegar nodded once sharply before finally turning to Joan. "My daughter," he said, and Elia could almost see the girl stiffen. There was no pride in the stance, more like a child bracing itself for a blow of some sort. She did not know if Rhaegar noticed. "You slew Robert Baratheon at the gates of Storm's End, rescued your sister, and likely saved my life as well. There are few rewards that can match the deed."

The crowds seemed to quiet, listening for what must be a great reward indeed, allowing Rhaegar's voice to seem stronger in the quiet. "Long has our house held with our lords what is commonly called the Crownlands, as the years have taken their toll and rewarded us in equal measure, we have lost and flourished with these lands, with lords and lines changing hands and titles.

"The hold of Crackclaw Point has long been a land without a lord of its own, and I can think of nothing more fitting than you to take and guard our northernmost seat, with the full backing of the crown to raise your new home and holding to its highest possible standard."

Elia was stunned, just like the rest of the people at the tourney. But none were as stunned as Joan. She had been expecting to receive a husband. Instead, she got land.

Varys

(Location: Red Keep)

It was clear that Princess Joan was much changed from the shy, timid, girl she had been in her childhood. The more the Master of Whispers watched her, the more he saw her grow into a woman that held herself with an assured confidence, or at least defiance. Gone were the days of her looking at her siblings with either forlorn sadness or hate.

Though to be certain, sexual intercourse did come with a certain fondness, typically the change was only natural when observed through that lens. It was no secret to him, of course that Elia's children slept with their sister. His little birds danced and chirped in his ear about the Targaryen siblings and always did they say such curious things though especially the lone Stark of them. How far she would go for siblings she once despised.

She was alone now; he knew before he even arrived, standing by the balcony as the dragons, each now approximately the size of a small pony, seemed to dance in the sky, darting into the waters of the bay to snatch fish that they cooked and ate on the rocky shoals.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" he remarked, watching as she startled, jumping in her skin before she realized it was him.

"Lord Varys." She said, a note of caution in her voice. Then she looked to the dragons again, shrugging. "I suppose."

"As a Targaryen, I expect you are far more accustomed to them than most." Indeed, his little birds had been all a flutter about the egg incident as he called it, shocked and dismayed that anyone would reject the chance to have one of the legendary creatures for themselves.

She looked at him. "I got used to a battle-scarred mammoth before I met those dragons." She spoke with such seriousness, she couldn't have been japing. "Small dragons, while cute, weren't that intimidating."

He took that information and thought about what she said. The only real wilding she truly spoke about amongst others was her teacher, this so-called Old Mother. "Your teacher was a warg then?" he asked.

She looked at him anew. "Close," she said. "That's what we call someone who's bonded with a wolf. Everyone else is just called a skinchanger." She watched the dragons fly higher and higher in the air, twisting and twirling. "I told her about Old Valyria, about the dragonlords and how they tamed the dragons with horns, whips, and sorcery. She scoffed and called the lot of them 'fucking amateurs.'"

Varys had heard many things said about Old Valyria and the dragonlords. But what he had just heard was a new one. He actually had to consider what he heard. "You will have to pardon me, your Highness, but I don't think I've heard anyone say that about your ancestors."

"She surprised me too when she said that. But then she proceeded to explain why to me. The Valyrians called it sorcery but she called it skinchanging. She also said that if they had to use horns and whips, they were very poor skinchangers."

Varys tittered beside her. "Forgive me, your Highness, but, poor skinchangers or not, amateurs or not, the Valyrians had many more things to their names, including cities, roads, infrastructure, a world spanning empire, the ability to make the finest of blades and impenetrable armors. Indeed, were it not for the mysterious 'Doom' we might all be speaking Valyrian. One wildling woman's opinion of them should not blind you to the reality of the legacy you are a part of."

Joan's lips pursed, looking chagrined, clearly, she held this woman in very high regard. But she was a smart girl, all she needed was…guidance. "Maybe," she grudgingly conceded. She leaned on the railing of the balcony, watching the beasts a little more closely. "Sometimes," she began, "I think that no one else tried to tame a dragon because the Valyrians said only they could and it was believed."

"If that is true, why have you not tried to have a dragon for yourself? Or even tame these three here?" Knowledge of the event or not, he could not say his curiosity for her thoughts was not piqued. Was it spite? Or some other motivation that had been behind her choice.

Her frown towards him was severe. "Even the Free Folk have laws, Lord Varys, unwritten or otherwise. You don't steal another's creature so long as they are alive. Egg, Rhae, and 'Senya might not realize it but they are skinchangers and the dragons are theirs."

"Perhaps you should write all these lessons down and give them to the maesters," he suggested softly. He was no firm believer in tales of skin changing, sorcery and magic, but dragons were walking the earth again, and these Targaryen children had sole control over them. They would not listen to Rhaegar, or Daenerys. Just them. It was not a hereditary obedience. So some of what she said must have had some small kernel of truth to it.

She turned from the window fully, looking at him. Her eyes were slightly narrowed. "What do you want, Varys?" she asked him.

"Must I want something?" he asked, smiling just a bit, watching as her irritation was worn so clearly on her face. "Can I not simply search for conversation?"

"You're the Master of Whispers," she flatly replied. "You always want something out of your 'conversations.'"

He smiled at her. "In this instance your Highness, I merely wished to see and speak with the Lady of Crackclaw Point before she leaves the capital once again. It is so rare for us to speak. You do not stay in the Red Keep long enough to be spoken to most days." She was frowning and looked more like a Stark for it. "It has been a regret of mine my dear that I have not endeavored to know you better."

"So regretful now that there's a title and a land hold under my name," she accused.

"As you said, Princess, I am the Master of Whispers. Your land or titles do not interest me. Furthermore a marriage to me would be…rather boring." He looked down to emphasize the point. She rolled her eyes, but he saw her crack the ever so faintest of smiles at the joke. He smiled back, deciding to take the small opening to give up his little game. "A few days ago, Prince Aegon made a suggestion to the Small Council. A new position, one for a headman of King's Landing."

She nodded. "I heard about that. It sounds like a good idea."

"I imagined you would think so Princess, especially since it was after all your idea."

She didn't blink. "Perhaps Rhae or 'Senya suggested it to him."

Varys' smile was knowing. "Your Highness, please. We both know that of all the king's children, you are the one who have spent the most time amongst the smallfolk. You have met with the headmen of villages in the north where the tradition is a strong one. You would know how to deal with them the most. You're the one who suggested it to Prince Aegon. I am not curious as to the why of the suggestion itself but rather the 'hiding' of said idea." He folded his arms inside his sleeves.

She frowned, again, looking for all the world like she was looking at an animal that had dragged in a great deal of mud to a previously pristine floor. "Do you disagree?"

"That was not my question," he clarified. "But to put you at ease Princess, I do not. I approve of it."

"People will listen to Aegon," she answered.

"But not you."

"They might, now anyway. But he is the prince. It's just faster that way."

"I see. And tell me, how would you go about selecting such a person for this hypothetical role? Kings Landing is a large city, a million inhabitants. How on earth would you select one man to represent their interests?"

The princess did not take long to think about it. "I'd say we let them pick between themselves."

"You would let smallfolk have that power?"

"What power?" she scoffed. "The headman is there to speak to what the people of the city want. The King will always have the final say. Granting them a voice to speak and be heard is hardly handing them the bloody Kingdom." For a long, long time, Varys looked at her, long enough for her to look decidedly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "What?"

"Forgive me princess." Varys smile returned. "Our conversation has given me much to think of. If we do not see each other again before you leave to your new holding in Crackclaw Point, I would be most pleased to correspond by raven, if it please you."

"I…suppose?" She looked as bemused as she sounded.

Varys laughed as he bowed. "Good day, your Highness." With a sharp about face, a spring in his step and humming a little tune Varys marched off like a cat that ate the little bird.

Rhaenys

(Location: Crackclaw Point)

The procession that followed her marched through the village first, a quaint thing, the houses could not have numbered even in the hundreds, she could spy a sept on the hill, a mill on the other side and not much else. The two dozen Targaryen guards that followed after her could have probably filled out the male population of the entire place.

The holdfast, just beyond the village and almost nestled into the forest, had a robust defense. It had not been in use for some time, with the last reports of the point being a castle well into disrepair with no lord to manage it. Not for the first time did Rhaenys wonder at her father's choice of "reward" for her sister.

And perhaps Joan saw it the same way. She'd heard quite a few rumors in King's landing, none of them good. Something about her sister being a poor leader, misusing the funds given to her. When she'd heard some noblewoman of the court talking about "Targaryen Madness" it had been all she could do to stop herself from cutting her down with insults and words.

That, more than anything else had been what prompted her visit here. For too long none in the family had 'worried' for Joan. Certainly Visenya cared for her, and Aegon held her in high regard as well, but Joan had marched in front of Robert Baratheon for Rhaenys. Distant letters could not begin to repay that. She had to see for herself. Make sure she was alright.

As they came close to the holdfast she heard a guardsman announce them, blowing on a horn to call the gates to open. The holdfast courtyard was cramped. Even if it weren't filled with scaffolding for repairs to the walls and the keep, the architecture was built purely as a defensive fortification not a luxurious one. The tight spaces would make it harder for an attacking force to surround the defenders unless they climbed the walls. Barely two horses could march astride the, and Ser Lewyn, her Kingsguard hard to stand with his horse behind hers, rather than beside her.

She panned her eyes across the place, dozens of servants bowed where they could, even from the windows above her. When she looked up to a wooden walkway that circled the second story of the holdfast itself, she finally spotted her sister. Joan smiled, one of those barely-there things, and it made Rhaenys smile in turn. In the North, she thought that the happiness Joan had would never been given to the paternal side of her family, only the Starks. She had been more than content to ignore her siblings.

"We didn't know you were coming." Joan called, leaning on the railing.

"Surprise." Rhaenys answered, somewhat guiltily. Truth was, she hadn't sent word. If things were as bad as the rumors suggested, she wanted to see for herself. Help in some way before word reached their father.

Ser Barristan stepped up besides Joan, spotting them and bowing once at the waist. "Your Grace."

"Ser Barristan." She said in greeting.

"You're lucky. If you would have shown up earlier I wouldn't have even been here," said Joan.

"Hunting?" Rhaenys asked.

"Actually no, I had to help settle an argument between two clans that didn't end in bloodshed." She was unapologetic as she said, "I had to knock some sense into them."

"With what?" asked her sister, with a snicker "Your hand?"

"No, my spear," she answered without shame.

Rhaenys blanched, then groaned. Of course Joan would resolve it that way. "Joan, that's not how you conduct negotiations." That was the last thing one did when conducting negotiations!

Her sister shrugged. "Whatever works," she said before she turned back and walked inside. "Come on in."

