Tyrion Lannister

Casterly Rock, 301 AC

His father had arrived through the night. A part of him was annoyed by such a thing because there was only two ways he would've gotten here with no prior knowledge. Whilst Jaime was gods know where he was technically the Heir of Casterly Rock. When they'd made their escape from Kings Landing once it became clear they would need to remobilise their armies and come up with new tactics to take back what was taken from them- this fact had span in his head and Tyrion was not ashamed to admit it made him feel seen for once. Not seen solely for being a dwarf or the embarrassment of House Lannister, but actually seen.

So the fact he was unaware of the visit had firmly ripped the rug from under his feet. Only because it was a common occurrence was he able to keep his body firmly planted on the ground. Either his father had not liked what he had heard and had come here to talk sense, or his rat of a nephew had written a letter complaining. Joffrey had whined when he was firmly told that he would not be ruling Casterly Rock nor would he be ruling Lannisport. His sister had been furious and had pitched herself for the task which if anything only angered their father even more. It was rare he took glee in watching her be put in her place due to her volatile nature, but even Cersei wouldn't dare try anything against Tywin Lannister.

They'd all split up, it was dangerous to remain in a pack because then there was a singular target to be hit. Which in turn meant there was a distinct possibility of that one particular place being targeted on all sides. They could not risk such a thing. He had been ordered to remain in Casterly Rock with Joffrey- with strict orders not to coddle him like his mother did. Cersei had fumed at the blatant disrespect and had fought their father on it, begged that she remain with her son, and yet his view had not changed. One of the main reasons they were in the mess they were was because Joffrey had never been checked once in his life and the result was he believed everything in the world was owed to him.

His father had taken up residence in Castamere- well, what was left of it. He had not done so alone, taking a valuable prisoner with him who was being sharply questioned to try and get information out of him. As annoying as it was, Tyrion had to respect Lord Stark for his hardiness for he had yet to break under his father. Tywin hated it, that much was obvious given the curl of his lips the other two times he had made the journey to Casterly Rock. The first visit was to explain Tommen was to be fostered in Fair Isle with the Farman's. When his sister had heard such a thing she had screeched aloud. Throwing items at anything and anyone. From expensive pottery to gold of such a shit quality they at best would use it to decorate their chamber pots. She'd tried to flee with Joffrey that night but was caught by the guards throughout Lannisport and marched unceremoniously back to Casterly Rock.

The second visit was one he took immense glee in himself. Watching in amusement as his sister was told that she would be leaving Casterly Rock without her eldest son. She'd ignored it at first, believing it to be a bluff. Yet their father never once made a threat idly. It became clear in the first few weeks the sooner they separated Cersei and Joffrey the better a chance they had to make the boy more amendable to criticism.

"Why don't we just kill him and get it over with?"

Tyrion was brought out of his thoughts as he blinked a few times before looking to his nephew who as per usual was sporting a bored expression. Toying with the sword at his hip that wouldn't cause any damage as the blade was blunted. Not that anyone in Casterly Rock knew of such a thing, for that would make them look weak and that was something they could not risk. In the meantime seeing their King with a sword at his hip suited them just well and signified they were not stepping down from the fight.

"If we kill Robb Stark now we have nothing to prevent an attack on our walls."

His father spoke, his face tightened confirming Robb Stark had still not broke under whatever his father was doing to him. Credit was due where credit was due, and it was rather amusing because it was clear to those who knew his father well he respected the resilience. He did despise it though. Wondering not for the first time what might've happened if his rat of a nephew did not order Eddard Stark's head cut off on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. That act alone had damaged their campaign in many ways. It gave them one less hostage to barter with (especially because the Stark daughters had escaped), it littered a holy place publicly which angered the High Septon and his lackeys, and it also angered the bloody Hightower's considering they were in control of the Citadel and the Starry Sept.

"Good. Let the bastard come and face me man to man."

Tyrion fought to keep his snort in at those words. Words of a ludicrous nature. Whilst Jaeron Targaryen was only a couple years older than his nephew, he had proven battle experience whereas Joffrey did not- his nephew had ran like the scared child he was during Blackwater. What an idiot, why did his sister allow him to become what he had? He knew why, because she was just as rotten to the core as he was, she was just better at hiding it than her eldest son.

"We will not be killing Robb Stark. That is not up for debate. Is the girl settled?"

Joffrey froze on the spot at the direct refusal, clearly assuming that because they were plotting to put him back on the throne that they would all listen to his wants and dance along to them all. He should be used to it by now- Tyrion mused. On more than one occasion he had been humbled and yet he still wasn't seeing through the air of arrogance that followed him everywhere.

"She has been settled in a small house as requested. With a guard of course, we cannot have it be known she isn't who we are saying she is."

It was a dangerous game they played. For if Sansa Stark were to appear again the façade would break. House Lannister would be seen as weak and that was a legacy his father would not stand for. He'd proven such a thing before when the Reyne's and Tarbeck's ran his grandfather into the ground as he was as easy to walk over as a cobbled street. If things went well, the 'betrothal' would be broken soon which would give them more options to get more people to their side through marriage, and Jeyne Poole could be set loose to go wherever she wished but sworn to secrecy. His nephew had started ranting away a few minutes before but he had long tuned out the noise of such a thing. Instead focusing on the raven they had received and the still unbroken seal. His father didn't need to say anything to him, he could feel his gaze on him as he took a small blade that was sat on the table and pried it free to reveal the contents.

"His Grace has written to us."

He spoke with boredom, but this changed when Joffrey caught on to his words. Tyrion looking up for a moment to gather the boys expression which did not disappoint. Face going such a deep shade of red in anger he looked like a berry.

"I am the King, not that pup who claims my damned throne on lies!"

"I am sure your uncle was not insulting you, grandson. You are the King, and we will see you back in the Red Keep by years end."

Oh he wasn't insulting him, he was simply stating a fact. It was a fact Joffrey detested because it further put his legitimacy into question which was already weaning low. Especially with his sisters ridiculous decision to reveal the truth of the birth of her children as a last ditch attempt to stay with them. Alas, father had remained stoic despite his whole legacy being put into question and she had been ordered far away to the Golden Tooth where she could no longer sink her claws and fangs into her sons and seep her poison into them. For Joffrey it was already likely too late, but there was still hope for Tommen.

"Read the words, Tyrion. We do not have the whole day."

"Yes, please read the words the bastard is spouting now."

He was half tempted to spit back that he was the one that was the bastard. Tyrion knew it, Tywin knew it even if he was denying it openly, most of Westeros knew it. Finally looking down at the words and reading them aloud. Each word bringing worse news than before. By the time he had finished, he knew his face was likely as white as a freshly woven linen sheet. Pausing for a few seconds and only once he tried to talk realised his mouth had gone dry.

"He has uncle Kevan."

His father snorted at the words.

"That's not possible, Kevan was sent to Essos- "

"The last line is written in his hand."

He cut him off. For a moment his father had a similar expression to his nephew but this was masked quickly as he reached over to take the parchment out of Tyrion's hands. Reading over it himself and despite his body appearing calm, he saw the rage in his eyes. There was no denying it, they couldn't use the excuse that someone else could have written the last line for it matched far too much for comfort.

"We must answer in blood!"

"For the last time, we are not killing Robb Stark! Especially now or are you too mad to see the obvious truth of what would happen then?!"

Joffrey expectedly went a deep red again but was broke off by Tywin.

"No. We will not be killing Robb Stark this day. Or any day near. So long as he is alive, we have collateral we can use to our advantage. The pup has shown before that he is not against a brash move. How my brother allowed himself to be captured by him is a mystery at this point yet it has happened."

"We cannot face him on the field, not with two dragons at his back."