She didn't know what she should've expected. Maybe it was because she had grown in the Red Keep and Sunspear, twin laps of comfortable luxury, but she expected the inside of this small holdfast to be lacking. It wasn't. Not really. It was smaller than she was used to, true, the Great hall could only fit three long tables, one of them the table of the ruling lord and his or her family, rather than Winterfell's sixteen or the Red Keep's twelve. There were two hearths. It did however, have a northern feel to it. Few decorations, heavy furs on the seats and floor. The Tables were made of strong sturdy wood, with few carvings. Minimum by southern standards but for a keep in repair, more than adequate.

Joan offered her a hug as they finally came close, and Rhaenys was content to watch her manage her household for the rest of the day. Oddly enough, the one she seemed to be taking the most council from was Barristan. She hadn't realized she and the silver sword were close. Maybe it was their time here that had done that.

Well into the afternoon, she found an opportunity to ask her about it. Joan marched to the back of the keep, through a door that led to a little hole in the wall that Rhaenys could only assume on finding it was some kind of workshop. There was a rack with fur lying upon it. And as if she was a common worker herself, Joan sat herself down, rolled up her sleeves and started to work, cutting what parts of the fur couldn't be used or kept Rhaenys took that moment to watch her. She was staring intently at the fur, her fingers working hard. It was a strange look, but she seemed happy at the work

"So, what is it you want, Rhae?" she asked, her eyes still focused on the fur.

"Since when have you listened to Ser Barristan?"

"Since he basically knocked some sense into me."

Rhaenys looked more than a little shocked. "He struck you?"

"No. He'd probably sooner cut off his own hand. But…" Her hands worked, features scrunching up in thought. "When I got here… I kind of panicked." That must have been a painful admission to Joan. "I never wanted a castle, never thought I'd have it. Hundreds of people relying on me to tell them what to do, how to do it, solving problems. It was like…I'd been thrown into a frozen river and even if I got to the surface I'd never be able to breathe because of the cold, ya know?"

Rhaenys didn't. She'd never even seen a 'frozen river' before. But she nodded regardless. "So I told them to build me a cottage." Joan chuckled. "All that lumber, money…my first order was to spend it all building me a house away from this place."

Rhaenys tried not to cringe. That…well…she could see where the rumors had sprung up.

"Barristan held his tongue about it but after a while I could tell he had something to say," Joan said. "So I asked him. 'Ordered' him to speak his mind really when he tried to say it wasn't his place."

"What did he say?"

"That I was being a spoiled brat. And neither of my parents would approve. Neither would my uncle."

Rhaenys blinked. "I…Barristan?"

"Didn't think he had it in him either." Joan chuckled, somewhere low in her throat.

"That's when you abandoned the cottage thing?"

"Made me feel bad too since it was done. Maybe one day I'll have the lumber re-purposed," she mused. Then, finally, turned back to her. "Alright, come on I've told my story. So now you, talk. You came here for something more than my pretty face."

She wasn't wrong per-se. Rhaenys looked at her sister and said, "I came to bring you back to King's Landing. There's a painter who wants to paint you."

"A painter?" Joan raised a slender eyebrow.

"A Braavosi," she explained. "Showed up in the city. He has a new style, something that really draws the eye. Father was impressed with his work, So he commissioned him to paint a picture of his children, for one each. He's painted one for Aegon, Visenya, and myself easily. You're the only one left."

"You can't be serious," Joan laughed. "I have things to do here."

"It's hardly the trip from Winterfell, sister. It's a three-day ride to King's landing, about a week for the painting to be done, and three days back. You'll be back before a moon's turn. The point has lived without a lord for years, two more weeks won't see it burst into flame."

She still didn't look convinced. Rhaenys told her, "Come on, I'll even bring you back on Moonfyre." It'll cut the time down to just a few hours on the return journey. Their dragons had just passed the size of horses now. Large enough to ride, at least with them not wearing armor. With Joan as a second rider, it might be trying but her dragon could do it.

Joan sighed stopping her work and took the fur off the rack. "It'll have to be in a day or two. Get things in order. I have to open the doors to the villagers in a few hours too."

"You're holding court?"

"Sort of." She shrugged. "I'm the lady. I have to listen to them. It was the first thing I really did since I got here." Rhaenys was a little impressed. If she was being perfectly honest, she had thought her little sister was running around hunting things in the woods. She and Visenya were learning alongside Aegon how to rule Westeros. She was reading all the books she could so she would be able to advise her brother with wisdom past.

But while they were learning, Joan was ruling, at least this stretch of land given to her. A part of her did feel a little jealous but she refused to let it grow. The time for feeling jealous about her sister had long since passed. Before she realized what was happening, Joan had her by the arm and pulling her out of the workshop. "Come on," she said, pulling her towards a shed besides the stables. She pulled open the door, revealing more furs.

Rhaenys' arms were soon laden with furs. She looked past them at Joan. "What am I doing with these?"

"You're helping me take them to the great hall, so I can barter with the villagers."

"What?!" She didn't come for that! But her sister would not accept no for an answer. So she found herself loading furs onto a rack inside the great hall, alongside the left hearth.

Call her spoiled, but as soon as her sister came back with more furs, the Princess decided her status was good enough to call for some help, redirecting a servant or two to help their liege with her little project. Better them than her.

When the task was nearly done and Joan was tying the last few hides to their place, Rhaenys noticed something. "Where's your wolf?"

"Oh, Ghost is around," Joan said dismissively, more focused on securing the furs.

She looked at her hard. "You don't care about where your wolf is?" She always knew where Moonfyre was. If she didn't, that dragon would go and cause a mess.

Joan didn't look back at her. "I know where he is, just like I know that he's hunting. He'll come back home to us when he's done." She breathed in deep and sounded pleased. "Smell that air, Rhae. That's a good hide.

She did smell it and frowned. Joan must have noticed, tossing her another smile. "Smells better than the city," she replied.

Rhaenys couldn't argue with that. "Is that why you stay away?"

"More than that but it's definitely a big part. Why hasn't anyone done something about it? Build a sewer underneath the city."

"And who would lead such a project?" There wasn't a great deal of rewards in building a sewage system.

But her sister had an answer. "Have Lord Tyrion lead it. He mentioned something to me that he knew how plumbing worked, maybe he could help. Just be sure to say that it was your idea or Egg's."

That was odd. "Why shouldn't I say it was yours?"

She laughed a bitter laugh, something unexpected. "We want the plan to go through, don't we?"

"What does she mean by that?" She asked her but Joan refused to answer. Soon enough, Ghost arrived and the villagers that had come were shortly behind him. The wolf lived up to his name. He was so silent that she didn't hear him until he was by their side. The castle servants must have long been used to him by now if he didn't so much as cause a maid to squeak in surprise.

The smallfolk came and Rhaenys watched her sister interact with them. It was interesting. Or perhaps it was because she had never really talked to smallfolk before. All the people she had talked to were highborn or at the very least worked where their highborn lived. She had always walked past the smallfolk, not paying much attention to them.

But Joan did pay attention to them. She sat at a low seat and would patiently listen to each one. Ser Barristan was not far from her, but the silver sword was relaxed, his stance at ease right now. To a select few she would offer some of the furs for free, inviting others to purchase them for well below their market price. There she sat at the table like a lady presiding over a court.

And soon the affair was done and the great hall filled with some of her guards, some servants and a handful of villagers, with some of them bringing barrels of ale and drink before Joan played host to her surprise royal visitors for the night.

"I'm impressed, Joan," Rhaenys told her.

She chuckled. She seemed more alive now than she had before. "I had practice with the northern mountain clans. You would not believe the trouble I caused by making a mistake."

Her sister saw how some of the younger men were looking hopefully at Joan. A seed of discomfort and irritation formed in her belly. She did not let it grow. It was not worthy of a princess. Instead she remarked, "You seem to have some attention."

Joan looked at her puzzled. Then she followed her gaze and saw the boys. "Oh, don't worry about that," she said dismissively. "I politely refused them."

Rhaenys was surprised that she knew how to refuse politely. It had been a year and the tourney at King's Landing was becoming infamous for her refusal of betrothals. "Lady Joan!" shouted one of the men. It was an older man and he was surrounded by people holding musical instruments. "Come, join us for a song."

She grinned. "Alright," she said before looking at her sister. "You're in for a treat, Rhae." She left her sister there, joining the musicians.

Rhaenys watched and waited. There was a song coming, she gathered that much. But she didn't think that so many people were needed to be bards. They all settled into positions and she saw her sister holding a fiddle (what she called her instrument when Aegon had asked).

Everyone quieted and the music began. It flowed over Rhaenys, surprising her. It was music like she had barely heard before. When the man started singing, he didn't sing in the Common Tongue but in an older tongue. But it didn't matter she couldn't understand the words. When he sang, the rest of the villagers and even a few of the servants sang with him.

D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Tá sí linn, (She is with us,)
Tá sí slán. (She is safe.)
D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Canfaimis fós, (Let us still sing,)
Rachfaidh muid ann. (We will go there.)

Tóg amach do pheann a mhac, (Take out your pen lad,)
Is scríobh isteach do scéal. (And write down your story.)
An rud atá le rá agat, (The thing you have to say,)
Ní fiú antost, (Is not worth the silence,)
Is fiú an scéal. (It's worth the story.)

An té a bhíonns in aonaracht, (He who is in solitude,)
Ní chloisfear uaidh go deo. (He will never be heard from.)
Ach glór atá i measc na mílte, (But a voice amongst the thousands,)
Cruthaíonn siad, (They create,)
Éiríonn leo. (They succeed.)

Aontas na nglóracha, (Unity of voice,)
Ná aontas na meabharacha. (Is unity of mind.)
'Sé 'lámh a chur i lámh' (It's the putting hands in hand,)
Is na dushláin nu' a sharú. (And overcoming new challenges.)

Má theipeann ort, (If you fail,)
Níl deireadh leat, (You are not finished,)
Níl críoch leis an scéal. (The story is not over.)
So éirigh leat is seas arís, (So rise and stand again,)
Mar chuid den mhuintir, (As part of the family,)
Chuid den ré. (Part of the era.)

Piléir ag titim, (Pillars falling,)
Tóg. (Build.)
An lá seo, ní fheicfidh tú arís, (This day, you will not see again,)
Seo an fód. (This is the ground.)

D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Tá sí linn, (She is with us,)
Tá sí slán. (She is safe.)
D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Canfaimis fós, (Let us still sing,)
Rachfaidh muid ann. (We will go there)

D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Tá sí linn, (She is with us,)
Tá sí slán. (She is safe.)
D'aon ghuth amháin, (Of one voice,)
Canfaimis fós, (Let us still sing,)
Rachfaidh muid ann. (We will go there.)