Tyrion continued, the sheer thought of dragons being around astonishing him. Thinking long and hard for a possible move they could make. They couldn't face him on the field, and they were not going to bow to him. They did not have a contact within the Red Keep anymore unless by some miracle they could sway Varys. Yet he'd turned his cloak too and had worked to crown Jaeron's older half-brother behind his back. Their initial plan was to let them fight over everything and then to reap the spoils of war, yet the more days that passed the more futile that strategy seemed. They had to use one of their advantages, but what advantage could outmanoeuvre two dragons? His father and nephew were talking rapidly now but he ignored them, focusing instead on his own thoughts.

They couldn't face Jaeron on the field because of the dragons. They couldn't take one of the many Keep's from Casterly Rock to the Red Keep because of the dragons. They couldn't openly make allies because of the dragons. They couldn't attack by the sea because of the expansive Velaryon, Redwyne, and Manderly fleets- not to mention the fucking dragons. There only was two routes they could take. One would be to find a way to get close enough to take out one or preferably both dragons- with luck the silver one with Jaeron atop its back. It wouldn't be the first time a Targaryen had been shot out of the sky atop their dragon, yet it would be difficult. The only known cases of it were other dragonriders doing the job or in Dorne's case a miraculous shot in the eye by a scorpion. The only other option they had was infiltration…

He paused. Thinking it over. Remembering one of the last conversations had in Kings Landing between a whore and his father. A whore who was linked to Chataya and Alayaya, both of which were amendable to him at least. Whether they would willingly work with him was hard to say, but if they could sow some seeds of doubt in the city…

"Marei."

He spoke the name quietly at first. So quietly it seemed his father and nephew did not hear him. Yet when they stopped, it became clear they had and waited on him to continue speaking. Walking over to the detailed map of Kings Landing they had and had been pouring over for weeks with no idea on what to do. Placing lion figurines on the places they could count on and humming to himself as a plan began to brew in his mind. Alas, the planning was interrupted by his nephew.

"Speak your piece, uncle. I have no patience for this- "

"House Staunton still stand with us, don't they?"

He asked his father, ignoring his brat of a nephew who went dark red once again at the insult. Tyrion was long past caring what was and wasn't an insult to him, even found it amusing to watch him pout and rage every now and again.

"They are amenable to us."

Even better. By now, he had placed all the pieces down and worked through everything in his head. It might just work. Fingers trailing over the map and of the map of Westeros beside it too which was also filled with many pieces.

"We create a distraction. We know House Staunton refuses to raise their banners for House Targaryen, but they have also refused to raise their banners for anyone else at this moment. We can use that to our advantage."

His father caught on to his trail of thought yet he showed no emotion on his face as usual. Crouching over the maps and mulling his words over. Only then did Tyrion dare a glance at Joffrey and unsurprisingly he looked like he was about to burst with rage at clearly being left out of the plots to put him back on the throne. There were many times Tyrion wanted to curse his sister, but the way she had raised her eldest was one of the main reasons he wished to do so. Of course, it wasn't wholly her fault as King Robert had believed he was his son and therefore had a duty to raise him to be a decent heir. Instead he spent all his free time drinking, eating, and whoring away like he would not wake the following day.

"If we set for Rook's Rest under a banner of peace, it will be taken as a sign that we are looking to discuss an alliance. I have no doubt the pup has spies crawling in the ground near said Keep so he will hear of such a thing. This may root him from Kings Landing- "

"In which case we can use Marei."

Yes, his half-sister even though that was still difficult to come to terms with. His father had never even confirmed it, never spoke of it. If Tyrion didn't overhear that single conversation he would be ignorant on the development. If they created a large enough distraction to draw Jaeron and his dragons out of Kings Landing, it would leave the city significantly less defended. It would be difficult, but they had the second strongest army that had yet to declare for Jaeron. Staring down at the parchment as they mulled everything through in more detail.