As the song died, the people in the hall pounded their approval. To her great surprise, Rhaenys did the same. The musicians bowed and Joan left them. They spent a good amount of time there in the feast that was not quite a feast with so little time to prepare, singing along with the songs and enjoying themselves.

It was night when they left. The holdfast was dark but Joan moved through the quiet hallways like she knew every one of them. Rhaenys felt like the dark was encroaching all around them. It was a little unnerving. She held onto her little sister. She was glad Aegon and Visenya didn't see her do that. They would mock her endlessly for it.

They reached her room. No, not her room, she realized as soon as the door opened, seeing Joan's bow by the wall. Joan's room. Once inside, Joan looked back at her. "The bed's big enough to fit us both, but it's going to be a little tight," she said, looking embarrassed at that.

"After all I've seen her do today, she's embarrassed about the size of her bed?" It could've been funny, except she actually meant it. "It's fine, Joan," she assured her. "We'll be fine."

She looked relieved and quickly stripped out of her clothes, pulling her hair free of its tail. Rhaenys did the same and joined her in the bed. But even as the lights were blown out, she stared through the darkness at the scars. The first one she looked at was the one made by a dog's teeth. There were so many little scars so close together. They were red against her skin. Rhaenys couldn't imagine the pain she went through as the dog tried to rip her apart.

That wasn't the only scar on her body. There were others, like the scar beneath her right breast or the one on her elbow. The dog scar was the only one she knew the story about. It suddenly hit her that she didn't really know Joan all that well, even if they were on better terms now. She understood why she preferred to live out here instead of in the Red Keep. But she didn't know why she would refuse to take credit for an idea, why she would fight stubbornly for a painting.

"Joan, why?" she asked in the darkness, looking at her back.

"What why?" Joan asked back.

"Why do you not to be credited for an idea? Is it because you're a woman?"

There was silence from her for a long moment. Rhaenys wasn't sure if she would answer. "It's not that. It's just that no one would believe it if it came from me."

"What?"

"I'm the bastard, Rhae. People look at me and see that first. In their eyes, I have no place in what comes next."

Anger burned through her at that idea. "What comes next?" she repeated. What did she mean by that?

"When Aegon takes the Iron Throne. He'll rule with you and 'Senya at his side. You'll be there to offer him wisdom and guidance from books and maesters. 'Senya will tell him what the soldiers think and feel, while also pleasing the crowds at tourneys, earning their love. You will both give him good advice and help him make decisions that will better the Seven Kingdoms."

But she wasn't there in that picture. Where was she? "What about you? You don't think that you'll be a part of it?"

Joan shrugged. "Who can say? Ten years from now, twenty years from now. Who knows where I'll be. I hardly saw myself ruling Crackclaw Point just a year ago."

"But you don't see yourself with us." That hurt her. Joan shrugged like it wasn't a big concern. But it was. Rhaenys sat up a bit on the bed, looking down at her sister. "You belong with us, alongside us. And you're not going anywhere else."

Joan looked up at her, Stark grey eyes finding hers in the dark and Rhaenys saw, again, that barely-there smile touch her lips, a glimmer in that gaze of hers where Rhaenys saw something…love. Joan heard her and loved her for her. Once Rhaenys saw the love, she saw how open she was. Desire suddenly roared through her. She wanted to fall down upon her, claim her, take her until they were both spent.

"No," she forced herself to think. "Don't do that, Rhaenys. It's Joan." This was different from Aegon or Visenya. If she did this and it turned out to be the wrong thing, it could force Joan away from them, farther than what happened before. Even as much as she wanted her, she wouldn't do that.

But then Joan looked her in the eye and said, "I know what you want, Rhae." She reached up and cradled her face in her hand. Rhaenys leaned into that hand. It felt so warm and gentle. "It's alright. I don't mind." With those words, Rhaenys descended upon her sister with a kiss. She kissed back.

Tyrion

(Location: King's Landing)

"I made a single remark to a princess once and this is where I end up." The thought was a sardonic one. Tyrion was almost certain his father was enjoying this back at the Rock. He had gone from cleaning out one sewage system to redesigning another.

He had been surprised to receive a summons to King's Landing. For a moment, he'd dared to hope that he was being called for some sort of honor, perhaps, dare he say it, a position like Master of Coin had opened up. Then of course he arrived and the king had told him of his plan to rid the stink from the city. His name had been put forth to lead the project. Tyrion could guess who it was. He could also guess that it wasn't a good idea to say no.

Still, he had been given a job and if there was one thing he had learned from his father, it was to never leave a job unfinished. Tywin Lannister did nothing by halves and refused to allow his children to do so either. He spent months in King's Landing, mapping out what passed for sewers in the castle and city, designing a sewage system that would flow all the shit out to the sea.

Construction had begun. There were crews out in the city tearing up the streets lay in the pipes. People had thought it to be a jape and him too. To prove that he was serious, he had gone to one of the crews and helped them tear through the street. It had only been a day but he was left with more pain than he thought he could have. But he probably surprised the crew more by his stubborn refusal to quit that day.

From that day on, he would go one of the crews working and do the day's work in sight of them. He saw them and they saw him. It showed both how serious they were. It was why he was in a tavern in the Street of Steel. The tavern door opened and he didn't pay attention to it. "Hello, Lord Tyrion," Princess Joan spoke.

He looked up from the map of the city and looked at the princess coming towards him. "Hello, your Highness. Have you come back to the city?" she looked like she had just ridden through the gate. He glanced past her to see if her wolf was with her. She did, the beast was by the door, which suddenly had a lot less traffic.

"Yes. Father wants me back in the Red Keep for something." She sounded exasperated as she spoke.

He had a feeling about why she was here. "Is the Braavosi still trying to paint you?" Watching him trying to paint something she would approve and her refusing each time was amusing almost by itself.

"Yes. But I saw the work outside and wondered if you were nearby. May I sit?"

She was going to anyway. He might as well allow her. "Go ahead." She sat down like she was ready to enjoy her time there.

She looked down at the map. "How goes the construction?"

"Slowly," he replied. "The people seem to have a hard time believing what we're doing is good for them. Some of them are convinced that by doing this, we'll be opening into one of the seven hells."

"Considering the city, I find it not too hard to believe."

He chuckled to the jape. "Even so, the process is slow."

"Is there any way to hurry it along?"

"If you would like shoddy work and for the city to go back to the way it was, then yes." His retort was sharp. She did not look shocked at being talked like that. She sat there, waiting for the next part.

She looked back at the map again. "Just how many people are in King's Landing?" she asked.

"I don't have the exact number," he said absently. He was more concerned about checking the reports he was reading through. There was a maester with each crew and they were sending him reports daily. It was something he had demanded. "But it's probably a great deal."

"Can the city hold them all?"

"Someone should say that it doesn't but it seems to do so." He guessed a romantic would say that it was a symbol of how stubborn and resilient the people of King's Landing were. He just thought it made the smell worse.

He glanced at her. She was looking at the map rather intently. He waited. She was going to say something. "Do you think there's something that could be done?"

"No, I don't."

"You're just saying that because you don't want more work."

He scowled at her. She was not wrong. He decided to be difficult, wanting to see how she would react. "See what?"

She pointed at the south of the city, at the rush. "There's land there. Just expand the city there."

He looked at the map. She was looking past the fish market, across the rush. "How can you?" he asked her. "The kingsroad is already there, same as the harbor."

"Move the harbor and build around the road."

"Move the harbor where?" The harbor had been there since the city had been first built. If it was moved, people would complain, especially if it was placed badly.

"Further north, near the Rosby road, and to the south where the expansion would take place," she answered. "You would just build the city around the kingsroad, making it the main street. If the city was expanded, it would ease the strain on the city as it is."

Tyrion looked at the map. He imagined what she described, the city stretching across the rush. It would grow along the kingsroad, using it as a main street like she suggested. There would be more room for buildings. Better yet, the entirety of Flea Bottom could be transported over there and they could rebuild that into something better. But he saw a problem, or at least someone might consider a problem. "How would we defend it?" he asked her. "There would be no walls."

"The walls could be built or just readjusted." She looked irritated that she had to say such a thing. "Come on, Lord Tyrion. You had to have seen that."

He nodded and smile. "I did. I just wanted to see if you did the same thing." He looked her fully in the eyes. "Princess, why do you want to expand the city?" All sort of talk he had heard about it was to fix the city, not make it bigger. This was the first time he had heard this. It was different.

"It's a change, one that's needed. Sometimes, big changes are what are needed."

"Do you plan to introduce this idea to the Small Council?"

To his great surprise, she said, "No."

It was simple, like she was cutting something precisely. "Why?" he asked. She wasn't the kind of person who wouldn't be hesitant about sharing what she thought.

"The Small Council would never take it seriously if it came from me." She looked at him meaningfully. "If it came from you, however…?"

She wanted him to take her idea as his own? "And why would they listen to me about this kind of idea?" he asked her. She had a brain in there. He wanted to see how much of one now.

"You're the one who's fixing the sewers. If there's anyone who knows that the city should be expanded, it would be you."

"Princess, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you're seducing me."

She made a face at him. "Lord Tyrion, you're like an uncle to me."

"Hopefully the pretty one," he remarked, "and considering your family, my statement still stands." It was bold to say something like this to the royal family but Joan knew him and he knew her.

She kept scowling but there was no heat to them. "You know I'm right." The scowl softened into a frown. "Are you going to leave this alone?"

He thought about it for a moment, looking at the map. He imagined the city as she talked about. It would have more room and have more opportunity for trade and growth. Perhaps the new sewers he was constructing would be made over there. He looked at her. He saw the hope in her eyes. She was a girl who wanted approval for something that she came up with.

He felt like his father looking at himself. This would be where Lord Tywin Lannister would refuse him. Thank goodness he wasn't his father. "I will take it to them,"

She smiled and it made her look younger than she was. "Thank you," she said.

Arthur

(Location: Red Keep)

The king had persuaded Princess Joan to come to the Red Keep, this time for a feast. Arthur wasn't sure how he managed to do that when he didn't go talk to her in the Point personally. The prince or princesses usually went instead. But here she was here all the same. He had been the one guarding Maegor's holdfast when she came riding in. She saw him and greeted him warmly.

He stood guard behind the high table during the feast. Joan sat next to Visenya. The way they talk and laughed with each other, one never would've thought that they used to despise each other. It was no secret amongst the royal family and the Kingsguard that the king's children were sleeping with Joan. But out of all them, He believed Visenya loved her sister the most.

"I heard you both sparred again this morning," Aegon said to them picking at his food.

Visenya nodded her head. "We were. I tried getting Rhae out to spar but she was too busy reading." She made it sound like it was the most unpleasant thing someone could do.