Rhaenys Targaryen

The Narrow Sea, 301 AC

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. How could it not? They had been woken in the early hours that morning by the crew member on watch duty that land had been sighted up ahead. The land in question being their initial destination. Morghul was currently partially perched on her back and partially wrapped around her neck like a scarf, the dragon finally being wholly tolerant of her and had stopped biting every time she tried to get near. Of course, she still bit, but nowhere near as much as she had when she first hatched in that cursed building in Qarth. She hadn't slept after hearing the confirmation and had headed up to the prowl as they got closer and closer to Westeros.

Claw Isle.

It was where they had all agreed to meet when they finally did arrive back. The plans had changed as Rhaenys was never meant to head further east. A decision which likely would've angered Aegon massively not to mention Jon Connington, yet it had bore fruit. So much fruit. Now she had a dragon of her own. Reaching up to scratch her on the head between the two spikes which protruded from her temples and feeling the gentle purr of the beast in content. She'd visited the land of her birth a handful of times over the years- just not openly. Mostly visiting Sunspear and on one occasion given a tour around Dorne by her uncle Oberyn with his many daughters.

How many hours had passed since the first call was made was difficult to say. Solely transfixed on what was up ahead and what it meant. She was home, for good this time. For so long she had lived in Lys under an alias and now that alias was being washed away in the waves the closer to the shore they got. A loud screech was heard above as she looked up to see Viserion. The cream and gold dragon diving down to drag his feet along the waves before flying back up to be with his brothers.

"How long until we dock?"

Rhaenys asked the captain. The man looking at her for only a moment before answering.

"Within the hour, Princess."

Within the hour. She gulped a little at those words, everything seeming more real than ever before now. Hoping that things hadn't changed too much from when they'd last received an update. Soft footsteps were heard then and she didn't need to look to see who it was as they shouted.

"Māzīs!" (Come!)

It was difficult to tell if it was Rhaegal or Drogon that snorted aloud at the command, all three flying closer to the ship before flying along beside it so they were in view of everyone. It not missing her gaze much of the crew were looking to them fearfully which was to be expected. It would be a long time before they were fully grown, but a dragon was still a dragon.

"It feels strange, to finally see Westeros with my own eyes."

The thought had never even crossed Rhaenys' mind. Whilst this was the first time she would be stepping foot on Westerosi soil as Princess Rhaenys Targaryen since she was only three, this was the first time her aunt was stepping foot on the same soils in her entire life. Reaching over to squeeze her hand a little as Morghul uncurled from her shoulders, snapped at something that wasn't there, and took off after the other dragons. Not that she caught them for she was considerably smaller having been the last of everyone's to hatch. Wondering not for the first time just how large Jaeron's were. All she did know was they were large enough for battle and the thought of that terrified her. Especially given who was on the ship with them. Every morning both Sansa and Shiera would remain below deck playing Cyvasse with one another and this morning was no exception hence why neither were visible currently.

"We'll be home soon."

Soon came a lot quicker than expected. Feeling like she had blinked and the harbour of Claw Isle was visible as were the many banners of red crabs on a white field. A man awaiting them so old it was surprising he could even stand upright awaiting them when they got off and began walking over. Lord Ardrian Celtigar- the only remaining trueborn Celtigar left considering all of his legitimate sons had died many years prior. He did have a few bastards though, which would allow the line to carry on but that was a problem for another time. Bowing his head lowly once they were close enough and speaking.

"I would kneel, Princess. Yet I doubt my body would appreciate such."

A soft smile came onto her face at the words and nodding herself in acceptance. A tray being brought out loaded with bread and salt which they happily partook in before being escorted up to the Keep. Neither was it Valyrian in design nor was it Westerosi. The stories on how the Celtigar's came to be here and no longer in the Freehold varied and it was impossible to know which one was indeed the truth. Some said they had been banished, some said they had misliked what the Freehold stood for and left, some said they were stationed on a secret quest, and others said they were sent this far out to protect Dragonstone when it was simply just an outpost. For all they knew, all had a smidge of truth to them.

The castle was small, very small actually. Mayhaps only a little larger than Mychelah's manse in Lys but she supposed it made sense considering it was an island. Not everyone had access to ships, and not everyone could swim and even those who may not be strong enough to make the journey from the tip of Crackclaw Point to Claw Isle. It was naturally defended, and therefore no large walls were required. The stairs leading up to the castle were steeper than most she was used to, and wondering a little how bad the ones on Dragonstone were. She'd heard enough ranting from Torghen in relation to that in her youth.

It was a drear grey in colour, yet the walls were littered with gargoyles of creatures that had once existed but no longer did. What did catch her eye though was the large coiled dragon carving on the main entrance. It was common knowledge the Celtigar's were originally from Valyria albeit their position had been lost when the Doom occurred. All that was certain was that they were not one of the ruling families like her own House had been. Being guided by a handful of servants and a young woman with bright silver hair who introduced herself as Aerea and whispering under her breath she was Lord Ardrian's bastard granddaughter. The room was relatively large, especially considering the size of the castle, and a bath was dragged out and was already partially filled. Clearly they had spotted their ship before it had anchored and prepared as a result of such a thing. How long Rhaenys soaked in the hot water for was difficult to keep track of but Morghul was not accepting of it given the audible tail thump against the bath in annoyance.

"You are so dramatic."

She whispered and pulled herself from the tub and began drying herself. A dress had been left out for her of a deep orange with gold tapestry across most. It was a little too big for her but not unmanageable, beginning to wander around the room to take in what was in here but being brought out of her thoughts with a soft knock. Bright red hair caught her gaze at first as Sansa stepped into the room upon realising she was decent. The eldest Stark daughter wearing a gown of a deep teal which only made her vibrant hair pop more than it usually did and her hair pulled back in an elegant simple style.

"Lord Ardrian has summoned us for a private dinner."

The dining hall was surprisingly simple as far as decoration went. The only thing that showed their position was the large Valyrian steel axe hung on the wall above the large hearth. Brought with them when they had left Valyria and settled the island they were currently on. A faint scent of cinnamon in the air which confused her for a moment before noticing incense burning away in the corner of the room.

"Thank you for having us, my Lord."

"It is a pleasure to host yourself, Princess. We ourselves are blood of the dragon too, we do not forget. You must be Princess Sansa- "

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, my Lord. I am no Princess."

Rhaenys was confused by the words too as was Daenerys, although Shiera had a knowing look on her face which made her grit her teeth in annoyance that she obviously had not told them something.

"It was part of an old pact. One made nearing two hundred years before. It was long thought lost but it was found. The contents of said pact was that when an heir of House Stark marries an heir of House Targaryen, House Stark would be risen to Principality."

It took every ounce of training to stop her mouth from dropping open. Her uncle was not going to like that, nor was Dorne for that matter. The Martell's took immense pride in the fact they were permitted to keep their titles of Princes and Princesses when they finally joined the Seven Kingdom's through a double marriage. Her mothers family must be livid by such a thing. Groaning to herself just quietly enough no one could hear because this would fare bad on herself and Aegon. Instead deciding to make light of such a thing.

"Mayhaps we should hold a gathering for all members of House's Targaryen, Stark, and Martell."

Yet Lord Ardrian did not find this amusing, judging by the way his lips tightened into a very thin line. Silence coming over them all and only noticing then no one was eating despite the food being served.

"There is news, Princess. From Dorne, and from your brothers."