Rhaenys heard her tone and looked down the table at her. "You should try reading a little more, Visenya. It would do wonders for you," she said, teasing her little sister with her sarcasm.

"Who won?" The question, surprisingly, came from Queen Elia. And though her children tried to hide it, the sudden tension was there.

He felt it too if he were being honest. It was no secret that the queen did not want Joan here. It was only for the sake of her children that she acted with politeness. But with each thing she said, there always seemed to be an undercurrent directed to snub Princess Joan. "It didn't get that far," Visenya told her. "We were interrupted."

"Lord Stannis's son came running into the yard, wanting to fight us both," Joan explained. She sounded both exasperated and amused. "He broke the fight before we could even work up a decent sweat."

"Perhaps you should've thought of that before the both of you agreed to watch him for Lord Baratheon the last time he was here," Prince Aegon told them with a cheeky grin.

Ser Arthur smiled to himself. Steffon Baratheon looked at Princess Visenya and Princess Joan like they hung the stars and the moon. He felt sorry for the little lord.

Queen Elia still watched the two girls. "Who is the better fighter between the two of you?" she asked directly.

That question made the Kingsguard grimace and wish he could speak. But it wouldn't be his place. It was Joan who spoke. "Who cares?" She was clearly disinterested in the question. "We both fight well. That's all anyone needs to know."

The king looked at his daughter. "People are curious, Joan," he told her. "The court knows that Visenya is the best when it comes to the battlefield. And yet, you have shown that you can stand against her and other foes."

"I've heard some of the Tyrell men say that 'Senya is clearly better than Joan," Aegon added. He took a sip of his wine but his eyes were paying attention to the conversation. "The other Reach lords have taken it up too. Lords from the Stormlands wouldn't accept Robert losing to anyone but the best however."

Ser Arthur had heard the same thing. At least in regards to the Reach lords. He wondered if it was some form of revenge for her refusal of the Tyrell boy. If that was the case, it was certainly an odd way of doing it. As he wondered, his eyes fell to the princesses. He knew just how well Princess Visenya was skilled with the blade. He and the other Kingsguard had trained her. But he had also seen Princess Joan fight. If she wasn't using any method, dishonorable or not, she could use to win, she was a good fighter.

The princess looked at her father. "You really think people need to know if someone is better at something?" she asked him.

"It would satisfy their curiosity," he told her.

"In that case, I challenge you to the field of battle, Father."

The entire table went silent at those words. The queen looked at her with a dumbstruck shock that also burned with satisfaction. Her children were stunned to silence. The king said nothing. He waited. Ser Barristan finally spoke from the other end of the table. "Princess, you're not serious, are you?"

"No, I am serious, Ser Barristan. I will face my father in combat," she replied. "Musical combat, that is."

"…What?" said Princess Rhaenys.

She pointed a finger at the king. "I want to see how my fiddle compares against your harp, Father," she declared. "Let this feast determine who the better player is."

And for the first time in a very long time, King Rhaegar let a full smile slip onto his face. "I accept," he said with no hesitation. "I'll have my harp fetched. You do the same with your fiddle."

"Already have it."

"She had been planning this," Arthur realized. Was that why she came to this feast?

The announcement was made and everyone turned their eyes onto the king and his daughter as they strode into the center of the hall. The king held his harp, a thing of beauty with strings of silver and polished oak. What caught the eye was the three-head dragon at the head. They weren't roaring but they still looked fierce. One side of their faces had a sun carved into it. He knew there was a wolf with a crown of roses on the other side.

By comparison, Joan's fiddle was plain. He could see how it was made from less quality material and worn too. But she held it like it was one of her greatest treasures. She clearly loved it. They stood across from each other. "You are the king, Father," she said. "You play the first song."

King Rhaegar smiled. "Very well, Joan." He took his harp in hand and played a song.

Arthur listened to his king and friend, smiling to himself. This song was something he had written in honor of Princess Visenya. It was a simple song that beautiful in its simplicity. When he sang, his low voice floated through the hall but held the pride of a father. He sang of his love for his new daughter and everyone heard that love.

The Kingsguard didn't need to look at Visenya's face to know she was both embarrassed and proud. She always got like that when she heard the song. It was Joan's face he paid attention to. He thought that she would've looked irritated or saddened that Rhaegar would sing such a song right to her face. But she kept her face neutral. She was waiting.

The song ended and the hall applauded their king. He accepted it all with silent modesty. When the applause died down, he looked to her. "Your turn, Joan," he said.

She didn't hold her fiddle to the ready. "It was a good song, Father," she told him. "But it will be nothing to mine. I said that this was a battle, and I brought reinforcements." She looked at the door and whistled. It opened and a troop of men and women walked in. Joan struck up a lively note on her fiddle and the troop started to dance.

Arthur stared. He couldn't help it. It was like no dance he had ever seen before. They didn't dance with each other but as a group. They were coordinated, knowing where everyone else was. They danced with their feet, tapping rapidly against the floor. Metal shined on their shoes and the air rattled with the sound of the tapping.

But it wasn't annoying. The sound was energetic as the song was lively. Princess Joan was smiling happily as she played. It was infectious. The people in the hall started clapping along and he did too. The dancers took that as an encouragement and danced even faster to it. Joan kept up with the tempo. Her smile widened the more she played.

When the dance ended, the hall erupted into applause. Even the queen applauded while her children leapt to their feet cheering their sister. Princess Joan looked at the hall with a happy expression. She loved the applause the hall gave her. What more, she loved the attention she was getting from her father and siblings. King Rhaegar proclaimed her and her friends won without any protests or judgements. What's more, he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead in front of everyone. It was something he had never done before and the surprise of it was plain on her face

The good feelings of the feast lasted until the next morning. That was when the letter from the North came. Lord Stark was requesting aid for the Wall. The largest army of wildings ever seen were seen coming south.

Aegon

(Location: the Wall)

He hated Joan more than he could've thought. "And I thought Winterfell was cold!" Standing beyond the Wall with only a fur cloak to keep him warm, Lord Stark's home was pleasant in retrospect. He wasn't the only freezing his arse off. Rhae and 'Senya, and the army were freezing theirs off too. The only one who was comfortable was Joan.

"Ah, take in that clean, bracing air," his sister proclaimed, smiling widely. She wore a fur cloak. One. He and the others were huddling beneath at least two and they were still cold.

'Senya glared at her. "Joan, if I could reach out and touch you, I would strangle you."

She just laughed. "Don't laugh next time I complain it being too hot down south."

Aegon shivered. "If we get warm again, we'll try and remember that." He looked up at the sky. The dragons were high above, watching from atop the Wall. Remembering the awed looks the Night's Watch had when they saw the dragons made him smile. "Why couldn't we have the dragons down here again?" Ghost stayed by his mistress's side, watching patiently. It just wasn't fair he could be there while Fang was up above.

It wasn't Joan who answered him but Rhae. "We're trying to get the wildings to come so we can talk," she reminded him. "Having the dragons beside us would scare off anyone."

That had been the plan since they left King's Landing at least. The wildings have been pushed back away from the Wall one too many times, yet they kept coming back. Clearly something else needed to be done. The Night's Watch was told the plan last and they protested in force. They had been silenced but only by word from Aegon himself, with his father's authority and Lord Stark.

"They're here," declared Joan, her eyes on the woods.

Aegon looked to the woods. For a moment, he couldn't see them. Then they appeared. The wildings came out of the forest like a wound bleeding slowly. One that kept on bleeding 'til all he could see was an ocean of fur covered bodies. "Seven hells, is this all of the wildlings north of the Wall?" he found himself asking, watching the ranks keep growing and growing.

Joan started for them, Ghost beside her at a steady lope. "Come on," she told them. "They'll want to talk to us."

"Can you be sure of that?" Rhaenys asked.

"If they wanted to attack, they would've come out charging."

Aegon looked back at the Kingsguard in command of their force. "Ser Jaime, have the men follow at a distance and make sure they keep in rank," he ordered. He followed after Joan, doing his best to at least try and look regal. It was hard to do with such a heavy cloak and bloody cold.

The four of them approached the wildings. Aegon could feel their eyes on him and his sisters. They were watching them, judging them. He had the urge to put his hand on Blackfyre's hilt and he could see Rhae had the same urge with Dark Sister. His hand twitched to do it but he didn't let it. Joan had told them not to do draw steel. It would lead to a fight. It was why she only carried Bloodraven's bow on her back.

They walked to a particular woman amongst the wildings. She looked no different than the others to Aegon's eyes. She was a hard-looking woman who carried a spear that easily matched her in height. As soon as Joan came close, she said, "It took you long enough to come back. Did you get lost on the way?"

"And hello to you too, Osha," Joan replied. "I happened to like the weather down below the Wall so I thought I would stay a bit."

"If that's true, why would you come back to this frozen waste? All that wine and boys should've been very distracting."

She wrinkled her nose in a frown. "In case you haven't notice, you lot are very loud. It's hard to be distracted when you're stomping around like a drunken mammoth." They glared at each other for a long moment. Then the smiles broke out. "It's good to see you again, Osha."

"You too, girl," she said. "Who are they?"

"It's my family."

"Don't look like no Starks to me."

Joan did look every inch a Stark, not a Targaryen, even so, Aegon felt himself prickle at the slight, unintended though it may have been. Actually, now that he thought of it, had Joan even mentioned she was Targaryen to these people? She had come here before they were particularly close to say the very least.

"The other family, Osha," Joan told her.

He took that to start the introductions. "I am Aegon Targaryen, Crown Prince of Westeros. These are my sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya. We've been sent here to talk to Mance Rayder."

The wildling spearwife looked them over once. She didn't look that impressed with them.

"You've come to talk but you've got an army back there."

"And you've got one back there," he shot back. The hell had she been expecting? For them to walk into the biggest wildling horde with nothing to back them up?

Joan looked to Osha. "We're here to see Mance," she said. "Let us go see him."

The spearwife shrugged. Aegon was glad when the wildings broke formation and created a path. They walked into the woods. There were more than what came out of the forest line. He saw children running around, stopping to stare at them curiously. This wasn't just an army. This was an entire people trying to get through the Wall.

Joan came to a stop before a large tent and they stopped alongside her. Three men stood in front of the tent, along with a woman holding a toddler at her hip. Two of the men looked fierce, the one wearing scale armor of bronze and the small but massive looking one with golden arm bands. The third man was plain in comparison to them. The only thing that stood out about him was the cloak he wore. If Aegon didn't know better, he would've thought the black coat riddled with scarlet was an attempt to mock them.

Joan stepped forward to the plain-looking man. "Hail, Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-The-Wall," she said formally, bending the knee.

"That's Mance?" Aegon thought to himself. He looked at his sisters. They shared the sentiment. The man didn't look very kingly.

The King-Beyond-The-Wall looked down at Joan. "Are you done?" he asked, sounding like a father exasperated by something his children had done. Joan grinned as she stood up and hugged him.

He returned the hug. When they were done, the massive man hugged her. "It is good to see you again, little girl!" he shouted as he hugged her tightly. "I suppose you've got some tales to tell now, don't you?"

"I think that they'll beat yours, Tormund."

"Har! We'll have to see!"

They broke the hug and she gave a brief nod to the third man. "Are they not on good terms?" Aegon wondered.

Joan looked around. "Where's Rattleshirt?"

"Dead," said Mance.

"Good, I hated him." She looked around but with a more concerned look. "Dalla?" she said.

An utter look of anguish on his face told it all. But the woman at his side said, "She's dead." She hoisted the toddler up on her hip. "This is her son, the little monster that he is." Joan tickled the babe, making him giggle.

Mance Rayder looked to Aegon and his sisters. "About time he noticed us," the Crown Prince thought. He didn't like his arse freezing out here.

"Joan, are you going to leave Prince Aegon and his sisters unintroduced?" he asked her.

She looked at them and at him. "You already know them," she replied.

"But they do not know us."

"Hm, I guess you've got a point." She stepped back until she was standing in the middle. "This is Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, and his sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya, Princesses of Summerhall." She looked at her siblings. "This is Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-The-Wall, his goodsister Val, Styr, Magnar of Thenn, and Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-talker, Horn-blower, Breaker of Ice, the Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, and Father of Hosts." She frowned. "Am I forgetting any of them?"

"Thunderfist, Speaker to Gods, and Husband to Bears," the wilding told her.

"Ah, right. Sorry." She had to have known Aegon and the others would be starting at the man. She wasn't even looking at them or gave a single explanation.

They walked into the tent. It was heated by crude braziers. Aegon was just glad for the warmth. There was no table in the tent. There were some chairs but they could barely be called that. He sat down in his and was surprised that it didn't collapse on him.

"So," said Mance Rayder, "Why has the King on the Iron Throne sent his children to me? Am I beneath his notice?"

It was a good thing Aegon had been expecting that answer. "No, he sent us to see how a man makes himself a king. He also sent us to talk to him."

"Talk," Tormund repeated. "A kneeler comes to the crows' aid and he wants to talk?"

"Yes. We came to talk and to offer terms."

The wildings clearly did not expect that. Joan was sniggering off to the side when she looked at their faces. "Terms?" said Mance, trying not to be so surprised.

Aegon nodded. "Yes, terms. My father has given me the authority to give you terms, discuss them, and fulfil them if they are agreed by us both."

"What are your terms?" asked the woman Val. She was still holding the toddler. Aegon looked at her. For the first time, he saw just how beautiful she was. Why hadn't he noticed before?

"The Iron Throne is willing to allow you through the Wall and settle in the Gift. But you will have to answer to the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that means."

Both Styr and Tormund frowned. "You'd have us be kneelers," Giantsbane said.

Rhae looked him in the eyes. "You want to come through the Wall and live in our land," she told him. "That means you have to live by our laws."

"Wildling's don't take well to the rules of lords and kings," Mance said.

Aegon shrugged. "My sister," he gestured to Joan, "is the one that convinced us to speak with you. Frankly, I thought it an optimistic idea. Those are the only terms we'll offer if you wish to get past the wall without bloodshed. Submit your people to the King's law and disarm."

Mance looked at him, stock still in his seat as he tried to stare down the prince of the Seven Kingdoms. He turned to look at Joan. "Will he keep his word? I'll tear down the Wall with the shin bones of the babes before I march them past to a slaughter, unarmed."

Joan, turned her eyes towards him, looking at him for just a moment before she answered. "Aye. I trust him."

Styr and Tormund didn't want it to happen but Mance agreed to it after her word. They weren't happy but they followed their king's commands. They all came out of the tent and Aegon watched Mance talk to his people. He spoke with confidence and reassurance. There were protests and he answered each one.

When the questions were all answered, the wildings grumbled but agreed. Aegon was impressed. He wasn't alone. "He calmed them all with words," Rhae said, impressed. "They listened."

Joan stood a little apart from them. It was a small distance but it seemed to put her closer to the wildings. "That's why he's the King-Beyond-The-Wall," she said. "He spent years making them listen to what he had to say. If he speaks, they will hear him."

"HEY!" an angry voice shouted amongst the wildings. Aegon turned his head to it and saw someone pushing their way through the crowd. It turned out to a woman with a pug nose, round face, angry eyes, and red flaming hair. "YOU!" she said, looking right at Joan. There was a spear clasped tightly in her hand.

Aegon's hand went for Blackfyre as she approached his sister. But then she dropped the spear, grabbed Joan like she was afraid to lose her, and kissed her hard. What was worse was that Joan returned it just as passionately.

Shock filled his heart. Rage and anger quickly replaced it. Who was this woman kissing his sister? That wasn't right! His hand twitched for Blackfyre, wanting to draw it out and hack the woman apart. Rhae and 'Senya looked exactly the same. "Joan," he said in a clenched voice when they finally stopped kissing, "Who's this?"

She looked at them, a little embarrassed. "This is Ygritte," she told them. "We were…together when I was with the Free Folk."

"Together," repeated 'Senya through clenched teeth.

She actually made a face at them. "You didn't actually think I was innocent whenever you came to me, did you?"

Visenya

(Location: Castle Black)

She found it a lot easier to think about Joan's teacher than her former lover. The way she had gone on about the Old Mother, Visenya had honestly expected this woman to be as tall as the Mountain had been, able to knock giants out with a single punch, and make men wet themselves with a look.

What she got was an old woman who being five feet tall would've been generous. She had leaned against her spear like she had to. But that didn't mean she was weak. When Joan had approached her for the first time since she left, Visenya watched her hit her sister across the head with her spear and proceeded to talk at such intensity and length that it was a wonder Joan hadn't been apologizing like a child having been caught doing something wrong. The gigantic mammoth behind her also helped.

Yes, it was easier to think of the Old Mother than Ygritte. The redhead seemed to take an immense pleasure in tormenting her, Egg, and Rhae about her and Joan. She also mocked them, uncaring if there was a dragon nearby ready to burn her.

Visenya stared at her across the yard. "I'm going to kill her," she growled.

Egg was there to stop her from doing that. "You can't kill her," he told her. He was trying to sound reasonable, like the prince he was supposed to be.

"You want to kill her just as much as I do, Egg," she said. "Even Rhae wants to kill her." It took a lot to make their eldest sister angry (aside from mentioning Father's nickname). But even she was considering taking Dark Sister and hacking the bitch apart.

But Egg wouldn't budge. "We can't kill her. We're trying to make sure all the wildlings come through the Wall safely. Anything we do could cause trouble." He looked at her pointedly. "You're attacking her and trying to kill her didn't help anything."

She clenched her fist at the memory, wanting to punch something. She wanted to say that he would've done the same thing in her position. But she knew that he wouldn't have. It happened because she had lost her temper. "It wasn't my fault," she muttered. "She kept tormenting me." What was she supposed to do? Ignore her when she throwing insults?

But it wasn't the fight she regretted, it was what happened when the fight was stopped. Joan had gotten between them, pushing them away. She demanded what the hell both of them were thinking. Visenya had taken those words to mean she was siding with the wildling girl. She had lashed out against Joan.

Later she would regret it but at that moment she was too angry. She demanded Joan just what the wildling girl meant to her. But that wasn't all or enough for her. She shouted at her sister, demanded answers she was too slow to give. She turned to insults, saying things to Joan that she hadn't believed in the longest time. By the time she got there, she didn't think about what she was saying. She just said it.

It was only when Egg pulled her away that she realized what had happened. Joan's face was so cold, colder than it had been in a long time, colder than the Wall. She only said there were things she had to done and she left. The wilding girl tried to go with her but was shoved away.

They hadn't seen Joan in a month since. She had stayed on the other side of the Wall, supposedly to help the rest of the Free Folk to come through. But Visenya felt like that was a lie. They had no word from her.

She missed her. Even though she had detested her sister when they met at Winterfell, Visenya wasn't ashamed to say that she had changed. It wasn't until Robert Baratheon had tried to invade and she went into battle the first time. After the battle, she had found herself in Joan's bed, clinging to her like she was the only grip on sanity Visenya had. Joan could've kicked her out of the bed, send her somewhere else. But instead, she held onto her and told her it would be alright.

And in the capital after the war, after the damn egg incident, she bared herself to Joan. She could've been rejected but she wasn't. Joan accepted the love she offered. Since then, they became close, closer than she ever was to Egg or Rhae. She had gone to visit Joan in the Point more than either of her siblings. If one of them had an idea, they discussed it fully with the other.

Finally, Visenya tore her gaze away from the wilding bitch. "I'm going to find something private to do," she told her brother.

He didn't stop her as she walked away. He just gave her a reminder. "The Old Mother wants the three of us to come see her later," he said. "We have more training to do." When the spearwife had seen their dragons, she hadn't impressed by them. Instead she claimed to be appalled by how poor skinchangers they were. She demanded they attend her and learn how to control their powers. They could've laughed her off but they saw how Joan obeyed her commands and thought better of it.

"I'll be there," she said, already walking away from him. Her feet took her to the armory storage. Since she was to be the warrior of the king's children, she learned more than how to fight and plan a battle. She also learned how to inspect arms and armor, cleaning away rust where she found it. It was a process that she found soothing and calming to her mind.

She was in the middle of inspecting a battle axe when she heard the armory door open. She turned around and saw that wilding bitch standing there. Anger bubbled in her throat and she started to sneer. For once, she wished Seawing wasn't so big. Her dragon on her shoulders would really be intimidating. Instead she asked, "What do you want?" She kept the battle axe in hand. It could prove useful.

"Nothing," the bitch said.

"If you want nothing, then go away. I'm inspecting the arms." She turned back to the weapons.

"Why? Can't you kneelers look at your own weapons?"

She wanted to hit her. "What do you want, wilding? Don't say nothing," she said before she could open her mouth. "If you wanted nothing, you wouldn't be here."

The wilding looked at her with a sneer. "I just wanted to see what it is that she sees in you lot."

She knew who she was talking about. "We're Joan's family." That was all she needed to know.

She walked closer to her. "You mean the family that spat on her and ignored her?" She smirked. "She told me all about you. How you mocked her, made trouble for her."

She didn't like having those memories brought up. "Things have changed."

"I don't think so. You wouldn't have yelled at her like that if they had."

She burned with anger and embarrassment. That happened because she had caused it. "You're just upset that she no longer wants to be with you." She had seen the two of them talking after that kiss. The bitch had stomped away, clearly angry. Since then, she was always glaring.