Not good news. How could it be good news if it elicited a reaction like such? The elderly man breathing heavily for a moment before confirming everything that had happened. The more words that left his mouth drearier than the ones before. Only due to her stubbornness was all emotion wiped from her face but the moment she was back in the room she had been assigned she may just scream. Aegon had continued his plot without amending it even slightly which backfired as Jaeron had named Shireen Baratheon his heir until himself and Margaery had a child of their own. In doing so Aegon had practically been chased from the Stormland's and lost most of his army when Harry Strickland found out he wasn't who he was saying he was. In two moves, the eldest of her brothers was crippled beyond saving. The news from Dorne though… that shocked her. Rhaenys wasn't necessarily close with her uncle Doran, but he was family and she had so little family left. Finally dying from his gout or if what Lord Ardrian suggested by rolling his eyes somewhat as he spoke those words- a more sinister end. Quentyn seizing the opportunity to name himself the Prince of Dorne which angered many other Dornish House's who were beginning to mobilise finally.

Yet not to join them. No. They were mobilising as they were teetering on the edge of civil war in Dorne.

"Has there been news of Aegon's location?"

"Luckily you arrived in time. His Grace wrote to us two days prior he was setting sail to come here. If Maester Gorman's estimations are correct, that will be perhaps at the end of the following sennight."

It ended up being fifteen days. That was how long it took before there was a sudden rush in the castle of people making sure it was fit for more visitors and Lord Ardrian was ordering for entertainment to be arranged. She'd managed to get a little more from the elderly Lord information wise but he was not aware of everything occurring, to hear everything she had to wait on Aegon arriving. Luckily, that wasn't a long wait. By the time the sun was at its highest, they were in the courtyard waiting for her eldest brother arriving. The wheelhouse appearing not long after that must've collected them from the harbour as both Aegon and Arianne stepped out. Followed by Lord Jon, Ser Torghen, and Ser Rolly. Bread and salt was brought as expected before they entered the castle and were advised a feast would be waiting them. Yet Rhaenys could not wait for such a thing and so had followed her brother and her cousin to a room at the end of the corridor she herself was on. Once the door was closed, she turned to them.

"Explain. What is this about Dorne? What is this about you refusing to change your plans with the change of the wind?!"

"You- you have- "

Aegon stuttered out and she realised why as she felt claws dig into her back once more. Morghul looking over her shoulder curiously at the strange man in front of her but she didn't snap surprisingly.

"This is Morghul. Where is Vēzos?"

Rhaenys asked. She hadn't met her brothers dragon yet but she'd heard about it.

"Refusing to get off the ship. Took a fancy to a specific fur pillow."

Despite the rage that was desperate to escape, the idea was amusing, and a smile cracked through. Only for a moment though before her gaze was fixated on the pair of them to answer her questions.

"We only recently found out about Quentyn's betrayal. We found out from Jaeron of all people, they kept it hidden until it was almost secured."

The inside of her cheeks were hurting now, already knowing she had began gnawing away on the delicate skin as a way to stop yelling aloud. That was the last thing needed currently.

"When did you meet? What's he like?"

"I'm not fighting him."

What? That was some relief, but the news did shock her. Recalling then the way Lord Jon was not looking up at her and had kept his gaze to the ground when he got out of the wheelhouse. Clearly he was furious by the decision as it was something they had been working towards for more than ten years at this point. It felt wrong to throw it all aside.

"We- came to an agreement. Of sorts. He doesn't want to fight me and I don't want to fight him. I'd be a fool to do so, I've lost most of my army. Not to mention his dragons. They flew overhead a couple of times and I cannot see a way to come out on top."

"Aegon- "

"I don't want to do this, Rhaenys. Yet I'm not going to attempt to carry out such a task. He's in too strong of a position and the walls surrounding him are thick, there is no brick coming loose in that any time soon to squeeze within. Despite this, he has offered to aid. He has ordered one of his armies to gather to help take Sunspear back for Arianne."

He had ordered it or had he said he had ordered it? The words were not voiced aloud but they were spinning in her head all the same. Yet it would work. If they secured Arianne as the Princess of Dorne, and they could secure all of Dorne behind her, they would be able to remobilise their army. It would be a fraction the size it was, but it was still a decent position.

"Is that it then? All this work for nothing?"