But now she was smirking. "Aye, that might be true. But the memories will still be mine." Visenya paused. "You don't know what I mean, do you?" Ygritte continued. "Funny, with all I've heard about you dragon folk, I would've thought you had her in your bed by now. But it's not like she was a maiden."

Her hands gripped the axe tighter. Her head looked very inviting to bury the axe in. "What do you mean?"

"She told you. All that she experienced, she learned from me. She came, scared and uncertain, but willing. Very willing," she said with a smirk.

"Shut up."

"What's wrong?" she asked, knowing full well what was wrong. "Did I make you angry? What do you have to be angry about?"

She took a threatening step towards her. "I told you to shut up."

"Are you going to make me, kneeler? You wouldn't last in a fight against—"

Three roars pierced the roof of the armory, dragon roars. Visenya looked upwards, even when she knew it wouldn't do anything. She tried reaching out for Seawing, like she was being taught. She didn't have much practice. All she got was a sense of raging emotions, all centered on a face, her sister's face. "Joan!" she screamed as the horns outside blew a long note.

She dropped the axe and ran for the door, shoving past the bitch. She saw the Watch rushing towards the gate. Someone was screaming "Get the fucking gate open now!" Rhae and Egg came running, holding their swords. Their eyes showing the same fear she had in her eyes. They all looked up to the Wall's top. Their dragons weren't there but they could hear them roaring and flying, on the other side.

The gate opened and they ran for it. But as they reached it, Ghost came running through. "Get clear!" Joan's voice shouted through the tunnel. She came with six more riders, two wildlings, two more from the watch and two more Stark men, astride a group of horses that looked like they were about to fall down.

But it wasn't the horses everyone started staring at. They were staring at the creatures huddled together on the sled tied to the horses. If Rhae hadn't shared the picture from a book in the library with them, Visenya never would've thought she was seeing them. But they were there: children of the forest. There six of them, two of which seemed smaller than the rest. She couldn't tell if any were male or female. Their ears kept flickering as they looked around, large eyes looking at everything. No one said a word.

Joan climbed down the horse on shaking legs. She rested against it for support. She looked weak, so weak. But then she pushed off and started shouting at everyone. "Get that gate closed! Get a watch atop the Wall! Look for wights and Others! And someone take care of the horses!" Like soldiers obeying their commander, the men of the Watch scattered to do as she commanded.

She came around the horse and looked at Castle Black again. She looked at it with new eyes. When she was done, it was clear she didn't find what she was looking for. Visenya watched her walk to the children and kneel before them, unsure if she should say anything. "I'm sorry," her sister said to them. "I know I said that I would take you to the forests when we got through the Wall, but night will fall soon. We'll have to stay the night."

"We do not blame you for that," one of the children spoke in a sweet woman's voice. "You brought us to safety when you could have left us to die. For that, we thank you."

"I did as I was asked by him." She looked around again and this time, her eyes fell to the sept. It wasn't the Sept of Balor. It was actually a little rundown. But she looked at it with interest. "Would you consider staying in the sept for the night?"

The children looked at the sept too. For a long moment, they didn't say anything. Visenya wondered if they would refuse. They looked to each other and seemed to communicate in silence. "We will look upon these gods and know them," their speaker declared.

Joan nodded her head. She looked to the bitch. The wilding brightened when their eyes met. "Ygritte," she asked, "could you escort them there? Make sure the septon doesn't kill them?"

The brightness faded and Visenya felt smug. It was clear what she was supposed to do. "Alright," the bitch said. She walked to the sept. The children followed after her, all staying close.

Joan watched them go. Once they were gone inside the sept, she finally looked at her siblings. A tired smile appeared. "Hello."

Visenya was the first to reach her, pulling her tightly into a hug. Egg and Rhae were right behind her. Together, they all hugged her tightly, holding onto her like they would lose her again. They took her to the King's Tower, where their rooms were. As soon as she was in the room, Joan went to the fire, sitting close to it. "Gods," she moaned. "I've missed the warmth."

"Joan," said Egg, "where have you been? We thought you were helping the wildings come through."

She looked away from the fire. Visenya saw how tired she was. She looked thin, like she hadn't eaten in the past few days. "It had started like that," she told him. "But then I was summoned."

"Summoned?" repeated Rhae. "You're a princess. Who can summon you?"

"Probably the closest thing to a god on this earth," she answered. "In his old life, he was Lord Brynden Rivers."

Visenya wanted to disbelieve that, say that her sister was still suffering from the cold. But she had still seen the children of the forest. "Bloodraven is still alive?" she asked instead.

"He used to be but that's not the point. He summoned me and had me bring the children to safety. The Others had found his cave and were descending upon it." She looked back to the fire. "He sacrificed himself to give us time to get away. We spent what felt like countless nights getting back to the Wall with the Others and their wights behind us. When I saw the Wall, I was never so relieved. Of course, I couldn't spend a moment's time to waste. They were right behind us." A tired smile graced her lips. "I was glad to see those dragons of yours take flight and come to my aide."

"Joan," said Rhae, "Those two smaller children, are they…?"

She nodded. "They're the young ones. And one of the females I rescued is pregnant. I'm hoping that they will be safe in the forests." She stood up and wavered. "I'll have to write to Lord Stark, let him know."

She made for the door but Egg stopped. "Joan, sit down," he told her. She looked ready to protest but she fell against his chest. He caught her and helped her to the bed, holding her gently. He sat her down. Rhae and Visenya came to her sides, holding her and giving her warmth. Egg knelt down in front of her.

"There are things I need to do," she tried to say.

Visenya held her firm. "They are things that can be done later," she said. "Honestly, Joan, you can't just keep running off like this. I know it's beginning to scare me." She was lying. It already scared her deeply. She looked at Egg and Rhae. The same feeling was in their eyes too.

Joan looked at them all. She saw their eyes. She looked down, unable to meet them. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just…used to doing things on my own."

The way she said those words, she sounded like the girl she had been before they had left the Eyrie, all those years ago. Visenya hated to see that. "Joan, we're here," Rhae told her.

"We don't like the people you associate with, but we're here," Visenya added. She only realized what those words after she said it.

Joan looked at her and then the others. "What do you mean by that?" she asked. They didn't answer but she somehow knew. "You three have been fighting with Ygritte."

"Not fighting, exactly," Rhae said. It sounded weak to them all.

Egg tried to strengthen it. "We've just tried to stay away from her."

She didn't believe them. "Why do you guys hate her?"

"She makes it so easy," Visenya told her. "All the time you've been gone, she's been there, tormenting us with what she knew. Before you returned, she tried to rub it in my face about she had you. I wanted to bury an axe in her head. I wanted to kill her. Why, Joan? Why her?" she asked.

"Would you believe me that she was the one who shot Ramsey Snow's dog?"

They all looked at her carefully. "Really?" asked Egg.

"No, that was Tormund. Ygritte was everything I wanted to be then. She was brash, confident, unyielding in what she believed, and brave. I thought if I could be her friend, I would get some of what she had. The love came later."

"Who started it?"

"Does it matter?"

It did matter. It was one thing if the wilding made the first move. If it was their sister, it was something else. "It matters," Visenya told her.

"It doesn't matter. I told her that what we had was over." She looked at them all. "I've changed."

It should've been reassuring, her saying those words. But Visenya didn't feel so reassured. She looked at her siblings. They didn't look reassured either. An idea came to her. It was bold, unprecedented, and would probably send many lords into a rage. But she didn't care about that. What she did care about was her sister. "Joan, if you had to marry us, the three of us, would you?"

Egg and Rhae were surprised but she could see the question in their eyes. They wanted to know too. Joan looked at the fire, her gaze not showing anything. Visenya wondered if she would say no.

But she didn't. "Yes," she said quietly.

Arianne

(Location: Water Gardens)

As Ellaria came down to the breakfast table, Arianne looked at her. "Well?" she asked.

"She still refuses to come out," Ellaria said. She didn't sound irritated by that but amused. "Apparently, it's still 'too damn hot.'"

Prince Aegon laughed as he cut open a blood orange. "How the mighty have fallen. Considering how she teased us for the cold in the north, I can't help but feel this is justice."

"Laugh if you want to tempt fate," Rhaenys told him. "If someone has to go talk to the wildlings again, guess who father will be sending."

Aegon kept his smile, turning it on her. "Let's bloody well hope not it's not you, Father's little maester."

His sister gave him a dirty look. "Would you stop calling me that? You know how much I detest that name."

Visenya grinned. "How else are we supposed to keep your head swelled with pride, dearest sister?" Aegon laughed, even harder when Rhaenys turned her frown at him.

Arianne laughed with her cousins. She was glad that they had come here to the Water Gardens. After the events to the north, Rhaegar decided his children deserved a reward, what better place than Dorne with their cousins.

Of course, that was the official version. The unofficial version was that the king had to get his third daughter, Princess Joan, out of the North. The wildlings listened almost solely to her, not the King's authority, or Ned Stark. If peace was to be lasting, the King needed to be sure there was a legitimate chance of it, not just the illusion brought by Joan's presence.

And not once since coming here had she come out of her room. At first, she had found it amusing but now Arianne was getting annoyed. "I believed that I offered the princess some of my dresses," she said to her cousins. "Did she not find them suitable?"

Ellaria laughed. "She asked if I was japing with her when she saw them."

"Not surprising," Visenya remarked off-handily.

She looked at her cousin with a suspicious look. "Is that supposed to mean something, coz?"

"It should. Have you seen what you wear, Ari? Some of those dresses are so sheer, all you have to do is stand in the light and people would see through them."

It was amazing how naïve her cousin could be. That was the point. But Ellaria laughed again. "Your sister was of the same opinion, Visenya," she said. "She told me that she could wear a sheet and have the same effect."

"And then you offered me a sheet," said the princess in question as she walked into the room, looking at her with a frown.

Arianne wasn't the only one who turned to look at her standing behind Ellaria. Rhaenys started to look at her with a smile but it quickly turned to shocked surprise. "Joan, what are you wearing?"

She looked down and then back up, confused. "Clothes," she said. But it was nothing so simple.

"Where's the rest of it?" her sister asked her.

Arianne stared at her. She was wearing men's clothes that were obvious not tailored to her. They looked to be a size too big on her. But that wasn't the issue. What the issue was that her tunic had no sleeves and the pants stopped above her knees. It was all held together by a heavy belt around her waist.

Still, while shocking, it was also appealing. Arianne saw her skin and the muscles underneath. This girl had strength in her and the way she moved showed how she didn't care what others thought of it. It was intriguing to see her walk to the table. "I wasn't going to stay in the room forever," she said, sitting down next to Visenya. "But I wasn't going to wear any of those dresses. I had to make do." She reached for a few choice meats and fruits.

Aegon eyed her up and down. If Arianne didn't know better, she would've thought that look was more than it was. "Hacking apart clothes is making do?" he asked his sister.

She glared at him. "I'm out of that room and I'm not wearing a bedsheet." Ellaria snorted a giggle at that remark. Her daughters didn't hold back that much. They giggled loudly and smiled broadly at the princess.

Arianne suppressed the insulted pride she felt. "So," she asked them. "What shall we do today, cousins? Perhaps we should go to the beach and enjoy the sea?" There was a small beach near the Water Gardens, something that she had always enjoyed.

While her cousins looked as if they wanted to, the wolf princess looked more nervous and scared. "If you want to do that, go ahead," she told them all. "I'll find something else." Visenya swung her head her way, a grin beginning to appear on her face. "Not a word, 'Senya."

"Did something happen?" Elia Sand asked, confused. Arianne felt the same thing.

Now Rhaenys was grinning. "Joan got seasick coming down to Dorne. So she's naturally afraid of the sea."

"That's not why and you know it, Rhae," she said back. "And I'm not afraid of the sea." She looked down at her food. There was an embarrassed look on her face. It made her look more like the girl she was supposed to be. "It just unnerves me."

That just sounded like the most ridiculous thing Arianne had ever heard. "Unnerves you?" she repeated, letting her know just how stupid that sounded. "How does it unnerve you?"

"It's just…there. It's completely empty, devoid of anything."

That was even more ridiculous. "There is something there, the sea."

"Arianne, leave her be," Aegon told her.

Joan herself spoke. "It's alright. You go have fun at the beach. I've got something to deal with."

He looked over at her. "What's that?"

"How I'm going to get Ghost out of that room." She said it with such a straight face, she had to be serious. Still, everyone laughed.

---

For the next two weeks, Princess Joan baffled and irritated Arianne. She kept her distance, preferring the company of her wolf. She would stay back and watched the children as they played in the pools, never joining them. The only ones who seemed to get her out were her siblings and the younger Sand Snakes. With them, she responded and smiled. To others, she was quiet and guarded.

Arianne's older cousins interacted with her but only in the sparring yard. She would spar with them and that was it. Arianne tried to get her involved many times, to talk to her as a woman to another, but she would always get that guarded look and clipped tone. None of her warmth, none of her smiles, was for her.

It should've infuriated the Dornish princess. But she found herself watching the wolf girl. There was something about her that made her watch. She didn't know what it was. Maybe it was because of her looks. While she wasn't a great beauty like Arianne, but there was something about Joan Targaryen that made people pause and look at her.

It came to Arianne one night when a thunderstorm broke over the Gardens. She was coming back to her room, passing the pools, when she saw Joan standing out there, close to the pools. "What's she doing out there?" she thought, keeping to the shadows near a column. The wolf had always refused offers to join them in the pools, especially when the sun set (the children enjoyed the waters during the day but the night belonged to the adults and their fun). And now, she was standing out there, in the pouring rain.

Thunder cracked overhead and boomed. Joan looked up at the dark sky. A smile, a full smile appeared on her lips, and it made her radiant. She began to dance in the rain. This wasn't a dance of the court but a childish dance. It wasn't even a good dance. But it was clear that she was enjoying it. She danced amongst the rain almost as if she was trying to dodge every raindrop.

Arianne watched her beauty became more evident. "Seven hells," Arianne thought to herself as she kept watching. She stepped outside of the shadow so she could see better.

Joan twirled in the rain, the smile on her lips carefree. She laughed and danced. She didn't care about the thunder above. But when she saw Arianne, she froze. The joy on her face crumbled away. She became human again. Arianne opened her mouth but she took off.

The Dornish princess took off after her without even thinking about it. "Wait!" she called out, her voice carrying her authority. Joan froze at that command, stopping in the middle of the hallway. She looked back and the worry in her eyes made her look more like a girl and less like a woman. She seemed more vulnerable.

Arianne came to a stop in front of her. "What were you doing out there?" were the first words out of her mouth.

Joan lost the worry, replacing it with her usual guarded look. "I felt like it."

"You felt like dancing outside in the middle of a thunderstorm?" It sounded so stupid to her. Why would anyone want to dance in the rain?

"I have never been in rain that warm before," she said shortly. "Have you been in rain that's cold and stinging? I don't think you have. So don't begrudge me this." She turned around, still sopping wet.

She was right. Now that Arianne had thought about it, she had never been in rain that was cold enough to make her shiver. She had always heard how Joan had lived with the wildings and then in the wolfswood.

"You're right," she admitted. "I've never thought of it something like that. I suppose we're different in that."

"We're different in more ways than one."

There was something in those words. Something about them made Arianne irate. She could see how the girl in front of her didn't want to be here, in Dorne. "You don't want to be here in Dorne, do you?" she asked.

Thunder boomed overhead. "I'm here because the king has made me come. If it were up to me, I would rather go back north."

She heard something more, how the girl didn't want to be here. "Then go," she told her. "Go back north. There's nothing keeping you here."

Joan's eyes burned with outrage. "There is something keeping me here."

Arianne grew angry. Then she felt foolish. Of course there was something keeping her here. She was barely out of sight from one of her siblings. But she wasn't going to let this girl know that she was right. "You've run away once, what's stopping you from running away again?"

She watched the girl bunch her hand into a fist. She meant to strike her. She didn't do anything except wait. She released the fist and looked at her. "There is more than that."

Arianne couldn't believe it. It was clear that the girl had never wanted to come to Dorne. "What?"

"There is…something I would like to see."

"Then go see it." It was as simple as that.

Joan was silent. She was thinking. "You know what? You're right. I should go see it. Thanks for that, Princess." She turned around and walked away.

"Wait, what?" Arianne couldn't help but think. She was just going to walk off and leave what seemed like a good argument brewing to die? She was tempted to go after her just so they could finish the argument. "No, don't do that, Arianne." She would prove to the girl that she was the better person. She turned around and walked back to her own rooms.

The next morning, when her cousins found their sister missing and becoming frantic, she realized that she had caused it. But she kept quiet. She wasn't going to reveal it to them.

Rhaegar

(Location: Dorne)

When he received the raven from Aegon that Joan was missing again, Rhaegar did not panic. Not this time. Some might have considered that strange, even cold. After all, he had torn through the Riverlands and the Vale for four months trying to find her. But somehow, he knew where she was going this time. It wasn't back north.

Instead of sailing down to Sunspear to meet with his children, he sent them instructions to keep looking but to meet him at Starfall. He rode down to Oldtown with the Kingsguard. From there he sailed into Dorne and up the Torentine to Starfall. Once he had arrived, he eased his children's worries but told them to stay. They had wanted to argue but he had a feeling that what would come next, they shouldn't see.

From Starfall, he and three of the Kingsguard rode out. They rode into the mountains, to a place he had hoped to leave behind. "Gods," said Arthur riding beside him, "I had hoped we would never see this tower again." Oswell didn't say as much but his foul look agreed.

Barristan Selmy, his Lord Commander since Ser Gerold passed away, looked up at what Rhaegar had once called the Tower of Joy. "Are you sure she is here, your Grace?" he asked.

"She's here," Rhaegar told him. "It's the only place she would go in Dorne." They rode up to the tower in silence. The last time he was here, it was Ned Stark. Both of them had come for a woman they both loved only to mourn her.

That hitching post was still there, still strong and sturdy. They tied their horses to that post and approached the tower. Joan's direwolf was there, lying down against the door. It looked up as they approached. Rhaegar knew that it was standing sentry for her. He looked up at the tower. He knew where the window to that room was and half expected to see Lyanna there. But the window was empty.

"I will go in alone," he declared.

His Kingsguard didn't like that idea. "My king, that is not wise," protested Ser Barristan.

"We do know what's up there, Ser Barristan. My daughter," he answered. "She'll be waiting for me and me alone." He went for the door. Ghost let him pass.

Climbing up those steps felt like an eternity but then the door was there, waiting for him. His hand was slow as it pushed it open and he walked in. Joan was standing there, looking at the bed. "She died here, didn't she?" she asked without looking at him. "She died in this bed."

He didn't need to ask who his daughter was talking about. They both knew. "She did," he said, closing the door behind him. He walked around to the other side so he could look at her. "Both I and your uncle mourned her when she passed."

"And you left for King's Landing, with me."

"Yes. Your uncle wanted to take you back to the North, to Winterfell."

She frowned at him. "You should've let him."

"No, I brought you back to where you belonged, with your family."

"My family?" she repeated, her anger growing beneath her voice. "You mean the family that took my name away from me when your wife gave you a third child, a second daughter? You mean the family that treated me like I wasn't there unless I could be blamed for something they did?"

He remembered. He also remembered something else. "They are not those people anymore."

"It still happened!" she snapped. "And where were you when all of this happened? You were there and you said nothing! You did nothing!" If she had something in her hands, she probably would've thrown it at him.

"You're right," he confessed. "I did nothing." Her anger started to blaze but he continued to speak. "I did nothing because I had to."

"Why?" she asked him.

"I am the king. I must be the example for all others to follow. I must think of the realm as a whole. I must think of it first before I think of my family. Other kings have thought of themselves or their families first and those actions have caused chaos in the Seven Kingdoms. I did the same once and threw Westeros into a war. I will not let that happen again." He looked hard at her. "One selfish choice caused so much death. Not unlike when you refused the egg. I was angry that you would refuse something that would help bring the realm together."

Her anger roared into her voice. "I didn't want that fucking egg! I wanted your love! I wanted you to know that I was your daughter!" she screamed. But even as she showed her anger, her eyes filled with tears.

"You are my daughter. You have my love."

She came around the bed so fast, grabbing him by his jerkin. "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!?" The tears were finally falling down her cheeks, leaving a wet trail in their wake.

It hurt him to see her like this. It truly did. "When Visenya was born and Elia wanted to name her so, even though you had that name, I had to think of what could've happened if I refused. How much insult would the Martells take? How much more could I give? But still, when you vanish from us, I searched for moons to find you. When I heard from your siblings that you were in Winterfell, it took the Small Council to stop me from riding north immediately. All I could do was to send Ser Lewyn back north, to protect you and teach you the spear."

"Ser Lewyn hated me because your wife hates me. You had to have known that."

"I did but I had hoped that he would do his duty to you and you would simply learn from him. I was wrong, I admit that. Still, I did not force you to come south and I was happy to see you when you did. When I heard of your fight with Robert, I will swear until my dying day that I felt my heart stop. Aegon and Visenya stayed by your bed when I wasn't there."

"And you tried getting me married off," she said with acidic accusation.

"If I had, I would have chosen your husband for you and made you marry him," he rebuked her.

She didn't enjoy that. "I was still made to choose one!"