"I'm not giving up my claim. Not yet at least. I am just not going to play the board physically because on that front we will not survive."

A smile began to form on her face then, only a small one.

"Let the game begin."

Jaeron Targaryen

Kings Landing, 301 AC

"It makes sense that they would separate."

The words left his lips after gods know how long. After the morning council meeting that morning the decision was made. They were no longer going to sit around and wait on the Lannister's to make a move. He was under no illusion- Robb was not being treated well. Well, mayhaps he was now since they had sent the raven confirming he had Ser Kevan in the dungeons. If only they could finally locate Myrcella because if they did it would wrangle the lions even closer to him. Not enough to snap a trap on them but better than nothing. If he could get them close enough to him but not close enough they could strike him first…

"It also makes sense they do not. They may be luring you with security."

Aemon spoke. The mans wise words echoing in the room as he looked up for a moment from the map to stare at him. Eyes that had once been a vibrant violet looking his way and once again being shocked that he was so in tune with his hearing that he was about to look in the exact direction of who was talking without being able to see them. Margaery was holding another women's court in the city with her cousins this afternoon but she was expected back within a couple of hours. When she'd brought up she wanted to bring them back, people had scoffed at her. Yet it was proving fruitful because knowledge was reaching them of the state of the city. How could he go about calling himself the King when the city he now resided in was in disarray?

"Aye, that's true. Tell me, which one do you think is more likely?"

He asked, taking a seat at the table and waiting on the response.

"That is something I cannot answer for I am not Tywin Lannister, nephew."

Nay, he was not. None of them were. Was anyone in the world as horrible as Tywin Lannister? If there was, he had yet to meet said people. Nor did he want to meet said people.

"Say the first is true, which is most like to be Robb's location?"

This time, it was Arthur who answered.

"It could be anywhere. Could be Casterly Rock as it's never been taken, could be Lannisport in a barn for all I know."

Trust him to try and make a joke of a situation that was not to be made fun of. So long as Tywin held Robb it not only made him look weak it made the North look weak. That would not bode well considering they were actively still at war.

"You're not helping."

"And no matter how much you prod neither of answers will change, your Grace."

Jaeron wanted to curse him out for his words, and yet he could not. For they were true. It was not their fault he did not like the truth in them.

"There is one option- "

"No."

The word was instantaneous. They'd discussed it for days and he had not changed his mind. Arthur simply throwing his arms up in surrender at the refusal. They'd sent their spies out to find a route to Tarena Lannister so they could get a letter to her but it was proving difficult. The armies littering the walls of Lannisport were shooting down all ravens and only allowing riders in with notes. They'd have to play it very carefully in order to succeed. There was one option to get to her quickly, and it was an option he was not willing to so much as entertain.

"I do not wish to see him."

A quick look at Arthur's face confirmed he did not wish to see him either.

"I do not blame you for such, yet you want Robb back."

"More than anything."

Especially now. A raven arriving with the news that Robb's wife was certain she was with babe. A babe conceived after a single night together much like Robb himself was when Lord Eddard took Lady Catelyn to wife in the Sept at Riverrun. A babe that would be in line for Winterfell and that was not a small position to toy with. All babes deserved parents, or at least a parent.

"Torghen may not have betrayed my House, but I cannot forget that he did betray me. I do not forgive easily, Ser Arthur."

They poured over the maps again after this, trying to come up with plans but it was hard to do so without knowing so much as a general location. They were assuming they had tucked their tails and fled to the Westerland's, but what if they hadn't? What if they'd fled for the Free Cities? What if they'd fled somewhere completely unexpected? They must've done so for quite some time because soon confirmation came of Margaery arriving back with her cousins. With her return, it meant the second council meeting of the day was to go ahead. This one was not about the state of Westeros as a whole though, this one would solely be plotting on putting an end to the golden haired shits for good.