"Because I wanted to see you happy, Joan," he replied. "I felt that you did not wish to be in the Red Keep. I thought that a marriage would get you away from it, even if I did not want it. I also knew that I could not force you into it, like I had with Aegon and his sisters. It was why I allowed you to choose yourself."

The tears were still falling. "I didn't want that. I just wanted to hear you say three words. Three, simple, words," she repeated. "How hard is it to say those three words?"

She was right. How hard was it to say it? He had never said them to her. That had to change. He looked into her eyes. "I love you," he told her. "I'm sorry I never said it before now. But I love you, Joan."

Those words broke her. She slammed herself into his body, crying fully now. He held her in place, kissing her hair and telling her those words she wanted to hear. They stayed there for some time. How long, he didn't know, nor did he care.

Joan

(Location: the North)

The rope rested taut against her shoulder. It was a good feeling, something that she missed. Of course, fighting a sleigh with a moose through the bush was a feeling that she didn't miss. If there were one thing she missed about the Point, the bush was easier to get a sled through.

As soon as she saw her cabin in the clearing, she stopped and looked with a smile. Though the cabin in the Point was a good one, this one would always be the cabin in the woods for her. It had been a ruin before her uncle had repaired it. It was two stories with the second floor all the bedroom. It was a nice big room with a nice big bed.

Of course, there was also who was waiting inside for her. She looked down at Ghost. "I still find it hard to believe," she told the direwolf. "I'm married."

She was married to her siblings. It happened only four days ago. After their Father had sent them back North to ease more negotiations with the Wildlings and even bring other clans further south with the North being so very sparse on fertile farmland to support the new influx of people.

It had been the fifth time in as many months and this time, Senya had 'decided' to ask while they were all here, so far away from the capital and its prying eyes. She married them before the nearby heart tree.

The witness to it had actually been, surprisingly, Jamie Lannister who smiled at the four of them coyly, the whole way, promising to keep the secret. Since they were married, the four of them had spent the days in her cabin. She could only imagine the fits the Seven Kingdoms at large was beginning to have with all four of them effectively missing. They would have to leave soon, but for now she could enjoy this. It was a little difficult for them, and a little more than amusing for her. They had been raised in castles, had lived in them most of their lives. What they were doing right now was new for them.

Still she helped, and they were learning. She pulled the sled around the back of the cabin, where she could skin the moose. Visenya was there, waiting for her. Her sister looked and her smile brightened her face. "There you are, Joan. I've wanted to try this again."

"I hope this time won't be so horrendous," she replied. Visenya was the most enthusiastic out of them for trying out this life, but her enthusiasm sometimes made more of a mess of skinning. She turned back to the sled. "Come help me with this?"

They both grabbed the moose and hauled it to the skinning table. There, Joan guided her sister through how to skin it. To her credit, she didn't retch when the guts came out, when the skin came off, or when it was deboned. She got a little excited at points but Joan was able to guide her back before she went off.

Their hands were bloody and so were their clothes when they were done. "Come on," Joan told her. "Let's get this salted and placed in the cellar." Once they were done with the salting, they carried it to the cellar doors. She opened the doors and walked down the steps carefully. There was a rack there for the meats. They placed the moose meat there, ready to be used later.

They went back up and entered the cabin. Aegon looked from where he was in the kitchen. "I thought I heard you two out there," he said. "When did you get back, Joan?"

"Recently," she answered. "How's the dinner coming?" As it turned out, Aegon had some skill with cooking. He enjoyed it and took to commanding her kitchen like he had always been there. Whatever he was cooking now, it smelled great.

"It's coming along. It should be ready once you cleaned up."

She nodded. "Then we'll go to the steam room." The steam room was something that only this cabin had. After learning how to bath with the steam from the Free Folk, it was something that she just couldn't give up. When her uncle rebuilt this cabin, she made sure that the steam room was added.

They stripped off their clothes, throwing them into the bucket that would be used to wash them. Rhae walked out as they were walking in. "Alright, Joan, I'll admit it," she said. "That room is beginning to appeal to me."

Joan looked at her. The steam room certainly agreed with her. "You didn't bring a book in this time, did you?"

She chuckled. "No, I learned my lesson after you tore through the door the last time." It had been a terrifying experience.

"I just didn't want you to lose your book. The steam would've done terrible things to it."

Visenya looked like she was getting impatient. "Can we go in now?" she asked. "We're wasting the steam." Their sister let them pass and they went into the steam room. There, they lounged as the sweat soaked through their pores. Joan watched her sister relax and smiled to herself.

When they were done, they changed their clothes and joined Rhae and Egg at the dinner. Egg had cooked a stew that was hot and edible. They might've thought it wasn't up to the same level as the cooking in the Red Keep, but Joan had learned a long time ago not to be picky. "It's good, Egg," she told him,

He smiled. "Thank you, Joan. I tried something different."

Rhae took a bit of the stew meat and closed her eyes to savor it. "Whatever it was, I love it," she said. "Was it some kind of herb?" She had been finding all the different herbs in the wolfswood and cataloguing them, some didn't grow down south. They needed the cold.

"No, some spice." He looked at his food in thought. "I'm starting to think of the Seven Kingdoms as a kind of stew."

All three of his sisters stop eating at that. "A stew?" asked Joan, a smile coming out in force on her lips. "Are you serious, Egg?"

Her brother actually looked insulted that she would say that. "Of course I'm serious. Separate ingredients are their own thing but when they are mixed into a stew, they come together and make something greater than themselves, just like the Seven Kingdoms."

'Senya gestured with her spoon. "And yet, somehow, I don't think the lords of Westeros will like being compared to a stew."

"I never said I would tell them I'm not a complete idiot sister."

"Well, there was that time at Summerhall…"

His face went red. It wasn't from how hot the stew was. "We agreed to never bring that up again."

She looked innocently at him. "Then how would I tease you?"

Rhae rolled her eyes at the foolishness, but Joan could see that she was enjoying this. She looked around the cabin. "It's hard to believe that we only have another week here in this cabin,"

They all stopped and thought about that. A raven had been sent to the king about what they had done. They hadn't received a reply. They all wondered what their father's reaction would be. Joan was more concerned about what the queen's reaction would be. The relationship between her and Queen Elia was cold at best.

"Do you think we could delay going back south?" 'Senya asked. "They're just gonna send us back north soon enough anyway."

Joan saw what she was doing. She was stalling. "'It would only delay what comes next," she told her sister. "We'd have to go back to King's Landing sooner or later."

"I recommend that we get Uncle Oberyn on our side," Rhae suggested. "He would understand our situation and support us."

The Red Viper just might do that. But she dismissed it from her mind. "Rhae, that's later. Let's focus on what we have here and now." It was a sentiment that they could all agree on. They finished the meal and Joan shooed them away while she cleaned the kitchen.

She always found the work of cleaning the kitchen soothing. There was just something about the work, tiring and somewhat filthy as it was, that relaxed her. Maybe it was just the work. She always found relaxation in work. It must've come from her time pretending to be a servant and being amongst the Free Folk. She wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty.

With the last pot cleaned, it was time for bed. She quickly checked on Ghost and the dragons. They were all content, sleeping peacefully. Her wolf slept inside the cabin while the dragons had made nests outside, keeping close. But when she checked the guest bedroom, she saw that it was empty. It was odd, but she had a feeling she knew where her siblings were.

She climbed the ladder to the second floor, right above the kitchen. The candles were still burning, making the space glow with warm fire. She saw the three separate sets of clothes on the floor before she saw them in the bed. "We've been waiting, Joan," Egg said, lounging naked in the center.

'Senya and Rhae were by his sides, just as naked as he was. The candlelight danced on their skins, making them all glow. Again, she was struck by just how beautiful her siblings were. Seeing them all like this made her throat dry. "I can see that," she said, clearly noticing how ready his cock was. Her heart was pounding in her chest. "This is a first." The past nights, she had only shared the bed with one of them while the other two shared the guest bed.

Rhae stretched out almost cat-like. Her dark eyes were heavy with desire. "We decided that we wanted to try something different. And well…" Her smirk seemed much more sensual now. "This was something on all our minds."

She could agree with that. She had wondered what it would be like to sleep with more than one of her siblings. She had just never acted on that fantasy, thinking that it would never happen. Yet now, the possibility was right there before her. 'Senya got off the bed and walked to her, her hips swaying in the candlelight.

She came to Joan and kissed her. As they kissed, her hands worked to free Joan's hair from its tail, letting it fall free down her back. The kiss stopped and she silently led her sister back to the bed. Rhae came to them and together, 'Senya and her stripped Joan of her clothes.

It was a slow strip since they would kiss every inch of her flesh, slowly and teasingly. By the time Joan was completely naked, it was all she could not to buckle from all the pleasure they lathering her with. Her eyes were on Egg. He hadn't moved from where he waited. He watched it all happen with patient desire.

She came to him, crawling up his body to kiss him on the lips. He tasted like the spice the stew had been cooked with. She leaned back and let him enter her. As it always did, the sensation of him filling her made her gasp. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her. He started to move his hips, slowly. The pleasure could've made her weep.

'Senya was at her side, kissing her neck. She looked down and kissed her in her curly white hair. Rhae was kissing Egg hard, fighting passionately with their tongues. All the while, his hips would not stop moving. He slowly coaxed her to her peak and when she reached it, he helped her reach past it.

The pleasure overwhelmed her, both from him and 'Senya. She lifted her head in a wordless scream of pleasure. As she came down from the peak she had reached, she pulled herself off of him. Together with her younger sister, they worked Egg back to wanting more.

They spent the night like this, ravishing each other with their bodies and their need for each other. When the morning came, they all lay together in a mess of tangled limbs and bodies, feeling completely tired and satisfied. "You know," Joan said with a content voice, "We should do this more often."

The others chuckled and agreed. She drifted back to sleep. Here, resting on Egg's chest and holding 'Senya's head to her breasts, she felt safe and at peace. She didn't want to leave this safe feeling of the people she loved.

End

Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

If any of you were wondering how Joan knew Joffrey had said on the way into King's Landing, let's just say that she had Ghost watching any would be suitors.

The song Joan played during the feast was Caoineadh Chú Chulainn, from Riverdance. It fitted the situation perfectly. Listen to it at the scene and you'll understand. Also, the song that was played in the village is D'aon Ghuth Amhain by Seo Linn. That is one good Irish band.

I do believe that the ancient Valyrians were skinchangers with dragons. They just weren't good at it. I don't know if there are any actual skinchangers in Essos or used to be. But if they weren't, it would stand to reason they had use other things to help them with dragons.

You know, it might because the books were set in wartime or because of the walls, but I never understood why King's Landing expanded the city limits. If it was filled to burst with people with a stink to match, more room would've helped with some of the problem. Then again, that might be the root of the whole expand or die concept.

I'll see you all next chapter!