Everyone heard his words, some people argued back against the words. Although there was a visible agreement that they did have to put an end to it, tenuous peace was not true peace even if they wished it to be such a thing. Lions were predators, always sulking in areas they would mostly be hidden and striking when it was most effective. Jaeron was under no illusion, he was their prey just as much as they were his. It wasn't a matter of if they would strike, it was when they would do so. No decision was made this night, it likely would not be made for a few more days whilst they finalised a plan. Instead making his way through the many corridors and up a flight of stairs until he reached the Maester's chamber. His uncle sitting there like always but Margaery was there too with a book rested against the table. Turning to him and smiling softly before returning to reading whatever was in the book. It took him a few moments to realise that it was being read in High Valyrian.

"What are you having read to you, uncle?"

He took another seat and looked over at the book, trying to make sense of the glyphs which luckily had a non glyphic translation underneath alongside the common tongue.

"It was written by Maester Mikkellion."

"And who would that be?"

It was a name he didn't recognise, clearly not one remembered for anything of note.

"One of the few Maester's who chose to study the higher mysteries. The man's been dead now for two hundred years I believe- yet his writings remain. I believe you will find this one interesting, nephew."

Aemon spoke, breaking out of his current state. His wife catching on to his words and continuing.

"It translates the writings of one of the Dragonlord's of Old- Jaehaelor Mataeryon. He did survive the Doom but didn't live much longer."

Shock rippled through him then, leaning over to try and read the words but Margaery was ahead again and placing it flat on the table so he could see better. The glyphs were surprisingly neat and precise which made it simple to follow along with the wording underneath. It didn't wholly make sense to him considering he had not been practising as of late and likely had lost more than a decent chunk of what he had learned over the last couple of years.

"I thought it was only ourselves, the Celtigar's, and the Velaryon's who survived the Doom."

"And the Qoherys'. House Targaryen were the only Dragonlord family to survive, we were not the only Dragonlord's to survive though."

The wording hit him hard, blinking a little before sighing. Of course, how could he have forgotten the Qoherys'? The first House to be granted Harrenhal after the conquest, and the first where rumours of the curse of said castle began to seep throughout Westeros. He didn't believe it, hardly anyone did, yet stories always held some semblance of truth.

"So he lost his whole family?"

"Aye."

The answer was as simple as that.

"What did he write about?"

"Plants mostly."

"Plants?"

Aemon clearly found the way he had said that word amusing for soon he was laughing aloud. He wasn't alone either because he spotted the corners of Margaery's eyes crease a little confirming she was trying to keep her laughter at bay.

"It might sound stupid to yourself, nephew. Yet a person can learn from something incredibly miniscule. I believe this passage will tweak your interest."

His wife knew what portion was meant as she skipped back a couple of pages and held them down with her index and middle finger so he could read the words aloud.

"Nothing was spoken of more fervently as the White Tree of Flames. Known in the Freehold for the coppery sheen of its leaves, its pungent roots are said to have grown above ground, twisting around its own trunk like the walls of some great keep. There was only one such tree, said to stand in the heart of the inner courtyard of the Volcanic Face amongst statues of the many gods of Old Valyria…"

There was more after this but his voice trailed off.

"It sounds like a Weirwood. I'm guessing it was called the White Tree as it was white?"

If it was, that was curious indeed. Did the Old Gods ever reach so far south? If they did, why would there be something of the sort in the Volcanic Face of all things? Mayhaps it wasn't what it sounded like, and yet his gut twisted within him from unease.

"One cannot say. It would've been destroyed when the Doom happened and precious little did survive. All we can go on is Jaehaelor's writings."

Note: That last part at the end with a book on plants isn't 'officially' canon. It's part of a prop that was scrapped for HOTD and DJP posted it and it's too interesting lore wise to ignore so I'm working it in. If anyone is curious you can read it here: wiki/Shrubbery,_Being_a_History_on_the_Flora_of_the_Valyrian_Freehold (it seems to have been deleted from the dedalvs website now)